Lady Gallant (38 page)

Either he had crushed a baby chick beneath the heel of his boot, or he'd foiled the machinations of a devil in voluptuous form. To Christian's torment, he couldn't decide which was the case. The dilemma kept him up all that night, along with his body's anticipation of the relief he'd promised himself on the morrow.

He was up with the first light, rousing his body servant and harassing Cook and the poor steward. All of them were wroth with him already for descending on Falaise without proper warning, so they could prepare the house for his arrival. The steward, Master Nicholas Tideman, had know him from a babe, and when Christian had first arrived at Falaise, Tideman had made his displeasure clear at the intrusion of Christian's less respectable companions.

"Young viscounts do not invite such persons to give company to their ladies," Tideman had said, his lip curled in disgust as he examined Simon Spry and Odo Twitch.

As soon as he was dressed, Christian sought out Tideman. The older man was in the kitchen yard supervising the delivery of a new work table. Christian marched out to him, barely acknowledging the steward's salute.

"Tideman, I need a kitten."

"My lord?"

"Or a puppy, or mayhap both, or several of each."

"Master Christian, have you an imbalance of humors?"

"Even young weasels or hedgehogs will do if we've no kittens or puppies."

Tideman stuck his thumbs in the belt that circled his globular belly and lifted his nose. "Young viscounts do not play the jester to their retainers, Master Christian."

"I'm not playing the jester. I need a puppy, or a weasel, or a hedgehog. Something."

"And I am not in the habit of keeping weasels or infant hedgehogs, my lord."

Christian glanced over his shoulder at the men hauling the work table through the kitchen door and stepped closer to Tideman. "It's for my lady. Are you sure we've not got a wounded lamb or a starving fawn on the grounds?"

"Ah." Tideman nodded and chuckled.

"Amused, Tideman?"

"Your lady wife found no favor in the rude company you kept these several weeks past, and you seek her goodwill. It is well that you sent those lewd fellows away, Master Christian, and it is true that Lady Nora isn't wont to yearn for jewels and the like. Favors animals, does she?"

"I have no need to seek my wife's goodwill," Christian said stiffly while meeting Tideman's amused gaze.

"No, Master Christian."

"I am capable of thinking of another's pleasure, you know."

"Of a certainty."

"Then find me a puppy, Tideman."

Tideman responded with a tightness in his voice that meant he was trying not to laugh. "I believe there are some in the stables, Master Christian."

Christian chose the smallest and least fat of the puppies. To his disgust, they all possessed downy, bulging middles gurgling -with a surfeit of their mother's milk. So much for finding a starving or abused creature for Nora to comfort. Wrapping the sleeping puppy in a fragment of a blanket, Christian returned to the manor house. On his way through the kitchens he met Blade, lounging on a bench beside a table.

"Found something else to torture?" the youth asked.

"If I wanted that kind of sport, I'd take you to the cellar for a few hours of entertainment," Christian said.

Blade took a hefty bite of a fruit tart, then turned sideways on the bench, bending a knee so that his foot rested on it. "It won't do any good. The puppy, I mean. She hates you as much as the disciples hated Judas."

"She needn't love me. She needs only to yield with grace and obedience."

Blade tossed his fruit tart on the table and scowled at Christian. "She told me what you want. Why don't you kill her and make an end to it?"

Christian shifted the puppy to the crook of his left arm and lifted Blade's chin with his fingertips.

"Have you been comforting my wife, marchpane?"

"Get your hands off me, Montfort. She invited me to play cards with her and Arthur."

"There will be no cards tonight." Christian left Blade cursing and ripping a loaf of bread into ribbons.

When he gained the landing outside Nora's chamber, he bethought himself to knock instead of invading, as was his habit. One couldn't woo a shy maid into bed by playing the infidel.

He shifted the puppy to rest on his shoulder. He could feel its nose snuffling at his neck and smiled.

Tap tap.

Silence.

Tap tap.

The puppy grunted and licked Christian's neck before subsiding with a snore.

Tap tap tap.

No response. She was asleep. Thinking to deposit the puppy in bed with her, Christian eased the door open and slipped inside.

The hangings had never been drawn about the bed. The trundle bed on which Arthur slept was still slid beneath Nora's larger one. Christian walked slowly to the empty bed, cradling his furry burden. Coming to a halt, he stared down at the spot where Nora's head should have been. With care he lowered the puppy to the mattress and stroked its small head, then bellowed for Nora's maid.

After three bellows, the girl appeared, flustered and fearful.

"Where is my lady?"

"Where—where—where—"

"God's blood, stop that chattering and tell me where my lady and her page have gone."

"I thought her abed, my lord. It is early, and she hadn't called." The girl squealed when Christian let out another bellow.

"Tideman!"

"I'll fetch him, my lord." The girl ran.

"Tideman!" Christian followed the maid, taking the stairs three at a time. He was barreling through the hall when he almost ran into the steward. "Where is my lady, Tideman?"

"Is she missing, Master Christian?"

Fury burned away his confusion. "Call all the servants to the hall, and the guards."

In a short time, Christian was standing before the fireplace in the hall, facing his household staff. Blade lounged on the steps that led down from the fireplace. Sunlight poured cheerily into the hall from the windows that reached almost to the ceiling, mocking Christian's anxiety.

"No one has seen her since last night, my lord," Tideman said. "Or the page, either."

"And a mare is missing from the stables?"

"The head groom was reporting so when you called, my lord."

Christian raced down the stairs and headed for his chambers. "Call my men to horse and set the household to searching again. I want to make sure she's not here before I leave. Blade, you're coming with me."

"But I like it here."

"I want you to be there when I catch her. I'm not fool enough to think she got away on her own. She's most likely gone back to London, and when I find her, I'll take a whip to her. Even Nora should know better than to prance about the highways of England with no more protection than that angelic pestilence."

Christian was dressed in riding clothes and mounting his stallion before all of his men were assembled. Cursing their slowness, he rode out with Blade and two sergeants at his heels, anxious to pick up any signs of her passage before weather or traffic destroyed them. He willed himself to go carefully, for tracking demanded attention to detail and calm persistence. It took the whole of his will to imprison his worry and his rage. As it was, if the dangers of the road didn't kill Nora, he was like to when he got his hands on her again.

She'd run from him. Was it because she was a traitor, or was it because she couldn't bear for him to touch her? In all likelihood it was both. He walked along the road from Falaise to London leading his mount, his gaze raking the ground for signs of her passage. As the hours passed and he found no trace of her, his wrath grew and settled into his heart.

What a fool he must have looked, toting a puppy about his own house and running after a woman who had fled his presence. She didn't want his hand on her, but that was exactly what she was going to get. When he caught her, he would put his hands on her any way he wished, for as long as he wished, and he would watch her squirm.

Nora peeped through the screen of overgrown witch hazel to survey the herb garden. It was deserted and bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. They'd given up searching the house and grounds long ago, and her husband was gone.

It had been her idea to remain at Falaise, and Blade had been against it when she took the chance of confiding in him. After an hour of her pleading he had agreed to distract her husband and direct the search for her to London. Lord Montfort would expect her to flee witlessly into the forest or gallop off to the city with no thought for the danger. She wasn't as stupid as he thought, but she counted on him underestimating her. He had, and now he was well on his way, searching and cursing, no doubt. With any luck he would spend weeks ferreting around in the city while she conceived of a plan for her and Arthur's future.

The boy knelt beside her, impatient to be free of the witch hazel vines that had overgrown this corner of the herb garden. Flanked by two stone walls that formed the corner, the plants encroached on verbena and a bed of petunias, reaching over three feet high. They'd hidden there all day, feasting on the supply of food and drink provided by Blade.

As Nora had expected, once the search ended, Tideman set the household to work tidying Falaise. Satisfied that no one was about, she took the basket of leftover food from Arthur and stood. Her bottom was numb from sitting so long, and she watched Arthur's lithe movements with envy as he plunged ahead over her, shoving aside stalks of witch hazel. Once they were free of the vegetation, she shook her skirts into place and ran a hand through Arthur's rumpled curls. Handing him the basket, she walked behind him as he marched into the house, whistling.

In the kitchen Cook was bent over a pot of stew. As Arthur tramped into the room, the woman let out a squawk and dropped her ladle into the pot.

"My lady!"

"Good even, Cook," Nora said.

Potboys and Cook's assistants stared.

"My lady!" Cook repeated.

"A wonderful day for walking and feasting by the river, was it not?"

Cook rubbed her hands on her apron and worked her mouth open and closed. "My lady."

"Is something wrong?"

"We thought you'd run away."

Nora frowned. "Run away? What a foolish notion. Did you not consult your master? He knew I was going on a long walk today."

"But… but…"

"And where is everyone? The house is so quiet."

"God save us, my lady. The lord has gone off looking for you. Gone in the direction of the city."

"Looking for me? But he gave his permission for my walk days ago. Oh, my."

"My lady!"

Nora turned to see the steward gawking at her.

"Oh, Master Tideman," Cook said, "our lady hadn't run off at all."

Nora clasped her hands and inclined her head to Tideman. Here was the test, she knew. If Tideman could be fooled, she would be safe for a few weeks.

"It seems that there has been a confusion," she said.

"Your lord husband thought you vanished, my lady."

"So I understand," she said, and told her story again.

As she talked she eyed the steward, alert for any sign that he suspected her of mendacity. There was none. He frowned a good bit, and sputtered when she put forth the surmise that Lord Montfort had forgotten he'd given his permission for her outing. Nora felt a jolt of fear when the steward shook his head.

"Unbelievable," Tideman said.

"You question my words?" Nora did her best to look aghast.

"Oh, no, my lady. I meant that Lord Montfort's forgetfulness is unbelievable. So unlike him. He remembers the most inconvenient things most of the time, but since you came… And, of course, there was all that raving about hedgehogs and weasels."

"You must explain," Nora said.

"I fear my lord has been distracted of late." Tideman gave her a knowing look. "He has been melancholy and remote and this morning he asked me for a puppy or some such creature. I believe he wished to present one to you, my lady. Indeed, love has changed my lord in ways I had not thought possible."

"Love." Nora's wits refused to stir. "Ah, yes, you speak of our—our love. Of course you do. Our love. Mayhap you're right. My lord has been addled by it, as I have." She shook her head and smiled ruefully. "And to think I was only a short distance away, at the river."

"But we searched everywhere," Tideman said. He glanced at Arthur, who rocked on his heels and gave the man a wide-eyed look.

As Nora listened to Tideman voice his confusion, she counted the minutes that passed. The time approached for Blade's message to arrive, and her whole scheme depended on it. Blade had said he would bribe one of the grooms to pretend to receive a message. Where was the groom?

"We should send word to Lord Montfort anon, my lady," Tideman finally said.

"Oh, there's time aplenty for that," Nora said.

"But my lady—"

"I'm famished."

"The message—"

"I crave some venison, and perhaps a bread pudding."

As she piled up her list of cravings, a stableboy entered with a note in his hand and gave it to Tideman. Nora tried not to look relieved as Tideman glanced at the note, then at her.

"It is for you, my lady."

Taking the paper, Nora opened it, making sure she held it so the steward couldn't see the script. She popped her eyes open wide and giggled.

"Oh, Tideman. My lord indeed misremembered our conversation. He got halfway to London before he recollected where I was." She crumpled the note in her fist and smiled at the bewildered steward. "He sends his regrets and says he'll continue to the city to visit the Earl before returning. What a fine jest. We shall tease him without mercy when he comes home."

"As I said, my lady, Lord Montfort has been muzzywitted since he wed."

"I believe you, and thank you for your concern. And now I need rest, I think. I will be in my room until time to dine." Nora was about to leave when the steward put up a hand.

"My lord said that you would be moving to the master's chambers, my lady."

"There is no need since my husband isn't here." Nora hoped she wasn't blushing. "Has my lord said anything else?"