“I thought it wise to travel slow, my lord. I didn’t want to arouse suspicion over armed guards moving fast, what with the unrest abroad.”
Stephen nodded, relieved. “You acted wisely. I doubt any troops are in the area. However, it’s better to take care.”
“As to that, we saw evidence of many horses not far from the village,” the captain admitted. “Looked to be a large party, what with the grass flattened the way it was. Gave me some concern over safety hereabouts.”
The old solider likely meant the patch of trampled underbrush where Stephen had been ambushed. Unwise to mention the attack, however. If the captain thought his charge was in danger, he’d be reluctant to leave. Stephen intended to send Evie back to the castle immediately.
“My men’s work,” he said. “They tried to find a shortcut last night but succeeded in getting lost. You’ll have no trouble returning in good time, so long as you leave now.”
Evie stepped forward to turn the full blast of her smile on the older man.
“Yes, captain. If you set out immediately and ride quickly, you can reach Rosemont. The duty to me is discharged. Please assure your good lady that I am well pleased.”
Stephen didn’t like the sound of those words. No way in hell was she staying here. Even if Henry had ordered her home, which he didn’t for one moment believe, he refused to risk his men’s safety, and hers, by allowing her to remain. Her presence might jeopardize the mission. He couldn’t permit that.
“Lady Evelynn will accompany you back,” he announced, unmoved by her frown. “The group she intended to join has been delayed. The lady cannot wait here alone.”
Her clenched lips and flared nostrils warned him that she intended to argue, but this was no time for foolishness. She must leave before more of his men arrived. He’d allow nothing, no one, to interfere with the plan; he was too close. After all the years when the trail lay as cold as Prince John’s heart, a clue had surfaced. Evidence that finally would put within reach the murdering bastard responsible for hundreds of deaths. For Sorya’s.
“I don’t believe you heard me, Sir Stephen.” Evie’s words dripped honey. “I’m going home on orders of my brother. If the travelers Davy was to join haven’t appeared, then he can accompany me.” She shot a glance toward the youth, deep in conversation with the maid.
The back of Stephen’s neck tingled, and he clenched his hands. God’s blood, she made him so angry he longed to grab those soft arms and shake some sense into her.
“You are not remaining at the monastery, and you are not traveling to England.” The words came out in a growl. He stepped forward, and she tilted back her head to meet him eye to eye. “Must I tie you to that horse?”
She leaned in. “Just you try, Sir Stephen-the-Bully.”
He glared and crossed his arms against his chest, daring her to continue.
“Do as you think you must.” She echoed his stance, her crossed arms pushing her plump breasts higher.
Not that he noticed, blast her.
“I vow I will return the moment I’m free,” she added. “You have no authority over my movements, for you are no relative of mine.”
“And I thank God for it. How Henry has put up with you all these years I do not know. A more troublesome, contentious wi...woman I’ve never seen.”
“Did you call me a witch?”
The interfering, infuriating female. Teeth clenched, he took a determined stride forward, so close now he felt her breath on his chin. The soft, moist warmth of it made his cock jump.
And that made him angrier still. Desire was the last thing he intended to feel for this pestilential lady. Hands fisted on his hips, he glowered at her upturned face with its damned inviting lips.
His fury never failed to silence the boldest of his men. She merely notched her stubborn chin higher. With her head at that angle, she’d best be careful, or she’d tumble over backward. He’d enjoy seeing such impudence land bottom down in the dust. God’s toenails, but the little imp would provoke the pope.
“Children.” Father Joseph’s powerful voice pierced the charged silence, the minatory tone calling Stephen back to himself. He growled. Children indeed. As well they might be, caught bickering by the small, thin man who halted nearby.
Stephen hadn’t noticed the monastery leader’s arrival, and such lack of attention could get someone killed.
Another slip for which he blamed Evie. She touched off his fury like a spark to sawdust. He glanced at the holy man expecting to see censure but caught a flicker of amusement instead.
“My children,” the prior repeated, “no need to argue. I’m sure your problem is easily solved. Let us move inside to finish the discussion.”
Glowering, Stephen nodded Evie ahead. She ignored his scowl to turn her smile on the other man. She was certainly free with those smiles, for everyone except him. He rolled his eyes and followed the pair around the side of the chapel toward the cool dimness of the cloister. He’d enjoy seeing her chastised by the no-foolishness-allowed Father Joseph. The man knew their mission, and Stephen counted on him to dispatch this troublesome lady back to safety.
****
Blast Stephen of Rively. How she would enjoy besting him. Evie smiled at the elderly man at her side and trod sedately ahead. Whatever brought Stephen to this place would take him away again. Then she’d be left to pursue her journey in peace. Yet she’d seen no evidence of preparation for a trip. Unless—surely he wasn’t a part of the group. No, his being here must be one of those cruel ironies life enjoyed tossing in her path.
As she rounded the corner, a flurry of movement caught her eye. A clot of dark-clothed men filed through a small door in the side of the chapel. They must be the travelers. Further along, she saw a collection of horses previously hidden by the building. The animals nosed into a water trough.
Relief shot through her. She’d arrived in time, after all. And Stephen insisted the group hadn’t come. Did he not know? Or had he lied?
None of that mattered. Now the pilgrims were here, and her hastily conceived plan might succeed.
Except dust and perspiration covered those horses. They didn’t look rested enough to set out on a long ride. Doubt made her pause in stride.
These men were recent arrivals. Her excitement congealed into a lump at the bottom of her stomach. Had she missed the departure, after all?
Stephen shifted to the other side of Father Joseph, and the two slowed. Leaving their murmurs behind, Evie continued to the wooden benches tucked into the shade of the covered walkway. She sat, and Davy immediately joined her. His mouth curved down, and his shoulders drooped.
“Milady, why are ye here?”
“I’ve come to join your party to England, Davy. I’m going home.”
A look of panic flared in his eyes. “But ye can’t, milady. I travel alone to England. Lord Henry would have m’ balls on a platter if I let ye come all that way with just me.”
His face flamed scarlet. “Sorry for m’ language, milady. Slipped out, it did.”
Evie bit her lip against a smile. “I understand, Davy.”
A loud sigh hissed through the gap in his front teeth. “Oh, thank ye, milady.” He managed a relieved nod. “Ye go on back to Rosemont where it’s safe, and I’ll tell Lord Henry ye be wantin’ to come home right bad.”
“You mistake my meaning, I fear,” Evie said. Her shoulder arched an apologetic shrug.
From the corner of her eye, she watched Stephen’s and Father Joseph’s approach. Lifting her chin, she raised her voice defiantly. “Whether I travel with you or alone, I am going home. Today.”
Stephen frowned when Evie stepped from the cloister and turned toward them. From the angle of her shoulders, he wagered she had another argument ready, but his decision remained firm. She must return to Rosemont.
At least the father agreed to reason with her.
Reason? Her? Hah!
With a disgruntled sigh, Stephen caught up in time to hear the story, and he had to admit, the girl sounded persuasive.
Father Joseph’s face remained impassive as he listened, his lips pursed and his head nodding.
Soon after she began, he held up a hand. “Let us step into the chapel, out of the sun.” He gestured to the small structure.
Stephen followed warily. Had his men made it to the hidden chamber? A quick glance showed no sign of them, and his tension eased. He wanted to hear the news they carried, but he didn’t dare leave until he settled the matter of Evie’s travel.
The cool interior brimmed with odors of old wood and stale candle smoke, underscored by a hint of dust. Sunbeams fought through the precious stained glass window, sending shards of blue and red and green colors across the stone floor. Absolute silence enfolded the three occupants in a soothing, reverent calm.
Once inside, the diminutive churchman took charge. “Lady Evelynn, I am in sympathy with your desire to reach home as quickly as possible. But your brother is a good friend to St. Anselm. I can readily imagine his horror if I were to allow you to continue your journey without his protection. The territory between here and the coast has been the scene of bitter fighting these last days. Your safety, your life would be at risk.”
Stephen caught the glance Evie cast him. What she saw in his expression apparently didn’t sit well, for she gazed imploringly at their companion. “May I speak with you privately, sir? I do not feel comfortable explaining in front of this knight. He’s shown no sympathy for my plight.”
With fingers lifted, Joseph turned. “Do you mind, Sir Stephen? We must consider the lady’s delicate feelings. Didn’t you say earlier you wanted to examine my latest translation of St. John? You’ll find it in the chapel library.”
Lips compressed, she swung away from the two. Hiding a smile, was she? Little cat. It wouldn’t work. Joseph well knew the danger they all faced. Stephen scowled at the other man, who lifted a brow in humor.
“Very well,” Stephen grumbled. “But you know my decision, my lady. Even if you persuade our host, I will not allow you to ride into danger.”
Her back stiffened. Good. Best she not doubt his determination. Meanwhile, the dismissal allowed him to see the men. They’d arrived a day late, which must mean they carried word.
As he closed the door, he looked back and met Evie’s guilty glance. The lady would drive him distracted. He only hoped the good father might make her see the need to return to the safety of Rosemont. Father Joseph could reason with the devil. Fortunate, for she was every bit as devious and manipulative. And where had all the woman’s wiles and smiles come from?
Woman indeed. His mind refused to admit she was anything but a child, although his body argued differently. Last night’s foolish dreams didn’t help. The injury wasn’t to blame; her memory haunted him all too often during this last trip. It caught him at unexpected times, such as at dawn, as he gazed over the countryside. He’d think of her, and his heart would pinch with longing—followed by anger and guilt. Anger, for forgetting his mission. Guilt, for allowing another’s face to replace Sorya’s in his mind.
Yet those thoughts of Lady Evelynn were always of the girl on the brink of life who confronted him that night in the snow—innocent, gentle, giving. Not the confident, demanding, intractable woman of today.
Still, he grudgingly admitted, the new Evie held a certain challenge, an allure that made him want to both kiss her and shake her. Hard to believe the tempting woman he’d just left, who viewed him with such contempt, was the same child who dogged his steps so many years ago.
Damnation. Her presence endangered not only herself, but him and his men. He couldn’t very well explain the danger to her. Better she go back to her cousin for safety, even if it permanently sealed her poor opinion of him. And wasn’t that what he wanted, after all?
The prior’s tiny library sat at the rear of the chapel building. Its far stone wall concealed a narrow door which opened to reveal a still smaller chamber filled with a long narrow table around which the men gathered. Exhaustion grayed their still-dirty faces.
They nodded in greeting. Wordlessly Macsen, his second in command, held out a folded parchment. Stephen recognized the seal as belonging to Prince John, recently invested Duke of Normandy. And soon to be King John of England, if the man succeeded. Many would call him king already.
Stephen sat before prying the wax from the seal’s edges. Then, lips narrowed, he tilted the sheet to the light of a fat candle.
A summons to battle.
Christ’s chains! He slammed his fist onto the scarred oak table, sending the scrawled message fluttering downward. He didn’t have time for this thrice-damned war. The sudden murmurs of the men died as his glance moved around the room. They were uncharacteristically subdued. As well they might be. A few moments later and their arrival would have been noticed by the travelers from Rosemont.
He glared at the grimy parchment, then leaned down and swiped it off the floor. John must conduct his fight for England’s throne without the Phoenix Brotherhood. If Stephen failed to act quickly on this new proof, the Dragon might slink away in triumph.
Again.
Stephen refused to let that happen.
John truly didn’t need him and his men. Plenty of mercenaries wanted to fight for the next king. The lure of power and riches drew landless fighters from beneath every rock. But Stephen knew the source of those promises of gain was as unpredictable as a wounded boar. Displease John and a knight counted himself lucky to see the following morn.
Still, the men assembled here deserved to choose their own futures.
He marveled at the silence in the small, close chamber as they waited for him to speak. As if they realized what was coming. He held up the message.
“You know what this is.” He tossed it back onto the table. “We’re called to fight under John’s banner. He pledges to reward every knight who stands at his side. You also know I won’t go. But you’re all free to join him.”
Macsen made a symbolic spitting gesture toward the floor, and the others laughed. “I’ve seen how he rewards those who risk all for his ambition.”
“Some are rewarded for service.” Stephen’s voice tightened at the admission.