Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (8 page)

Aubrey rushed to the tiny window by the table. She grabbed its bars and peered out into the yard at the White Tower. Somewhere in the depths of its dungeon Crispin and Jack were prisoners. The only people who knew what kind of trouble they’d gotten themselves into were Madeline and Joanna, and
at
best her friends were alone and adrift in the city of London.

Dear Joanna,

Our voyage to the Holy Land has taken an unexpected turn so I’m able to write to you much sooner than
I’d anticipated
.

We left Marseille in good spirits, ready to take on all of Saladin’s armies and return Jerusalem to the Holy Father. The weather was perfect. The Mediterranean sea was so blue and calm. Ethan, Sir Geoffrey, and Sir Baldwin went swimming every day. I was certain they’d turn into fish
or be carried off by mermaids.

Ethan has been determined to teach me to swim, particularly after Sir Baldwin nearly drowned me. Sir Baldwin wasn’t aware that I couldn’t swim and threw me overboard in jest. Ethan dove in to save me. I was so terrified I almost drown
ed
him in h
is
rescue
attempt. He pulled me out of
the water in the end and gave Sir Baldwin a tongue-lashing s
o severe I pity Saladin’s men!

Sir Baldwin was as
penitent
as could be about the inci
dent. He’s a good and kind man - quite handsome too -
but it took a long time for him to win back Ethan’s trust. I told Ethan he was being foolish, of course, that Sir Baldwin was only joking and was truly sorry. And yes, I accused Ethan of being as bull-headed and unforgiving as you! He answered me by sulking as hard as you ever have. Dear God, the two of you are so alike sometimes. I wonder that I’ve kept my sanity this long dealing with the
both
of you.

All was quickly forgotten when we reached Sicily, however. Yes, Sicily. I’ve no idea if King Richard planned the visit or not, but it turned out that his sister, Princess Joan, was being held captive in the castle at Messina. Joan’s husband, King William of Sicily, died last year and the new king, Tancred, has been holding her captive ever since. King Richard, of course, couldn’t stand for this, and when negotiations broke down we attacked the city.

I’ll not lie to you, Joanna, I was terrified. Ethan has tried to teach me to fight before but I have no stomach for it. He and Sir Geoffrey and Sir Baldwin were eager for their first conflict
.
I would have rather jumped back into the sea. Then, before the attack began, Ethan took me aside.
He told me that time and again
l
ife will call on us to do things we don’t want to do. The battle we were about to fight might not be our cause, but it was a just cause. He told me to think not of myself and my ow
n safety, but to think of you.

He reminded me that when an injustice has been done it is our moral duty to fight with every fiber of our sinew to right the wrong. No matter the risk to ourselves. I could have kissed him for that speech. It filled me with such purpose that when we attacked the city I charged at Ethan’s side, shouting with enough fury to bring the walls down. Yes, me! Your mouse Toby.
With enough borrowed courage even this mouse can roar. In the end we captured the city with ease. Princess Joan has been freed and is safe. We will stay in Sicily for a time before moving on.

It is so beautiful here, Joanna, so warm and inviting. I have been enjoying the view of the blue sea, green mountains, and Ethan, Sir Geoffrey, and Sir Baldwin frolicking in the surf in various states of undress. I know you would enjoy the sight as much as I do. Our hero Ethan has developed quite a tan … all over.

Your affectionate brother,

Toby

Long before the sun was up, Ethan rolled himself out of bed, dressed, and climbed down from his room above the stables to begin his day’s work. London was quiet, almost as quiet as Windale had been in the morning.
That would change soon enough.

He walked the length of the stable, checking on the horses and making mental notes about what each one needed, just as he did every morning
and had done for two years
. He stopped at the end of the row and lowered his head. This was not
just another
morning.

He turned, staring o
ut the stable door at the inn.

Seeing Joanna after so long was like being shaken awake in the middle of a deep sleep.
He’d been comfortable in his dream, avoiding everything that he had been. A life of service, the life Toby had lived, had been the a
nswer to his prayer to forget.

Now he remembered.

Joanna
was every bit as beautiful as the picture he’d carried in his heart
since leaving Windale, the first time and the last time
.
She looked so much like Toby that his heart broke and so distinctly Joanna that it reformed and beat harder.
Her temper was everything he remembered it to be
too
, her accusations sharp as daggers. His hadn’t been much better.

He looked out through the stable, beyond the courtyard to the street. Part of him wanted to run. Running had always been easier than facing emotions he didn’t understand.

He sucked in a breath, swallowing his
fear and
guilt. Guilt was such a familiar feeling
now
that he was surprised he’d even noticed it. One of the horses neighed, an ironic commentary on his turmoil.

“Laugh while you can,” he sneered at the animal. “You won’t win any oats from me.”

By the time he slogged back to the front of the stable he felt like a fool for telling off a horse. He clenched his jaw and snatched the pitchfork from its hook, dissolving his anger by doing his job.

When the horses were fed he stomped into the inn.

“There you are, Dunkirke,”
the maid
Ada scolded him the second he was through the door. “I need you to fetch the water for the stew and the tea. The guests will be up soon and they’ll be hungry.”

He nodded and dodged his way around the busy kitchen staff to continue down the hall. The inn’s large common room was still packed away, chairs on tables , broom waiting in the corner, deserted
but for one person.

Joanna sat at a table in the far corner, head in her hands with her elbows propped on the tabletop. She wore the same dress from the day before but her hair was fastidiously
plaited
as usual. A piece of parchment lay on the table in front of her.

He braced himself and reached for the broom. “Did you sleep well?”

She gasped, one elbow slipping off the table. Her eyes were bloodshot w
ith dark circles under them. “N
o, I did not,” she replied, voice thick.

In spite of the canker of shame in his heart, he smirked.
Her drawn face was a dead giveaway. He’d seen
Joanna
hung-over before.
“Too much of David’s good ale?”

“Mind your own business,” she mumbled.

As soon as his eyes shifted to the letter on the tabletop Joanna swiped it away. He
art a mess, he
pretended not to care, sweeping the floor with dedication. She
kissed the letter, slipped it
in
to
her pocket and stood to leave.

“Where are you going?” He swept his way to intercept her.

“I’ve go
t things to do,” she answered.

“What things? You’re a guest here.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “I have to find clothes.” Her voice was barely more than a growl. “Ours are still with our carriages, wherever they are. And I have to figure out how to have Crispin, Aubrey, and Jack freed from the Tower.”

He stopped sweeping and fixed her with an ironic grin. “Clothes I can understand, but just how do you think you’re going to free that lot?”

“I don’t know.” Her eyes came to life as her temper flared. “I’ll think of something.”

She pushed past him into the hallway. Ethan tossed his broom against the wall and followed her. She stormed into the kitchen then paused.
The maids were hard at work.
Bess glanced up at her from the counter where she chopped vegetables.

“Good morning, miss. I’ll have something for you to break your fast in a bit.”

“I just need
some
water,” Joanna replied. Ethan could see the effort she put into being civil.

“
Speaking of which….
Dunkirke!” Ada snapped from her station near the window. “What are you doing dragging your heels and sniffing around the guests? I asked you to fetch me water!”

Joanna bristled at his side
over Ada’s order
. Ethan didn’t have to
see her face
to know the look of hell’s wrath she
wore
. Her obvious ire lit a spark of satisfaction deep in his gut.

“Yes, miss. Sorry, miss.” He bowed his head to Ada and rushed through the kitchen and into the garden.

As he’d hoped, Joanna stomped into the garden several beats after him.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she accosted him, hugging herself to keep out the chill of London fog.

Ethan kept his face turned away. “I’m
fetching water,” he told her.

Several buckets sat beside the well. He hooked one onto the rope dangling over the
dark mouth
and lowered it.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
Joanna
pushed her way through the dewy grass to his side. “What are you doing slouching around some third-rate inn in the middle of London looking like a mangy dog?
And what do you think gives you the right to use my brother’s name as your own?
”

The bucket splashed at the bottom of the well. Ethan let it fill then pulled it up. He focused on his work, not answering her. He could feel Joanna watching him with all the intensity of the sun burning off the mist. He leaned into the well to tote the full bucket up over the side. Still not answering
,
he set it on the ground and repeated the process with a second bucket.

Joanna huffed in frustration. “Don’t I deserve an answer to a
few
simple question
s
?”

He brought the second bucket up, gripped it with one hand,
and bent to pick up the first.
“You do if you’ve asked simple question
s
.”

“By God, Ethan, you are the most frustrating man in England!”

She s
pun to
tramp
away from him. For half a heartbeat his lips twitched to an impish grin. Joan
na hadn’t changed a bit.

Grief clamped around his heart. He had.

Alarm pushed even the grief away as Joanna marched not towards the kitchen but towards the street.

“Joanna, come back!” He left the buckets and chased after her.

She stopped and faced him, arms crossed. “What now?”

He jogged to catch up to her in the cobblestone courtyard. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To the Tower,” she answered without hesitation.

“You can’t.”

“Watch me,” she retorted.

When she pivoted to go Ethan caught her arms. She whipped to face him. Her momentum nearly swung her right into him. He caught her other arm to steady her. She
glared up at him. He could feel the heat of her body, smell the scent that was uniquely Joanna. He knew it like he knew the fragrant waves of tall grass in Windale’s fields in the summer. The tempest of emotion in her eyes shot straight through him, as though not a day had passed.
The air between them sizzled.
He bent closer to her
, mouth softening as it neared hers
.

“Get your filthy hands off of me!” she seethed.

Ethan froze. Her rejection cut through the haze of memory and passion, lodging sharp in his gut. He let her go, pushed her away, and stormed back to the well.

“Fine, go!” he called over his shoulder.

“I will!” she shouted in reply.

“Good!” He picked up the two full buckets of water and carried them towards the kitchen. “But don’t come crying to me when the Tower guards catch you.”

To his bitter satisfaction, worry replaced the fury in her eyes. “They barely saw me yesterday,” she reasoned. “I’m not important enough for them to keep after me.”

“If you say so.” Ethan shrugged and continued towards the kitchen door.

“Well I’m not going to stay here and sit on my hands while Aubrey and Crispin and Jack need me!” She rushed ahead of him to hold the kitchen door.

“I didn’t ask you to,” he replied. “But you aren’t going to be able to do anything at the Tower.”

“Yes I will!” she argued. They hovered in the doorway, kitchen steam on one side, London mist on the other. “I’ll do whatever it takes to
see that they are set free.”

He clenched his jaw and stared at her. The man he had been hated when people refused to listen to him. That man was far closer to him now than he’d been in years. “Look, I know you’re anxious, but it’s not
as though
King Richard is going to order Crispin and Jack’s heads to be lopped off today.”