Sworn Loyalty - A Medieval Romance (16 page)

A logical part of her reminded her that she simply had to tell Lynessa the truth about Erik’s station – that he was not gaining control of the keep, that a marriage to him would not bring her the land and riches she desired.

Mary shivered. Lynessa was obsessed with gaining control of the keep. Now that the blonde had a foothold, she might not be deterred over a minor issue with legality. She might stay anyway, working her wiles, driving toward any solution that brought her closer to the prize. She would be like an invasive ivy, mining her tendrils into every spot of soft dirt, burrowing until removal became nigh impossible.

Mary ran a hand through her hair. The only obstacle to Erik’s claim on this keep was her word. She held the power, at any time, to turn the land back over to its true heir. She only had to determine that he was fit for the title. But with Lynessa present, handing over that key would also sign Erik’s death warrant.

Her face hardened.

She would prevent that at all costs. Even if it meant taking on Lynessa with her own two hands.

There was a footstep at her side. Her hand clenched, and she swung her gaze up–

Erik stood over her.

His gaze was shuttered, his jaw tight and angular. His breath came in long draws, as if he were fighting to maintain control over some strong emotion.

For a long moment, Mary was caught. Only his eyes existed, those eyes that filled with a passion beyond anything her world had known.

There was a motion from behind them, the door swung open, and Lynessa stepped out, decked in a beautiful green and silver riding habit. Her curls were pinned up on top of her head, creating cascades down her back. Her mouth widened into a smile as she spotted the two at the end of the hall.

“Why, Erik, there you are. Come, let us head out on our ride. I look forward to spending some time alone with you.”

Erik’s face eased into neutrality with deliberate effort. Then he turned and nodded, moving forward to offer an arm. Mary found herself trailing behind them, lost in the shadows.

It seemed only a heartbeat before Erik was standing in the center of the courtyard in the late morning sunshine, holding Lynessa’s horse’s reins as she mounted into her saddle. She looked elegantly beautiful in her embroidered green riding outfit, the silver tracery perfectly matching Erik’s tunic. When he mounted and pulled over to her side, they looked like an image out of a bard’s tale.

Mary knew she had wanted this outing to take place. Even so it was hard to watch the two of them heading through the gate, taking the road at a quiet walk, their heads bent together in conversation. Bronson and Sander followed at a discrete distance.

Her resolve steadied, and she looked back toward the keep. It was her duty to ensure that this place, and all within it, remained safe from harm. Her next step was to search Lynessa’s room. With the party’s departure, she now had the window of opportunity she craved.

She waited until the group was well out of sight before turning and striding back into the keep, through the great hall, and up the stairs to the guest room door. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she drew in a deep breath. She should have a few hours to set about her task. She had to be slow and methodical in her search. Even the slightest clue could provide what she needed.

She pushed the door open to the guest room – and stopped in surprise. She hardly recognized the interior. Surely the large, ornate bed was part of the change, but Lynessa had managed to put her imprint on every corner of the room. The dresser was strewn with her brushes and mirrors. The open wardrobe in the corner was filled with her tunics. Several pairs of boots lined one wall. Even an embroidered pillow with an ornate letter “L” lay centered on the bed.

Mary shook her head. Ivy indeed. Lynessa was like a noxious weed, setting in her roots, preparing to overrun the entire keep. It was up to her to chop it back, to rip it out to its very core.

She moved over to the large, leather-bound trunk. She sat cross-legged before it, drawing her dagger from her hip. Lady Cartwright had been prepared for any eventuality, from Noah’s flood to adventures of a more ignoble nature. Picking locks had been part of her training.

She carefully worked the tumblers, leaning her head close to the iron. After several long minutes she was rewarded by a soft click. Glancing around, she removed the lock from the chest and slowly raised the lid.

She shook her head. Lady Cartwright had certainly enjoyed her jewelry, but it seemed Lynessa could give the woman a run for her money. There was an elegant sapphire teardrop pendant, delicately balanced on a gold chain. A pair of ruby earrings twinkled to another side. Beneath those, a velvet pouch held an amethyst bracelet with gold and silver accents. Yet another small box held numerous rings.

Mary looked through the items with a growing sense of frustration. Lynessa had worn several of the pieces openly since she had arrived at the keep; she had not made any attempt to hide her ownership of them. They could not be objects that would connect her to any wrongdoing.

She sighed, looking at the chest again. Just what had she hoped to find? Perhaps a letter describing Erik’s downfall in detail, with Caradoc’s signature on it?

She closed the chest, re-sealing the lock. She moved on to the other two trunks, but with each search her heart fell further. The woman certainly owned finely embroidered clothing and leather goods of the highest quality. But nothing in any of the cases spoke of a direct connection with the bandits.

At last Mary stood, looking around the room in frustration. Clearly what she sought was not here – but somehow there had to be a way to prove her false.

She nodded in resolution. It was time for her to become even more intimate with Bronson and Sander.

Michael was waiting for her in the great hall when she descended, and he was shaking his head at her expression before she drew to a stop before him.

“No luck, then?” he asked in a low voice.

“There will be something,” she vowed. “I just need the time to find it.”

He gave her a fond pat on the arm. “I have no doubt you will,” he agreed. “But for now, you look as if you’ll run yourself ragged with worry. Come and spar with me.”

Her eyes lit up. “I thought you said I wasn’t ready yet?”

He gave a wry grin. “Given the alternatives, I think this will be a fine way for you to expend some of that energy.”

Mary did not give him a chance to change his mind. In a moment she was down at the barracks, sliding on her leather gear and gathering up the practice sword. Then they were walking out into the crisp sunshine, taking their place in the courtyard she loved so well.

A salute, a pause, and then they were in motion. Mary laughed out loud as she nearly landed a blow on his bicep, as he turned beneath her and deflected her away. Then she was sweeping her sword counter-clockwise, dancing out of the way of his counter. He nodded in approval, reset, and gave her a smile. She launched herself in, losing herself in the moment.

She drove herself to exhaustion, and she was drenched with sweat before finally agreeing to halt. She plunked herself down on the stone steps of the chapel, wearily raising her arms above her head so Michael could pull her leather jerkin off of her.

There was a call from above the gates. “Lord Cartwright has returned.”

A chill flashed through Mary. So much was in motion, so much that was taking on a life of its own, never to be reeled back in again. The main doors of the gate were drawing open, allowing the keep’s master entrance, and at his side rode a glowing apparition in curls and green. By the triumphant glow in her eyes, Mary felt Lynessa must be nearing her objective. The two bodyguards came in a few lengths behind.

Lynessa turned with a beaming smile to gaze at Erik. “That was utterly delightful,” she enthused. “Do promise me that we can go out again tomorrow. It would be my fondest wish.”

Erik’s eyes flickered to Mary for a moment.

Lynessa followed his gaze, her lips turning down in a frown. “My word, Mary, just what kind of a state are you in? I do hope you plan on cleaning up before entertaining us tonight.”

Mary flushed, dropping her eyes. “Of course, M’Lady,” she murmured.

Lynessa swept off her horse, and in a moment she and Erik were walking side by side into the keep. Mary forced herself to watch them go, to focus on the task before her. She drew her eyes over to Bronson and Sander. The men dismounted as she approached, looking over her form with hungry eyes. She realized that her exertions had made her dress moist, and it clung to her body more tightly than she had imagined.

Bronson’s voice was a warm growl. “Miss me?”

She forced her lips to curl up in a smile. “Absolutely,” she agreed. “Do you really have to go out with her tomorrow?”

He gave a shake of his head, his eyes steady on hers. “Not if M’Lady has her way,” he countered. “She intends to get Lord Cartwright out there alone, and she usually gets what she wants.”

Mary flushed at the idea of Erik alone in that woman’s clutches, but she pushed the thought aside. The more time she could spend with these two men, the more likely she was to discover what she needed to know.

She lowered her voice to a purr. “That sounds perfect, then.”

Sander edged forward. “I will be free as well,” he pointed out.

She gave a low laugh. “Maybe you two will have to throw dice for me,” she teased.

Sander’s eyes lit up with delight. “Do they play dice here?”

Mary’s eyes flashed to Michael, and her smile grew to a grin. “Absolutely,” she agreed. “I am sure we can put together whatever type of dice game you crave.”

Now both men’s eyes were gleaming with avarice. Bronson looked as if he were counting the coins already. “The more the merrier,” he insisted. “We even have our own lucky dice.”

Mary bet that it was more than luck that caused their dice to fall a certain way, but she nodded warmly to the pair. “As soon as the two lovebirds leave on their ride tomorrow, we will have the best dice game you have ever seen, with the finest ale as well.”

The smiles on their faces were all she could have hoped for.

* * *

The roast venison was being passed down the table, and Mary did not know if it was Sander or Bronson who was the more flirtatious. If one was pouring her ale, the other was complimenting her on the curls of her dark hair, or the bright gleam in her gemstone eyes. Michael’s watch over her had settled into a steady simmer, and she had no doubt she’d get an earful from him once the dinner was over and she was able to talk with him in privacy. But for now, the room throbbed with conversation, the simmered turnips were sheer perfection, and she took down another swallow of ale.

Bronson pulled her back against him, his dark curls shining in the torchlight, and she gave a laugh as he tickled her ribs.

There was a call from the head table, and all eyes turned.

Erik was standing, his gaze steady on her, his face edged in shadows. “Singer! It’s time for a song.”

Bronson’s face darkened, and he muttered to Sander under his breath. “Can’t be too soon for my liking.”

Mary flushed, dropping her eyes, striding to grab her tambourine before walking the length of the hall. Her leg was feeling much better, and her thought went to the wound Erik had endured. How was it healing?

The image of him riding toward the Folly, wounded, focused solely on her safety filled her, and with it a longing which nearly overwhelmed her. She pushed the feeling away as she drew before the head table.

She kept her eyes lowered. “What is your pleasure, M’Lord?”

There was a pause, and then his voice came, tight. “Favor us with a song about a woman who misses her true love.”

Lynessa’s voice was rich with pleasure. “Oh, as I missed you when you were away fighting in the Holy Land! An ideal request, my love.”

Mary nodded, refusing to look up. She felt his absence keenly, felt the blackness of the hole swelling within her until it threatened to consume her every thought.

She searched through her mind for a song that was as short as possible. She worried that, if she sang on the topic for too long, she might break down in sobs. That would not serve her purpose well at all.

Ah, there it was.

She drew the tambourine in a shimmering arc, swaying in rhythm. She drew out each line, filling it with the emotion that roiled within her.

“My love has gone away

Alas, why has he left?”

She dropped her eyes, sorrow filling them.

“But I have pledged a vow

I cannot follow him.”

She spun in a circle, feeling the truth of it echo in every word.

“He has my heart in his keeping

Wherever he rides or goes.”

A final spin.

“My love is true,

A thousand fold.”

Mary dropped to a curtsy, giving a trilling ripple to the tambourine.