“Aye, m’lord.”
As Gart’s men went to the men on the road and began slitting throats for good measure, Gart gathered Emberley by the hand.
“Come along, my lady,” he said quietly. “We must get you and your son to safety.”
Emberley watched Gart’s soldiers ensure the death of the de Moyon escort. There was some disgust and trepidation in her expression as she realized what they were doing.
“Why are your men doing that?” she wanted to know. “Why are they defiling the dead like that?”
Gart put his arm around her, trying to shield her from the sight as he led her back to his charger. “Because we cannot leave any witnesses,” he told her. “Julian must not know where you are or who has you.”
She gazed up at him. “But he will see your arrows,” she said. “I am not a warrior but even I know that each army’s arrows are distinctive. Since he is allied with de Lohr, will he not know de Lohr arrows?”
Gart handed over Romney to Kevin as they reached the horses. “We did not use distinctive arrows,” he told her. “We used arrows that David had stored in his armory, arrows confiscated off the Welsh.”
She eyed him as he lifted her onto his saddle. “Julian will have no way of knowing where we are?”
“Nay.”
“But what about my babies?”
“I will send Kevin for them immediately.”
Emberley fell into contemplative silence as Gart mounted behind her, relishing the feel of his arms around her, his lips on her ear as he spurred the charger back into the darkness. She felt safe again, so very safe and happy to be with him, but fearful of the future. Even though Gart had saved her from joining Julian in London, it did not eliminate the problem. They still had the same concerns and issues. She was still very apprehensive.
Settling back against Gart as they rode through the night, Emberley’s apprehension did not abate. As the lights of Bellham Place came into view, the anxiety only grew worse.
*
Lady Emilie deLohr was as sweet as she could be. She wholly embraced Emberley upon her arrive to Bellham andimmediately whisked the lady and her son to a chamber where they could bathe and rest.
The warmth and charm of Bellham welcomed the weary woman and her equally exhausted child, and Emberley was introduced to the Earl of Hereford. David greeted her fondly and she responded in kind, remembering the baron from his visit to Dunster.
After the introductions were finished and Lady Emilie appeared, Emberley panicked when she realized that she would be separated from Gart, but Gart had gently assured her that he would not be far if she needed him. As Gart went with David and Christopher behind closed doors, Emberley and Romney followed Emilie up the stairs.
Bellham was a truly luxurious place with big, spacious rooms and comfortable beds. With Romney in the next room being tended to by a pair of servants, Emilie tended Emberley personally. She helped the lady strip off her bloodied, dirty clothes and climb into a massive copper tub of steaming water.
With the help of a few young maid servants, Emilie proceeded to wash Emberley from head to toe, using valuable and expensive products on her hair and skin. The heady scent of lilac filled the room as Emberley relaxed in the tub, scrubbed and soaped and scraped. She felt better than she had in days, listening to Romney in the next room as he argued with the old female servant about not wanting to get out of the tub. But along with her son’s voice, she could hear others.
The chamber they were in was directly above the solar and through the floor she could hear raised male voices. Mostly, she could hear David’s voice as if responding to something he didn’t much like.
Emberley had been relaxing against the back of the tub but as the voices grew louder, she sat forward in the cooling water, listening to the arguing with increasing trepidation. Someoneeven said something about arresting Gart– she heard it clearly. Even Emilie, inspecting some of her garments to loan to Lady Emberley, could hear the raised voices and the threats of discipline. She glanced uneasily at Emberley and their eyes met.
“It seems to be a lively discussion,” she smiled weakly at Emberley.
Emberley listened as they threw more threats around, hearing Julian’s name mentioned more than once.
“They are angry with Gart,” she said softly. “They want to punish him.”
“Nay,” Emilie shook her head. “They would not dare.”
But Emberley wasn’t convinced. “They are angry that he rescued me.”
Emilie wasn’t sure what to say to that so she said nothing. Instead, she busied herself and pulled forth a soft lamb’s wool sheath and a soft, billowy sleeping robe in shades of yellow. Emberley was taller than she was, rounder of the breasts and bum, and only Emilie’s most flowing garments would fit the lady. She also set aside a pair of surcoats that were too big for her but would fit Emberley well. One was a mustard yellow linen and the other was a dashing scarlet, both well-made pieces. Satisfied, Emilie went to the tub to collect the huge piece of drying linen that had been laid before the hearth to warm.
She held up the linen. “Would you like to dry off now?”
The water was rather cool. Still listening to the shouting below, Emberley climbed out of the tub and Emilie wrapped her up in the enormous towel. Emberley moved to the hearth to warm up and dry off as Emilie collected a phial of lilac-scented oil. But as Emberley stood there, drying her tender skin and listening to the raised voices on the floor below, her apprehension bloomed.
