Terri Brisbin (4 page)

“Fine. I also do not wish this private matter to draw more attention than it already has. Lady Margaret, please speak to Joanna and discover her requirements for leaving the chapel without resistance.”

“Do you know why she is here, my lord? Have you knowledge of her reasons for seeking a safe haven far from home?”

The lady’s voice was soft, but the accusing tone in it gave him pause. Other than exchanging their vows at the betrothal, he’d not spoken directly to her…ever. All correspondence, arrangements and discussions went through her father, as was appropriate.

“No explanation was given to me, my lady. She disappeared from her parents’ care on their journey to my home and they contacted me to aid their efforts in finding her. ’Tis all I know.”

A look given by the lady to her lord made him think. Why had she refused him? Why had she run? Did the reasons make it right? Should she not have come to him? A creeping sense of discomfort filled him. Although his family’s history was never mentioned, he knew that Lord Robert was aware of the rumors. If nothing else, the amount of gold offered for the shrewd man’s daughter would have been a clue. He’d never given it a thought and had allowed his anger and desperation to direct his efforts in tracking and finding her.

“I would see to her comfort, as well, my lord.” The lady’s words were to her husband and Orrick looked to him for an answer.

“With your permission, Lord Braden.”

“’Tis well. But I would advise not expending too much ef
fort, for my plan is to leave here by midday. I will see to her needs on our journey.”

“My lord, would you send Wenda to me?” Lady Margaret stood and approached the doorway.

Braden was confused and intrigued. “Who is this Wenda? A seamstress?” Joanna was wearing the rags of a peasant when he’d found her and the need for proper clothing should be seen to immediately. The smell of the stables permeated her tunic.

“Wenda is a healer, my lord. The lady was just recovering from some illness when the brothers brought her here,” Orrick explained. Orrick nodded in answer to his wife and she left.

“Ill?” he asked. The pain in his head increased as he thought of a sick noblewoman in disguise traveling the length of England with no protection.
His
noblewoman. “What was the cause of her illness?” He turned back to face Orrick.

“I am sure that between Wenda and my ladywife, they will find out the details.”

With a nod from her husband, Lady Margaret was gone. ’Twas then that Braden realized that Orrick had known the stableboy was no boy.

“You knew from the time she arrived, did you not?”

“I knew she was not the role she played. The brothers who brought her here told me that much. When she said she sought work in the stables, I assigned her there.”

“You did not think to interrogate her? To discover the truth about her?” Braden fought against clenching his teeth.

“’Tis not my way, Lord Braden. The brothers who brought her knew that she would be safe here until her truth was revealed.”

Braden shook his head in disbelief. His betrothed had been allowed to keep her identity secret and work in the stables, all the while the lord of the keep stood aside uninterested in the truth.

“Not your way? Your pardon, Lord Orrick, but how would you know if you were harboring a criminal or a runaway serf? Is it your practice to offer haven to anyone who asks for it?”

“If they come by way of the good brothers, yes. If I think that a short respite here will give them the strength to continue their journey, yes. If they…” Orrick hesitated as though thinking over his answer now. “Yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, I do.”

Braden stopped the angry retort that tried to escape. What a strange place this was and what a peculiar lord who would admit to such a thing! Somehow, though, Braden knew that this place was safe. That if his betrothed had ended up elsewhere, many dire things could have happened to her. That other noblemen would have closed their gates to strangers regardless of the cost of that refusal.

“My thanks.”

The words escaped without warning for ’twas not what he wanted to say. Well, mayhap he did? His life had been turned upside down since he let himself believe that Gwanwyn had the answer. He’d bartered for a bride, faced embarrassment before the king and court and ridden the breadth and length of England. With less than a month left in the spring, he knew he must conclude this or it could be the end of his name.

Joanna fit the descriptions given by the Welshwoman—both her coloring and her name were “of black.” Something deep inside him spoke of the rightness of this match. Not of the ease of accomplishing it or the difficulty. But, in that place deep within where he allowed himself a measure of ridiculous hope, Braden knew that he needed and wanted Joanna of Blackburn for his wife.

’Twas simply too bad if she did not want the same thing. Too many lives had been lost and generations had perished for a thing like her virginal fears or fancies to matter.

“We could break our fast in the hall while waiting for Margaret’s return,” Orrick said.

His stomach rumbled its own answer. Braden nodded and waited for Orrick to lead. With his own men guarding the chapel, he knew there was time to eat.

“L
ady Joanna?”

The sound persisted, but she tried to pay no heed to it. She was so tired and cold and she simply wanted to sleep.

“Lady?”

Now a shake of her shoulder accompanied the voice, making it impossible to ignore. Without loosening the tight cocoon she’d finally made of the overlarge cloak, she opened her eyes and looked around. Lady Margaret stood before her, along with a maid and an old woman who Joanna had seen in the village before.

“So, ’tis true then? You are Joanna of Blackburn?”

“Aye, Lady Margaret,” she said, pushing the cloak away and sitting up. Wincing against the pain, she sat upright and faced the lady of Silloth. When she tried to stand, dizziness forced her back down to the bench. “Forgive me, my lady. I am not feeling well.”

Lady Margaret clucked her tongue and moved aside for the old woman. The woman reached for the cloak and Joanna instinctively clutched it. Shaking her head, she realized that her disguise, effective for weeks, was useless to her now.

“This is Wenda, our healer. If you will allow her to see to your injuries, she can ease your pain.”

Joanna nodded and permitted the old woman to poke and prod her face and neck, shoulders and arms, even stomach and knees. So many places hurt now, she could not pick them out.

“Did he beat you in the stables?”

“Beat me? Nay. But he pounced on me while I was sleeping, twisted my arm to take my dagger and threw me over his shoulders. I ache in so many places from just that.”

Lady Margaret and the healer exchanged looks of horror and Joanna realized that her description of Lord Braden’s treatment of her sounded very bad indeed. His actions in subduing her did not come close to the cruelty of her parents’ so she tried to explain. “And he kissed me.”

An expression she could only describe as “stunned” filled their faces and Lady Margaret waved her maid over closer as she and Wenda stepped away. Without a word, the servant poured hot water out of a jug she carried and into a bowl. Producing a small bar of soap and cloth, she proceeded to help Joanna wash her face and neck and hands.

The feel of the heat after so long without washing soothed her and being able to cleanse herself of the layers of dirt was a relief. The whispering between the other two continued until she finished her ablutions, and then they turned back to her. The maid was dismissed with a look and the chapel was silent until they were alone and the door closed.

“I hesitate to ask you this, Lady Joanna, but I think I must.” Lady Margaret’s tone was soft and her eyes were filled with concern. She took Joanna’s hand in hers and patted it. “Did Lord Braden take you…your virginity…in the stables before my lord Orrick arrived?”

She thought Lord Braden had attacked her and taken her virtue? Joanna shook her head. “No, my lady. He did not…do that.”

Another glance between them. Wenda spoke this time. “I think the pain is from some bruises and being roughly handled, my lady. I do not think there are any serious injuries.” Wenda stepped away. “Some rest should be all that is needed for that.”

“Before you leave, Wenda,” the lady began. “Joanna, the brothers who sent you here said that you had been ill through the whole journey. Do you know what caused the fever you suffered?”

So, the good brothers had not examined her during the journey from the south? They had simply treated the fever? Still she hesitated to discuss her parents’ treatment of her and their attempts to gain her consent for the marriage. She really did not want to talk about all that had transpired before she’d run away.

“I know not, my lady. Did the brothers have any hint of the reason?” She looked at the lady and waited.

“None that they shared with me, I fear.” When it appeared that she would say something else, the lady shook her head instead. “Wenda, we will call you if we have need.”

And then they were alone.

“Lord Braden is demanding that you be turned over to him.”

Joanna could not help her reaction—the shudder tore through her, making her shake and tremble. Pushing her hair out of her face, she tried to stand once more. This time she gained her feet. “But, I have been granted sanctuary here. Will he ignore the priest’s words?”

“Lord Braden is not willing to recognize that, Joanna. He wants to take you from here this day.” The lady walked closer to her. “Mayhap if you can tell me the basis for your flight and your hiding here, I can convince him otherwise.”

“He paid my father a large amount of gold for my hand in marriage,” she said. “Enough that my father would look no further.”

“’Tis the way of things.”

“My father would not accept my refusal and took all measures he thought necessary to gain my consent.” She looked at Lady Margaret. “All measures.” The skin on the back of her thighs and her lower back pulsed with its own memory of the punishments she’d endured.

It did not take the lady very long to realize what she meant. Recalcitrant daughters were dealt with swiftly when a marriage that was advantageous to her family was involved. For certain, Joanna was not the first, nor would she be the last, daughter treated as she had been.

“Did Lord Braden order such things to be done to you? Although he seems brutish, he does not seem cruel,” the lady said.

“I do not know if he did or not,” Joanna said as she paced the back of the chapel. “I know only that he wanted me to wife and wanted me now. My father redoubled his efforts after I spoke out about the betrothal at court. He swore he would not take the chance of losing such wealth over my concerns.”

She had not realized how terrible her words of refusal were until the repercussions spread through King John’s court. Then the king’s attention and involvement simply guaranteed the treatment she’d received.

“Is it that you do not want to marry the lord of Wynwydd because you fear more beatings?”

She had guessed part of it. But the physical pain, as bad as it had been, was not the worst. She feared dying unloved even more than she feared dying. As so far, in this life, she had been loved by no one but her sister.

“The truth about Lord Braden was discussed almost openly at the king’s court, my lady. I fear losing my soul more than I fear losing my life. His true nature will rob me of that before he kills me.” Her hands and knees shook as she forced the words out. “He is a sorcerer who will curse me even as
his family is cursed. ’Tis widely known that Wynwydd wives do not survive.”

Silence filled the stone building. ’Twas the first time she’d voiced the fear to anyone save her maid Enyd, but she’d heard the stories every day at court. The fates of Lord Braden’s father and grandfather and most male relatives were well-known—they died under mysterious circumstances or went mad. Some said it was caused by trying to control the unworldly powers they’d been given. Some said the Wynwydd males were simply evil incarnate—one only had to look into their eyes to feel the malevolence. Anyone who knew anything agreed she would never live to see the next anniversary of her birth.

“Is this the reason you ran from him and the betrothal? Where will you go if not with him?”

“My sister lives in Scotland. I was trying to reach her when I…became ill. I confess, I was using my time here to regain my strength to make the rest of the journey.” Joanna walked closer to the lady. “I am sorry to have brought you into this. Your lord offered me a haven and I have brought the very devil to his doorstep.”

Lady Margaret said nothing in reply. Instead she stared off toward the altar and shook her head. “And now? How would you have this standoff end?”

“If Lord Braden takes me from this keep, he will kill me. I saw it in his eyes when he first took me in the stables. He means to avenge the insult to his honor that he blames on me. Do you think that Lord Orrick will support his priest in this or will he comply? Will he allow Lord Braden to take me from here?”

“’Tis not Lord Orrick’s decision, lady.” His deep voice broke into the discussion and shook her to her core. He walked across the small chamber and, in spite of her resolve to face him, Joanna found herself shrinking back, preparing for the worst. “Lord Orrick has no standing in this and neither does
his priest. You,” he said as he stalked her on the last few steps to the church’s wall and pinned her with his nearness and his intense glare, “answer to me and only to me.”

He towered over her and she felt the fear flood back into her soul. Mayhap he would kill her quickly if she acquiesced now and caused no more delays. Then, some spark within her flared and she pushed her chin up and met his terrifying countenance. She did not want to die and did not think that the good Lord had watched over her this long to let her perish in His own house.

“My lord, the lady needs some rest. Can you not delay your decision for a day to allow her that?” Lady Margaret actually positioned herself between them, forcing Lord Braden to back away a few steps from her. “I am certain her outlook will improve with rest.”

Her betrothed looked from one to the other before replying. A suspicious glint entered his eyes. Did he remember that ’twas Lady Margaret’s words that had spurred Joanna to run here?

“Another day will allow the roads to dry from the rains. I think it a good idea to remain for one more day.”

He stressed the last words, unknowingly giving her both an ultimatum and another chance to escape his grasp. If Lady Margaret would assist her, she could sneak out during the night and be miles ahead of him. Lord Braden nodded to Lady Margaret and then began to leave. He paused near the door. “I will escort you back to your husband.”

“Is there another way out of here?” Joanna whispered to Lady Margaret when she came closer. “If you can distract his men, I will try to get out of the gates before he knows. I have some food, a few coins and my bag hidden in the stables. It can only be a few more days’ journey to my sister’s.”

“I would urge you to careful consideration of any action you plan, Joanna. Such a move could be more dangerous than you know.”

But before Lady Margaret could agree to help her or not, Lord Braden interrupted. “I visited a cathedral in London once that had the most amazing architectural feature.” He turned to face them and continued with an ill-timed explanation of his travels. “The church had been built in such a way that all sounds moved up the walls, across the ceiling and down the wall on the other side. ’Twas called a
whispering
dome.”

His focus followed the curve of the roof overhead, and the look of triumph told her the meaning of his words—he’d heard her plea to Lady Margaret for help. Could it be so? He opened the door and called out to his men who surrounded the chapel to double the guard and be prepared for her attempt to escape. He
had
heard her words.

When he held out his hand for Lady Margaret, Joanna felt some small measure of desperation creeping into her. What could she do now? Lady Margaret nodded to him and left Joanna’s side.

“Rest now, Joanna. I will return as soon as I’ve spoken with my lord husband.”

Braden followed Lady Margaret and spoke as he pulled the door closed behind them. “As will I.”

His voice was filled with both menace and some kind of promise and made her quiver from head to toe. Deserted once again, Joanna sought the meager comfort that her makeshift pallet offered and tried to pray for a safe outcome.

He was the kind of man who would have drawn women to his side with but an inviting glance. Even at her age, two score and one, his fine figure, dark hair and chiseled features stirred an admiration that might have caused problems were she not completely in love with her husband…and nearly old enough to be Lord Braden’s mother. Margaret walked at his side trying to sort out her assessment before they reached Orrick.

A few things had become apparent rather quickly in this
perplexing situation. Lord Braden was a man accustomed to getting his own way and he used his sordid reputation to scare and bully people around to do his bidding. His reputation was well-known by most of England and feared enough to terrify a young woman into running away from the only security and family she’d known. She was not completely convinced that he deserved the reputation he carried.

Or mayhap he did?

A few times she had caught him watching Joanna when he did not know he was being observed. Anger bordering on rage was clear in his features and his tense stance, but there was something else, a desperate longing for Joanna or what she offered, deep in his expression. He hid it quickly as though he feared someone else seeing it. As though it undermined him in some way. As though the desire for her was dangerous to him.

They walked in silence toward the keep. Then, as if he knew she was judging him and his actions, he stopped and turned to face her. One look at his face, his very handsome face, told her that he did not desire her involvement.

“I would advise you to stay out of what is between Lady Joanna and me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her. “Pardon my candor, Lady Margaret, but I do not appreciate your interference.”

She fought the urge to smile as she felt it tug at the corners of her mouth. She had faced down men more powerful than him in her life and relished the challenge his insult offered. Margaret knew ’twas probably not a good idea to incite him to more anger, but the memory of the terror that controlled Joanna gave her any permission she sought.

“And I do not appreciate stubborn, thick-skulled men who seek to terrorize young women under my protection.”

She crossed her arms in the same manner he had and raised her chin. ’Twasn’t a fair argument for she knew all but six peo
ple in the keep would leap to her defense if need be. That complete support and sense of safety gave her any courage she needed to speak to him boldly.

“Your behavior and insults are unseemly, lady. Surely your husband would counsel you to a more modest demeanor.”

She did laugh then. His words would have hurt a woman who was uncertain of her worth. “’Tis at my lord husband’s request that I am here. ’Tis through his tutelage and at his urging that I have learned to be forthright in my words and manners. Mayhap a similar attitude on your part toward your betrothed would have prevented the lady from seeking a safe haven from you?”