The Loyal Heart (36 page)

A flash of humor crossed his face as his head snapped away so fast Aubrey thought he would break his neck. “Aw, bloody hell!” he shouted, unable to hide his grin as he faked disgust and held his hands up as if blinded.

“Jack, you had better have one hell of a good excuse-” Crispin roared, shifting to the side with a wince as Aubrey propped herself up behind his back, gathering sheets around her.

Crispin didn’t have a chance to finish his thought before Buxton swaggered into the room. Aubrey gasped and Crispin reached out to put a hand on her side.

“Rise and shine, Crispy!” Buxton’s tone was chipper in spite of the malevolence in his eyes. “The sun is up, the faire is buzzing, and Prince John is on his way!”

“My lord, you have no right-”

“You let Windale get away!” Crispin’s storm of protest was cut short by Buxton’s rage. Aubrey felt his body flare hot with fury. She searched for the nearest weapon. “He’s gallivanting in the forest somewhere making me look like a fool! And Prince John is coming!”

“Messenger arrived this mornin’ sayin’ he’s two days out.” Jack stepped forward and held out his hands as if he would pull Buxton back.

“Nobody asked you!” Buxton wheeled on him and tried to strike. Jack dodged.

Crispin scrambled out of bed and threw a shirt over his head. “My lord, two days is plenty of time-”

“And you!” Buxton spun on Crispin, murder in his eyes. “Screwing that whore when you should have been chasing
Derbywood
!”

Crispin raised a fist at Buxton as Jack surged forward and Aubrey shouted “Stop!” She didn’t care that she was naked. She jumped out of bed and grabbed Crispin’s arms, holding them down.

Jack stepped between Crispin and Buxton, face pale as he glanced between the two men. Silence sizzled through the air, broken only by the hiss of Crispin panting in rage.

Aubrey could feel him trying to master himself as she held him. He took a deep breath. “We can go out into the forest, my lord, flush him out and capture him.” His voice was strangled and hoarse.

“No!” Buxton’s retort threw them all off. “I do
not
want Windale flushed out, not while Prince John is here.”

“What?” Jack was the only one calm enough to answer.

“The last thing I need when I have the future king of England under my roof is Windale causing a distraction from the main attraction.” He snapped a glance to each of them and when no one asked he shouted, “ME! I want John to see
me
! To see how much money
I’ve
brought in, to see what kind of order
I’ve
brought to this shire. Me! I want him to know he can count on
me
as one of his chief supporters so that when the time comes,” he paused and a wide grin spread across his face, “
I’ll
be rewarded.”

“So you don’t want us to spend our time chasin’ Ethan,” Jack goggled. “You want us to spend it makin’ you look good.”

A bright grin split Buxton’s face. “See? It’s not that hard to understand. Somebody get this man a duchy or something.” He sighed as if nothing in the room were amiss and turned to walk to the door. Then he paused and every inch of malice and insanity washed back into his beady eyes as he turned and glared at Aubrey. “Pennington wants to see you.”

Aubrey swallowed but had no time to reply before Buxton slammed the door behind him. The room crackled with anxious energy in his wake. She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned her forehead against Crispin’s back, still heaving as he calmed himself. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Jack cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll just-”

“What does he mean ‘the main attraction’?” Crispin stopped him from leaving.

Aubrey perked up and glanced over his shoulder. Jack met her eyes and Crispin’s and wrapped his hand around the rosary on his wrist. “Oy, I’m just gonna turn this way while I tell you.”

He turned his back and Aubrey relaxed and crossed to the chest that held their clothes.

“So after you left the festivities last night I went lookin’ for Ethan, right? Only he was long gone by then. Figure he had back-up, you know. My brother for one.” His voice took a sullen turn and Aubrey glanced to him in time to see him kick the floor. She handed Crispin clean smallclothes and chausses and tossed a tunic on the bed while he dressed. “It was dark by that point anyhow and it’s pretty much useless chasin’ anyone in the forest in the dark.”

“Buxton let you give up the chase?” Crispin growled.

“Nah, see, that’s the thing.” Jack ventured a peek over his shoulder and when he saw that Aubrey had at least an under-dress on he turned around. “I got back to the Great Hall, right, and Buxton and his mates were actin’ like it was all deliberate-like.”

“What?” Aubrey shrugged a kirtle over her under-dress and tightened the laces.

“Yeah, only that ain’t all.” He took a step closer to Crispin who was fastening a belt over his tunic with a wince. “You know why Pennington’s here?”

“No.” Crispin’s eyes lit with sharp anxiety.

“He’s here to negotiate
peace
, mate.”

“Peace?” Aubrey rushed around the bed to join the conversation.

“Yeah,” Jack went on, including her easily. “Between King Richard and Prince John. A sort of family settlement, like, to bring an end to internal strife and to restore political and economic stability to England.” He finished the last bit in a perfect imitation of a noble accent. He was so good at it that Aubrey cracked a grin.

Crispin wasn’t remotely amused. “That’s ludicrous. No one settles royal succession with negotiations in a distant and obscure shire. Why is Pennington really here?”

Jack shrugged. “Got me, mate.”

“I can find out.” Aubrey spoke with such sudden determination that Crispin and Jack gaped at her. “I think I said I would have lunch with him today,” she admitted.

“Aubrey, no.” Crispin crossed his arms and glowered at her.

“I can draw him into conversation and find out what he’s hiding.” She ignored his command as inspiration flashed through her.

“I’ll not have you getting involved.”

Aubrey huffed and flung an arm to their disheveled bed. “Already involved!” Crispin’s jaw flexed as his eyes bored into her. “Besides, Buxton said Pennington wants to see me.”

Heavy silence followed her comment. Crispin dropped his arms. “I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I!” She stared at him as he stared at her. After what they had shared, after what she now knew she craved so much more of, there was no way she was going to let him bully her out of her place at his side. No matter what that meant. “Something tells me I couldn’t get out of it if I wanted to. Did you see the look on Buxton’s face?”

Crispin and Jack exchanged expressions that made danger tingle down to Aubrey’s toes. “I want you to have as little to do with Pennington as you can get away with,” Crispin conceded. Aubrey grinned in satisfaction. He ignored her and turned to Jack. “See if you can find out anything more about Prince John’s arrival.”

“Right.” Jack nodded and dashed from the room.

Crispin turned to Aubrey. “The second I see you in over your head I’m sending you back to Windale.”

Aubrey scowled, but a new threat of panic laced through her. “Don’t send me away, Crispin.”

She watched the hardness melt out of his eyes and her heart swelled when he pulled her into his arms. He kissed her forehead, then her lips. “I won’t send you away.” He dropped his bluff. “I couldn’t stand it.”

Her face flushed with love and desire. She wished their promising morning hadn’t been interrupted. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

Geoffrey rode into Derbywood through a shower of falling leaves, his face set with grim determination. For too long he had idled at Morley, keeping his door locked against threats he was powerless to stop. The world was cruel and he had been walking around in a daze as if he didn’t owe it anything.

Word had sped back to Morley about Ethan’s battle with Crispin two days before. No two stories of the event matched. He had heard that Ethan had been mortally wounded and that Crispin had been mortally wounded. One version had even claimed that Aubrey had thrown herself in the path of Ethan’s sword to protect Crispin. He dismissed it as nonsense. He knew Aubrey better than that. At least he had. All he’d had from her for months were hasty letters telling him that everything was fine.

Orange and red and yellow leaves lay thick on the forest floor. The few still waving in the trees caught the autumn light and flooded golden hues through the undergrowth. “Ethan!” he called, sitting as straight and tall on his horse as he could. “Show yourself!” His shouts were drowned in the thick silence of the forest. “Show me you’re not dead, that that bastard Huntingdon didn’t finish what the Turk started!”

His cries did not go unanswered for long. Two men in russet cloaks popped out from behind a stand of bushes. They blended so well with their surroundings that Geoffrey didn’t noticed them until they moved. He didn’t recognize either of them. They were both young men with pinched faces that had seen hard times. He wasn’t even sure if they were Ethan’s men at all until one of them said, “Who are you and what do you want with Lord Ethan?”

Geoffrey steadied his horse. “I’m a friend of Windale’s.” The man glanced to his partner who shrugged in return. “Take me to see him. Now!” Geoffrey struggled to keep his temper in check. He had no time to play games with this rabble. The two men continued to look at each other, casting nervous glances up to Geoffrey and scratching their heads. “Take me to him or I’ll run over you and find him myself!”

His threat had the opposite effect of his intentions. One of the men drew a long dagger and the other raised the bow he had concealed under his cloak. Snarling, Geoffrey drew his sword.

“Wait! Wait! He’s a friend!” The alarmed voice of Toby stopped the impending fight. Geoffrey’s eyes snapped up to see Ethan’s servant running towards them as fast as he could, catching his cloak on branches and his feet on roots. The two men lowered their weapons and turned to Toby. Geoffrey kept his sword ready. “Sir Geoffrey!” Toby doubled over to catch his breath when he came skidding to a stop in front of Geoffrey’s horse.

“Toby.” Geoffrey tried to keep his voice calm, sneering at the two men who were forced to put their weapons away. “Where’s Ethan?”

Toby glanced warily up to Geoffrey. “He’s back at the camp.”

“Take me to him.”

Toby held up his hands, half defensive, half supplicating. “Now Sir Geoffrey, I know you and my master did not part on the best of terms-”

“What in blazes does that have to do with anything?”

Toby snapped his mouth shut and dropped his arms, wide eyes gaping. “Well I would have thought after everything that happened-”

“What exactly happened?” Geoffrey narrowed his eyes. He’d also heard rumors that Ethan had publicly denounced Aubrey.

Toby sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’ll let him explain, sir.”

He turned and motioned for Geoffrey to follow. The two lookouts blended back into their surroundings.

Toby lead Geoffrey deeper into the forest, turning so many times that he wasn’t sure he would be able to find his way out. He knew that they were nearing the camp when they came across more people and an occasional tent with a fire burning out front. His curiosity turned to bewilderment.

Tent after tent of families, men, women, and children, circled around an area of the forest that had been cleared. The concentration of make-shift homes grew tighter as he approached the center where the crisp October sun beamed into a large circular common. At one edge of the common stood a tent that was bigger than the rest. It was draped with Ethan’s red and blue sigil. A fire pit had been constructed in front and was tended by a handful of young people. Geoffrey took it all in with an unsettled feeling of awe and horror. It would have looked like any other village but for the tents and the anxious looks on people’s faces.

Toby had dashed inside of the large tent when Geoffrey stopped to take a look and now he came out again, Ethan behind him, followed by a sharp-faced young man. The sight of Ethan’s petulant scowl brought back Geoffrey’s itching curiosity.

“Well, I guess the rumors that say you’re dead aren’t true.”

“Not by half.” Ethan’s answer was guarded by cold suspicion.

Geoffrey sighed and shifted in his saddle. “So you want to tell me what happened?” Ethan clenched his jaw and stared off at a group of women sewing in a circle. Geoffrey rolled his eyes. “That bad, eh?” Ethan glanced up to him. It must have been miserable if his friend couldn’t even talk about it. “I take it Huntingdon is alive too?”

“Yes,” Ethan seethed.

“And Aubrey?”

“Chose him.”

Geoffrey tensed and his horse danced under him. “Did she throw herself in front of your sword to protect him?” Ethan’s silence was all the answer he needed. He sat higher in his saddle, eyebrows reaching to his hairline. “Did you curse her out?” Ethan crossed his arms and glared at a patch of dirt by his feet. “Dammit, Ethan!” He glanced to Toby, who stood watching his master with sad eyes, and the other young man. His eyes snapped back to his friend with an irritated sigh. “What are you going to do now, huh?”