Sheltered by the Warrior Page 15

  She heard Stephen’s heavy sigh. “Why were you soaking those plants? You have no animals to feed.”

  “I was retting stalks to weave a net for my hen’s coop.”

  “I remember. ’Tis like making rope.”

  “Aye. This parchment is what’s left of the inside fibers. ’Tis not fine like vellum, though. You can see bits of the fiber in it.”

  Stephen studied the parchment, then the sketch it held. “This is truly amazing. ’Tis like looking at myself in Josane’s mirror, only better.” He smiled at her. “I look ugly in her mirror. What made you think of drawing me?”

  Because all she’d done since they met was think of him. Nay, she would not say that, for they matched like oil and water. And he’d broken their kiss as if he’d realized its folly. ’Twas a folly for her, too. He’d wanted to use her. Taurin and her father had used her, too, even though this time, ’twas for her benefit. Nay, Stephen’s main concern was not for her safety. He couldn’t be trusted.

  Her heart lurched. What would it feel like to completely trust the man you cared for? And to know he wouldn’t put some fool thing like money or power ahead of your life? Or duty.

  She would never know because she would never trust a man. They always hurt her.

  Tears stung her eyes as she took back the parchment and flipped it over. Her hands shook as she reached for the charcoal stick she’d left on the table. “I discovered making this parchment by accident. And then I considered making it and offering it to anyone who would be willing to teach Andrew how to read and write when he’s ready to learn.”

  “We will find someone for him, I promise.”

  She shut her eyes, partly to hide her pleasure and partly to recall her attacker’s face. “Give me a moment.”

  Holding her breath, she pulled free the memory of her attacker. Her heart pounded, and fear clutched her throat as his hands had done. Nay, I can do this. She would sketch his face, and they would find him, and stop this madness and fear once and for all.

  For if the guard had caught this man, he would have returned by now.

  Keep the guard safe, Lord.

  Stephen lingered close. She shifted away. “Please, milord, give me some room.”

  He eased back. “Rowena,” he said quietly, his voice dissolving her concentration as warm water dissolved honey. “’Tis time you called me Stephen.”

  Her eyes flew open and she gaped at him. She could barely breathe. And surely Lor—Stephen could hear the thumping of her heart, for it pulsed loud in her own ears.

  Don’t answer him. Don’t let him see how his words weaken you. She looked away and began to sketch with a shaking hand.

  Her mind raced. Nay, she could not allow herself to be wooed by Stephen’s gentle words. He was a man, and they took more than they gave.

  But did he not say he would find someone to teach Andrew his letters? Did she not believe him?

  He’d also asked her to find someone to care for Andrew, should she die.

  She would have died tonight if not for Stephen.

  ’Twas not the time for pondering what could have happened. Maybe after the cur was found. Her sketching grew feverish and she focused hard on her vision of the man. His round face and squat nose, his longish hair and tufts of beard that seemed at odds with the bushy brows all grew on the parchment. One of his bulging eyes tilted up and his jaw was too big for his face. She shaded where the bones of his jaw protruded, the play of light and shadows coming to her as naturally as breathing. Finally, she set down the parchment.

  Aye, ’twas the man! She’d sketched out broad farmer’s shoulders and a cowl that tipped to one side as if sewn by someone half-blind.

  Rowena shoved the sketch across the table. “Here,” she said quickly, “’Tis he, I’m sure.”

  Stephen frowned at her expression before lifting the parchment. She held her breath as he stared at it. He still sat close to her, still made her feel foolishly addled and all too warm inside.

  Stop it, she ordered herself. She could no more allow this attraction to blossom than she could let her life be ruled by fear.

  Stephen shook his head. “I don’t recognize him, and I have been working with the villagers building that palisade.”

  “I haven’t seen him here, but—” she paused “—Stephen, he could be one of many Saxons hiding in the forest. I remember my father ordering me to lock the barn doors every night because the men in the forest often came in to steal food.”

  Stephen looked at her, his eyes dark, yet compassionate. Was that vulnerability she saw in his gaze? Nay, not in him! She fought the urge to slip closer to him. She would not torture herself with this...this growing interest in him. Aye, that moment in his arms felt so right, but ’twas just born of the danger they’d shared. Relief did that to people.

  “There are many Saxons hiding in the woods,” he was saying. “Adrien de Ries told me his courier was attacked on his way to Colchester last summer.”

  He stroked his chin as he fell silent. She leaned forward. “What are you thinking?”

  Before he could answer, the sound of pounding feet interrupted them. They both looked up, with Stephen quickly drawing his sword and stepping in front of Rowena just as the guard stepped into the circle of light.

  “Milord, I’m sorry. I lost him in the woods.” The man was still panting.

  “Which way did he go?”

  “West, milord.”

  “Awaken the troops. Scour the area.” He turned to Rowena. “Were you wearing your veil?”

  “Aye. And a wimple, also.” She hurried over and picked them up from where they fell. “I’m sorry. I know you want me to wear them at all times, but he must have torn them off.”

  “Not to worry. Give them to me.” When she did, he handed them to the soldier, along with the sketch of the man. “Take the hound from the barn but do not let him smell her wimple until you’re in the forest, lest he pick up Rowena’s scent around the manor. I want that man caught tonight.”

  “Aye, milord.” The soldier disappeared.

  Stephen walked to the door. There he turned, his expression as cold as the winter wind. “Gather your things, Rowena. You will return to the manor with me.”

  Without thought, she wanted to protest, but his words stopped her. If truth be told, she no longer wanted to stay here. Was it cowardice or wanting to be near Stephen?

  Nay, not the latter, for Stephen was bent on only one thing, finding her attacker. ’Twas a purpose that helped her, but men didn’t do such things for noble reasons.

  She hesitated just outside her home. Stephen wasn’t doing this just to help her.

  Her heart clenched. Then she took her metal diadem, all that was left of her headdress, and followed him.

  * * *

  His thoughts racing, Stephen threw open his front door, not even allowing the soldier on guard to assist him. He could hear Rowena hurrying to keep up with his long strides, her small feet tapping a swift tattoo since the rushes were not strewn this close to the door, for Josane refused to have them constantly swept outside and lost.

  He turned when they reached the area past the armory. Ahead lay the great hall, and across it was the other corridor. “Go to the maids’ room, Rowena, and stay there until I send for you. I have something to do.”

  If she had opened her mouth to protest, he didn’t see it. Instead, he strode into the hall, only to find it empty. The guard had roused all the men, his young squire included, to begin the manhunt.

  Still seething, he stalked down the far corridor to the short stairs that led to the second floor, to his sister’s chamber. He cared not if she had her husband visiting that night, but ’twas unlikely, for his sister’s marriage to Gilles had not been a love match. They had long sorted out their differences, aye, and kept the marriage going by turning it into
a business partnership, but there was nothing else in it.

  Stephen had avoided his parents’ trap of an arranged marriage by joining the military full-time. And he was thankful for that. When he married, he wanted it to be a happy arrangement, and not something barely tolerable, like Josane’s.

  His mother would not arrange a marriage now, unless ’twere to punish him for failing to save Corvin’s life. And she knew Stephen could successfully contest such a decision, citing her bitterness and his service to his king.

  Jaw tight with displeasure, Stephen reached Josane’s door and pounded on it. He had to hear her answer to the questions bursting inside him. “Josane, open up! ’Tis me, Stephen.” He drew in his breath to steady his temper. “I will speak with you now!”

  Josane opened the door, her other hand gathering the neckline of her nightshift. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Gilles?”

  Stephen barged in and looked around. Spying the only other person there, her maid, on a pallet at the other side of the brazier, he flicked his head at her. “Leave. You may return when I am done speaking with your mistress.”

  Josane quickly lit her lamp from a hot coal in the chamber’s brazier. “What’s all this about, Stephen? You can’t come barging in here—”

  “I can and I will, woman.” Josane’s position as older sister was firmly entrenched in the pair’s relationship, but Stephen’s baronage had long since overridden that. “You sent Gaetan to the next village for herbs, did you not?”

  “Aye, yesterday. Gilles needed them and we’d run out.”

  “You sent a letter, also?”

  She frowned. “Nay. My instructions were verbal.”

  “Why my squire?”

  “He was the first one I found and he’s smart enough to remember my instructions.” Josane took her cloak and wrapped it around her.

  “What happened to the courier?”

  “You sent him to London,” she snapped back.

  “I haven’t used him since I sent him to Dunmow, yet he went to London and retrieved a letter from Adrien.” Stephen paused. If she didn’t send the courier, who did?

  Josane interrupted his thoughts. “Stephen, you’re scaring me! What has happened?”

  “Rowena returned to her home only to be attacked by a man I don’t believe lives in this village. You sent my squire to a village west of here, in the same direction that the man fled.”

  Josane’s jaw fell. “You think I paid the man to attack Rowena? Are you addled?” She sank into the chair nearest the lamp she’d lit. Then, with a gasp, she rose again. “Is Rowena hurt? She’s not...”

  “Nay, I thwarted his attack.”

  “You thwarted his attack!” She poked him with her finger. “Stephen, did you put that poor thing in harm’s way? Did you set her in her home just to lure out her attacker?”

  “What would you care if I did?”

  Josane slapped the table beside her. “Stephen, I may not want those girls to be my dear friends, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for them! These maids can’t be treated like handfuls of grain in a trap!”

  Stephen looked away.

  “Where is she?” Josane snapped.

  “Downstairs.”

  Letting out a frustrated growl, Josane released her cloak before pulling an outer tunic over her night shift. She bustled past her brother, but he caught her elbow. “Josane, who used my courier? Why send for herbs in the next village?”

  She rolled her eyes, and Stephen was ready to reprimand her for it, but she quickly added, “We were out of them. There is no intrigue here. Go to London if you want that. Oh, ’twas an unfortunate day when the king gave you this forsaken village and manor. Lady Udella should have asked the king for Gilles to be baron.”

  Cold sluiced through him. “Why would she ask the king that? When?”

  “When he granted her a private audience during his first march north. Later, when I arrived, I went to the chapel to speak with her. She told me that she’d wanted to ask the king to make Gilles baron here. Instead, she asked for the village’s safety and in return she would pray for him and it.”

  Stephen knew nothing about this. Was there more? “Why did she want Gilles to be given this manor?”

  “She didn’t say and had asked that I not tell anyone about our conversation. She had been the baroness here, daughter of an earl and liked by the king, so I respected her wishes.”

  “Did she say why she wanted your conversation to be a secret?”

  “If she did, I don’t remember. She did ask about Gilles’s birth. Mayhap she had been hoping for an easy change because Gilles has the look of a Saxon as opposed to our swarthy features.” She paused. “But Gilles is not a full-time soldier like you. It makes a difference to the king, I think.”

  Mayhap. Stephen knew Gilles had the look of his northern Frankish roots, for hadn’t his mother once said her people came from where a great Rhein river meets the North Sea? But all Gilles knew was Norman. Stephen threw up his hands. “Josane, you would still have had to come here.”

  At the door, Josane smoothed her tunic and tipped up her chin. “But not required to stay. I would have employed a chatelaine, as you have done with me. As lady of the manor, I’d have had more freedom.” Her tone softened with hurt.

  Hurt?

  “Did you ever tell Gilles this?”

  “Nay. What could he do? He became your bailiff. Our families expect a wife to stay with her husband. If he’d been made the baron, I would have convinced him to return to Normandy. He dislikes it here as much as I do.” Her expression clouded. “Now, if you will pardon me, my lord, I will check on Rowena. I doubt you would know how to ensure she is well.”

  She left Stephen standing in her bedchamber. Did she really resent being here? When he heard his sister’s maid return, he stepped back into the narrow upstairs corridor.

  Udella had wanted to ask for Gilles instead? When King William marched through here two years ago, both Stephen and Gilles were with him. Stephen knew Lady Udella had met her new sovereign, but he’d not been privy to their conversation. He knew nothing of Josane’s first conversation with Udella, either.

  Did Gilles know any of this? Stephen remembered the day his own service, and Corvin’s, also, had been rewarded with this village. Stephen had made Gilles the bailiff and Gilles had accepted the position with gratitude. He hadn’t seemed disappointed, and even now he didn’t appear to know anything of Udella’s request. In fact, Gilles seemed to like his position. And why not? It came with much power. Among other duties, Gilles decided sentencing in civil cases. That brought with it a lot of influence.

  Stephen made his way downstairs. He could hear Josane’s murmurings to Rowena, but the words were muffled by the closed door. He strode down to the hall, and as before, ’twas still empty, with pallets and blankets strewn on the tables. These trestle tables functioned also as beds and had been circled around the hearth, as if waiting for the men to return.

  Lord, bring me Rowena’s attacker.

  No answer. No wash of satisfaction as he’d felt when serving his king. He’d always believed he’d been doing the Lord’s work, but today, it did not feel so comfortable. Instead, disappointment blossomed on his tongue. He folded his arms and glared into the dying fire.

  “Stephen?”

  The word was so soft, ’twas as if it were carried on a draft that wafted in when a door was opened. Stephen looked up.

  Rowena stood in the doorway, another borrowed veil pushed back slightly to reveal the wisps of white-blond hair that framed her delicate face.

  His heart leaped as he recalled their kiss. “Come in,” he said briskly. “Did my sister find you?”

  “Aye. But I am unhurt and milady has returned to her bed. ’Twas no reason for her to hover over me.”

  “I doubt she would
have done that. But ’tis good that she cares.” He paused as she walked up to stand next to him in front of the fire. “I asked you to remain in the maids’ chamber,” he reminded her.

  “Forgive me. I just wanted to—”

  “To what?”

  She swallowed and he knew instantly she was battling some inner decision. She blinked, wet her lips and then steeled her spine. Whatever trouble haunted her, she had conquered it.

  “I want you to be Andrew’s guardian should anything happen to me.”

  He felt his eyebrow shoot up. “Me?”

  “Aye. ’Twould be easier for you than Clara to arrange for Andrew to learn his letters and numbers.” She paused. “I nearly died tonight and would have left Andrew an orphan, for his real father is long gone and I know he cares little for the boy now.”

  “I am a soldier, Rowena, not a nanny.”

  “But you can arrange for his care. Ellie would gladly do it, and I will start immediately making many sheets of parchment and enough lengths of rope to last this manor for many years. I will pay in advance for Andrew’s care.”

  “So this isn’t about trusting me to be a good guardian for the boy. ’Tis about me being able to provide for him effectively.”

  Rowena glanced at her feet. He watched her swallow and purse her lips.

  “Is there no trust in your heart at all, Rowena?”

  “Do not ask me that, Stephen. What have men done for me?”

  “Naught but sinned against you.” He felt a similar edginess to her own. “Someday, you will have to forgive them. You’ll never see them again, but this bitterness will eat you from the inside out.”

  She peeked into his eyes and he saw a hollow fear in her expression. Her spine might be straight as a fresh arrow, and her jaw like steel, but she couldn’t mask the fear that lingered within.