The Loyal Heart (17 page)

Instead of making for the gate and the safety of the city the man cut to the side and bolted towards the stables. Crispin surged after him, gaining as he flew past the castle’s out buildings and through the archway into the garden. The man slowed in the dark garden. Crispin knew he had him. Without warning the red-haired man dove for the ground, scooping up something small and flat. Crispin lunged and tackled him.

The air heaved out of both of their lungs as they slammed face down in a clump of fragrant herbs. “Oy!” the man wheezed as he sucked in a breath.

Crispin pushed himself to his knees and grabbed the man’s shoulders, spinning him around before slamming him to the damp dirt.

“Who are you!” He slipped his left hand to the man’s throat. The man opened his mouth and emitted a choked gurgle. His gray eyes bulged, but his fist stayed tight around the parchment in his hand.

A rush of sense made Crispin ease up on the man’s throat and sit back. His eyes flickered to the parchment. He grabbed it with his left hand and when the man struggled in protest he lay the blade of his dagger against his bruised throat.

“ʻS mine!” the ginger-haired man coughed and tried to snatch at the letter in spite of the blade digging in.

Crispin held it out of his reach. Digging a knee into the man’s gut to hold him, he tore open the letter. “Jack,” he growled when he read the opening. He scanned to the bottom of the letter. “Madeline?”

“Oy! Give that back!”

Jack surged against him again. Crispin grabbed a handful of his shirt then squatted and stood, wrenching Jack to his feet. Recognition hit him. He was one of Buxton’s horse thieves. He’d escaped when Windale escaped. And now he was in league with Aubrey? His stomach twisted in dread as he demanded, “What are you doing at the castle? What is your connection to Lady Aubrey?” He shook the man to keep him from settling.

“I’m helping her get to her friends!”

Crispin stopped shaking and stared at the man. The answer was honest. He crushed the letter in his hand. “And this?”

“MP gave it to me.”

Another honest answer. Crispin narrowed his eyes and searched Jack’s bold gray ones. “MP?”

“Madeline.” The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. He had balls. Crispin shook the letter open and read more. Sentimental platitudes mingled with expressions of devotion. “Oy, what’s it say, mate?”

Crispin’s brows shot to his forehead at the man’s coolness. The dagger was still only inches from his throat. “Read it yourself.” He thrust the letter at the man’s chest as he released him.

Jack scrambled to catch the letter. Crispin watched him, poised to snatch him again the second he ran. He didn’t run. He squinted at the letter in the moonlight, turning it one way then the other. The man couldn’t read.

“Are you a friend of Aubrey’s?” He narrowed his eyes at the peasant.

“Yeah.” Jack wasn’t interested in him. He sighed and folded the letter, glancing up to the top of the tower.

Details began to fit together in Crispin’s mind. He didn’t like the picture they painted. “Are you a friend of Ethan of Windale?”

Jack snorted a laugh and lowered his eyes to meet Crispin’s. “He thinks so.”

For a moment the whisper of the night breeze and chatter of insects wrapped itself around the garden. Crispin flexed his grip on the dagger. The man in front of him was the most artless he had ever come across. He had no idea how to deal with him. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t throw you in the dungeon right now.”

The man’s grin shifted him to the defensive. “Aubrey’ll have your hide.”

Cold shock dropped like a rock into Crispin’s stomach. “You think so?”

Jack shrugged and brushed dirt from his faded tunic. “I’m the only one who offered to help her, mate.”

Crispin’s hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger as he fought the urge to curse. This man, Jack, knew Aubrey well. He took a step towards him. “Where’s Windale?”

Understanding twinkled in Jack’s eyes. “Matlock. Thinks if he convinces an important nob or two to champion his cause he’ll get his bloody land back.”

Why was the man being so open with him? “And Aubrey?”

“Wants her friends released. You gonna help with that, mate?”

The two men stood staring at each other in the moonlight. Jack was unarmed, but a man without fear was more dangerous than a man with a sword. He was Aubrey’s friend. He was Ethan’s friend. It was impossible for Crispin not to make the next connection. “I want what’s best for Aubrey.” His voice dropped to a low growl.

“Don’t never tell her that.”

Crispin raised his dagger and Jack took a step back, holding up his hands.

“Oy! I’m on your side, mate!”

“Are you?” Crispin grabbed a handful of the man’s tunic and jerked him to the tips of his toes. “What is there between Aubrey and Ethan?”

“Nothing!” Jack’s yelp of protest convinced Crispin to drop him. He stumbled, smoothing his tunic with shaking hands.

“I want it to stay that way.” Anger sharpened Crispin’s words.

“Me too, mate.” Again shock froze him. Jack saw his stunned expression and went on. “Bloody big prick, Ethan of Windale, if you ask me.”

Crispin pulled in a long breath as the seeds of an idea formed. He stared hard at Jack. The man scratched his pointed goatee and studied the letter in his hand. Cursing himself for a fool Crispin asked, “What would it take for you to act as my eyes and ears where Ethan of Windale is concerned?”

Jack’s attention snapped up from the letter. For once the other man was surprised. He blinked and rubbed his goatee harder. His eyes travelled up to the top of the tower. “Let them go.”

“I can’t. Buxton would kill me.” It was not an idle expression. Jack recognized it and nodded once. “I’ll do what I can though.”

“A shilling a week.”

“What?”

A grin spread across Jack’s wicked face. “You give me a shilling a week and I’ll do whatever you want.”

Crispin’s heart pounded. “Tell me where he is, what he’s planning. Tell me if Aubrey and he….” He snapped his mouth shut and glanced away. In ten minutes the red-headed peasant had discovered more about him than most people would learn in their lifetimes. He grimaced with self-disgust. “Help me keep her safe.”

“For a shilling a week I’ll carry her through the fires of Hell and back in bare feet.”

Crispin extended a hand. Jack took it. They grasped wrists and shook. Crispin backed away and shook his head. He was a bloody fool. “She misses you.”

“What?” Again Jack was off-balance.

Crispin nodded to the letter squashed in Jack’s hand. “She says she misses you, that you make her laugh, and she prays for you.”

The silliest grin Crispin had ever seen spread across the red-headed man’s face. “Oy! Thanks, mate!” He raised the letter to his lips and kissed it before bounding off in the dark.

The smile that slipped onto Crispin’s face dropped. If he was half as foolish about Aubrey, Buxton would have a knife in his back before he could blink.

The elation that carried Jack around the corner and out of the garden was short-lived. The seriousness of what he’d just committed to squelched it. By the time he made it to the courtyard his hands were shaking. He stopped and leaned against the castle wall, panting.

Bloody hell. What kind of a deal had he just made? Improvisation had always got him out of scrapes, but now and then it landed him in a few. Bloody hell. He stared at the letter and the grin crept across his lips. Like the idiot he was he kissed the letter.

“Jack!”

Aubrey’s muffled cry from the stairs above made him push off from the wall and hurry towards her. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Crispin had followed. “Get inside!” he warned her.

“Are you alright?” she ignored him.

He climbed half of the stairs, spinning Aubrey when he reached her and shoveling her towards the front door. “Yeah. I’m brilliant. An’ Crispin’s still out here so shove off!”

“Did he see you?” she tried to ask over her shoulder as he hurried her along.

“Nah, I’m too clever. Go!”

She broke away from him and dashed up the stairs and into the castle. As soon as she was out of sight Jack sank to the steps and blew out a shaky breath. What was he thinking? He’d lied to Crispin when he asked about Aubrey’s connection to Ethan and here he was lying to Aubrey about, well, about the monumentally thick-headed thing he’d just done. But there was no use in moping about it. He sprang to his feet and dashed down the stairs and through the courtyard into the city. If he was going to be a spy then he’d better get spying.

The next few weeks were the worst of Aubrey’s life. Geoffrey sent one of the Morley servants to the castle nearly every day in an attempt to drag her home, ignoring her pleas for help. Jack joined her at the castle less and less and when he did show up he was always looking over his shoulder as if expecting to be caught. But Ethan’s absence was the hardest blow to take.

She heard about him every day through castle gossip, especially when he waylaid a carriage heading west to the Peaks and proceeded to rob the noble it contained when he refused to join the cause. Ethan was becoming a hero to those who despised Buxton and a criminal to those who didn’t, but he never once sent word to her. Every day deepened her sense of abandonment. Only one person remembered her at all.

A firm knock at her bedroom door made Aubrey pull her head away from the window where she sat. “What.”

“May I come in?” Crispin’s muffled voice asked through the door.

“Fine.” She folded her arms across her chest and went back to staring out into the rainy morning.

The door opened and Crispin stepped into the room. She refused to look at him.

“I’ve come to tell you that Buxton is holding a banquet tonight. Nobles from throughout the shire are coming.” His deep voice seeped into her bones.

“I know. I’ve been watching them slosh their way through the rain to kiss Buxton’s feet.”

Silence roared between them.

“A troubadour has been brought in from Lincoln.” He was offering conversation but she wouldn’t play along. She scowled out the window, jaw clenched. He came closer. “I’m told he’s very good.” The tension between them was unbearable. “Aubrey, you can’t go on like this,” he cracked.

Her eyes flickered sideways to him though her body didn’t move at all. Her arms tightened around her chest. He leaned against the cold wall, watching her face. His awkward compassion was out of place with everything she knew about him.

“Your friends are safe and comfortable.”

A scowl creased her brow. “Are they?”

His gaze dropped to the floor when hers blazed at him. “Sister Bernadette insists she’s mending.”

She arched an eyebrow. That wasn’t what Jack had told her, but there was no way she could say that to Crispin.

“I’ve taken them books from the library,” he went on.

Aubrey glared at his forehead, the lock of black hair that teased across it and into his face. “Good for you.” She could have torn him apart with her bare hands for looking so appealing.

His mouth hardened into a line and his eyes bored a hole into the floorboards. She swallowed when he looked up. “You know if there was anything I could do, I would do it.”

“No you wouldn’t.” She snapped her eyes away from him. “You’re too far under Buxton’s thumb.”

She felt his back go up and didn’t dare look at him. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh?” She shifted against the windowsill to face him. “Prove it.”

His hands fisted with frustration. “Tell me how.”

“Set Madeline and Sister Bernadette free.”

“Aubrey, you know I can’t-”

“Yes you can!” Her words jerked his head up. She stood and planted herself defiantly in front of him. “You can do anything!”

His expression softened for a heartbeat before he stared out the window. “No I can’t.”

She leaned back, studying the doubt that lined his brow. He couldn’t possibly question his own power. “People around here listen to you. They listen to you more than they listen to Buxton.”

“And Buxton knows it!” He pushed out a breath, rubbed a hand over his face. “Aubrey, he knows it.”

“Then do something about it!”

“The only reason I’m alive today is because I do what he tells me to do.” His eyes flashed to meet hers.

“But-” She heaved a sigh. “Why do you stay here and let him stifle you?”

“Because without him I have nothing!”

“What, land? Position? Is all that so important?”

“Yes!” He grabbed her arms and she gasped. Her skin prickled with excitement. “Aubrey, my father lost our family land when I was a boy. Do you know what it’s like to grow up with a title but no food in your belly? When Buxton took me on I thought I was being given a second chance. And then I learned the price of that chance.” His eyes dropped from hers and his face flushed with shame. “I learned the hard way what I was willing to do to have a home, a place. You’ve never lived without. You don’t know what that’s like.”