The Heart of the Phoenix (11 page)

“I understand, my lord. But my lady’s situation is an emergency. This vessel appears spacious. Would you allow her to share your crossing? She could help bear the expense.” Anyone on a mission for John likely needed extra coin, for he wouldn’t get it from the prince. King, now, he reminded himself.

“Impossible. There’s no room for a lady and her entire train. And I cannot wait. We leave with the morning tide.”

“She travels with but a maid, two holy brothers, and a small number of guards. Only one cabin is needed.” He wanted to point out that a knight’s courtesy required him to accommodate the lady, but he resolved to act the part of deferential captain. Still, something in his attitude must have communicated to the other man.

The lord pursed his mouth then turned to the ship’s captain. “How does the weather look for a crossing?”

“Storm blew itself out.” The captain tilted his head toward the sky. “Seems clear. Ought to be safe.”

Slanting a look at his own man, the lord finally gave a nod. “Very well. If your lady is aboard by the time we leave, she can share the crossing. If not, look you to the next ship.”

After settling costs and other details with the captain, Stephen returned to the inn.

Evie had retired and requested a bath, and Mathilde was preparing food to send up.

“Put me another bowl of that stew here,” he said, pointing to the tray. “I’ll carry it.”

The loaded tray wasn’t heavy, but it was unwieldy, and Stephen balanced it with both hands to make sure nothing spilled. Outside the bedchamber, he stopped and tapped the bottom of the door with the toe of a boot.

A rustle sounded on the other side, and the door began to swing open, then stopped. Marie peered through the narrow space; her mouth sagged.

“Is it our dinner?” Evie called.

“Mathilde has yours ready belowstairs, girl,” Stephen murmured as he pushed inside. Not taking her wide-eyed gaze from him, the maid sidled around and fled.

Stephen kicked the door closed and set his burden on end of the bed where Evie sat. A cover wrapped around her waist, and still-damp hair soaked through the linen of her clean chemise, making it transparent. The moisture had spread downward to the top of one breast. He couldn’t see through the fabric, but memory provided all the details required to send a pang of need to his groin.

She jerked the blanket up to her shoulders and for a long time said nothing. Then her gaze flicked to his. “You’d best go.”

She had the right of it. He would, as soon as he delivered the warning for tomorrow. And ate. He took his bowl from the tray and turned to a stool near a round wooden tub containing the used bathwater. He started to sit, then straightened and continued to pace around the small chamber.

“We leave early in the morn, so you’d better sleep fast,” he said, repeating a phrase he and his fellow squires once used. The memory of those days slid through his mind like a wisp of fog, and for an instant he longed for the innocence of the youth he’d been.

The feeling evaporated as quickly as fog, and he took a bite. As he swallowed, Evie tucked the blanket beneath her arms and pulled the tray toward her.

“You were able to find a ship?” she asked.

“Yes.” He gestured with the empty wooden spoon, “We won’t be alone. An emissary for King John bespoke it, but he agreed to share quarters with us.”

Her head tilted to one side. “How did you manage that? I can’t imagine a knight with such authority condescending to share anything with strangers.”

Stephen shrugged. “I offered the right inducements.”

Evie considered for a moment, then lifted her brows without comment. Turning back to the tray, she chose a chunk of still-warm bread. He watched her jaw move sinuously, and in the flickering candlelight, the action called up other undulations. His breath hissed in, and he felt himself harden. Holy hell. The woman simply ate and he reacted.

He must focus on the task at hand: Prepare Evie for the morrow. He cleared his throat. “I told him your brother had ordered you home and would be furious if you delayed. You and the maid will share a small cabin, while the lord occupies the captain’s quarters. I have no idea how large your chamber will be, but we’ll make the best of it.”

“We?” She didn’t look up as she took another bite.

Damn her, what did she find amusing in what he’d just said, for there was no mistaking the humor in her voice. She looked up as he stalked toward the bed. Yes, a mischievous light glimmered in her eyes. He loomed above her and slowly leaned in.

“You’d best try to appear the anxious maiden, in fear of her brother,” he warned. “Or questions might arise that none of us want to answer.”

The amusement faded. “What questions?” Her breath caressed his cheek.

He reared back, then straightened. “Just behave yourself during the passage.”

“This is the second time you’ve warned me about my conduct. Do you fear I will ride off with one of the guards?”

He clenched his teeth to hold back a retort. Let her have her say. She’d be easier to deal with on the morrow if all her complaints were aired.

“We both know my behavior has been perfectly appropriate. And I’ve accepted each of your edicts calmly.” Her gaze flicked away, as if she knew that statement stretched the truth.

“But that’s not the problem, is it?” she added, her voice low, intent. “Why are you really on this journey, Stephen? We both know it’s not to protect me.”

He gave a short shake of his head, cold dread knotting his stomach. The question shouldn’t have surprised him. Evie possessed a quick, perceptive mind, and the past days provided ample opportunity for her to identify undercurrents among the men. Still, she didn’t need to know the real motive behind the trip.

As for his protecting Evie? He gave a short laugh. God knew, Stephen needed all the protection he could get from her.

“Why are you on this journey?” he countered, taking the offensive. “I suspect Henry didn’t order you home. If I discover you’ve lied to me, and this is one of your headstrong tricks—”

She lurched to her knees on the bed, heedless of the tray and of the cover that slid down, revealing the soft, translucent chemise skimming her body.

“I’m traveling home to meet my betrothed, if you must know.”

He froze. He didn’t know if she had shouted or whispered. It mattered little. The word struck him with the force of an icy blast.

“Betrothed?” His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears. “To whom?”

Evie plopped down, eyes wide in shock. “I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to reveal that to anyone.” She sounded breathless.

Pressing her fingers against her stomach she inhaled then slowly released the air. “It’s just—you make me so angry sometimes.”

Her obvious discomfort helped Stephen gather his scattered wits so when he spoke again, his tone was controlled. “Who is it? When did it occur? Haven’t you been in Normandy for some months?”

“I don’t know. Any of it.”

How could she not name whom she would wed? Her reticence baffled him. Most ladies crowed and preened when they spoke of their upcoming marriage. Something of his thoughts must have shown, because Evie threw him a rueful shrug.

“It is the strangest thing imaginable. The message from Henry that Davy delivered included the news that King Richard, before he died, arranged for me to marry. Henry did not name the man.”

“That doesn’t sound like Henry. What could he mean, ordering you home under such circumstance, with the turmoil around the English crown? He’d understand the danger.”

When she glanced down, suddenly intent on rearranging the cover and righting items on the tray, he knew he’d been correct about her journey.

“You took it upon yourself to arrange a way home, didn’t you?”

She nodded and looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Stephen, I couldn’t stay at Rosemont any longer. I had to go home. I left the day the message came, and I haven’t had time to think about marrying anyone. You’ve hardly stopped plaguing me the entire time.”

A scratch at the door signaled Marie’s return, and Stephen lowered his voice. “I have more to say to you, but not now. Remember my warning about tomorrow.”

Marie entered as he reached the door.

“Rest now,” he ordered. “We leave before dawn.”

He strode down the passage, still reviewing the news he’d just heard. Wed. Or so soon to be as made no difference. It’s what he’d wanted all along, wasn’t it? To see her married? He ought to be happy. He was, damn it. Ecstatic. Little Evie might have grown into a beautiful, enticing woman, but it didn’t matter to him.

It couldn’t.

Belowstairs in the spacious common room, Stephen strode toward Thomas and the rest of his men. They’d commandeered a large table along the back wall, well away from the other customers. In one motion, he caught the leg of a stool with his foot, dragged it under him, and sat. They remained silent until Mathilde delivered a pitcher of ale and another mug.

“Captain.” Thomas leaned forward, elbows propped on the scarred surface. “I followed the lord and his man to Le Coq d’Or. The lord went straight to his chamber, but the other one, he rode on. South, I think.”

Thomas paused to sip his ale. “The landlord called the lord Fulk d’Ambrosie. Travels with a troop of six, but from what one of d’Ambrosie’s guards said, there’s more a’coming. That one liked his ale. He’s full of himself, boasting about how they’re on important business for the new king. To hear him tell it, this Lord Fulk’s a mighty hero in battle.”

Mug in hand, Stephen mentally reviewed the campaigns he’d fought in Prince John’s companies. He didn’t recall a Fulk d’Ambrosie. If the man played such an important part in John’s military, his name should ring familiar.

Still, the Brotherhood’s movements didn’t place them in the prince’s orbit all that often these days. Except when John wanted extra warriors, as he did now. It was possible Stephen no longer knew every commander. Nevertheless he’d remain cautious during the next days. More cautious, he amended.

“Matthew, think you might wander into that inn seeking a bed tonight?”

Matthew nodded. “None of ’em have seen me.”

“Be at the dock by dawn.” Stephen slanted a sharp glance as the youngest of the men threw back his ale and rose. He didn’t say, “Be careful,” but Matthew nodded once, as if hearing the message.

Stephen ground the edge of his palm against his jaw. England and his responsibilities at Rively and Riverton Castle grew more appealing with every passing hour. Soon he would take up the life his father urged. Tending the land, looking after the people. Becoming a father? He slammed down the mug, sloshing liquid onto the table. That was a dream he’d not permitted himself for years. Why now did it return to torment him?

And he would not think of her.

****

Evie crossed her arms and scowled at the closed door. Had she really imagined he’d be honest about his reasons for escorting her? Well, she refused to give up so easily. Home still lay several days away. Time enough to winnow the truth from him, as planned.

She settled back against the pillows. They’d managed to ignore each other most of the day, and she had hoped he’d stay away until she made sense of her emotions. But when would that happen? What occurred the night before only complicated them. Lying in his arms had felt right. Never had she experienced such a sense of belonging, as if she’d reached a home she’d sought forever.

Her heart quickened as she recalled the texture of his skin beneath her fingers. The prickly roughness of his cheeks, the tiny ridges at the corners of his eyes, the contrasting softness of his lips. The wonder of their touch against her mouth, so different than the first time.

She inhaled, long and deep. This would never do. Still, she thought of his tender kisses, his intimate touch...Warmth pooled at her core at the memory, and she pressed her legs together. A shiver snaked down her spine. His gentleness must mean he cared a little.

If so, perhaps a chance for them did exist. Her pulse throbbed. Was it possible? He behaved oddly at times, pushing her away one moment then treating her tenderly the next. She never knew which mood to expect.

Perhaps his experiences in the wars yet affected him. Before Henry wed Kate, he suffered nights of anguish when he dreamed of battles. Perhaps Stephen suffered from his past in a similar manner. She could help him lay to rest those old ghosts, if he’d but allow her to do so. And he did care, or his behavior the night before made no sense.

Maria returned after delivering the tray to the kitchen. “Do you require me, milady?”

“No, thank you, Marie. You must be tired. Seek your own rest, and be certain to eat.”

The girl flashed a pert smile. “Oh, I have. The men have such an appetite. I thought I must eat before they devoured it all. But for now, they’ve gathered around a pitcher of ale to plan our crossing. Even the monks are there. I heard them say we two must stay in our cabin always and never come out. They said we will likely be very sick.”

The maid’s good humor faded as she contemplated being ill. “I have never crossed the water, milady. I will not like it, I think, if we must empty our stomachs continually.”

“Not everyone becomes sick when sailing,” Evie reassured the girl. “I never do, and I’ve sailed frequently with my brother.”

Marie looked uncertain, but she settled on her pallet.

The room grew quiet. Try as she might, Evie couldn’t dismiss thoughts of the men gathering to arrange her life for the next few days. With no word to her until after the fact. It was the way of the world, and she ought to be content. Lately, however, she found making decisions gave a feeling of freedom she’d never known. She liked it.

After tossing and turning until the sheet knotted beneath her, Evie sat and reached for her gown lying across the end of the bed. “I will go down to see what they plan. Help me with my laces.”

Marie gasped. “Oh, milady, you can’t do that.”

“I fail to see why. They are my guards, are they not?” The role of imperious mistress came rather easily, she thought, as she dropped the gown over her head. Perhaps she’d adopt the manner permanently. The image brought a smile. She’d never be able to pull it off without laughing at herself.