Ruby - Book 1 (Daughters of the Dagger Series) (8 page)

She headed up the dais, and instead of
pulling out the chair for her, he sat himself down, holding out his
goblet to the cupbearer to be filled with wine. She settled herself
at the table next to him, then spoke, her eyes looking out to the
crowd rather than at him.

“And you say I am the one who is crude and
not proper.”

He nodded to the cupbearer who went on to
fill the drinking vessel of the chaplain sitting next to him. She
noticed that there was only one cup between them and realized they
would have to share. There was also only one trencher, hollowed-out
crust of brown bread, between them to hold their food.

“Pardon me, Wife? What was that you said?”
His eyes searched her face as he brought the goblet to his mouth.
After taking a sip, he held it up for her to drink as well.

“’Twas nothing,” she said, tilting the
goblet from the bottom of the stem rather than to touch his hand
holding the proffered cup. She drank where his lips had been just
seconds ago, only making her feel his essence running through her
once again as she remembered his kiss. She released the goblet and
leaned back in her chair and let out a sigh.

“Oh,” he said, placing the drinking vessel
on the table. “I almost forgot.” He patted his surcoat as if he
were looking for something then pulled out an object from inside
his tunic and laid in on the table in front of him and pushed it
over halfway between them.

“It’s yours if you want it.”

She fastened her gaze onto a simple golden
ring. She felt disappointed that he wasn’t putting it on her finger
and also that he sounded so nonchalant as if it didn’t matter if
she took it or not.

She picked up the ring gingerly in two
fingers, the reality of being married settling against her brain.
This wasn’t at all how she’d envisioned her wedding day. But then
again, she also thought she’d stay unmarried and with her father
for the rest of her life so she really hadn’t any visions in her
head of how it was supposed to be.

“Shouldn’t you put it on me?” she asked,
still holding it up in front of her.

“I can if you want me to,” he said, taking
the ring from her, brushing his fingers against hers in the
process, and that damned tingle against her skin was back again. “I
just didn’t know if you’d want to wear it, considering the
circumstances and all.”

He picked up her hand in his and was about
to slide the ring onto her finger when an awful thought flitted
through her mind.

“Wait!” she said, stopping him by pulling
her hand away. “By any chance . . . is that the same ring the rest
of your wives wore?”

“Aye, ’tis. Now give me your hand.”

“Nay!” She pulled her hand to her chest. “I
can’t wear a cursed ring.”

“Cursed?” He inspected the ring, his mouth
pursed in the process. “Why would you think the ring is
cursed?”

“Has not every woman who has worn it wound
up dead?”

“Well . . . I suppose so.”

“Then I cannot put it around my finger and
please don’t ask me to.”

“Suit yourself, then.” He put the ring into
the pouch at his side, and she felt a surge of disappointment stab
at her heart. Here she was – married and without her family present
- and she didn’t even have a ring to seal the vows.

“Use this,” she said, slipping the ruby ring
that used to be her mother’s off the finger on her right hand and
holding it out to him.

He whistled and held it up to the light to
peruse it. “This is quite nice. Much nicer than the ring I had to
offer. But ’tis already yours, so it won’t do.” He went to give it
back to her and the pang of disappointment grew stronger.

“Nay! Please use it . . . for now,” she
said. “To seal the vows of marriage.”

“As you wish,” he told her, “but I thought
it would not matter to you.”

She thought so as well, until she’d seen the
gold ring he’d tried to give her and reality hit her hard. She was
married now, like it or not. She was his wife and this man beside
her was now her husband.

“Hold out your hand,” he instructed.

“Have the chaplain bless it first,” she
said. When she saw the scowl on his face and thought he was going
to object, she added, “please.”

The chaplain looked over, having heard his
name mentioned, and she blurted out the request just in case Nyle
decided not to go along with it.

“Father Francis, will you please bless this
ring for our marriage?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, taking the ring in his
hand and saying a prayer over it, then pulling a small bottle of
holy water from his pouch and sprinkling it atop the ring. “Here
you are,” he said, handing it back to Nyle.

She held old her left hand, and this time
the look in his eyes was not of aggravation, but more reserved, and
if she didn’t know better – caring. He slipped the ring onto the
proper finger and looked into her eyes. She saw want within them,
as well as need. Both of these things scared her. Then she thought
of their wedding night and this scared her even more. She
remembered the stories she’d heard the men relaying years ago when
she’d disguised herself as a page and went along on their hunting
trip. She felt her heart beating faster and she was sure her face
was reddening as well, as she felt a sudden surge of heat. She
pulled her hand away and grabbed for the goblet, downing the wine
in one swig in order to calm her nerves.

“You keep that up and you’ll be prone on the
floor before I ever take you to our wedding bed,” he said.

Her hand shot out to the cupbearer to have
him refill it. Then once again, she quaffed the wine, hoping that
was exactly what would happen. Because if she wasn’t passed out
before they made it to the bedchamber, she didn’t know if she could
go through with the act of coupling with such a dangerous – and
handsome man.

Nyle sat near the fire drinking heartily
with his men. The meal was finished and the minstrels in the
gallery were providing the music for the feast. He knew they
expected him to dance with his new bride, but dancing was the last
thing on his mind right now.

Ruby stood at the far end of the hall
conversing only with her handmaiden and he felt as if he should be
by her side, yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He hadn’t
divulged the information to her that all three of his past wives
had died on their wedding day – and before he even had the chance
to consummate the marriage. It bothered him to no end that they
were murdered right under his nose and he’d been too blind to see
it.

Shame washed over him at his own
carelessness as to not have protected his wives. But each murder
had been done so cleverly that there was no way he could have known
and tried to stop it. After all, how was he supposed to keep an eye
on them in the garderobe or know that they’d be poisoned drinking
from the wedding cup or that they would die in his own bed waiting
to consummate the marriage? Still, he couldn’t help but feel it was
all his fault.

His eyes darted around the crowded room. He
felt it in his blood that the killer was lurking somewhere in his
castle’s walls. He took a swig of his ale and looked around the
room at so many unfamiliar faces. He’d been gone serving King
Edward III for many years and really did not know all the knights
or servants which were now in his own castle. He’d only inherited
his father’s domain less than two moons ago. He’d tried his best to
get to know everyone, but his duties were many and so were the
people that inhabited his domain.

“Sir Godin,” he said to his captain of the
guard who was one of the oldest knights there, and also one of the
most loyal, or so his father had always told him.

“Aye, milord?” asked the man, coming and
sitting at his side.

“Tell me, are there any new knights or
footsoldiers or other men in my service as of the last few
months?”

“Well, aye, there are, my lord,” he
said.

“Point them out to me,” he instructed.

“There, talking to the minstrel is a new
footsoldier, Umphrey. He came to the castle pledging his service
and loyalty just after your father died but before you’d arrived,
my lord. I thought it best to have the castle well protected until
it once again had a lord, so I welcomed him to the garrison.”

Nyle surveyed the man’s scarred face and
hands and also his burly build and hardened composure. “So he’s
naught more than a mercenary, no matter what he claims. Does he
have any family here with him?”

“No one, my lord. He is more or less a
loner. But he has a calm disposition for such a large man.”

“That means nothing. Assign a man whom you
trust the most to keep an eye on him day and night. And report back
to me if anything at all seems out of the ordinary.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“And who else is new to the castle?” he
asked.

“Well, the falconer took on a new apprentice
a few weeks ago. There the boy is, showing your wife one of the
falcons.”

Nyle shot to his feet, seeing the boy
holding the bird forward and Ruby running a finger along its back.
He worried for her safety, as this boy could easily be the
murderer.

“Shall I assign someone to keep an eye on
him as well, milord?”

“Nay, I have a better idea. Locke,” he
called to his squire standing not far from him.

The boy hurried over, holding a tankard of
ale in his good hand.

“Yes, Lord Sheffield?” he asked.

“I want you to keep an eye on the new
falconer’s apprentice,” he said. “Make friends with the boy and get
to know him.”

“Oh, you mean Darby,” he said with a nod of
acceptance. “He is very good at his skill. He’s shown me how he’s
trained the falcons to swoop in and kill on his command.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“My lord?” he asked, obviously confused.

“I want you to watch him like a . . .”

“Hawk?” asked Locke with a large smile.

“Just keep a close eye on him, will you? And
keep him away from my wife.”

“You think he’d try to woo her from you?”
Locke looked up, confused and shook his head.

“Nay, you simpkin, I think he may try to
murder her. There is someone within these walls killing off my
wives and I need to discover who before they decide to strike
again.”

“Oh, yes, the unfortunate deaths of your
wives. I understand. I will keep my ears and eyes open, my lord.
But I don’t think he is a murderer. Mayhap you should keep an eye
on that new cook, Forwin, as he seems to like sharpening those
butcher knives constantly.”

“That I will.” He motioned for his steward,
Lewis to join them.

“What is it, my lord?” Lewis was in charge
of the household and the books, and also in charge of the servants.
The man was short and plump and looked like he spent a lot of time
near the food in the kitchen.

“I feel there may be a murderer within the
castle walls,” he told him.

“You mean – because of the deaths of your
wives?” he asked.

“Aye. And since I’ve yet another new wife,
I’d like to see her last more than a day. Now keep a close eye on
the new cook, Forwin.”

“Right away, my lord.” After a nod of
dismissal from Nyle, the man hurried across the hall and toward the
kitchen.

Just then the straight trumpet blared and
the herald called out that they had guests.

“Someone is arriving this late and
uninvited?” Nyle looked over to Locke and Godin. They just shrugged
and shook their heads.

“Oh, didn’t I mention it to you?” asked his
steward turning and coming back to join them. “Lord Sheffield, your
sister sent a missive while you were gone that she was arriving
here this evening.”

“Linette is here?” He looked up to the solar
door and saw a small entourage of servants, a few soldiers and a
bent over woman who looked like an old handmaid walking through the
hall following his younger sister. She was only eight and ten years
of age, and nine years younger than him. She was tall in stature,
and her hair was just as dark as his. But her eyes were bright blue
instead of his eyes of weathered silver. His twin, Nigel, had had
bright blue eyes as well, and Nyle found himself missing his
brother, as he had died in the same battle that had brought Nyle
fame in the king’s eyes. As the sole heir to the estates with
Nigel’s death, Nyle should have returned then to make amends with
his father, but instead he stayed away and held a grudge that would
haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Nyle,” she called, rushing to him with her
arms outstretched.

“Linette.” He rushed over to greet her with
a quick kiss and an embrace. Over her shoulder he saw Ruby just
staring at him. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he told her.

Linette had married a Scotsman from the
Highlands close to two years ago. She’d moved to his homeland with
him not long after their marriage and following the death of their
mother when she passed on from a weak heart. Linette thought their
mother’s death her fault since she had been opposed to her marrying
a Scotsman.

“I just got your missive that father died,”
she said. “I am sorry it has taken me so long to get here. What
happened to him?” He saw the regret in her eyes and knew that she
had wished she were here to be with her father before he’d left
this world.

“He died from his battle wounds, Linette.
“Though he’d fought it for a long time, it finally consumed
him.”

“First Nigel, then mother, and now father. I
am so saddened, brother.” She threw herself against his chest and
wept bitterly.

“I am sorry, Linette. But at least we still
have each other.” He put his arm around her shoulder as she wiped
the tears from her eyes. “But do not fret, dear sister, as they are
all together now.”

His eyes darted over to Ruby, and the
falconer’s apprentice seemed to be getting closer to her. He didn’t
like this in the least. “Come, I want you to meet my new wife,” he
said, taking his sister’s arm and guiding her across the hall
toward Ruby. Her handmaiden followed.