Wildewood Revenge (19 page)

“And you, Miles, are you confident?”

“Realistic. That’s the difference between us.”

*  *  *

In the loft above the stables Belle lay on her stomach alongside Edmu
nd and watched the boy silently
as he in turn watched Grace and Miles with the pony in the yard.

“She is
beautiful,” said the girl slyly
as she pulled out a strand of straw and chewed one end. Edmund shrugged. “They make
a good pair, don’t ye think?” s
he pressed, rolling on to her back.

“No.”

“Ah, but they do, Edmund, he
bein
’ so handsome and rich. Look at the pony he’s given her.
A fine beas
t.
I
t will have cost him
,
nay doubt.”

Edmund scowled.
“He is not rich and she
be
far too good for him.”

“Surely not, Edmund?
A gallant knig
ht, master of an entire demesne -
what woman could resist? Just
look at the way he watches her.
I’ll wager he’s not
thinkin
’ of ponies and such like.”

Edmund spun, anger sparking in his young eyes. “She’s not like
yer
other women. She will resist. He’s
playin
’ with her.”

Belle continued to study the couple from her lofty vantage point.

Miles stood at the centre of the yard and watched as Grace trotted the pony and then pushed her into a canter. She grabbed at her skirts as the pony picked up pace and Miles smiled at her attempts at modesty.

“Why does he not take her out into the park to ride?” asked Belle. She glanced at Edmund, irritated at his obvious infatuation.

“In case she buggers off, I reckon,” replied Edmund. He stood up and brushed the straw from his clothes.

“Why would she run off?” questioned Belle, a sudden gleam in her eye. There was definitely something odd about this whole situation. “I thought she was here under Miles’ protection?”

Edmund shot a quick glance at Belle. “The pony, I meant the pony. She’s young and still green. It’s safer
keepin
’ her enclosed until she settles down.” He let out a held breath.

“Is she a good rider?” asked Belle.

“Good
enough.” He smiled and added, “
though
she hung on
to me tightly enough when she shared my pony.” Belle shot him a withering glance.

He crossed to the ladder and lowered himself onto the top rung.  “You may have time to spend the day up here, but I’ve got things to do.”

Belle stayed a while longer in the loft watching the couple in the yard. They were indeed a handsome pair, although Belle thought S
ir Miles far too old and battle-
scarred for her own taste. She’d seen him stripped to the waist at the water trough and been shocked by the number of scars. Edmund told her the worst was from a sword which almost cost his life. Her grandmother hinted he’d brought Grace here to wed and carry his children. And that was fine with Belle. Edmund would soon get over her when she’d a full belly. She could help him if he’d give her a chance. But if Sir Miles was just playing a game and Grace remained here and unattached, then Belle would have to take matters into her own hands. She wa
nted Edmund’s attention on her
and her alone.

*  *  *

Miles sought out Edmund after supper and they walked together in the growing gloom by the stables. He’d barely had time for the lad since they’d arrived and he’d not yet dealt with the boy’s behaviour regarding Grace.

“How do you find
Wildewood
, Edmund? Is everything as you expected?”

“
T
’
is
grand, my lord,” replied Edmund. “The way it sits, hidden like, and can only be seen if
yer
know where to look.”

“And the others – Tom, John the Mason -
have they made you welcome?”

Edmund nodded. “John’s been
tellin
’ me ‘bout his time in Li
ncoln. He worked with me father,
did ye know that?”

“Yes, he told me, Edmund. H
e said he was a fine man. It’s good for you to talk with someone who knew him. I’m sorry that despite my best efforts I’ve been unable to take his place, but a father’s place is very special and should remain so.” It was unfortunate he could not say the same about his own father.

“You’ve been very good to me, my lord. I’d not be here if it weren’t for you. I know that and I am in your debt.”

Miles sighed and considered his words carefully, “We have become close, Edmund. I rely on you for many things. Do you know the reason for that?”

“Nay, my lord.”

“Well, because you are loyal and trustworthy
,
and I know you’ll always be truthful.” Miles could just make out the boys expression and
he looked wary, uncertain. “Do you trust me, Edmund?”

“Of course.”

“Do you trust me to do the right thing for Lady Grace?”

Edmund was silent for a moment. Miles waited and the boy scuffed at the dirt beneath his feet.

“She is very lovely
,
is she not?” continued Miles, and Edmund nodded.
“She’s a very fine and clever lady and she thinks highly of you, Edmund.” The boy looked up.
“She’s been scared and alone and you have been a friend to her, she’s very grateful and hopes you will continue to be her friend.” Edmund stayed silent.
“But you need to appreciate, Edmund, you are as a brother to her. A brother do you understand?”

“And you, my lord,” Edmund’s voice was barely a whisper. “What is she to you?”

Miles shook his head. “If I’m honest, Edmund, I don’t know. I find
her exasperating and annoying,
and at the same time I want her. What do you make of that?”

Edmund shrugged “Do
yer
still plan to sell her?”

“No, Edmund, I do not intend to ransom her.
You were correct. It was an ill-
conceived plan.”

“Do
yer
swear?”

“Swear on what?”

“That ye won’t sell her?”

“You have my word, Edmund.”

Edmund grinned and Miles sensed his relief.

“I have been made aware of certain things which lead me to believ
e she may be in danger, Edmund,
and I need to know I can count on you.”

“What danger?” cried Edmund in
alarm.

Miles shushed him and glanced around warily.
“Can I trust you, Edmund? A
re we together on this?”

“Of course, my lord, I would do anything necessary.”

“Good, there are some things you need to know.”

Chapter Twenty One

It was late when Miles eventually climbed the spiral stairs to his room. With the exception of young Edmund, the rest of the household were sleeping and the gates were bolted against unwelcome guests. He’d left Edmund on first watch with a promise to relieve him when the moon began to wane. Miles felt secure in the knowledge he would be alerted in good time if anything untoward should happen during E
d
mund’s watch. The boy would not fail him. Little more than a child, he had the heart of a lion and would make a good knight one day. Though
he was
lowly born, Miles was determined to make good the cost of E
d
mund’s training. Circumstances may have caused the loss of
his own
valuable
destrier
and armour but it was a temporary situation. Fortunes could be reversed if there was will and determination
,
and Miles was not short of both.

He’d arrived late to supper and been so intent on other matters it was not until after the meal he’d realised
the reason for his distraction. Grace
was no longer there. He wondered at the reason for her absence. Perhaps she’d had second thoughts.

He paused now on the spiral stairs outside her bedchamber. He needed to speak with her, and although it could have waited till morning, he saw the light from beneath the door and decided he did not wish to wait. He knocked gently but received no response. She’d likely fallen asleep with the candle burning. Nevertheless he pulled the latch and opened the door to her room. He had to duck to enter through the small doorway
,
and as he did
,
he realised she was indeed sleeping. He closed the door behind him to stem the inevitable draughts, and quietly crossed the room.

This had been his mother’s room and he recalled how she’d decora
t
ed it with many bed hangings and tapestries. From spring through to autumn she’d brought in wild flowers
,
and the scent hung sweetly in the air.

He looked about now in the dim candle light. The bed linen had been cleaned, as had his, and the room smelt of lavender. Unlike his mother however, Grace was untidy and clothes were scattered about, draped over the chest and hung over the posts at the end of the bed. He gently touched the flimsy garments susp
ended above the now dying fire. T
hey were still damp; she had been washing her clothes. He noticed the tub in front of the fire and imagined
her languishing in the water. I
magin
a
tion...it would be the death of him.

Leaving his thoughts along with her undergarments, he crossed to the wall opposite the window where she’d hung some pictures of her own. There were three, all painted on squares of linen. In the dim light he saw the image of Edmund his youthfulness captured perfectly. Al
t
hough he could not make out the colours, he knew he was looking at the work of someone with great talent and despite of his discomfort at her irreverence, he found himself in awe.

The second picture, of the filly, was full of movement and excit
e
ment, the pony an image captured in mid-flight. Nostrils flaring, mane and tail flying, the background a blur as the pony galloped through it. He reached out and traced the pony’s outline with his fingers. He could almost feel her flinch beneath his touch and the flickering candlelight served to animate the creature with movements which he knew were impossible but were nevertheless real. He drew a breath and crossed himself.

The last could not be described as a painting, merely a collection of
random charcoal lines. A nose, eyes, an expression, a taste of something to come, yet he recognised every line.

“It’s not finished yet,” said Grace. Miles smiled, turning slowly.

She sat up in bed, her knees under her chin the covers pulled around to keep out the cold. Her hair was messed as if she’d just woken but her eyes were bright and held a glint of mischief.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he answered.

“So you thought you’d sneak into my room?”

Miles considered his position, why had he come to her chamber? It certainly wasn’t to talk. “Is this why you dined in your room, so you could continue to paint?”

Grace shrugged. “Yes and no.
I had things to do,” she paused and smiled. “I was washing my hair.”

“You have a remarkable, if somewhat dangerous, talent,” he said as he approached the bed, “Who is the handsome knight on the left?”

Grace narrowed her eyes. “Oh, just someone I met on the road, a bit too clever for his own good, you know the type. Thinks the world r
e
volves around him, that women will fall at his feet.”

“And will they?”

“Perhaps...”  She revealed her naked arm from beneath the cover and patted the edge of the bed next to her. “Sit down. You’re blocking what little heat there is from the fire.”

Miles smiled, “Excuse me, my lady” and he stretched out next to her on top of the covers.

“Are you going to finish the painting?” he asked.

“That depends on whether I’m here long enough.”

“Do you want to finish it?”

“I like to finish everything I’ve started,” she replied as she watched
him in the candlelight.

He smiled and returned her gaze. The game was back on. “Does it matter how long it takes to finish?”

Grace drew one slender hand through her hair, delicately taming the long strands of her unruly fringe. She twisted the hair slowly, seductiv
e
ly and Miles paused entranced. “I suppose it depends on what you’ve started. Some things are best over as quickly as possible.” She sent a smouldering glance in Miles direction, “But other things are so good...you don’t want them to end.”