Cast Love Aside (7 page)

Lilianne spun around quickly, setting her
skirts swirling above her trim ankles and neatly curved calves, and
made for the hatch through which Alice and the men had
disappeared.

Magnus gazed after her with a mixture of
longing and bemusement. Lilianne, giggling like a silly young girl?
Not likely! That tall, glorious witch had deliberately enchanted
Captain Piers, who looked as if he'd been knocked on the head by a
swinging yardarm. Magnus was certain the captain would make no
further objections to the presence of women aboard the
Daisy
.

Lilianne found her uncle lying on a narrow
bunk, with his hands and feet still tied. His captors were wisely
taking no chances that he'd awaken and find a way to escape
them.

Across the cabin from Erland, Alice lay
stretched out on the second bunk with a cloth over her eyes.
Braedon was standing guard outside the cabin door, and William sat
upright and watchful at the foot of Alice's bunk.

“I think she's sleeping,” William said when
Lilianne entered and looked from Alice to him with a silent
question on her lips.

“I'll stay with her,” Lilianne offered.
“Magnus wants me safely below, anyway, so it’s no trouble.”

“I do want to speak with Magnus,” William
said.

“Then, be gone with you,” Lilianne told him
with a smile. “Erland can't do anything nefarious so long as he's
tied, and I promise to call Braedon if he wakens.”

Lilianne didn't add that she wished Erland
would waken, so she could question him before calling anyone. The
moment he opened his eyes, she was going to insist that he tell her
where Gilbert was hidden. He had refused her demand so many times
in the past few weeks that she was reasonably sure he'd give the
same answer as always. But this time Erland was alone, without
Norbard or any of the rest of his men-at-arms for protection
against her outrage, whereas she now had three strong knights to
back up her demands. In addition, Lord Royce, whoever he might be,
was waiting in England and would doubtless have his own methods of
extracting information. She could threaten Erland with that.

She had been so angry with her uncle for so
long that she really didn't care how he was made to talk. If a bit
of judiciously applied violence was required, so much the better.
The thought made her shiver, but she set her jaw grimly. Except for
Erland, whom she refused to count as kin after the way he'd treated
his niece and nephew, Gilbert was Lilianne's only living relative.
She vowed once more that she'd see him released from their uncle's
guardianship and restored to his lands and his rightful estate.

As for Magnus – she couldn't think about
Magnus, didn't dare think about him. He affected her as no other
man ever had, and she couldn't decide whether it was because he was
the first man she'd met who was taller than she was, or because she
sensed that his strength of will matched her own.

She reminded herself that she was the
daughter of a French nobleman and the sister of the present lord of
Manoir Sainte Inge. She knew nothing of Magnus's family, or of his
title – assuming he held a title – and she knew even less of his
true purpose in abducting her uncle. She was sure Magnus had
deliberately withheld much from her.

And, finally, he was English. That fact alone
should have put him beyond her consideration, for the kings of
France and of England were almost constantly at war with each
other. But when she recalled how Magnus had made her feel when he
lifted her high in his arms as if she was feather-light, with her
arms around his neck and his face close to hers, she knew whoever
or whatever Magnus truly was, she was never going to forget
him.

William returned sooner than Lilianne
expected. Saying it was his responsibility to guard Erland and that
he could easily look after Alice at the same time, he suggested
Lilianne try to rest in the cabin next door.

She was too excited to think of sleep, but
she could tell William relished the notion of caring for Alice, so
she agreed to his offer. A quick glance into the neighboring cabin
showed it to be half the size of the room where Erland and Alice
lay.

“I'll go mad in that tiny space,” she told
Braedon, who was still on guard at Erland's door.

Magnus wants you to stay below,” Braedon
said. “Lady Lilianne, come back here at once!”

Ignoring him, Lilianne headed up the ladder
to the open deck. She didn’t think he’d follow her. Magnus had
assigned Braedon to his post and, if she had judged his character
rightly, he wasn’t likely to desert.

She arrived on deck to find that a breeze had
come up to blow the fishy smell away. The fog was gone, too. Only a
faint haze lingered far astern and the moon shone brightly, adding
to the afterglow that tinted the western sky. The waters of the
Narrow Sea were a dark shade, neither blue nor black. Three or four
sailors were on deck, and Lilianne noticed the sturdy figure of
Captain Piers at the wheel.

What drew and held her attention was the
tall, unmistakable form standing at the railing. Magnus wasn't
looking ahead toward England, but backward, in the direction of
France, just as he'd done earlier. And again, his posture made her
imagine that he had left something important back there, something
he was longing to return and retrieve.

Telling herself she was being overly
fanciful, Lilianne pulled her cloak tighter against the breeze and
went to stand at the rail next to him.

“I believe I ought to question your purpose
in abducting Uncle Erland,” she said, launching directly into the
subject that most interested her. “Who are you, really, and what do
you want with him?”

“That’s two questions in one.”

“Tell me the truth, Magnus.”

Her quiet demand elicited a sigh, followed by
a tense silence. Lilianne waited.

“Braedon, William, and I have been assigned
to deliver Erland to Lord Royce of Wortham,” Magnus finally
said.

“Why?”

“The plan is to exchange Erland for an
English spy who’s being held in France.”

“Who is Lord Royce, that he can order a
nobleman’s abduction?”

“A friend of King Henry.”

“You mean,” she said after a moment’s
thought, “he’s a spy, too, like Erland.”

“Spymaster,” Magnus corrected her.

“And who is the spy Lord Royce wants
released?”

“Sir Desmond of Ashendown.” The words seemed
forced from Magnus’ lips. As if he knew what her next question
would be, he added with obvious reluctance, “Desmond is my twin
brother.”

“Merciful heaven! No wonder you’re so
distressed.”

“I won’t discuss Desmond,” Magnus said,
closing the subject with chilling firmness.

“You should be asleep,” he added without
turning his face from contemplation of where they had been.
“Tomorrow will be a long and trying day.”

“How can I possibly sleep? I have too much on
my mind.”

“Do you regret helping us?” He took his gaze
from the misty horizon to look at her.

“Not so long as you keep your promise to find
out where my brother is.”

“I always keep my promises.”

“I wasn't implying that you don't,” she said
hastily, uncertain of his mood and not wanting to irk him. “It's
just that I worry about Gilbert every day and every night.
Especially at night, when I have no distractions and when I know he
must be lying in the dark, wondering where and how I am.”

“You understand, don't you, that since your
uncle is Gilbert's guardian, he has the right to dispose of the boy
as he wishes?”

“I do understand. It's the word,
dispose,
that frightens me,” Lilianne said. “You see, my
father was Uncle Erland's only brother, which means Uncle Erland is
Gilbert's heir. If anything -” She couldn't go on. While she stood
blinking back tears, Magnus's big hand covered hers where it rested
on the railing.

“Aye,” Magnus said quietly, and went on to
finish her frightened thought. “If anything dire should happen to
Gilbert before he has a son of his own, Erland will inherit Manoir
Sainte Inge. King Louis will doubtless confirm Erland in the
inheritance. Erland is useful to him, there at the seacoast and so
near to Calais.

“Gilbert doesn't even have to die,” Magnus
continued. “He just has to remain tucked away somewhere, so Erland
can claim the boy is too weak or too ill to carry out his duties as
lord of Sainte Inge.”

“It would be far more convenient for him if
my brother were dead.” Lilianne uttered the stark fact in a
trembling voice.

“Gilbert should be safe so long as we hold
Erland,” Magnus said. “For obvious reasons, we will prevent him
from sending messages to France.”

“What if he has already given an order? What
if that's why Norbard is away from Manoir Sainte Inge? Norbard
boasts that he always obeys Uncle Erland's commands without
question or hesitation.” Lilianne couldn't control her emotions any
longer. Her voice cracked on a sob. Not wanting to weep in front of
Magnus, she gripped the rail more tightly, forcing back the tears
and transferring her despair to the solid wood..

“Oh!” She had all but forgotten about the bit
of wood caught in the base of her thumb, until the movement of her
hand on the railing drove it deeper into the tender flesh. When she
sucked at the sore spot, Magnus took her hand and turned it over to
look at it.

“In this light I can't see what's wrong,” he
said. “Come with me to the hatch, where the lantern is.” Gently but
firmly, he drew her away from the rail.

“It's just a splinter.” She wished her voice
wouldn't quaver so. She wished she could prevent the tears from
falling. Most of all, she wished Gilbert were safe and their father
were alive again, so her brother could be a child rather than a
nobleman, and she could stop worrying all the time.

“Just a splinter?” Magnus said, turning her
hand toward the lantern light. “A large piece of the rowboat is
jammed into your thumb. Will you trust me to remove it?”

“What a ridiculous question.” To her own
ears, Lilianne sounded much more like her usual self, strong and
firm-minded, with the momentary weakness gone. “In the last few
hours I have entrusted you with my life and Alice's, with her honor
and mine, and with my brother's life and future. Why should I
hesitate over a mere splinter?”

“Splinters have been known to fester.” A
faint smile curved his mouth, but his eyes were serious.

“I trust you,” she said.

“Then, come below. I'll want a couple of
candles for light, and some wine to wash the spot once the splinter
is out.”

“So much fuss for a mere sliver of wood?”

“Lady Lilianne,” he said gravely, “it's my
opinion that you are worth a great deal of fuss.”

Lilianne could not recall why she had thought
his eyes were cold and flinty when they were, in fact, warm and
shining with kindness. He pulled the wooden hatch open and
gestured. Obediently, she preceded him through the hatchway and
down the ladder.

Magnus escorted Lilianne past Braedon, who
grinned at her, and on to her small cabin. When he followed her
inside he was so big that he filled the cramped space. He looked
distinctly uncomfortable until he forced open the tiny
porthole.

“That's a little better,” he remarked. “At
least, now I can breathe.”

“I don't like small spaces, either,” she
said. “Perhaps it's because we are both large people.”

“Possibly.”

He stared at her, but she had the feeling
that he wasn't considering how tall she was, or her lushly rounded
figure in light of what she'd just said. Magnus was studying her
mouth.

Lilianne couldn't help herself; she moistened
lips gone dry under his intense gaze. She saw the sudden fire that
flared in his eyes before he turned to the door.

“Stay here,” he ordered. “I'll find some
candles and a clean cloth for a bandage.”

Lilianne was so unnerved by the way he'd
looked at her that she didn't bother protesting yet another command
from him. She heard him speak to Braedon, and heard the door of the
next cabin open so he could exchange a few words with William. So
far as she could tell, nothing was changed in there and Erland
remained unconscious.

A single step took her to the open porthole.
All she could see was the sky and the ocean, and all she could hear
was the slap of water against the hull of the
Daisy.
She
breathed deeply of the cool outside air while she tried to calm her
confused emotions. She was still trying when Magnus returned.

He carried a tray on which rested two stubby
lighted candles, a pitcher, a wooden cup, and a folded linen
napkin.

“Take the candles,” he ordered. “The ship's
cook is certain I'm going to stumble and drop them and start a
fire.”

“There’s no table in here,” she pointed out,
lifting the candles off the tray. “You will have to set the tray on
the bunk. The candles, too, and that could be dangerous if they tip
over.”

“Then, you will have to sit very still, won’t
you?.” Balancing the tray on one hand, he used the other hand to
smooth the blanket covering the bunk, pressing down and flattening
the mattress until he was satisfied, before he put down the
tray.

Lilianne hadn't noticed the narrow shelf near
the head of the bunk. It was barely large enough for one of the
pewter candleholders, but it did have a raised edge to keep
whatever was set on the shelf from falling off when the ship
pitched. Magnus placed one candle on the shelf, after dripping some
wax onto the wood first, so the candleholder adhered to the wax and
stayed steady.

“Very clever,” Lilianne said.

“You will have to hold the second candle in
your right hand and shine it on your left thumb, so I'll have
enough light,” Magnus told her. “Can you do that, and not drop it,
even when I hurt you? For this is going to hurt.”