The Lady and the Falconer (9 page)

Then, she saw him turn slightly and followed his gaze to see Beth heading in his direction. Her half sister wore the lowest cut dress she had, a pale blue velvet to match her eyes. Her dark hair was curled tightly over her ears in the latest fashion. Beth held out a hand to the falconer, and he promptly took it and brought it to his lips. Solace had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Disappointed, her shoulders slumped. Was there no man who could resist Beth’s beauty?

Old Ben had moved away from the two. Solace could only see Logan’s back, his rich, dark hair rivaling the darkest feathers of the falcon on his shoulder.

Beth raised a hand to touch the falcon. The bird nipped at Beth’s fingers. Solace found some satisfaction as her half sister quickly withdrew her hand. Serves her right, Solace thought, and was surprised at her own viciousness.

Suddenly, the falcon spread its dark wings and took flight, screeching loudly.

A cry went up from one of the guards stationed on the battlements.

Solace’s grin slipped a notch as she saw every muscle in Logan’s body tense. He turned and their gazes locked. Solace read the warning there, the alarm. Then, suddenly, a whooshing filled the air. She quickly lifted her head to see a swarm of arrows blanketing the sky, heading straight for them!

Chapter Seven

S
houts of warning crescendoed around Solace as the arrows descended on their deadly paths. Screams of pain and cries of death rose from all around her. An arrow landed in the ground beside her, scattering the chickens in the coop. A mad dash followed as the villagers raced for the safety of the inner ward.

Instinct told her to run. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder to see the falconer hurrying Beth through the open gates that led to the inner ward.

Solace followed the crowd. Then, she saw a young woman screaming, bending over an older man who had an arrow sticking out of his chest. Solace recognized the miller and his daughter, Jenny. She dodged the peasants running for cover and moved toward the fallen man. Jenny’s outstretched hand was smeared with blood, her tear-filled eyes pleading with Solace. Solace turned her gaze to the miller. The blood on Jenny’s hand was not from the arrow wound, but from the blood the miller was coughing up.

“Go to the inner ward,” Solace ordered Jenny, bending over the miller.

“But my father –” the girl sobbed.

“Go!” she ordered. When Jenny hesitated, Solace turned to her with kind eyes. “I’ll stay with him.” She wiped some of the young woman’s tears from her cheeks before urging her toward safety with a gentle shove.

As soon as the girl was moving, Solace turned her gaze back to the miller. She had seen sword wounds and arrow wounds before, and she knew enough to realize that bleeding from the mouth almost always preceded death.

The miller coughed again, splattering her dress with blood. She took his hand in hers and smoothed some hair back from his forehead. His eyes locked with hers for a long moment, his hand tightening convulsively around hers, before his eyes glazed over and he went limp, his hand slipping from hers. Solace stared at the man for a long moment. Then she lifted a shaking hand and wiped it across his brow in a final good-bye.

Suddenly, she was pulled up... into the arms of the falconer! His gray eyes stared intensely at her for a moment, and strangely, the look calmed her racing heart. Then, he pulled her after him, grabbing a large wooden half-barrel and dumping the water out as he moved. Before she knew what was happening, he shoved her against a building and lifted the barrel before them as a protective barrier. She jumped as an arrow slammed into it, its metal tip erupting through the wood inches from her face! She stared at the sharp, deadly arrowhead for a long moment, fear closing around her heart in an iron grip. She turned a terrified gaze to the falconer.

He threw the useless half-barrel to the ground and pressed her back against the wall, shoving her there with his body. Solace pressed her cheek against his chest and squeezed her eyes closed as he cocooned her head in his arms. She heard the quick beating of his heart, felt the rapid rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. Her fingers curled into his tunic, clenching it tightly in her trembling fists.

Loud thunks sounded to her left and right.

Then the falconer pulled away from her. He grabbed her arm and bolted for the inner ward. Solace couldn’t match his large strides. If he hadn’t been holding her arm, she would have stumbled and fallen. Finally, they dashed inside the inner ward and the gates closed behind them.

Dorothy ran up to Solace, crying, “M’lady! Are you all right?”

The falconer released Solace’s arm, and as she turned to thank him, he melted into the shadows. Solace opened her mouth, but a protective crowd of peasants encircled her, cutting her off from him. Her gratitude went unspoken. She anxiously searched the darkness near the wall, but the falconer was gone.

***

Logan watched the peasants convene around Solace. Like bees to honey, he thought. At least she was all right. He was surprised that his own concern for her felt genuine.

He turned away and moved toward the mews. The falcon floated down from the skies to perch again at his shoulder. He knew that eventually he’d have to seek out the lady Solace and somehow gain her confidence. But he would have to tread carefully. Suspicions were running high since the dungeon guard was found slain. Even old Ben had been looking at him strangely. He would have to wait a few more days.

It will give me time to think, Logan thought. Perhaps too much time.

The image of long dark hair, a defiant upturned chin and shapely body rose in his mind. He cursed silently. Why did Solace have to be so damned... He shook his head fiercely. She was the enemy. She was a Farindale. Still...

Fool, he berated himself. He knew he had risked enough by opening the gates for her. And then, later, he had been ready for a fight, waiting for the castle guards to come and imprison him. But it had not happened. Somehow, lady Alissa had not seen fit to have him clapped in irons for disobeying her direct command. Somehow...

He entered the courtyard that housed the mews. Old Ben had the door to the small house that sheltered his prize birds open and was sweeping out droppings and uneaten bits of food. Logan turned and moved toward his small room which was attached to the mews, hoping he could sneak by old Ben. But the man turned to him, calling out. Logan winced. The old man had the blasted hearing of a falcon.

“Out strollin’ about again, hey?” the old man asked, scratching his stubbly chin as he approached. “Yer no falconer,” he mumbled for the thousandth time.

Logan hid his irritation easily enough. The old man had been suspicious of him from the beginning. But despite his annoying habit of talking too much, the old man was an honest worker and Logan respected him for that. Old Ben worked diligently to keep the mews scrupulously clean and the falcons well fed.

“Are the birds all right?” Logan asked.

“Birds,” old Ben grunted. “Me darlin’s are fine. No thanks to ya. Where were ya? Out whorin’?”

Logan stopped, his back straightening. He had never needed to pay for favors that were freely given. The old man is just irked because I wasn’t here with him to protect his darlin’s from the arrow attack, Logan thought. He turned to Ben, but said nothing.

Old Ben snorted. “Ya know we’re in a siege. Need every good sword arm we can get. ‘Cause that’s what I think you do.”

The remark unnerved Logan and he had to turn away, moving toward his quarters.

“It’s nothin’ ta be embarrassed about. Whatever ya done before coming here is history. Ain’t nothin’ ta me. ‘Sides, I said it before, I’ll say it again. Ya ain’t no falconer, even if ya do go round with that beauty on yer shoulder.”

Logan ignored the old man and continued to his room. It was a small room, not much bigger than a stall. No better than a horse would have, Logan thought grimly. And colder, too. He slept on a bed of old straw in the corner of the room. At least it’s private, he thought as he shut the door on old Ben’s harangue.

The bird immediately flew to a small wooden perch Logan had carved for it. It fluttered there, watching him with those round brown eyes. He lit a candle and placed it on a table beside the bed. Feeling the bird’s gaze on him, Logan glanced impatiently at it. “What are you looking at?” he demanded. But there was no answer. It just continued to watch him.

Of course old Ben was right. He was no falconer. But it was the best disguise he could come up with. And it had worked well enough to get him back into Castle Fulton. He was grateful for the bird’s presence, if only because it had helped him fool lady Alissa into hiring him.

Logan sat down beside the candle and removed the dagger from his waistband. He picked up a stone from the floor and ran it along the edge of the blade.

For some reason, his senses were keen now. Perhaps it was the arrow attack. He ran the rock against the blade again.

For some reason, his nerves were on edge. Perhaps it was the battle lust that stirred his blood. The rock sheared across the metal.

Or perhaps it was the soft curves that had pressed against his chest. The lingering scent of roses that filled his nose. The green eyes that radiated enough heat to burn his very soul.

He brought the rock up too far, scraping his knuckles. “Damn,” he muttered and shook his hand as burning engulfed it. He stared at his scraped knuckles, allowing the burning to fill his body, to cleanse it of all thoughts but his mission. He had to find Peter. Nothing else mattered.

He put the stone down and picked up a piece of wood. He turned the rough bark over in his hands and studied it for a moment. The crude outline of a girl was etched into the thick branch. He pressed the freshly sharpened dagger to the wood and shaved off a piece near the arm, giving it a slender curve.

Nothing else mattered, he told himself again.

***

Solace sat in the Great Hall, staring at the trencher of food before her, but not really seeing it. She turned a roll over in her hand again and again. She had eaten late, well after the sun had set. It was the first time she had gotten a break from attending the wounded and comforting the families of the dead. Four people had been killed in the attack, including the miller.

Guilt filled her throughout the day as her mind refused to dwell on the dead and the wounded. To her dismay, her thoughts continued to dwell on steel eyes and the persistent sensation of a hard chest pressed tightly against her breasts. The thoughts were distracting, annoying and… totally overpowering.

She wiped a strand of hair from her eyes. She hadn’t even had an opportunity to thank him. Solace rose, setting aside her meal, and moved out of the Great Hall. It was late, but maybe he’d still be awake.

She left the keep and headed for the mews. The moon had risen, giving the empty inner ward an eerie glow, a ghostly deserted look. As she passed the mews, the silence of the night was loud in her ears; even the falcons were still. She moved toward the sleeping areas next to the mews and entered the small building. She stood in the narrow entranceway, first glancing at the closed door to her left, then to the one on her right. One room would house Old Ben, the other the falconer. She realized suddenly that she didn’t even know his name. A resolve filled her. She would find out his name. Now. But she paused between the doors. Which one? she wondered. Which was his? She looked at each door as if a simple glance could tell her. Then, taking a deep breath, she raised her fist and knocked on the door to her right. The door creaked open slowly. Solace stood with her hand raised, staring into the darkness of the room. “Hello?” she called, her voice barely above a whisper. The quiet stretched on.

She tried to see into the room, but blackness blanketed it. “Ben?” she queried. She reached out to touch the door. Something seemed strange. Why was the door open? Maybe Old Ben was sick or hurt. Solace eased the door open and stepped into the room. “Is anyone here?”

She stood for a long moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but without windows it was almost impossible. Then, she noticed a stray moonbeam shining in through two warped pieces of wood. She stepped into the light. The thin sliver of moonlight illuminated a small table, and Solace could see a candle and flint sitting on its surface.

She lit the candle. As the flickering light spread over the small room, the cloak of darkness fell from it and her gaze moved over to the sleeping area. The bed, a pile of hay covered by a thin blanket, was empty. Beside it was a sack tied shut with a rope. But it wasn’t until she noticed the black-winged falcon sleeping on its perch that she knew she was in the falconer’s room.

A strange shiver shot through her. I should leave, she thought. I shouldn’t be here. She bent to blow the candle out, but a flash of light from the hay caught her attention and she halted. She turned her head to gaze in confusion at the hay where the falconer slept. Was it fire? she wondered. Something was shining dully in the light. But it didn’t spread like fire. It reflected the candlelight back at her. She took a step toward the bed, reached out and carefully shifted the straw. For a long moment she could only stare at what she had discovered.