The Silent Touch of Shadows (4 page)

Sibell just shook her head. She couldn’t possibly take him seriously, but she enjoyed his compliments all the same. They were a far cry from the comments she usually received at home where nothing she did ever seemed to please anyone.

As they came out of the forest and approached Idenhurst in the distance, however, Sir Roger’s expression hardened. The jovial man seemed to disappear in an instant, to be replaced by the frightening stranger she had first met. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘what do you know of Sir Gilbert? What manner of man is he?’

‘Sir Gilbert? Why he’s the best of men,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘One to be reckoned with, but honest and honourable at all times.’

‘Truly?’ Sir Roger didn’t look convinced.

‘Yes. He was my father-in-law, you know. That is, until my husband died last year
 
…’ Sibell felt the sorrow wash over her once more as she recalled the circumstances that had triggered her present predicament. As always, she tried to suppress the memories. ‘I met with nothing but kindness at Idenhurst.’

‘He must have died very young, your husband?’

‘Yes, Roland was barely twenty. He died in the recent fighting.’

‘Is that so?’

Sir Roger looked as though he was about to add something to this comment, but he must have thought better of it since he turned away and said no more. Sibell saw him concentrate on his surroundings as they came closer to their destination. He looked around with keen eyes, obviously noting every detail with interest. To Sibell, Idenhurst had been a much-loved home, but she now tried to look at it from a stranger’s point of view.

It was a large, moated manor house built of creamy yellow stone with red-tiled roofs. To reach it, they had to pass over a bridge and under a small tower into a cobbled courtyard, which was teeming with people going about their daily business. Directly opposite the entrance tower was the enormous hall, which had clearly been designed to impress visitors with its proportions and grandeur. It had more than the usual number of windows for a building of this size, indicating that Sir Gilbert was a man of means as well as power. A wealth of other buildings surrounded the courtyard quadrangle, effectively enclosing it. Outside were gardens and an orchard, as well as a series of large fishponds.

Idenhurst was not intended as a fortress. Nonetheless, there were a number of fighting men lounging about in the morning sun, polishing their weapons and sharpening swords and daggers. A group of young squires were practising swordplay in one corner under the watchful eye of a seasoned warrior. Several huge destriers were being curried to glossy perfection by the stable grooms.

‘Very nice,’ Sibell heard Sir Roger mutter sarcastically and it suddenly occurred to her to wonder what his purpose in coming here was. She fervently hoped he wasn’t an enemy of Sir Gilbert’s. That would mean he’d be sent packing instantly and she realised she didn’t want that.

She wanted him to stay.

Chapter Three

‘No!’ Melissa came to in the hazy half-light of dawn, shaking with a mixture of anger, frustration, attraction and fear. Her heart hammered frantically at the bars of her ribcage. On the one hand she desperately wanted to stay with the handsome warrior instead of returning to grim reality, but on the other lurked the fear of being hurt by a man again. She cursed under her breath.
Can’t I be left in peace, even in my dreams?

‘Hormones,’ she muttered. ‘That’s all it is, nothing more.’ Her body was obviously confused and lonely.

‘Mum? What’s the matter?’ Jolie mumbled sleepily.

‘Nothing, sweetheart, everything’s fine.’ Melissa had forgotten for a moment that they were sharing a room, but Jolie was soon asleep again.

Melissa tried to calm her breathing, while wondering why she had dreamed of a medieval knight of all things. It had never happened before, but then she’d had lots of strange dreams since the split from Steve. Her sleep was disturbed most nights and it had been ages since she’d felt truly rested. With all the worries about money and their future, it was no wonder. She sighed. Perhaps she should go to the doctor and ask for sleeping pills? She had, after all, been through a lot lately. Somehow it seemed like giving in though.

How about counselling?
What for? An inability to accept that my husband has left me?
That would be too embarrassing for words.

‘No.’ Melissa punched the pillow for emphasis. She’d never admit her weakness to anyone. And she
would
get over Steve. Somehow.

Taking another deep calming breath, she tried to go back to sleep. The minute she closed her eyes, wisps of the dream began to tease her brain with tantalising glimpses of the knight. She frowned into the darkness. What was it about him that had attracted her so? Surely mere good looks couldn’t create such yearning for a man? Or could they?

Annoyed with herself for even thinking about it, she closed her eyes tightly and tried again to go to sleep. Using a trick someone had taught her of deliberately trying to see only the colour black on the inside of her eyelids, she managed to concentrate for a few moments. Then the pictures of the knight began to hover around the perimeter of her vision, teasing, waiting to pounce.

Melissa wanted to curse out loud with frustration, but that would wake Jolie again, so instead she turned over to glare at the wall.

Why did this particular dream seem so real? She could still feel the texture of the man’s woollen cloak and remember the rhythm of the horse’s gait. Still smell the animal and the leather of its harness, hear the jingling of it and the clanking of his spurs as he urged the horse into a trot. She wrinkled her nose. Come to think of it, there was a distinctly equine smell in the room.

Impossible.
It had to be the farmyard odour she had detected earlier. She snorted quietly. Her imagination was truly working overtime.
I really must get out more.

The handsome warrior on his huge destrier was
not
real. Of course he wasn’t. It was only in her dream that he came to take her on a ride to a night of bliss, leaving her sated and languorous the way Steve used to do before he
 
… She ground her teeth and redirected her thoughts with an effort. Such perfect men existed only in fairy tales. These days there was no guarantee of a ‘happy ever after’ even if you did happen to find your dream man.

I should know.

As a naive nineteen-year old, she thought she had found hers. She’d been carried away all right, a whirlwind romance that resulted in marriage and a child, just as in the books she loved to read. But it seemed today’s knights were allowed to tire of their wives and simply walk out, asking for a divorce, and leaving behind them a gaping hole of emptiness.

‘I need space. I need to find myself,’ Steve had said the day he left so abruptly. ‘For Christ’s sake, we were too young, they shouldn’t have let us get married at that age. We hadn’t really lived, you know.’

Melissa was stunned. She’d thought they would do their ‘living’ together; had foolishly imagined their love would sustain them through whatever came their way. Obviously, the love had been one-sided. So why couldn’t she let it go?
Why do I still want him?
And it had all been a lie anyway, because he had left her for another woman, not to ‘find himself’. He was just too cowardly to admit it at first.

She drove her fist into the pillow once more.
Bastard. I hate you
, she thought, but she knew it wasn’t true. If he walked through her door this minute apologising, she’d take him back, no questions asked. It was pathetic, she told herself, but it made not the slightest difference.

She pulled the covers up over her ears. She didn’t want to think about men, they were nothing but trouble. Except for the one in her dream, of course
 
…

No, I don’t want you either. You’re probably just the same.

There was no escaping him, however. A while later when she yawned and turned over, he was still waiting for her and just as before, she found it impossible to resist him. Snuggling down, she gave up the fight, relaxed and smiled in her sleep.

‘Mum, time to wake up or you’ll miss breakfast. Can’t you smell it? Auntie Dorothy has been cooking for ages.’

Jolie burst into the guest room without preamble and Melissa stared at her in sleepy confusion. Bright sunshine was pouring in through the leaded windows, and the canopy of forest leaves in her dream faded away, leaving only floral curtains and smooth plaster walls. She tried to focus on her daughter.

‘What? Breakfast? Oh, right.’ She sat up too quickly and had to sink back down as her head spun like a fairground ride.

‘Yes, hurry up, it’s almost ready.’

‘Okay, okay, I’m coming.’

Satisfied with that answer, Jolie rushed off again, leaving Melissa to make another attempt at sitting up. She took her time, admiring her surroundings while she waited for her brain to catch up. The room was small and cosy – almost too cosy with the two beds in there, but that was the only flaw. A wealth of exposed ceiling beams, none of which were straight, made it quaint. In one corner was a tiny fireplace with a stone surround and all the furniture was of heavy oak, highly polished and smelling slightly of beeswax. The overall effect was charming and Melissa couldn’t help but smile. It was certainly a far cry from their London flat, which was, to put it mildly, rather shabby.

No point thinking about it now.
She wanted to enjoy her stay at Ashleigh and was determined not to allow any depressing thoughts to ruin things. She stood up and went to get dressed.

The large, rustic kitchen at the back of the house could have been copied straight from the pages of a glossy interior magazine. Stripped pine cupboards and granite work surfaces complemented the leaded windows perfectly. Worn flag-stone flooring, a pine dresser and an Aga completed the picture. Bunches of herbs and dried flowers, tied together with colourful ribbons, hung from little hooks in the exposed roof beams, their scent mingling with the aroma of cooking.

A collection of copper pots gleamed in the morning sun, giving the room an aura of days gone by. This was reinforced by old-fashioned blue-and-white crockery, displayed in neat rows on the dresser. A large pine table, worn smooth with age, stood in the middle of the room looking as though it had been there for hundreds of years. Jolie was sitting at one end, already tucking into bacon and eggs, looking very much at home.

‘Good morning. You’re just in time,’ Dorothy said and handed Melissa a heaped plate, while preparing one for herself. ‘Do start, so it doesn’t get cold.’

‘Thank you, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble just for us.’

‘It’s no bother, I love cooking, always have. I’ve missed having someone to cook for. Somehow it’s not the same when you’re on your own.’

Melissa knew that feeling all too well. Although she still had Jolie to cater for, she missed the look of appreciation on Steve’s face every evening as he sat down to his meal. He’d been very easy to please in that department, eating anything and everything with enjoyment. She shook herself mentally, refusing to dwell on the past. Instead she concentrated on the conversation between Dorothy and Jolie.

‘So you liked my garden?’ Dorothy was asking.

‘Oh, yes, I would love to have all that space to run around in. And a dog.’ Jolie’s face took on a wistful look which Melissa tried to ignore. ‘Mum won’t let me have one.’

‘You know we’re not allowed to, so it’s not up to me. The landlord hates pets.’ They had already had this discussion at least a dozen times and Melissa didn’t want to be drawn into an argument in front of Dorothy. She decided to change the subject and looked around the kitchen. ‘This is so different from what we’re used to. We’re in a horrible rented flat, but I’m in the process of trying to find a better one. Our lease is running out soon.’

‘Why don’t you move to the country?’ Dorothy asked.

‘To be honest, I hadn’t thought about moving out, we’ve always lived in London.’ Melissa nibbled on her second piece of toast, which seemed to taste so much better here than it did at home.

‘Do you need to be in town for your work? You did say a lot of it was done from home, didn’t you?’

‘Well, yes, but I also travel around to various record offices.’

‘And you have to live in central London for that?’

‘No, I suppose I could reach them almost as quickly from outside London as from Putney. It might make the journeys slightly longer, but not significantly so,’ Melissa conceded.

‘What about you, Jolie? Would you be willing to change schools and make new friends?’

‘Sure, I’d love to go to a new school. I hate the one in Putney.’

‘You do?’ Melissa looked at her daughter in surprise. ‘You never told me that.’ Jolie shrugged, but didn’t answer. The school she attended at the moment had started off as a temporary measure until they were settled somewhere. Unfortunately nothing had come of Melissa’s attempts to obtain a mortgage and Jolie had ended up staying put for the last two years.

After the divorce, Melissa and Steve had decided to sell their old flat and split the money. However, since they hadn’t paid off much of the mortgage, there wasn’t enough left over for a down payment on a new one. No matter how much she scrimped and saved, Melissa hadn’t been able to scrape together enough to satisfy the bank or building societies she’d approached. It was incredibly frustrating.