“Geoffrey took him back to Sir Hugh’s.” He paused. She must be told of the massacre at the manor. On top of what she’d suffered, she must handle that news.
“Who is Geoffrey?”
And that news.
“Geoffrey is a friend. He and others of our troop made it to The Pelican after we sailed. He traveled with Brother Gerald to join me here.”
“Brother Gerald. He was the one who arrived at the inn before we left?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Did your lovely friend accompany him here? Geoffra, is it not?”
Merde
.
“Geoffra and Geoffrey. Quite similar names.” Evie twisted to glance over her shoulder. “They are brother and sister?” She swung back to face ahead again. “You have a Saracen, an enemy, among your men?”
Whatever reaction Stephen expected, it wasn’t the calm tone. But beneath the mild words, he heard steel.
“His grandfather came from Normandy. One of the first crusaders who remained to protect Jerusalem years ago. His father served the King of Jerusalem, as well.”
“And his mother?”
“A Saracen of gentle birth.”
Should he tell her more? Explain why he and Geoffrey rode together. Why all the members of the Brotherhood shared experiences that brought them closer than many families?
He remained silent.
Finally, she spoke again. “There is a word I’ve heard on this journey. Phoenix? What does it mean?”
Relieved her attention turned from the dangerous subject of Geoffra, he answered. “The Phoenix is a mysterious bird of Eastern lore. Legend says it was destroyed by fire, only to rise again from the ashes.”
She appeared to consider the story. What would she make of it?
“Regeneration. Rebirth.”
That didn’t take her long.
“Joan said you call your band the Brotherhood. Of the Phoenix?”
“Yes.”
Damn her quick mind. But it was one of the things about her he loved. Love? His heart pounded at the possibility. No, it must not be. Evie—Lady Evelynn—was just a childhood companion, grown into a desirable woman who stirred him.
She could be nothing else.
“Are you the Phoenix?”
He almost choked. Would they be at risk if she knew? Would
she
? But she’d been in danger since they left days ago. She deserved the truth.
“We all are.”
What other uncomfortable revelations might she demand? He needed to divert her mind. There was a way, but he hated to break the news so abruptly. Still—
He cleared his throat. “There’s something you should know about Matthew and Sir Hugh,” he said. “After we left yesterday, the manor came under attack. They die…did not survive.”
She stiffened. “Matthew’s dead?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not Sir Hugh.” Her voice scarcely rose above a whisper.
“All.”
Silence fell. She didn’t move, but her body went rigid. He knew she struggled for control. After a while, she spoke, her voice choked. “Is it possible the same men were responsible for that attack and the one on us?”
“Very likely.”
She drew a ragged breath.
“I should have left a guard.”
Evie shook her head. “You had no reason to expect they faced danger.”
“I should have suspected.” His voice sounded hollow.
“You must not feel guilt,” she insisted. “The fault does not lie with you.”
It may have. The old crusader may have been targeted because he provided shelter for Stephen. Yet the staging of the attack on Sir Hugh and the later ambush mystified him. How had the mercenaries at the manor been able to arrange plans so quickly if they were, indeed, responsible? Only someone with knowledge of the terrain could have circumvented their party without his noticing. Geoffrey had traveled from the opposite direction, so they couldn’t have followed him.
One of them must have recognized Stephen. He’d wager on the savage-looking leader who kept staring at his hair. Had any of Evie’s captors mentioned their orders?
“Did any of the men who held you say why they attacked?” He knew the answer, of course. It had to be. But he hated to examine his motives for not wanting her to learn of his past.
She took so long to reply, he feared she’d overheard too much. That the listing of his misdeeds revolted her. But if that were true, she would never have gone into his arms so completely earlier.
Finally her shoulders straightened. “They said they were after you and me.”
Surely he’d misunderstood. He leaned closer. “What did you say? You?”
“They were sent for you but abducted me instead to deliver me to their lord. The leader said I had information the man wanted.” She shook her head as if forcing away a bad thought. “He wouldn’t tell me what.”
Then she laughed, a bitter, dismissive sound that made Stephen long to pull her close. “What could I possibly know? I’m a lady who can’t have a thought outside housekeeping, or embroidery, or gossip. I wasn’t even informed of my betrothed’s name. I had to learn it by accident.”
“Are you certain that’s what you heard?”
Evie twisted at the waist to face him. “Why would I invent such a tale? And don’t forget, they looked for you first. The captain was furious you’d escaped.”
Stephen understood the attempt on his own life. It was the abduction of Evie that mystified him. “Did anyone mention this lord’s identity?”
She sighed in disgust. “No. I tried to get a name, but the men ignored me.”
They rode in silence. Evie relaxed bit by bit until she lay against him in sleep, her head turned to the side on his chest. The new day pushed against the horizon and its light gave him a clear view of her stubborn nose, sprinkled with freckles. For once, it didn’t point to the sky.
Pulling her tighter to make sure she was comfortable, he laid his cheek on top of her soft chestnut curls. He stiffened at the tenderness he felt. Then with a sigh for the inevitable, he concentrated on the uncertain road ahead.
****
Evie awoke when the horse stopped in the bailey. Every inch of her body ached, but she refused to give in to the discomfort. Marie raced from the hall, her feet slapping against the mud. A couple of strange knights stood guard at the doorway.
“Oh, milady! Oh, milady,” she cried. “You are back. You are safe.” For once the girl did not descend into a litany of words.
“I’m happy you are unhurt, Marie. How is Sir Macsen? Please say he lives.”
“Yes, but he has yet to open his eyes.” Marie swiped tears from her cheeks. “I prayed you would be found.”
Stephen dismounted and lifted Evie down. “Come inside,” he said, holding her arm.
He halted to greet the pair of guards, speaking to them in a language she didn’t recognize. Her attention was drawn to the door at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor hall.
Standing there was another knight she’d never met. He stood almost as tall as Stephen, but his dark hair fell in thick waves to his wide shoulders. The waves framed a compelling face with high forehead, strong but thin nose, skin bronzed by sun, and eyes of piercing blue surrounded by long, thick, curling lashes. Lashes a court lady would kill for. He was, quite simply, beautiful.
She’d seen those eyes before.
This could only be the Geoffrey Stephen mentioned, brother to the lady who came to meet Stephen in Boulogne.
Stephen looked up to greet him. “How goes Macsen?”
“Recovering,” came the warm, liquid voice in answer.
Stephen took her arm again. “Lady Evelynn this is Sir Geoffrey. Geoffrey, I present Lady Evelynn of Chauvere, Lord Henry’s sister. How fares the hall?”
“Ready to receive so lovely an addition.” He bowed in courtly manner.
“I want to attend Sir Macsen and the others,” she said, after inclining her head. “Can you show the way, please?”
She turned to Stephen. “Thank you.” The words seemed so paltry after he’d saved her, after what passed between them. There would be time for more later. After she saw to the injured. After she settled her mind.
She lifted her hems, straightened her shoulders, and stepped into the hall.
Evie refused to continue the journey until Macsen awoke and assured her he’d survived worse injuries than a whack to the head. Stephen happily allowed the delay. It gave Geoffrey and him time to track the path of the outlaw band.
Evidence left in trampled vegetation confirmed their suspicion. The same group had been responsible for the murderous attack on Sir Hugh’s home and the vicious strike against Evie. Either that, or two bands traveled the exact same path of crushed brush, horse droppings, and human scat. Stephen knew such an occurrence highly unlikely.
He only wished he could pursue this new development immediately. But the news Geoffrey rushed to bring from Normandy made their current push more urgent. John was enroute to England to be crowned king at Westminster.
If the last pieces of evidence against the Dragon failed to materialize in time, a perfect opportunity to seek justice from the king would be lost.
Finally, two days later, Evie, Stephen, and a troop of ten made ready to set out again. Evie visited the new graves one last time, while Stephen spoke with Macsen. When she returned, Stephen helped her mount a raw-boned chestnut with powerful haunches that promised speed. The little mare she rode the day of the attack had never been found.
She was settling the new animal when Geoffrey waved him over.
“I wish I could spare you more men,” Stephen said. He hated to abandon his two best friends with only three others for help should the need arise.
“Do not worry, my brother,” Geoffrey assured him. “You must protect your lady.”
“She’s not—” Stephen halted at the look from Geoffrey. No time to go through that discussion again. He’d insisted repeatedly that Evie held no place in his heart. Sorya’s brother had not believed him. Stephen wasn’t sure he believed it himself any longer. It didn’t matter. Not when the king decreed she marry another.
One side of Geoffrey’s mouth quirked up, but his eyes remained determined. “We will meet at Westminster for the crowning. And if one of us is successful in his search, then we shall have our reckoning.”
Stephen dragged his thoughts from Evie and reached out to touch his friend’s arm. “We will avenge her, my brother. All of them. Then you will be free to seek home.”
“It is well,” Geoffrey said, a trace of his old humor flaring. “Although I’m not certain I recall my way back after all these years.”
The mention of home brought a pang to Stephen’s chest. He’d not seen his own home for months. This mission must be the last. He owed it to his father.
One more debt that must be fulfilled.
“Quite a strong lady. She has been a wonder, caring for the wounded.” Geoffrey’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Stephen realized he’d been staring at Evie, who spoke with the new guards.
Stephen’s shoulders rose. “She barely acknowledges me.” He hadn’t needed to speak of what occurred on the ride back after her rescue. Geoffrey had an uncanny ability to sense his thoughts, his moods.
“Ah, but she has spoken to me—at length. Very curious about my dear twin sister.” He flicked a look at Stephen. “I would not be surprised if she suspects the ruse.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Stephen said. “Her betrothed will keep her occupied soon enough.” He shoved the words out past a knot in his throat. “Keep well.”
He strode to his bay and swung up, lifting a hand. In a few days, they’d meet at their usual place in London, close to Westminster. God willing, the long hunt would end then, with the Dragon exposed for the atrocities he and his band perpetrated during the past years.
Or Stephen, dead.
In a flash of exhaustion, he thought even that end might be welcome. The excitement of the hunt had palled long ago. Burning hatred drove him now, centered in a hard core of revenge that occupied his chest in place of a heart.
He forced back the lingering fatigue and turned in the saddle to check the troop. Evie rode in the center, Claude at her side. His left arm, returned to its socket, rested in a sling. His strong right hand never strayed far from the sword strapped over the monk’s robe he insisted on retaining. Davy and Marie rode close behind.
Stephen reviewed the heavily armed knights, each with instincts sharpened, and felt a warm wash of emotion, suspiciously like affection. Damned good men. His friends. His brothers.
He’d take the first scout himself. Another attack this soon seemed unlikely, but the years had taught him never to underestimate the enemy.
He signaled William. “Keep everyone moving,” he said. “We’ll come back to find the guilty bastards once we get Lady Evelynn home.”
William grunted. “I look forward to it.”
As Stephen passed Evie, he caught her eye. She turned her head the other way, but not before he saw a flush bloom on her cheeks. Lips clenched, he faced the road and kicked his bay into a gallop.
****
Evie watched Stephen race ahead. Her heart pounded. Why did he go alone? What if the outlaws waited for him? What if they attacked? She sucked in a breath to calm herself. She had managed to handle the events of the past days by not dwelling on them. With the sorrow at the deaths of Sir Hugh and his tiny garrison as well as that of Matthew, and the fear at Macsen’s head injury, Evie hadn’t had time to relive her own experience.
The longer she could put off facing the memory, the better she could control the reaction when it set in. Ironically, each time her mind approached the terrifying few hours, it fixed on Stephen’s rescue. And the journey back. Each time she thought of his touch, her body softened, her pulse pounded. If only she were free.
If only he were free. From Geoffra, certainly. But more than Geoffrey’s sister haunted him. She saw it in his eyes when he did not know she watched. Something troubled Stephen deep in his soul. She longed to take the worry from him, soothe the hurt. But it wasn’t to be.
The image of Lord Fulk flashed before her. Resolutely, she closed her mind to it. For the duration of this journey, she refused to consider what her future held. Today and the day after—that was her future. For now.
She raised her face to the sky. Despite the sun’s early warmth, a cool breeze, aftermath of two days of storms, caressed her cheeks. The wet earth and new leaves gave off a fragrance unique to England in spring. How she’d missed it. How happy she was to be going home.