“You will have to touch me, my lady,” he advised quietly when Anna did not lean against him.
She gave a sigh of forbearance. “I suppose it is inevitable, my lord,” she ceded with such feigned deference that he could not bite back his smile.
“Is my wish not your command?” he teased.
“Do not vex me overmuch, sir,” Anna countered. “Not if you mean to sleep in my company.”
“Surely Leila will defend me,” he retorted.
“Surely she will,” that maiden replied with vigor. “For there are no more noble knights in Christendom than those of this company, particularly my lady’s lord husband. No woman could ever find a better man.”
Bartholomew felt Anna’s surprise at this endorsement of his character and realized there might be additional benefit to having Leila act as Anna’s maid. Anna’s arms wound around his waist and she leaned cautiously against his back.
Bartholomew felt a strange satisfaction to have her weight against him. He clicked his tongue, and Zephyr tossed his head, prancing toward the road. The party arranged itself in pairs, Bartholomew and Fergus at the fore, and the Templars at the rear. Duncan rode in the midst with Leila, Timothy and Hamish ahead of them and the Templars’ squires behind. They reached the road, which was of pounded dirt but even and straight, and the steeds began to canter.
Bartholomew swallowed, both anxious for a better glimpse of the keep that might be his birthright and fearful of what their arrival would bring.
*
What a remarkable company. The more she learned of Bartholomew and his fellows, the more Anna was inclined to believe that they might succeed in retrieving both their saddlebag and Percy from the baron’s keep. They did have unexpected advantages and seemed most intrepid.
Indeed, her terror was rapidly being replaced with anticipation.
Her curiosity about the contents of that saddlebag also grew with every passing moment.
“Now tell us of this baron,” Fergus invited her.
“Nay, first my lady wife has need of a name,” Bartholomew said. “You cannot simply be Anna, the smith’s daughter.”
Anna bristled that her name was insufficient for him. “Because a knight of your stature, with no holding to his name, would not deign to wed so low?” she asked sweetly.
Bartholomew laughed and surprised her with his response. “Nay, because you will be betrayed by the familiarity of your name and recognized despite the change in your appearance. Then Percy shall not escape the dungeon and that is not our goal.”
“I do not advise use of another name,” Leila contributed. “Lest you err and fail to respond to a summons. It is the easiest error to make and a most revealing one.”
Anna guessed that Leila had made such an error in their journey. “But Anna is a common enough name,” she said.
“Can we create a title?” Fergus asked. “Do we dare to be so bold?”
“The baron is most well connected,” Anna said. “It must be a name he knows but not a person he has met.”
“She could have ridden with us from Outremer, or even France,” Duncan suggested.
Anna shook her head. “But I have never seen either of those places. I believe Sir Royce has gone to the king’s court in Normandy. And I do not speak French.”
“A small question could reveal the ruse,” Leila said.
“So, we have need of a noblewoman unknown to the baron, perhaps because she does not exist, with a title known to the baron.” Fergus ran a hand through his hair.
“There will be a riddle to solve,” Bartholomew agreed. He glanced over his shoulder at Anna, his eyes gleaming. “Unless you know the solution already, my lady.”
Anna smiled at him, glad she did and equally glad that he had anticipated as much. “There was a widow, Elizabeth of Whitby, whose wealth was much coveted after her husband’s demise. She had a daughter, name of Anna, and feared they both would be forcibly wed once they had no defender. She fled their holding with her daughter to seek refuge at the abbey of Saint Mary.”
“When was this?” Fergus asked.
“More than ten years ago. My mother used to recount the tale as a mark of foul times.”
“How so?” Fergus asked.
