Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set (64 page)

Lord Reginald and his garrison had been
surreptitiously following his wayward mercenary and his captive for
days now. They’d managed to avoid detection by staying several
miles behind them, learning of Robert and Sabina’s location by
communicating with scouts who rode ahead. He’d also managed to
obtain information from local farmers and peasants from whom his
prey had purchased food and other provisions, even from a roving
Scottish peddler who’d sold them his family tartans off his own
back.

Now Reginald and his garrison were only three miles
away from where the pair were hiding. He knew their exact location
thanks to a particularly resourceful Welshwoman he’d had on his
payroll for several months now. The Welshwoman worked for another
former mercenary, gambler, and smuggler who had attempted to go
legitimate for a time, but was now back to his old tricks, running
his questionable businesses via a ramshackle inn and dairy farm
that was simply a front. Master Cuthbert was wanted in at least
three kingdoms for treason, smuggling, and failure to pay taxes.
Lord Reginald supposed that his former employee probably thought
that he was safe under Cuthbert’s roof, at least for the time
being. But the one thing Robert didn’t know was, Cuthbert was on
the same payroll as Mfanwy was.

Lord Reginald and Cuthbert had come to an agreement
some months ago. The two men struck a deal stipulating that Lord
Reginald would pay Cuthbert’s back taxes and provide him
protection—both military and political—against the multiple
jurisdictions in which he was a wanted outlaw. In return, Cuthbert
would provide information, occasional mercenary service—and total
loyalty. In a remarkably non-mercenary act, Cuthbert had even sworn
an oath of fealty to him.

Still, Lord Reginald wasn’t born yesterday. He knew
mercenaries well enough to understand that they couldn’t always be
trusted, especially if someone happened along offering them a
higher purse. But he’d guarded against that possibility as
well.

A few months ago he’d placed Mfanwy ap Powys, a
runaway Welsh noblewoman who was also a shrewd and gifted spy—not
to mention was in possession a sharp tactical mind that worked like
a bear trap. She was also an excellent mimic and master of
disguise. Lord Reginald had run across her on one of his diplomatic
meetings with Tostig of York, and had taken to her immediately. He
bought her out of her concubinage contract with Tostig and placed
her on his own payroll in secret, though publicly she acted as his
common scullery maid. When Cuthbert complained to him that he
didn’t have enough help running the Cock and Robin, he immediately
saw an opportunity for Mfanwy there.He placed her in Cuthbert’s
employ, directing her to take on the persona of an illiterate Saxon
orphan girl in desperate need of a way to earn her living. Mfanwy
played the role to a hilt, even portraying herself as simple-minded
and half-blind. Of course, she was anything but.

Lord Reginald wasn’t entirely sure how she had
managed to get her message of Robert and Sabina’s arrival at the
Cock and Robin to him so swiftly, but Mfanwy was nothing if not
resourceful. A good thing, since apparently the pair of outlaws
planned to leave the Cock and Robin by early next morning, giving
him only a few short hours in which to plan his attack.

The misshapen old Norman stood up and called for
Brutus, his gargantuan Roman guard. Brutus’ head appeared through
the tent flap a moment later. “Yes, Sire?” he said in Latin.

“Bring me my captain of the infantry, Master
Stephen,” he ordered, also in Latin. “And also fetch Pierre, and
the Duke of Angwyld. I have important business with all of
them.”
“It shall be done immediately, Sire,” Brutus replied, and
disappeared.

Lord Reginald rubbed his steel-gauntleted hands
together. The lines were drawn. The cards were on the table. Soon,
the battle would begin. And if all went well, his betrothed bride
would be in his bed by nightfall. He could have his way with her,
get his son upon her, and then he would hobble her in such a way
that would ensure she would never escape him again. That
accomplished, he’d finally be able to dispose of that meddling
Saxon father of hers. With the Duke out of the way, the Angwyld
lands would be rightfully his by bridal inheritance, leaving him in
an almost invincible military position for conquering Wales. And
Lord Reginald had his eyes on Wales not for King Henry’s benefit,
but for his own.

For once he controlled Wales, along with all his
other holdings and his massive mercenary army, which now totaled in
the thousands, Lord Reginald would finally be in a position to make
his final move on King Henry—and the crown itself.

King Reginald I of England, Normandy, and Wales,
with his beloved consort Queen Sabina of the Saxons at his side. He
liked the sound of that.

And once he was king of England, why not the
world?

The great, educated and wise Saracens, first his
captors and then his bosom friends, were also gifted seers. They
had predicted great things for Reginald, and accordingly had
bestowed him with worldly gifts that had been essential in bringing
him this far. And once he had Sabina at this side—native
Englishwoman of a popular Saxon noble family that she was—the
people of England, so long oppressed by their unpopular Norman
rulers, would have no choice but to support his bid for the crown.
In just a few short hours, she would finally be his.

Everything was falling into place perfectly. It was
only a matter of time.

****

Tostig of York stood with his own mercenary army on
the opposite side of Rye, well out of Lord Reginald’s sights. He’d
been able to track the legions of the humpbacked Norman thanks to
double agents, among them his old concubine Mfanwy ap Powys. Mfanwy
had been good in bed, but she’d been even better as a spy. That’s
why he hadn’t minded at all when that old waxworks Lord Reginald de
Guillaume asked to buy out her contract. The ugly old Norman hadn’t
been interested in Mfanwy’s womanly charms, anyway. Tostig figured
as long as Mfanwy was going to work as one of Lord Reginald’s
spies, there was no reason she couldn’t still work for him as a
double agent. They’d made arrangements accordingly their last night
together in bed. Mfanwy would act as a double agent under Lord
Reginald, and she agreed to defer payment for her services to
Tostig until Tostig was about to attack and destroy both Reginald
and his mercenary armies. Once the old humpback was out of the way,
Tostig would make his move on the British crown, then marry Mfanwy
and make her his queen consort. With a noble Welshwoman at his
side, Tostig could then march into Wales virtually unopposed. And
if by chance they ran into opposition—most likely from Mfanwy’s
father the Baron of Powys—they could just kill him so Mfanwy could
inherit his lands. With the vast Powys principality in their hands,
the rest of Wales would fall like dominos.

It was a brilliant plan. Mfanwy had hatched most of
it herself, in fact. Tostig understood just how lucky he was to
have the services of a woman who was both a brilliant lover and
master battle tactician. If Mfanwy had been born a man, she might
well have built herself an empire with sword and shield. And as a
woman, she just might do it on her wits alone.

In any case, the noblewoman-turned-harlot/spy had
made Tostig of York a very happy man, indeed. He shifted
uncomfortably in his saddle as his breeches tightened with desire
for her. He would see her tonight, once he was victorious on the
field of battle. Tonight, Lord Reginald’s reign of terror and quest
for the crown would be over. And tomorrow, Tostig of York and his
army would march for London, with Mfanwy at his side.

The winds of change were blowing in England. The
only question was, which direction?

Chapter
12

Sabina and Robert sat at the rough-hewn oak dining
table in the Cock and Robin’s main room, eating their dinner alone
in silence. Master Cuthbert and his servant girl preferred to take
their meal alone in the summer kitchen, which was a small cooking
shed set apart from the main inn. Sabina had found that incredibly
odd, though Robert didn’t.

Sabina picked at her roast chicken and turnips. A
loaf of fresh bread and a block of fine cheese from Cuthbert’s own
cows sat untouched in the center of the table. She suddenly had no
appetite, and it seemed Robert didn’t either. “What kind of host
leaves his guests to dine alone?” she asked for at least the fifth
time. “Robert, it just makes me feel that much worse about this
place.”

Robert sighed and pushed his chair back from the
table. “Cuthbert has always preferred to eat alone, for as long as
I’ve known him. It’s not odd behavior on his part. He used to do
the same thing when we were serving with Sir Walter the Penniless
together.”

“Maybe it’s not odd for a soldier, but it is odd for
someone who runs an inn,” Sabina scoffed. “Plus he’s got Mfanwy in
there with him. I’m worried that they might be plotting something
together.”

“You’re altogether too paranoid,” Robert snapped,
though his booted feet tapped nervously against the floor, showing
he was just as nervous as Sabina was. “Though I suppose it couldn’t
hurt to see if we can’t find out exactly what it is they’re
discussing. Excuse me.”

Robert got up from the table and
stomped out of the inn. He didn’t like to admit it, but he had a
growing sense that Sabina was right. Something funny
was
going on here. Was
it possible that his old pal and confidante Cuthbert was working
for the other side?

Well, of course it was possible. Anything was
possible where mercenaries were concerned. Robert knew that better
than anyone. A mercenary was only as loyal as his next week’s pay.
After that, all bets were off.

Still, Robert had assumed that between his long
friendship with Cuthbert and the two hundred fifty crowns—a posh
purse for any soldier-for-hire—that he and Sabina would be safe
here at the Cock and Robin. He knew his old colleague well enough
to understand that nothing made its way to Master Cuthbert’ heart
faster than a pile of gold. Robert’s instincts had never failed him
before. But he supposed there was always a first time.

He approached the summer kitchen with caution. He
was thankful this part of the grounds was hard-packed and not at
all muddy—he needed to keep his steps quiet and clean. He sidled up
to the corner of the small wood-and-dauber building, flattened his
back against the wall, and inched his way towards one of the open
windows. He planned to eavesdrop there a moment or two, then jump
through it and take his hosts by surprise and demand answers, by
swordpoint if necessary.

He eased his way up to the window, straining his
ears to catch any small snippet of conversation. Nothing. He got
closer, drew upon every one of his battle-honed senses. Still
nothing.

Fed up, Robert leapt through the open window, sword
drawn. The summer kitchen was completely empty. Not even so much as
a crumb or scrap of chicken bone indicated that Cuthbert or his
servant girl Mfanwy had eaten a morsel there.

His heart racing, Robert surveyed the rest of the
compound. Every one of the inn’s outbuildings was deserted. He even
walked the quarter-mile to the dairy barns, and found them
completely empty. Even the cows were gone. Only some fresh manure
and half-eaten troughs of grain indicated there had ever been any
livestock there in the first place. And all the other livestock and
horses were missing, too—including Amir and Arthur.

In other words. Master Cuthbert had had the place
cleared out.

Robert knew the rules of engagement well enough to
understand that meant only one thing. Master Cuthbert had betrayed
them. Sabina had been right all along.

Sabina.
He’d left her alone in the inn. For how long? Ten minutes?
Fifteen? More than enough time for her to be captured and carried
away. He ran back to the inn, his boots barely touching the
ground.

He burst into the inn, and to his relief found
Sabina still sitting there, picking at her now-cold chicken. “Pack
your things,” he ordered. “We must leave here immediately. Master
Cuthbert has cleared the place out. We’re probably about to be
ambushed.”

Sabina jumped to her feet. “I knew it! Why didn’t
you listen to me?”

“I did listen to you, beloved. I just didn’t take it
seriously enough, I’m afraid. I’m sorry.” He went to embrace her,
if only for a moment. “Hurry. We’ll have to leave on foot. Cuthbert
has taken the horses. He told me they’d be in the dairy barn with
his cows, but of course they aren’t.” He shook his head, gazed at
the floorboards. “I have no idea how he managed to get everything
and everyone out of here so quickly and quietly. He must have had
help.”

“Likely he cleared the livestock out before we even
got here,” Sabina remarked as she headed down to the cellar for her
cloak and boots. “Someone must have tipped him off that we were
coming.”

“Yes, but who? I never told anyone
where we were going except you!” Robert rubbed his temples.
“Unless—unless we were being followed.” He grabbed his own cloak
and leather travel bag from the bed, which contained everything
they had left in the world—his remaining gold and spices and
Sabina’s cache of jewels. “How could I have been so stupid!
Of
course
we were
being followed. There’s just no other explanation.”

“No time to think about it now,” Sabina said,
pushing him up the cellar stairs. “We have to get out of here.”

“Go out the back door, by the winter kitchen,” he
ordered. “We’ll have to make our way out through dense forest. We
can’t risk using the bridle path, even with as overgrown as it
is.”