My Lady Faye (12 page)

“Come.” His breath sawed through his lungs. The ache to close the distance rampaged through every part of him. What he could do, was get her son for her and see them safe to Anglesea. “Rest and we will leave as soon as it is safe.”

He led her, unresisting to the cot. She sat and he pressed her until she lay down. Her haunted visage twisted through his gut sharper than a sword. Carefully, he lifted her feet until she lay on the cot and pulled the covers over her. Uselessness writhed inside him. He needed to fix this. One way or another, he would fix this.

Faye wished for horses as the bullocks trundled north through the night. Brynn was a day’s ride from Calder, but by bullock they would not reach it until the end of the following day. Dear Lord, she could run faster than this. Her outburst in the cottage sat like a third passenger between them.

He had nearly kissed her. Hot and dark, his eyes flashed his intent for a moment before it disappeared beneath painful kindness and consideration. Faye’s lips throbbed from the kiss that never came. Perhaps the taint of her shame had repulsed him. She glared at the bullock’s backs, willing them to grow wings.

“I must tell you something,” Gregory said.

“About?”

“The Abbey.” Gregory shifted. “The reason they will not admit me is because I have not released my former life. I am still clinging to something. Someone.” He cleared his throat. “You. And the boys.”

He could have knocked her off her perch with a wink. “Verily?”

“I wanted you to know.”

His words warmed her chest like a mug of spice wine on a winter’s evening. Faye’s head whirled and she took a calming breath. “When this is over, you will return and take your vows?”

“Aye.” He glanced her way and raised a brow.

And there it was. Foolish to even consider it might be otherwise. Her heart squeezed into a tight, bruised ball. It seemed she must say something. “You are here with me now and that is what is important.”

He grunted. “I have been to Brynn a few times.”

Subject slammed shut again. Not for her, though, she hugged his confession to her breast. It was all she had. He would leave her again, but he would carry a part of her with him. It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. Confusion dragged at her, sapping her strength. These last days with Gregory had her bouncing from hope to despair and back again. Simon. Better to concentrate on her son.

“There is a postern gate located near the stables. It will be the easiest way in,” he said.

“Will it not be locked?”

“It could be.” Gregory shrugged. “But Robert of Brynn is careless and we can hope it works in our favor. Also, Calder is expecting the attack to come at his keep. It is probably why he moved Simon.”

“Do you think Simon is frightened?” Faye shuddered. Asking the question aloud made it all the more real than in her mind.

“I am sure a part of him is scared.” He took her hand.

She curled her fingers around his, warm and dependable, her fixed point.

“But he has a cool head for such a young one.”

Please God, let Gregory be right.
Ruth would keep him distracted and Calder remained at his keep. It wasn’t much, but she drew comfort from it. Such tiny scraps of nothing she gathered like a starving squirrel.

“Our safest chance is to steal him and leave before anyone is the wiser.” Gregory released her hand.

She tucked her chilled fingers beneath her thigh. “I wish we had horses.”

“Horses are easy to track.” Gregory glanced at her. “This way, we may be slow, but we are one cart amongst many others. A man and a woman with their son.”

Cruel. A sharp pain lanced through Faye.

Gregory cleared his throat and turned back to the road.

Did he ever wish it so? She couldn’t keep tormenting herself in this manner. She allowed the motion of the cart to lull her. She swayed beside Gregory in a sort of half sleep as they traveled.

The road remained clear and empty throughout the last of the night. The sun rose on unfamiliar land. Faye rubbed her gritty eyes. Dense forest lined either side of the road. She shivered and rubbed her arms to dispel the chill of the shade.

“We need to rest.” Gregory drew the cart off the road.

He was right, yet she had to keep going, to get to Simon. They were close enough to touch, but her limbs creaked like an ancient as she staggered out of the cart. She needed sleep.

Gregory unyoked the bullocks inside the trees. “We will be concealed from the road.” He drew the sacking from the cart and grabbed Bess’s blankets. “We must sleep.”

Faye staggered to where he lay the sheeting on the ground. She dropped on it and drew the blanket tight. Twigs and rocks poked into her flesh. She didn’t care. The chill of the night lingered and her teeth chattered, keeping her awake.

Gregory lay down beside her and tugged her into the heat of his big chest. “Come.”

* * * *

“It is time.”

Faye batted against the hand on her shoulder.

“My lady?”

She screwed her eyes tighter together.

“Faye?”

A harder shake forced her eyes open. She blinked against the bright light. “What time is it?”

“It is well past noon.” Growth shadowed Gregory’s chin.

So late. Precious time had sped by while she slept, time they could not afford to waste. She stumbled to her feet, light-headed.

Gregory steadied her. “We must go if we are to reach Brynn. We should get there after dark.”

Faye nodded and helped him gather their blankets. Simon could be anywhere within Brynn. She had no idea how they would get to him. It made her head hurt to think of these things. Gregory would have a plan, he always did.

Gregory yoked the bullocks. He must have fed them, because he removed their feed sacks first.

“Did you sleep?’’

“I rested.” He shrugged and threaded the traces through the yoke.

Her chest warmed. He had stayed awake to make sure her sleep was undisturbed. No wonder she loved him. In a hundred small ways, he cared for her. “I will drive the cart and you can rest in the back.”

He gaped at her.

“What?” Faye battled to hold his incredulous stare.

He shoved his hands into his belt and tilted his head. “You will drive a bullock cart?”

“I have driven horses.” Her face heated. His incredulity had substance to it, given her life to this point. “How difficult can it be? It is not like they will take it into their heads to bolt.” She motioned at the phlegmatic beasts between the traces. Bolting might not be bad idea. At least that way, they could achieve some speed. She climbed aboard the cart and picked up the traces. “You need to rest.”

Gregory shook his head and ambled over. “I am well.”

He was such a good man. The sort of man a woman wanted to throw her arms about and show him her gratitude. It was not her right and she tightened her hands on the traces. “I need you strong and rested or you will be no good to me.”

He nodded.

At least, that he believed. Always duty with Gregory, before anything else. The cart dipped beneath his weight as he got into the back and lay down. Faye flicked the reins.

The right bullock raised its head and lowed.

Not a good start. She needed to get them moving but she didn’t want to hurt the poor things. She flicked harder.

A foot stamp was all she got.

Flinching she gave them a good, sharp slap with the traces. Leather cracked through the air, the bullocks jerked and the cart jolted as the beasts lumbered forward.

“I am here if you have need of me.” Gregory’s voice came from the back.

Faye nodded. She would do her best not to have need of him. Maneuvering the cart onto the road, she blessed the empty path before her. The cart did not handle as a horse and she didn’t trust her ability to turn the beasts. The bullocks plodded forward. They were not the brightest of God’s creatures, but they seemed content to follow the road.

Gregory slept, his chest rising and falling in an easy rhythm. Faye wagered he would wake fast enough if she had need of him. She relaxed into the motion of the bullocks. A clear arc of uninterrupted blue stretched above her, the sun warm but not uncomfortable. She shifted position to shade Gregory from the glare. The crops would need rain if this dry spell continued. For now, she was glad of it. She adjusted the path of the right bullock. He showed too much interest in the grass along the verge. The trees thinned as she traveled. The forest broke into thickets and then meadows.

Large thickets used up good land that should be turned to crops to feed people, which would explain why there were only a handful of cottages scattered about the place. It was too late in the season for wildflowers, but the verdant swathes of green would be dotted with color in the spring. The faint toll of a bell signaled a monastery nearby. They must be sounding
Nonce
.

Gregory would know, but he slept deeply and she didn’t want to disturb him.

The shadows lengthened on the road and her shoulders ached, but she let him sleep. It was the first time, in all the years they had known each other, she had done aught for Gregory. Always, he cared for, soothed her hurts and cleared difficulties from her path. A bubble of satisfaction swelled in her chest. In some small way, it was good to be taking care of him.

The sun hung lower in the sky and a slight chill dampened the air when Gregory moved. Half in a stupor, Faye jumped.

He climbed forward and sat beside her. Sleep roughened his voice as he took the traces from her. “My thanks.”

Faye rolled her aching shoulders.

His face looked more rested and the lines of exhaustion that bracketed his mouth had eased.

Faye offered him the water skin and he took it with a nod of thanks. The afternoon softened into evening.

“Brynn.” Gregory pointed.

Faye squinted against the low sun. The battlements of the castle were visible on the horizon. The next step in their quest and nerves fluttered in her belly. She prayed they would find Simon and be able to free him.

They stopped before dark to water the bullocks and stretch their legs. The lights of Brynn grew stronger against the darkening sky. Soon now, she whispered to her son on the wings of the birds flying home to roost.

* * * *

Faye tried not to fidget, but it was hard when she was moments away from having her son safe and with her again. They huddled together in their hiding place and watched and waited.

Brynn Castle settled for the night. Gregory had been right. Robert of Brynn was a careless lord. The single guard slumbered before a small fire in the gatehouse. It had been laughably easy to slip into the bailey.

Around the stone central keep, smaller, wooden buildings stood amongst large piles of unused stone, as if the building had stopped. One would pass a drafty, damp winter in Brynn. Noise from the keep filtered into the bailey. The kitchens stood outside and serving drudges dashed between the donjon and the kitchen condemning Brynn’s diners to an icy meal. Few torches lit the bailey. She and Gregory took advantage of the deep shadows and watched from a corner where the stable joined the curtain wall. Their view included the entire bailey, from the gatehouse to the keep door and the wide sweep before the stable to the kitchens.

Gregory’s hand tightened on her arm.

Faye winced and glared at him.

He motioned with his head. “There.”

A small figure trotted out of the keep and into the bailey. Faye’s heart stopped. Her limbs froze. Simon walked with his head bowed toward the stables. Toward her. Faye lurched for him.

Gregory jerked her back.

Faye lashed out at him. That was her son and nothing would keep her from him.

“I will get him.” Gregory caught her fists in his. “Stay hidden.”

Thank you, God.
Tears blurred Gregory’s tall form as he strolled into the bailey. He slid in behind a small group of men headed for the keep. When he neared Simon, he stepped away from the group and ambled over to her boy.

Simon started and turned. A smile of recognition lit his face.

Do not shout out!
Faye shot to her feet.

Gregory clapped his arm about the boy’s shoulder and shook his head. He bent to whisper in his ear.

Simon nodded and turned with him.

She wiped the tears to clear her vision. She could barely contain herself in her hiding place. His face was dirty and he hadn’t changed his tunic in days but he was hale and here.

They reached her and Simon was in her arms. Faye wrapped him close to her. His familiar weight, a sweet ache right through her. She ran her hands over him. Two legs, two arms, chest, back, neck, all accounted for and well.

Simon trembled and Faye tightened her hold.

“Mama.” Simon wriggled free. He blinked rapidly and ducked his head to hide his tears.

Faye wanted to pick him up and cradle him to her. Simon was too old for that, so she spared his boyish dignity. Her mother’s heart throbbed in protest. It seemed an age since she could hold him.

“What are you doing here?” Simon spoke to Gregory.

Gregory cleared his throat. “We have come for you.”

Simon’s face crumpled and his lips trembled. He dropped his head and jammed it into Gregory’s belly.

The big man wrapped his arms about Simon’s slight shoulders.

Simon’s shoulders shook as he buried his face deeper, clutching Gregory’s waist.

Faye’s tears ran fresh. Her son was small and fragile against the big man.

“Master Simon!” A plump young woman stepped into the bailey.

Faye’s heart missed a beat.

Gregory tensed and swung his head toward her. “Who is it?”

“Brynn’s nurse.” The reply was muffled by Gregory’s tunic. “She has come looking to put me to bed.”

The woman’s features were pinched, shrewish. Her son should not be in the hands of a bad tempered woman. “Where is Ruth?”

“At table.” Simon shrugged. “She will come to me later.”

“Master Simon.” The shrew thrust her hands on her hips and glared about the bailey. She stopped a kitchen drudge. “Have you seen that boy?”

“We have little time.” Gregory crouched in front of Simon. “You must listen and you must be very, very brave.”