Word and Deed (3 page)

“I will investigate, and return on the
morrow.”

I lifted my head to witness the door close
behind him and listened for the bar’s fall. One day the guard would
forget and I would escape. It was only a matter of time. Perhaps
time I didn’t have. I scowled out the window.

Ealdine arrived with the midday meal.

After she left, I climbed down into the
garden. The shade of the blossoming bushes eased my flaring anxiety
until I sat, relaxed against a tree trunk.

“Lord Silvaticus led me to believe I would
find you in high dudgeon over your father’s murder. Instead I find
you dreaming peacefully.”

My limp lids flew open, and I found Bryn
gazing down at me from a great distance. In falling asleep, I slid
to the side and now lay in the grass at the base of the tree. I
scrambled to rise, smoothing my skirts.

“I didn’t expect you to visit now that Lord
Silvaticus assessed me for himself.”

He shrugged, a raising of only his right
shoulder. “His description of your state concerned me. I wanted to
perceive for myself that you were well.”

“Well as can be for a woman facing a life not
of her choosing.”

“You find him so repulsive?” He attempted
disinterest, yet still observed me. He was probably just doing his
job, reporting back to his master my state and my response.

“Not repulsive, as far as I could see. It was
hard to assess his appearance when I can appraise so little of his
face.”

“True. Silvaticus prefers people acquaint
themselves to his manner before seeing his features.”

“Is he deformed?”

His shoulder movement was less casual this
time. “No more than I.”

“You are not deformed,” I pointed out.

Besides the patch, his face was well-formed,
not handsome, but strength of character showed clear in the set of
his jaw and the way he held his head. The movement of expression
across his mouth and in his eye appealed to me. I liked men who
were direct and honest. Right now his clear azure eye met my gaze
with silent laughter.

“I will be sure to inform Lord Silvaticus you
don’t consider me deformed. I am certain he will draw reassurance
from the assessment.”

Heat pricked my ears, yet I did not lower my
eyes.

“You can tell him I am concerned more with
the nobility of his soul than the attraction of his body.”

“No man is completely noble when it comes to
a maid. If he is, he is no man at all.”

“Spoken like a ruffian of the practice yard,
not a lord.”

“Nay, maid, ‘tis true, especially with maids
as comely as you.” His expression said he hadn’t intended to speak
aloud. “I must go.”

He walked to the corner farthest from the
tower, braced his boot on a hidden ledge, and climbed the wall like
a ladder. I expected him to simply disappear over it, but he
paused.

“Don’t attempt to follow me. Silvaticus
wishes a whole bride on his wedding night. What Silvaticus wants,
he gets.”

Before I reminded him I wasn’t Silvaticus’
yet, he dropped from sight.

Alone once again with my thoughts, I paced
toward the stairs. I grasped at a decision on how to face my fate
now that it had a form.

~~~~~

The next morning I woke to bird song from
below. A lizard sunned on the windowsill outside the lattice. The
air breathed of hope and life. Spring was at hand.

The atmosphere within me grew more reserved
in its anticipation. Silvanticus would return again. I had to tell
him I didn’t wish to marry him. I wondered what he would say if I
told him I preferred his servant Bryn Wolfe to him. Bryn at least
faced me, scars and all, and didn’t hide behind a hood of chain
mail.

Before I settled on what to say instead,
Ealdine arrived with food.

On her heels Bryn entered. He appeared much
the same as I last saw him, worn clothing and dusty boots. Unlike
before, though, his scabbard held a sword, plain and serviceable.
He scanned the room as he entered, visibly noting the latticed
window and the barred door to the garden.

My guard stood in the open doorway, watching
and strangely on edge. “Deliver your message.”

Ignoring him, Bryn strode to the window and
looked down into the garden. “Look, my lady, a bird.”

I crossed willingly to his side.

As I expected, he leaned over to point at
nothing while his other hand pressed a wrapped parcel into my hand.
Our bodies blocked my keeper’s view. I did not expect the hard
metal edges that pressed against my skin as my fingers closed
around the wool wrapping. Three blades?

“She requires more blankets.”

Bryn abruptly confronted the guard, stepping
between me and the open door as he did so. “This spring weather is
too cold at night for only one covering. Silvanticus will be
displeased if his bride is ill on her wedding day.”

Hidden for the moment, I slipped the bundle
behind the water bucket beneath the window.

“I will speak with Lord Ravenridge, but I
doubt he will agree to it.”

“Why? A single cover more or less will hardly
change her mind about the wedding. What is she going to do with it,
escape?”

“I will speak with him, no more.” He glared
at Bryn. “Lord Ravenridge allowed you access to deliver
Silvanticus’ missive. Deliver it.”

Bryn’s hand fisted, but he complied. Drawing
a thin bit of parchment from within his doublet, he offered it to
me.

My Verity,
the greeting produced a
shudder. I was not Silvanticus’ yet.

I regret I am unable to visit you this noon
as planned. Pursuing our mutual desire requires more time than
expected. I will come on the morrow. In my stead, I enclose a way
to pass the hours should the garden not suffice.

Your humble servant,

Silvanticus

Stepping closer, Bryn spoke so that only I
heard. “I will return later to show you how to use them.” Then he
raised his voice to normal volume. “Do you wish to send a reply, my
lady?”

“Nay, except my thanks.”

He bowed, avoiding my gaze like a normal
servant and exited. I dove for the water bucket the moment the bar
settled into its place across the door outside. Drawing forth the
bundle, I unwrapped it. Three daggers lay in my lap.

“What are those?” Ealdine asked, her face
unnaturally pale in the shadows.

“A gift from my betrothed,” I answered.

“What does he expect you to do with
them?”

“Learn to defend myself, I surmise.”

“Why would it be necessary?” she asked.

It was a question worth asking. Was
Silanticus warning me that my life was in danger? If so, from whom?
My brother? I doubted Silvanticus would arm his own wife against
himself without reason.

Ealdine moved toward the garden door, intent
on shaking out my bedding. Apparently she had dismissed the daggers
from her thoughts. I wished I could do the same. Verdon had every
reason to want me dead, and Silvanticus dead too, though my brother
didn’t know yet.

I rewrapped Silvanticus’ gift and reached for
the dry bread on the tray. I intended to ask Bryn for
clarification.

-----

The sun was four hours past its apex when
Bryn appeared, a shaggy head of hair above the ivy covered wall. He
dropped to the ground with a soundless ease that belied his graying
hair. His strode to the foot of the stairs with smooth confidence,
the movements of a man used to activity and comfortable in the
habits of his limbs.

“Is your master asking for me to fend him off
or is he warning me I might be attacked?” I asked him before he
reached me.

He stopped a few feet away and regarded me
seriously. His one eye was so intent I had to force myself to meet
its gaze.

“What do you think?” he asked finally.

“Verdon wants me silenced and he has killed
before. It is only because Silvanticus is paying for my hand that
he lets me live now. If he knew Silvanticus believes me about my
father’s death, both of us are in danger.”

He nodded slowly. “My master believes your
brother grows suspicious. That is why he sent the knives.”

“I can handle a long blade, but not these.” I
offered him the bundle.

“He doesn’t expect you to fight, just master
the basics in case.”

“Why not give me a sword? I have experience
with them.”

“A knife can be hidden; a sword, not as
easily. Besides, a hidden dagger can mean the difference between
victim and victor, or in your instance, survivor.” He nodded toward
a small open area in overgrowth beneath a tree. “Come, I will teach
you.”

“Why is he requesting this of me?”

I followed him to where he indicated. Bryn
adjusted my stance, feet shoulder-width apart, and pressed a
practice knife into my palm, the pressure of his touch gentle.

“You need to be prepared. There will not
always be someone to protect you.”

“The walls protect me. A blade will not
further protect me from a poisoner’s hand.”

“Lord Silvaticus is seeing to your brother
and has set a taster to check your food,” he assured me as he
showed me the way to stop an attack. “However, he cannot guarantee
no one will steal in as I do and harm you.”

He had a point.

I listened and practiced without protest. We
were so intent on our task, the door opening above startled me.
Bryn stepped into the shadow of the tree along wall while I turned
to greet Ealdine, practice blade hidden behind my back and naked
dagger beside my feet beneath my skirts.

“My maid, ‘tis late.” She leaned out the door
and peered down. “I brought your meal. Are you not hungry?”

“I shall be up in a moment,” I assured her.
“I only wish to take one last circuit before I sup.”

Ealdine nodded, but doubt lingered in her
features as she withdrew.

“Bryn,” I whispered the moment she
disappeared from sight. Scooping the dagger from the ground and
sheathing it, I scanned the deep brush. “Bryn, I wish you didn’t
keep disappearing like this.”

“I haven’t left.”

Catching my forearm, he pulled me to the
wall. I knew I should resist, but I didn’t want to. We huddled,
hidden from the rest of the garden by the thick limbs and
needle-heavy branches of a pine. With barely space for the two of
us to stand, my nose came level with the lacings on his jerkin. I
lifted my chin to look up into his face. The scents of evergreen
and leather filled my senses.

“We are worried for your safety, my
maid.”

“You and Silvanticus?”

The blue of his eye deepened. “Aye. Be
careful. Stay aware of your surroundings, bar the door to the
garden when not without, and only eat what Ealdine serves you.” He
slid his hand from my arm to my waist and pulled me a half step
closer. Any farther and I would hurt my neck to look at him.
“Promise me?” he urged, a strange tone to his voice.

“I will.”

Instead of releasing me, he studied me as
though to assess my earnestness.

Heart beat quickened, but not from fear, I
returned his scrutiny. My hands rested on his chest, trapped
between us. The steady thump of his heart beneath them assured me I
wasn’t dreaming this. A war broke out betwixt the desire to press
closer to him and the reality I was another’s by law.

“I am betrothed to Silvanticus.” The words
were more of a reluctant reminder to me than rebuke for him.

“I know.” He groaned. “Fool that he is.”

With his free hand he brushed the skin
between my eye and ear. His calloused fingertips were rough against
my cheek and caught in my hair. I closed my eyes savoring his
touch. Silvanticus’ hand would not be as welcome.

“I will not return immediately. I have
business with a healer woman a half day’s journey from here. Rumor
is she sells potions and powders to cure or kill. We have hopes she
will be able to identify your brother as the poisoner. I leave this
night.”

“A witness,” I murmured, focused on the war
within. I should push away. I should pull my face from his hand. I
should strike at him for his audacity to …

“Verity?” Ealdine’s voice came from the
stairs.

I registered the note of anxiety in her voice
before Bryn pressed his lips to my forehead and moved away. By the
time I opened my eyes, he was gone. Only the soft movements of the
pine branches against the wall remained as evidence. If I didn’t
still see the knives lying among the grass, I would have thought
his visit a dream.

“Verity?” Desperation colored Ealdine’s
call.

I stepped out into the open. “Here, Ealdine.
I am here.” My heart still thrummed too fast. Perhaps my hair no
longer fell smoothly over my shoulders, but I would blame the
disorder on the pine branches.

“What were you doing here? Supper grows
cold.” Ealdine’s lined face creased more as she examined my
sap-marred surcoat.

“I thought I spotted a bird’s nest,” I
immediately regretted my lie. “I found none.” The second part was
true enough.

“Come. Eat, child, the mutton will give you
strength.”

I followed her up the stairs, bolting the
garden door from within as Bryn bid me. I would do it for him, not
Silvanticus. Not that I meant Silvanticus ill. My irritation came
from the fact he wanted me for my coastline. Bryn saw me, the woman
I was.

Or did he? We had spoken four times, not even
a full handful.

“My maid, you must eat to keep your health.
The wedding is not far off. Lord Silvanticus petitions your brother
to move the day nearer.”

“Why?”

“He says he has been bewitched by your
beauty.”

A harsh laugh escaped. The stoic man of our
first meeting couldn’t claim bewitchment. He barely moved toward
me, touched me not, and spoke only of my father’s death. Not the
words or manner of a lover beguiled. Bryn, his man, however, acted
and uttered the part of a friend.