Elizabeth Elliott (37 page)

“I did not lead the sheltered life you seem to think,” she informed him. “Uncle Laurence often entertained his friends from court, and what I saw made me stay as far from them as possible. You think Guy is the same as the debauched noblemen you know, yet you have never even met him. That does not strike me as sound judgment, no more than your decision to leave me at Lonsdale all these years.”

Claudia wished she could stuff the words back into her mouth. She had not meant to insult Dante, but that was the result. The spark of emotion that finally lit his eyes was one she had no wish to see. The deep, burning anger she saw there frightened her.

“You were not meant to be at Lonsdale so many years,” he said in an icy tone. “Laurence agreed to send you to a convent just as soon as I sent the gold every good convent requires to accept a lady into its ranks. I sent that money a year ago. More since to Bishop Germaine, who supposedly made all the arrangements. The letters I wrote you explained everything, but Germaine said those messages must be my last, that you were now cloistered from the outside world.”

He studied her face, as if searching for some reaction. Claudia was speechless with shock.

“I told you in the dungeons that I have many enemies,” he went on, “men who would not hesitate to make you pay for my crimes against them. A convent was the only place I knew you would be safe, beyond the touch of any man.”

She finally managed to find her voice, but she had to struggle not to shout. “Did it ever occur to you that I might have no wish to become a nun? That I might want a husband and children? A family of my own?”

The lines around his mouth hardened. “I will not allow you to marry an English lord or bear an Englishman’s children. They would only grow up to be like their father. The world needs no more English bastards. Not from my sister.”

“My safety had little to do with your decision to send me to a nunnery.” Her anger matched Dante’s, the one person she had always trusted without hesitation. He had meant to lock her away in a convent, to abandon her for the rest of her life. “It is the thought of me married to an Englishman that made your decision, yet you are half English yourself and sworn to an English king. Your hatred of this country and its people is misplaced, brother.”

“My sword is sworn to England, but my heart is sworn to no man. As for English blood?” Dante shook his head. “Our mother became a Chiavari when she wed, and we can trace our line to the finest houses of the Roman empire. A Chiavari has no need to claim English blood.”

Claudia knew her arguments would not change his mind. Whatever had happened to Dante in the years they were apart had changed him beyond her ability to undo. She thought of how she had always disliked her uncle, how he had turned his people against her and made her resent anyone who called themselves English. Guy had taught her that the English were not all the same. His people accepted her. Most had treated her as if she were Guy’s baroness already. It struck her that she had never felt lonely at Montague. For the first time in years, she had felt as if she truly belonged somewhere.

Ever since Dante appeared in the dungeons she had allowed herself to rely upon his judgment, too distraught to rely
upon her own. Now she realized that was a mistake. She could not put Guy from her mind as easily as Dante seemed to think, no more than she could spend the rest of her life wondering if she should have stayed at Montague. Wondering if Dante had lied to her about Guy’s belief in her guilt. Dante could still decide to send her to a convent. She would never see Guy again.

“Hold my horse,” Dante ordered, as he dismounted and tossed her the reins. He walked to the side of the road, then around the fallen tree to examine it from all sides. Looking satisfied with whatever he spied on the opposite side of the trunk, he returned to the horses and helped her dismount. “Stay here with your horse. I will return in a moment.”

Claudia doubted she could go anywhere. Her legs trembled uncontrollably, unaccustomed to such long hours in a saddle. She held onto the horse’s mane with one hand, the reins with the other. Dante remounted and spurred his horse toward the fallen tree. The horse made a graceful leap over the trunk, its hoofbeats muffled as it landed on the other side. Her horse tried to follow. She planted her feet and held the reins as tight as she could to restrain the beast. At last Dante reappeared, this time without his horse. He held a large, leafy branch in one hand and skirted a wide path around her to avoid startling her horse.

“I will jump your horse over the trunk,” he said. “Brush out our tracks from the road to the tree, then join me on the other side.”

Claudia nodded as he handed her the branch, but her gaze went to the sandy dirt road. Their tracks toward the stream were easy enough to follow. Once she brushed over the tracks that led into the forest, no one would notice that they had left the road at this spot. Even if Guy thought to search in this direction, he would never find her. She would live out her life in her brother’s remote fortress in Wales or in some cloistered convent. And she would never know the truth. In her heart she knew the truth, or did she wish so badly to be right that it just seemed like the truth? There was
only one way to be certain, and that way would risk her own life and Dante’s. If her brother soon abandoned her at this crofter’s hut, perhaps only her life and Armand’s would be at risk. She owed no loyalty to Armand.

She made her decision as Dante mounted her horse and rode away. Her hands worked at the forked branch to strip away the smaller twigs. The horse jumped over the trunk and she hurried forward to place the branch on the ground in front of the tree. She placed the forked end toward the road with the limb pointing toward the trunk to form a crude arrow.

“Claudia!”

She gave a guilty start and stood up to look over the log. Dante stood in the forest beyond her, holding the reins of both horses. She tried her best to sound innocent. “Aye?”

“Hurry up,” he ordered. “We do not have all day.”

She nodded then bent over again, as if she were brushing away tracks. Before she could think better of the idea, she reached beneath her cloak and slipped off her emerald necklace, thankful that Fitz Alan had not taken the jewels when he imprisoned her. If Guy or one of his men found the necklace, they would recognize the jewels as her own. “I am almost done, Dante. Have patience,” she called over her shoulder. She prayed that no thieves or travelers would stumble across the treasure. Her fate and her future now lay at the edge of a forest road. The glittering pile of stones looked as abandoned and unwanted as she felt in that moment. She turned away from the slim hope they represented and walked into the forest.

16

C
laudia opened her eyes, her gaze unfocused in the dark hut. The only light came from the dying coals of a brazier that sat in the center of the hut’s only room. She could just make out Armand’s large form on the floor across from her, wrapped in a blanket and turned away from the brazier. The handsome knight snored loud enough to wake the dead.

Claudia sighed and rolled onto her back, trying to find a more comfortable position. The dirt floor that served as her bed offered little comfort, no more than the saddle that served as her pillow. At least she could no longer hear the small noises that had kept her awake until Armand drifted off to sleep and started his nightly serenade of snores and snorts. The fierce noise would surely keep most of the forest creatures at bay. Any sensible animal would be too spooked by the racket to seek shelter or the meager food they had brought into the hut. Not that the walls or door would stop any creature determined to enter. The daub had crumbled from the walls long ago, leaving only woven wattle with gaps wide enough for many a furry creature to wriggle through. The door hung on just one hinge, propped into the crooked doorjamb each night more than closed. The latch hung useless where a missing hasp should be, and the thatched roof provided even less shelter, a good portion of it having collapsed in some past storm or snowfall. Claudia hoped that Armand’s snoring would keep bats away as well.

Odd that a man so quiet during the day could become so vocal at night. Each morning at dawn, before Claudia even awoke, Armand left to take his guard post. He climbed halfway
up a large oak tree each day to keep watch over the meadows and forest that surrounded them. The woods were not so thick here, probably the result of the woodcutter who once lived in this hut. From his vantage point, Armand could see a rider approach from any direction. So far he had spent three full days in that tree while Claudia tried to keep busy on the ground. She found a few berry bushes almost choked by weeds and picked over by birds, but she managed to salvage a few handfuls of berries for one of their dinners. She had collected so many nuts that she was beginning to feel like a squirrel. Yet on each of those food-gathering excursions, she watched the woods as closely as Armand, and for the same reason.

If only she knew if the arrival of soldiers would be a good thing or bad. Or if they would arrive at all. The doubts wore at her nerves and made her start at every small sound: a bird taking sudden flight through branches overhead, a startled rabbit breaking through the brush, the snap of a twig by some larger, unseen creature.

A thousand times she questioned the wisdom of leaving her necklace in the forest. What good could come of it? Armand’s death? Her brother’s? Her own? Even if Guy believed she had nothing to do with his poisoning, could she live her life in fear of his family, defying the wishes of her own? Her questions were legion, endless problems with no solutions.

Armand made a snuffling sound as he shifted in his sleep, then steady snores once more when he settled into a new position. She wished he would put half so much energy into a conversation, into answering her questions with something other than, “That is for your brother to answer, my lady.” He was unfailingly polite, so excruciatingly courteous and proper that she thought him the rudest man she had ever met. Deathly silence, or answers that told her nothing. One more day with that man and she would—

In the blink of an eye, a hand clamped down over her
nose and mouth. A soft voice whispered in her ear. “Make no sound, or your knight’s life will be forfeit.”

She nodded her head to indicate that she understood, and fought down panic over her lack of air. The hand lowered so she could breathe but remained firmly in place over her mouth. Just as an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her to her feet, Armand’s snoring came to an abrupt halt.

“My lady?” Armand called out in a soft voice. Claudia heard the soft hiss of metal against metal as he sat up, the dull glint of steel from the sword he held. “Is something amiss, Lady Claudia?”

From behind her, something long and slender extended toward the brazier, a torch that flared to life when it touched the coals.

Armand scrambled to his feet too late. Claudia blinked against the sudden glare of light. She was amazed to see a dozen soldiers step forward from the darkest shadows along the walls of the hut, all with drawn swords, and all pointed at Armand. One glance around him and Armand knew he was hopelessly outnumbered. His gaze went to Claudia as he slowly lowered his weapon to the ground. “You will forfeit your life if you harm this lady.”

“I intend her no harm.” The voice belonged to Fitz Alan, and Claudia knew he was the one who held her. “Where are the rest of Chiavari’s men?”

“There are no others, my lord. Just me.”

“You expect me to believe that Dante Chiavari left you alone with his sister?”

“Believe what you will,” Armand said, in that polite tone Claudia hated.

“Tie him up,” Fitz Alan ordered. His hand came away from Claudia’s mouth and he led her outside.

More men stood around the hut, how many she could not tell in the shadowy moonlight. Fitz Alan sent a soldier to fetch their horses, then he released his hold on Claudia’s arm and turned to face her.

“We found your necklace, Lady Claudia. Did you mark
the path that led us here, or is this some new trickery of your brother’s?”

“I left the marker.” Claudia backed up a few steps, glad that Fitz Alan could not see how badly her hands trembled. “Guy is recovered?”

“Aye, recovered and furious with your brother’s treachery. He rode off to search for you the morning after your disappearance, so ill he could scarce sit on his horse. He will not be pleased that it took this long to find you.”

“Is that why he is not with you?” Claudia asked. “Is he still so ill that he could not continue the search himself?”

Fitz Alan folded his arms across his chest. “You do not know?”

“Know what?” she asked, as her heart began to beat harder.

“Your brother issued Guy a challenge. They are to meet tomorrow morning on the grounds outside Kelso Abbey.”

“But Dante said—” Fitz Alan would not know why Dante had issued such a challenge, no more than he would know of Dante’s orders not to murder Guy. What was Dante about? Nothing that would improve Guy’s health. Of that, she was certain. “You must take me to this abbey.”

“That was my plan,” Fitz Alan said, a surprising trace of humor in his voice. “I am pleased that you intend to cooperate.”