From This Moment On

  But all that in good time. Aliénore would provide him with what he’d requested, and then he would no doubt send her back for more from other sources. Solonge was wealthy, but he suspected that Berkhamshire was far wealthier. And the man would eventually have to return to England once his search for his missing bride had proved fruitless. And who better to rob him blind than his trusted man-at-arms, Sir Henri?

  Of course, it had concerned him, that show of spine Aliénore had displayed the night before. The way to his life of comfort was made possible only by her fear of him and his ability to force her to do his bidding. That she’d even contemplated blurting out the secret of her identity to Berkhamshire had been disturbing.

  It had, naturally, left him no choice but to see to the morning’s entertainment, which would be catching them up in but a handful of hours—entertainment that would surely convince her that he could do what he claimed he could.

  And with young Artane dead, Berkhamshire wounded or shamed, the only pause on the journey to Solonge would be a quick funeral and whatever demented rituals the Butcher would have to go through to regain his dignity. Sir Etienne supposed he could endure those.

  Especially knowing that Marie would be at the end of his travels, no doubt ready and willing to take him to her bed and make him laugh yet again with tales of her husband’s foolishness.

  He espied the camp up ahead and put aside his thoughts and plans. All would happen as he’d planned. Just a bit longer to wait and then he’d have all he desired—and deserved.

  Chapter 25

  Colin rode slowly with his hood over his head to shield it from the drizzle, and cursed the French, their weather, and everything else associated with them. In his opinion, their ground was hard, their rain continual, and their ability to produce anything other than good drink nonexistent. Did they have no concept of a proper road? Winding, twisting affairs that left ample room on each side for scores of ruffians to hide and pounce upon the unwary traveler were not, to his mind, proper roads.

  Fortunately, he was a very wary traveler and was ready and willing to dispatch any group of unsavouries that might come his way. That he had to be on his guard wasn’t what troubled him. It was continually watching Henri and wondering when Sir Etienne would strike out at her again that was so irritating. That and knowing that to find out, he had no choice but to let events proceed on how they would. With Henri’s safety hanging in the balance.

  Damnation, but he wished he had a better name for her than that.

  Of course, that wasn’t all that was setting his teeth on edge and leaving him with the desire to decimate whatever enemy might come his way—and pray, let there be many of them that he might assuage his foul mood. What irritated him the most was reliving his own failure the night before. He should have protected Henri, yet he hadn’t been equal to the task.

  He gritted his teeth at the memory of watching her come back to the fire. It had taken no great gift of observation to divine that she’d been hurt. She had breathed poorly, she’d held her wrist to her belly, and her face had been smudged with tears. He’d been enraged over that. Then he’d seen the cut on her mouth and a fury had consumed him, the like of which he’d never felt before. Perhaps esteem and great admiration for a wench would do that to a man.

  She’d stopped him, though, damn her, with that touch on his leg and the pleading in her eyes. It had fair done him in to humor her, but he had given in. He wondered how that might bode for the man who had the privilege of her for the rest of his life.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d wished he might be that man.

  And that kind of thinking had led him to wish again, in the deepest part of his heart he rarely visited even on his most maudlin day, that he might somehow find Aliénore safely tucked away in a convent, already committed to her vows. That would leave him free of his obligation to her.

  Free to wed where he willed.

  Free to try to convince a young woman with astonishingly green eyes that he might make her a good husband.

  He rubbed his hand over his face and cursed himself for even having allowed that thought to cross his mind. Like as not, Henri was betrothed to another. And even if she could break free of that, she likely wouldn’t have him. After all, she was beautiful.

  And he was most certainly not.

  He turned his damnably fertile imagination to other things. Immediately, ideas on how he might finish Sir Etienne’s sorry life surged forth in bright and delicious detail. Aye, the man would pay, and pay dearly for every bruise he’d put on Henri. Colin would see to it. Perhaps sooner than later, when Henri wasn’t looking. A pity he couldn’t have done it that morning. He’d woken only to find Sir Etienne gone yet again—and he wondered where the man went and what kind of wickedness he wrought.

  Unfortunately he’d known that such a happy misplacing of the man couldn’t last. The oaf had returned just as Colin was hopping spryly upon his horse, ready to leave him behind. Disheveled and sweating, he claimed he’d gone to pursue ruffians who had foul designs on their company.

  Colin hadn’t believed it for a moment.

  He suspected he would feel a great deal better when they were inside castle walls. At least there, he could check a confined space for enemies instead of having to keep watch on the entire countryside.

  The day passed and Colin alternated between glaring at Sir Etienne and watching the horizon. And as he scanned the countryside for rogues, he gave thought to his plans for the next few days. Mayhap they could stop at the priory and rest for a bit there. Jason would surely receive a warm welcome from the nuns, given that his family had so richly endowed the place. Colin had no qualms about availing himself of that luxury. Besides, that would give him ample time to question Sir Etienne and find out just how much the man knew about Solonge.

  Then they would proceed with all caution to the keep where Colin would meet Aliénore’s father, do his duty of offering to search for her, then be on his way as quickly as possible. He would, of course, find a quite plausible reason to leave Sir Etienne behind in Solonge’s capable hands.

  He’d just begun to contemplate that happy time, when Jason bellowed in rage.

  It was as if Hell itself had unleashed an attack upon them.

  Men swarmed out from the trees and bushes on the side of the road. Colin scarce had time to count their number, which was ten and five, and finish off a pair of them before he realized something quite startling about the attack.

  It was all aimed, oddly enough, at Jason.

  Colin fought quickly and killed without hesitation, because that was just what he did, but as he did so, he watched the pattern of the assault and wondered greatly at it. Sir Etienne engaged a pair of men and rather feebly, truth be told. Jason had eleven surrounding him, trying to hack at various parts of his form.

  Henri, the saints be praised, was left completely alone.

  Colin left his two expiring in the bloody dirt, then pushed ahead to lend Jason aid. He almost paused to ask the lad if he minded help, but perhaps apologies could be offered later if Jason’s sensibilities had been offended. For now, there were eleven against two and those were odds enough to make Colin smile even on his most foul-humored day.

  He dispatched three more with three mighty swipes of his sword, then slid off his horse to the ground. His mount, who had seen this all before, backed away, leaving Colin ample space for a goodly morning’s exercise.

  It certainly didn’t escape his attention that Sir Etienne seemed to be taking a bloody long time finishing off his attackers.

  A quick look behind him revealed that Henri had her blade drawn, but it rested unwielded in her hand—her left hand, damn her—but what choice did she have? Sir Etienne had done her right some sort of injury. Well, she was likely safe enough for the moment. Satisfied by that at least, Colin turned his attentions to the men before him. They were ragged and filthy, but knew which way to point the business end of their swords.

  Colin smiled pleasantly. “Who next?” he asked
. “Or shall you all come at once?”

  Ah, a brawl. He couldn’t have been more pleased. Casting himself joyfully into the fray, Colin swung and cut and hacked with gleeful abandon. Men screamed out curses and prayers both. Blades didn’t flash thanks to the lack of sun, but Colin supposed that was something he could live without. He was doing what he did best, and he did it thoroughly.

  He finished his ten, leaving them in various states of death and incapacitation, then saw that Jason, thanks to a bolt in his right arm, was having to fight his last foe with his left. Colin leaned upon his sword and watched as Jason and his mount managed to finish off their last man.

  And then Sir Etienne rode up, chest heaving, his hose covered in blood.

  “Bloody thieves,” he gasped.

  Colin looked at him narrowly. “Aye. Interesting, don’t you think, that they all made straight for young Jason?”

  “The richness of his trappings, no doubt,” Sir Etienne said with a sneer he didn’t seem to be able to hide.

  “Hmmm,” Colin said thoughtfully, then looked up at Jason still astride his horse. “How do you fare, lad?”

  Jason was clutching his right shoulder. “Well enough, I daresay. Lucky for us, the abbey is reachable. The nuns there are goodly healers.”

  “Bah,” Colin said, waving a dismissive hand. “ ’Tis but a scratch. Let me pull the arrow out and spare them the trouble.”

  “I don’t think so,” Jason said, stretching out his bloody hand to hold Colin off. “I’d rather have their tender ministrations than yours, thank you just the same. We’re not that far. I’ll last.”

  Colin shrugged. “’Tis your shoulder, not mine.” He looked at Henri. “And you? How do you fare, um, Henri?”

  Damnation, but he was going to have to either confront her and learn her name, or stop speaking to her at all if that was the best he could do. He was, he had to concede, a very poor liar. Pretending that he still believed she was a boy was using up much energy that could have been expended somewhere else.

  Her face was, unsurprisingly, white with fear and strain, but her sword was still upright and she wasn’t weeping. Those, to his mind, were very good signs.

  “I am well,” she managed. “Well enough.”

  “And our good Sir Etienne seems to be unhurt, though quite filthy. Best, then, that we’re off to our destination as quickly as may be. Sir Etienne, perhaps you would care to lead the way, since you seem to have such a perfect sense of direction. Who knows, you may be more successful at spotting ruffians than I was.”

  “Likely so,” Sir Etienne said, puffing his chest out. “I surely would have spotted those sooner.”

  “No doubt,” Colin said briskly, then swung up into his saddle. “Lead on, then. We’ll follow quite happily.”

  Sir Etienne rode out ahead. Colin motioned for Henri to go before him, then pulled back to ride alongside Jason.

  “Interesting, don’t you think?” he asked quietly.

  Jason looked almost as angry as Colin had felt the night before.

  “Deliberate, I’d say.”

  Colin looked at the shaft protruding from what had been a very nice tunic but a handful of moments before. “You’re going to need a few days’ rest with that. I think we’ll leave you with the good sisters and carry on.”

  “Are you daft?” Jason asked, clearly stunned. “You need me!”

  Colin shrugged. “I’ll manage.”

  “But Henri—”

  “Can fend for himself.”

  “He most certainly cannot!”

  Colin scratched absently at his chin. “He’s learned a great deal. He’ll manage well enough.”

  “Solonge is a nest of vipers,” Jason insisted.

  “And what should that matter to our young knight? He’s a lad. No one will harm him.”

  Jason looked so concerned that Colin began to suspect that he might know much more than he was admitting. And then hard on the heels of that thought came the unpleasant realization that Jason likely knew—indeed, had likely known for some time, damn the lad—just what Henri was.

  And if his charm hadn’t failed him, he likely knew who Henri was as well.

  Why he had chosen not to share either of those things with Colin sooner was annoying in the extreme.

  Colin glared at him. “I hope that hurts.”

  Jason blinked in surprise. “Why?”

  “I just do.”

  “Nasty of you, I’d say.”

  “Why are you so concerned about Henri?”

  “He’s young,” Jason said promptly. “Inexperienced. Needful of protection.”

  “Hrmph.” Colin pursed his lips. He would have to beat the answers from Artane’s youngest, that was for sure, and repay him as well should those answers reveal a knowledge that Jason should have shared long before now. But later, after the lad had healed. There was no pleasure in taking sport of a man who had an arrow protruding from his shoulder. “You can put your mind at rest. I’ll watch over Henri.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I,” Colin returned. “I won’t be long at Solonge, for I’ve no liking to drag this out any longer than I have to. I intend to rid myself of Sir Etienne there and the sooner that’s done, the happier I’ll be. Then we’ll be about our sorry business of a search.”

  “Well,” Jason said, sounding quite relieved, “if he’s going to be left behind, then I agree.”

  “Generous of you.”

  “I thought so.”

  Colin grunted at him, then turned his attentions back to the road. “Several more hours, wouldn’t you say?”

  “At least.”

  “Interesting time for an attack.”

  “That as well,” Jason agreed.

  Colin looked at him. “Far enough from the priory that you might have ample time to die en route.”

  “Aye, and I like not that thought.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Colin agreed, “considering you’re the one paying the price for it.” He looked out over the fields next to them. “I’ll have to be more on guard.”

  “Hard to spot it, I’d think,” Jason mused. “These kinds of attacks.”

  “That depends on how closely one shadows the instigator.”

  Jason nodded thoughtfully. “True enough.”

  Colin turned his attentions back to the countryside and gave himself over to thinking on what he’d just discovered. To be sure, he couldn’t doubt that Sir Etienne had a hand in what they’d just experienced. But why? What was he trying to prove? To whom did he intend to show his cunning?

  Henri, perhaps. But that again raised the question of why? Colin ground his teeth in frustration. Did he but know what the man held over her, he could see to it and dispatch the cretin. And the sooner the better, as far as their health was concerned. He would not take a chance with Henri’s life, for who knew at whom the next attack would be aimed?

  He fixed his full attentions on his surroundings. He would keep them safe as far as the priory, have Jason seen to, then perhaps leave at a time Sir Etienne wouldn’t have expected. Even did they travel by dark of night, that would be preferable to arrows in the back during the daylight.

  And then he could be rid of that bloody Sir Etienne. That day couldn’t come soon enough, to his mind.

  He wondered briefly if it might be safer to leave Henri behind with Jason. He dismissed that idea immediately. Jason hardly needed any more time to use his devilish charm on the girl and, despite his own two recent failures, Colin remained convinced that the safest place for Henri was right next to him.

  At least he would have the pleasure of watching her whenever he so chose.

  Aye, he would most certainly keep her near him.

  Who could blame him for it?

  Chapter 26

  Ali dreamed of her mother. She sat next to her at the priory, in front of the fire in the guest hall, and listened to the worn, soft voice of the abbess. She couldn’t understand the words, but that didn’t matter. Her mother held Ali’
s hand in hers. Every now and again, she would look at her and smile that smile full of love that made Ali feel as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

  Then her mother turned back to the abbess. Soft laughter was exchanged, and more quiet words that washed over Ali and wrapped her in their warmth as if in a blanket. And all the while, her mother never let her go.

  Ali was certain she’d never felt so at peace.

  Her mother turned to look at her, then reached out and put her hand on Ali’s shoulder. And then, quite suddenly, the hand was not so gentle and the touch on her shoulder no longer resembled a gentle caress. It was shaking that left Ali gasping in surprise.

  And then she realized that the face leaning so close to hers was not her mother’s, but rather Colin of Berkhamshire’s. He already looked annoyed.

  “Aaaack!” she exclaimed, sitting up and groping for her dagger.

  “Damnation,” Colin said, jumping back, “’tis only me. You needn’t poke me.”

  Ali drew her hand back. “Forgive me, my lord. I thought—”

  “You thought I was an enemy and did as you should have. But, as you can see, I am not the enemy and you need not fear me. Aye?”

  Ali rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and struggled to shake the sleep from herself. She looked at Colin to find him kneeling next to her, looking very concerned.

  “Are you unwell?” she asked. “Sour bowels?”

  He grunted at her. “I am perfectly sound. ’Tis you whom I worry about.”

  “You woke me in the middle of the night. How do you expect me to react?”

  “I suppose,” he said doubtfully.

  “Why am I awake?” she asked, dragging her fingers through her hair.

  “We’re leaving. I think it best we travel during a time when we might not be expected.”

  Given the events of the day before, she could well understand that.

  “We’ll have time enough to rest at Solonge,” he said, “though I’ve no desire to stay overlong there.” He peered at her closely. “Do you have an opinion on it?”

  “On what?” she asked with a frown.