Her mind drifted back to the days of feasts and knights and chivalry, days that were only distant memories to her now. Thoughts of Rhyne popped into her head again, but as she looked at Maxton, she could see that Rhyne had been a foolish boy compared to the man who now held her in his grip. She remembered seeing knights of Maxton’s caliber at Okehampton, great men with great legacies, but they were unattainable to her. At least, that’s what she believed. As she continued to gaze at Maxton, she wished with all her heart that he could see her as something other than what she was– a dirty, poor pledge.
She wished it could be otherwise.
“Will you please tell the king not to come to St. Blitha?” she asked again. “He must know of the danger should he go there. I do not know how they are planning to kill him, but they promised to teach me.”
Maxton’s dark eyes lingered on her for a moment. “They gave no indication?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “Except… except I am to assume new duties in the garden tomorrow with Sister Petronilla.”
“Who is that?”
“One of the Mother Abbess’ personal attendants,” she said. “The Mother Abbess said that Sister Petronilla would teach me what I needed to know.”
“She is one of the assassins?”
“Aye.”
Maxton considered that for a few moments, but not for long. He was still lingering on what he’d been told as a whole. He needed to speak with William, desperately, but he wanted to make sure Andressa was calm before he left her. He had much to do and more than likely little time to do it, and the pale pledge in his hands had been the key to everything. Without her, he’d still be hunting phantoms.
That poor, sweet, frightened, little rabbit.
“Surely you must be hungry,” he said to her. “I would like you to remain in this chamber and rest, and I shall have food brought up to you.”
She started to get that panicked look again. “Where are you going?”
He smiled at her, giving her arms a squeeze before rising to his feet and pulling her along with him. “I must speak to The Marshal about preventing John from going to St. Blitha.”
“Nay!” she cried, grabbing him with her bony fingers. “You must not tell him what I have told you! You swore that you would not!”
Maxton understood her panic. Carefully, he sat her down in the nearest chair, taking a knee in front of her and holding both of her cold hands in his big, warm mitts. He looked her directly in the eyes as he spoke to her.
“What you have told me will not go any further, I assure you,” he said. “But it is also a task that cannot be handled by one man. We are speaking of the king, Andressa, and if I am to tell him he cannot go to St. Blitha, he will want to know why. Do you understand that? There are others I must trust to help me.”
Her eyes were filling with tears again. “But… but if the Mother Abbess discovers I have told you…”
He shook his head and squeezed her hands. “She will not know,” he said. “She will never know. In fact, now that we knowof her plan, we will remove her from St. Blitha so that she can never harm anyone ever again, including you.”
The tears stopped and her eyes widened. “Remove her?” she gasped. “How… why…?”
Maxton lifted her hands to his lips, kissing her fingers sweetly. “Trust me,” he murmured. “Please, Andressa. You have asked for my help and I am so glad you did. I swear to you that I will protect you with my life. You have come to me with trust and now I ask you for the same as I help you solve your problem. Will you do this?”
She was still lingering on the kiss. It had been so sweet, so subtle, that her heart was racing because of it. It was a struggle to focus on his question.
“I… have been without anyone close to me for such a long time,” she said, her voice trembling. “I had friends at Okehampton, and my parents and I were also close. But since I have been at St. Blitha, I have learned that every day is a fight for survival and that there is no one I can trust because each and every woman at St. Blitha is also fighting for her survival. I do not even know you, yet your kindness this morning was endearing. It has been so long since I have known any kindness.”
It was a confession of sorts, a glimpse into the protected, confused, and frightened world of Andressa. Maxton could see how vulnerable she was and it touched him; he was fortunate. He had close friends he could trust. But when it came to an emotional and personal level, much like her, he had no one at all. He had seen forty years and three; he was an old man to some but, to others, he was seasoned and wise and strong. But there was one thing in all of those years that had escaped him–
Someone to love.
Did he see that in Andressa? All he knew was that in the short time he’d known her, he had feelings towards her that he’d never had for anyone, at least not that strongly. The woman wasterrified and cold and hungry, and all he wanted to do was shield and protect and feed her. He wanted to take care of her. He didn’t know why, other than his gut told him that he should.
His instincts had never been wrong.
“I am coming to think that our unexpected meeting this morning was not a mistake,” he said quietly. “Although I have never given much stock in God because, surely, I destroyed my chances of ascending to heaven long ago, I think that He brought you to me.”
She had wiped her tears away, listening to him intently. “Why?”
He forced a smile. “Because you need someone to trust. Clearly, you need me.”
