My True Love (27 page)

“‘The codex was written by the Cathars for their protection. I have copied the codex as completely as I can and hidden it here as protection if it is ever needed. If the Templars or the Church come to Langlinais, this copy will protect us. The original scrolls will remain safe, guarded as the treasure they are.’”

“‘I came to love Sebastian not because of his appearance or even because he was kind to me. But because I sensed in him the same loneliness I felt. My heart reached out to heal him and in the doing found itself touched and warmed.

“‘Others may not see Sebastian the way that I do, but he speaks to my heart with his voice and his gaze. I thank God that he was brought home. No longer a warrior, but the Lord of Langlinais.’”

When Stephen finished, he closed the codex.

“What do you think the rest of the codex contained?”

“I don’t know,” he said, touching the edge of the parchment. “The pages were too badly damaged some time in the past. Probably water seeped into the tower from the flood. The pages cannot be separated.”

He looked over at her and smiled. “Perhaps there are some things we are destined never to know.”

“I hate the thought of her words being destroyed that way.”

“Regret has no purpose, Anne,” he said gently. “It makes you sad, but rarely aids a cause.”

Juliana’s words came back to her. She had re ceived her miracle. Was it too much to wish that Langlinais might see another?

“We can reread the codex from the beginning,” he softly said. “Or engage in other discoveries.”

He placed the codex on the table behind him, stood, and waited for her answer.

The emotion running through her heated her breath, tingled the tips of her fingers, and pooled between her thighs. It was more elemental than need, and although fueled by love, it was neither delicate nor refined. It was not even affection. It was a craving for this man lit by candlelight, touched with a golden glow. A greed and a hunger she’d never expected to feel.

She opened her arms for him.

Chapter 23

“H
e has agreed?” General Penroth stared at the messenger who stood before him. The man’s horse was lathered; he was breathing hard.

“He says he is willing to surrender only under his conditions, sir.” The words were exhaled in tiny gusts. Penroth considered the idea of advising his lieutenant that such speeches were better spoken with breath. But he said nothing. The news was too good to be irritated by its method of delivery.

“Are you certain? The Earl of Langlinais offers terms?”

“I’ve the document here, sir. It’s addressed to you.”

Penroth opened it, grinned as he read the words that would give him a prestigious Parliamentary victory with little further effort. The inhabitants of Harrington Court were to be given safe passage. The town of Lange on Terne must remain intact and not be occupied. Stephen Harrington also demanded unconditional pardons for his regiment. As for himself, the Earl of Langlinais was prepared to surrender to General Penroth as soon as terms were agreed to and he made his farewells.

“Shall I send word back to him, sir?”

“Very definitely, my boy. Very definitely. You may tell the Earl of Langlinais that his terms are accepted.”

The faces of his aide and officers reflected Penroth’s glee.

“Are you sure his is what you want to do, Stephen?” Richard asked.

“It’s what must be done,” Stephen said calmly. He studied the map in front of him with some intensity. His study had served as headquarters for the past day. He’d given each man in his command a directive, a role to perform in order to ensure that the departure from Harrington Court would be orderly. But he wondered if he could enlist Richard’s aid in the most delicate of missions.

“I wish circumstances were otherwise,” Richard said.

“‘A thousand wishes form a life; a hundred breaths a gale’,” Stephen murmured, then wondered from what source the adage had come. He rolled up the map and placed it in his dispatch case then turned and smiled at his friend. Richard looked entirely too worried.

“I need some organization in the departure of the servants, Richard. Will you assist me with it?” There were thirty servants employed at Harrington Court. They could call the huge house their ancestral home with as much truth as he himself. Their grandfathers, their fathers, perhaps even their great-grandfathers had served the Earls of Langlinais.

“You know I will. What will happen to them?”

“They are to be escorted to Lange on Terne. It’s the safest place to be. They need to leave the house in small groups. They’ve lived here all their lives, they know the route to the town well enough.”

“I’ll meet with them now.”

Stephen rolled up the map, stuck it in his pack.

“Tell them that it’s better to stay there.” War was bad enough without being homeless and hungry.

“Are you really going to surrender, my lord?” William’s face was a study in contrasts. Hope balanced against sick horror.

“I already have, William,” he said. “I want you to take advantage of the pardon offered. You’ve family in Lange on Terne. Somewhere to go.”

“I am your aide, sir.”

Stephen didn’t smile although he wanted to. Or thank William for his loyalty.

“You would be serving me better by staying in the town.”

William frowned, stepped away, and left the room. Gestures done with stilted steps and precision that came from restraint, not military drill.

“Is there nothing you can do, Stephen? Other than offer yourself up as sacrifice?”

Stephen raised an eyebrow. “What, an earnest Parliamentarian counseling me not to surrender?”

“If you don’t get your neck chopped off as an object lesson, you’ll swing at the end of a rope.”

“Not a palatable end.”

His desk was clean but for one sheet of paper. He handed it to Richard. It was a list of each of the inhabitants of Harrington Court, their closest relatives, and their choice of destination. He would ensure that they would be cared for and safe before he left them.

“And your guests? Have you made provisions for them?”

“Yes,” he said, shortly.

“She is an interesting woman,” Richard said thoughtfully. “One with her heart in her eyes.”

“You noticed that, did you?”

“How could I not? She is normally so argumentative that it is a shock when she’s silent.”

Stephen leveled his gaze on Richard. “You are not speaking of Anne, are you?”

Richard looked startled, then embarrassed if his flushed face was any indication. It was a unique situation, Stephen thought, to see the man who’d upbraided him often enough relegated to stammers.

“Women are a great source of fear, Stephen. You live without them and you’re afraid you’ll never find one to love you again. You live with them and are afraid that you’ll never be able to make them happy. A conundrum.”

“Not a logical frame of mind, Richard.”

“What ever made you think life was logical?”

Stephen glanced at him, noted the smile.

“Take your own life, for example. You added to the family fortune on a whim. Even now you agonize with yourself because you know the king is wrong. But that is based less on logic than on your heart.”

He stood, inspected Stephen’s bandage one last time. “You’re a man of emotion, however much you’d rather emulate your father.”

“Would I?”

“I suspect it would be easier for you. Less troubling.”

“Is that what you’ve learned being a ship doctor? How to see inside a mind?”

“I myself am not exempt from such difficulties, Stephen. I find myself heartily attracted to a woman who insults me at every turn. She has no respect for my profession, is not at all concerned as to my financial status, and seems to think that I dig in graveyards for ingredients to put in my medicines.”

There was such a look of disgust on Richard’s face that Stephen almost smiled. On a different day, he would have. At another time, perhaps, when his mind was not so fixed on his duties. And his farewells.

Anne. That was destined to be a difficult meeting. One that he’s postponed until the very last moment. Would she understand what he had to do?

Would Richard? He glanced at his friend. Richard was intent upon the list, his frown making him appear more fierce than he was. He was a kind man, a friend despite their political differences.

He turned and clasped his hand on Richard’s shoulder. The closest he would come to a farewell. The most overt gesture he could manage right now. All his emotions were being held in check for another moment to come. One only hours away.

Richard was not so reticent. He clasped his arms around Stephen’s shoulders. A quick parting, one without words.

Dunniwerth, Scotland

Robert Sinclair entered the room, watched his wife. She was seated in her favorite chair. On her lap were a few of the drawings that Anne had done as a child. Pictures of him and Maggie and other occupants of Dunniwerth. When he’d first seen these drawings, he’d suspected that his daughter possessed a wicked sense of humor. A line here, a curve there, and a grin could easily become a leer or a slight paunch the rounded barrel of a stomach.

He had grown adept at gauging her moods by what she drew. When she was annoyed by someone, the sketch of that person was exaggerated. Such as the times when she was angry with him. She would draw him with his beard trailing to the floor and his eyes shooting fire.

“She was so much better at this,” Maggie said, glancing up at him, “than she ever was at embroidery.” Her smile was reminiscent as she studied the drawings. “Do you remember how she tried to convince me that the spots of blood on her work were actually tiny rosebuds she’d fashioned?”

He nodded, his heart heavy.

He walked to the window. Little more than an arrow slit, it made for a chilly room in the winter. But then, they rarely used this room in winter, preferring the sunnier chamber to the west. But it was near summer now, and there were breezes that smelled of sturdy barley and flowering things. Sunlight filtered into the room and danced on the carpets Maggie had caused to be placed on the floor.

“I’m going to find her, Maggie,” he said. “The scouts I’ve sent out say that there are reports of a group traveling south. I’ve plans to follow that route.”

“I’m surprised you have not left before now,” she said, placing the drawings on the ground and standing. “Weeks have passed, Robert.”

“I had to know in which direction to travel. Or did you want me to chase around like a dog in a feud with his tail?”

She smiled and shook her head at him.

“You’ll take care of yourself, Maggie?” he said, walking toward her. “You’ll not go to your bed and cry for two days?”

She reached up and flicked at the leather jerkin he wore. A dismissive gesture, just like the smile on her face. But he was not fooled.

“And you, you’ll not be thinking you’re a younger man? Doing something foolish?” She patted him with both hands. She had a habit of doing that when she said good-bye to him. Placing her hands on him all over, as if to reassure herself that he was hale and hearty. She did the same when she welcomed him.

“You’ll send word to me if you hear anything?”

She nodded, her worry apparent.

She leaned close, laid her head against his arm. “Please be careful, my dearest.”

“I am a Sinclair, Maggie. We are not simply careful, we are victorious.”

Her smile, for all its charm, held a trace of sadness and was gone too quickly.

Her palm rested against his face. He placed his own atop it. A look too deep for words passed between them.

“I’ll miss you with my whole heart,” she whispered.

The tenderness in her eyes was almost his undoing. He did not deserve her love and affection. Nor her loyalty. But he’d been blessed with it all these years.

He reached out and with two fingers gripped her chin. He turned it gently, his eyes narrowing as he saw her tears. Her eyes glinted with them. She never cried. But maybe she was worn down with worry over Anne.

He kissed her hard, then made himself walk away.

Richard came for Anne at dusk, his face somber. He, too, was dressed for travel, but his journey would be only the few miles to his home.

The inhabitants of Harrington Court were to meet with men of the regiment just this side of the river from Langlinais. They would then be escorted to Lange on Terne. Anne’s journey home would be more dangerous. She was not certain Hannah, Ian, and she could even cut through the Parliamentarian army, let alone head north to Scotland. The only other alternative was to remain in the town. It was a decision that would have to be made by all three of them. Something she’d learned from this journey. That her wishes could sometimes endanger others.

How many people had Stephen saved with his sacrifice? How many would realize what he had done?

“What is to happen to him?” she asked.

“I promise that you will see him before you leave.” It was not the answer she wished. She wanted to know if he would die because of this. Or if they would simply release him, exchange him for other prisoners. Would they take him to London to parade him about as a prize? What was his fate? But Richard had walked away, as if proximity to her was a dangerous thing.

Stephen would see her long enough to say goodbye. From that meeting she was to take all that she was to have for the rest of her life. Every breath, every word, every glance would be compressed and stored lovingly away. To be unearthed when she could bear the loneliness no more.

She had been prepared to do that once. Then twice. How odd that the idea of it made her angry now.

She left Harrington Court by the kitchen entrance. There were tears and hugs and soft words exchanged by those who lingered there. She slipped away from them, her composure fragile.

Hannah and Richard stood at the garden entrance, no more than shadows. They did not speak as they walked slowly down the hill, the speed of their departure dictated by Hannah. Halfway down the hill, her hand reached out and gripped Anne’s, and for a moment Anne thought it was because she needed support in the long walk. Then she understood that the gesture was more in the nature of giving comfort than needing it.