“Never let a man assault you and live to tell about it, Emma,” she said quietly and saw fear flash in Royce’s eyes. “Aye, husband, you will not walk out of this chamber.”
“You cannot ensure otherwise,” he protested, though she had already won. He tried to put distance between himself and that blade, but Marie pushed him with the flat of her hand and hooked her foot behind his ankle. He staggered backward, flailing for the wall, and his eyes widened in a most satisfying manner when he realized there was only empty space behind him.
The sill of the window collided with the back of his knees. He almost regained his balance, but Marie gave him a helpful push.
“Farewell, Royce,” she whispered then he was gone, tumbling through the air. She leaned out in time to see him land hard on the snow that covered the moat. The force of impact broke the ice and his body sank into the dark hole.
Royce disappeared beneath the ice, only a red stain left on the snow, and did not reappear. Marie wiped her blade with one of his chemises, then cast the garment after him.
She pivoted to survey the chamber, certain it would suit her well. “Our fortune changes, Emma, and thus our strategy.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“There is no longer any cause to leave the keep built with my father’s coin. It is as good as mine, and rightly so.” Marie glanced at the road visible from the window and hoped the knight Bartholomew would soon return. “Please bring my possessions to this chamber. It shall be mine from this point forth.”
“Aye, my lady.” Emma curtseyed and left.
Marie smiled. Haynesdale would be hers and she would take a certain alluring knight to husband. Aye, the appeal of this holding grew by the moment.
In Royce’s absence.
*
There was no opportunity to speak with Bartholomew and tell him what she had learned of her own past. Anna hoped she would have many chances to talk to him once this was resolved. She gave a whistle when they drew nearer to the keep and Duncan and the others appeared out of the forest.
“We might have mistaken you for Royce’s own men!” Duncan exclaimed, shaking Bartholomew’s hand heartily. It turned out that the squire who had ridden back this way had not survived this bend in the road, for Duncan and the others had attacked him.
Royce would not be warned!
Duncan and the others cast the boy onto the cart and tied the steed with the others. The tale was shared of their capture of the cart, as well as the details of Royce’s deceit and Bartholomew’s plans.
To Anna’s pleasure, he halted beside her again.
“Do not let your pleasure in Gaultier’s demise show,” Bartholomew advised her in a whisper. “Your thoughts are clearly read in your eyes, after all.”
“Are they?”
He smiled and touched her cheek with a fingertip. With the slightest caress, he could awaken a glow within her. “Aye, you are the most forthright woman I have ever known. I admire that trait greatly, Anna, but do not let it betray us.”
She parted her lips to share her good tidings, but Duncan came to return Bartholomew’s own belt and sword to him. He exclaimed with pleasure and accepted the weapons, then gave the command for them to depart.
They reached the keep and Anna did not look at the body hanging from the curtain wall, given Bartholomew’s advice. The guards at the gate opened the portcullis with only a cursory survey of their party, laughing and jesting that the outcasts in the forest had been so foolish. “But where is William?” demanded one.
“His horse went lame,” Bartholomew said with easy confidence. “He follows at a walk.” He laughed then. “The forests are clear of brigands so there is no peril.”
The porters laughed with him.
The company passed through the gates and Anna gave Percy a nudge. The second cart was loaded and left to one side, the horses harnessed to it in preparation. She saw at a glance that they were Royce’s younger and swifter steeds. All those trunks! They had to contain gold and silver!
But there was not a one of them that looked large enough to hold the reliquary. The villagers gathered closer together and those of them dressed as Royce’s men gruffly commanded them to cluster into a group.
“Out of the way, out of the way, you lot of ruffians,” Duncan said with some impatience, keeping the ruse.
Bartholomew strode toward the hall. From the back, he looked a great deal like Gaultier, for he mimicked that man’s walk. Once he disappeared into the hall, another sentry came toward them.
“Well, where is Stephen?” he demanded and Anna smelled the scent of horse upon him. He turned on Duncan. “If he fell, why did you not bring him back?” He frowned and peered more closely at Duncan, seizing him by the shoulder when he would have turned away. “Who are you?” he had time to demand, his voice rising high enough to attract the attention of other sentries, before Stewart sank a sword blade into his back.
But it was too late. A hue and a cry erupted, squires and sentries turning upon the new arrivals. “And the battle begins,” Duncan muttered. “Drop your ropes and seize your weapons!”
