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Tears of relief slipped down my face as I clung to him. It was pathetic and needy, but I found I didn’t care. He and the hope of freedom he offered had become a beacon of comfort in the last week. If I could just survive until he freed me, I could endure anything.
“You came back.” I stepped away, and his arms released me almost reluctantly. I dashed away the idea of freedom with the tears on my face. “Did Rodney let you in?”
“His bodyguard did.” He peered at my face, making me suddenly very conscious of the never-ending ache and twinge of the injured muscles and skin. “Have you seen a healer?”
I shook my head. “I refuse to speak to the woman they call a healer. She claims to be a witch and uses her arts in the practice of her craft.”
“Do you have clean water, at least?”
I waved to the pail in the corner of my room. “They bring me fresh water every morn and evening. I cleaned up with that.”
“I am sorry.”
The intense regret in his tone and his study of my features made my stomach tighten. “What do you have to apologize for?” I glared at him slightly before the pain reminded me not to. “You didn’t hit me or curse at me. You didn’t threaten to...do horrible things to me. You have no reason to ask for forgiveness.”
He shook his head before I even finished. “I assumed you would be safe, and I should’ve made certain.”
“How?” I challenged. Latent anger at the injustice and futility of my existence flared as I turned away to stride toward the window. “I was the fool that told Rodney no to his face.”
“He asked you for something?”
“More like he demanded I start showing him respect now that our wedding date has been set.”
“Strange.” Crispin hadn’t moved from his place at the top of the stairs. Looming like a benevolent giant in my small chamber, he appeared to be waiting to be invited into my private domain. My gaze fell to the cracked crockery on the floor under the window. How different Crispin’s actions were from Rodney’s posturing, taking, slamming, and destroying whatever he touched.
“How so?”
He straightened slightly. “It is strange that Rodney should suddenly begin to demand more. Haven’t the two of you been betrothed for some time?”
Motioning for Crispin to enter the room, I crossed to my attempts to mend the clay jars. “Since I reached my teen years by the duke’s reckoning.”
He stepped into the room, his golden-brown head skimming the beams above us and the breadth of his presence filling the small space. Despite the disparate sizes, he seemed to belong there.
“I wonder why?” He sat down with his back against the far wall from me and close to the door. Keeping his distance, but protecting.
“Why what?” I picked up my glue brush and set to fixing the partially assembled pot I had been working on before.
“Why you? Your parents must be powerful or rich. The duke doesn’t strike me as a man who does things without getting multiple benefits from it. Rodney is his only son. Why marry his only son to you unless they gain something?”
We sat in silence for a few moments. I glued the last tiny piece in place before chancing a glance his way.
“I wish I could help you,” I admitted.
“You don’t remember anything?”
“Faces, images, fleeting sensations, and a strange mixture of feelings came in dreams when I was younger. However, it has been a long time since the last one.”
“And your name?”
“Rydaria Lowellyn. My name is the only thing that I have managed to keep from before my kidnapping. The duke and others have tried to call me other things, but I refused to respond to anything else.” I laughed without humor. “Strange to fight so hard for something so small.”
“It was important to you.”
I flashed him a smile before beginning the next pot. “They took so much from me in those first months. My name was one thing they couldn’t take from me, and I made sure they knew that.” I laughed again. “I was a tenacious little miss then.”
“You are still a tenacious lady.” The soft warmth in his voice made me glance his way.
He leaned forward, folded arms resting on his raised knees and chin resting on his forearms. A sleepy droop to his eyes made me realize I had no idea how he had spent the last few days.
“So, what kept you away from the tower?”
“Purchasing supplies and making arrangements.” He offered a half smile when I grimaced at the lack of detail in his reply. “The less you know, the less danger you are in,” he pointed out.
“Fine. Then what do I need to know?”
“We are ready except for one thing.”
“What is that?”
“Me making copies of the documents that I came for.”
I reinserted the glue brush into the glue pot and worked on straightening out the leaning side of the second jar. It didn’t want to return to its original curve. At this rate, the vessel would be ruined.
“How long should that take?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Two days at most.”
A distant voice called up from below.
“Ah, the food has arrived.” Rising with the hasty grace of a man used to moving quickly, he was four or so steps down the stairs before he paused to check if I was joining him. “Coming?”
“I am supposed to fast.”
His open expression instantly darkened like storm clouds infringing on a summer’s day. “You will eat.”
My eyebrows rose. “You are ordering me around now too?” I teased.
He didn’t take the bait. If anything, he grew grimmer, gripping the edge of the floor which was level with his chest. “No, but you need your strength. Refusing to eat is equivalent to giving up. Don’t.”
I met his gaze. “I have no intention of giving up.”
He studied my face for a few heartbeats before breaking the connection with a curt nod. “Good. I will be waiting for you downstairs.” He descended without any effort to quiet his footfalls, resulting in quite a racket.
By the time he reached the first floor, I was grinning at a mental image of a younger version of him thundering up and down stairs in his family home. He and his crowd of brothers must have filled their parents’ humble abode to overflowing with noise, laughter, and chaos. I wanted that. Pandemonium, voices, and the constant reminder that I wasn’t alone would be a very welcome change from pervasive silence.
After closing the glue pot, I followed Crispin down the stairs.
“Visitors?” Crispin spread the food across the tabletop while questioning the servant girl who had delivered the tray.
“Not just any visitors.” The girl smiled warmly at Crispin.
He didn’t look up from folding the linens.
“Duke Greenwood and three of his daughters arrived late morn.” She smoothed her apron over her skirt front. “Word is that our duke ordered his son to woo the three ladies in hopes of him making an advantageous match.”
Crispin’s movements stilled, but he didn’t lift his head. “How long do they plan on remaining in residence?”
The young woman rolled her eyes with a laugh. “How should I know? So, do you want me to fetch you more food or not? I was told to ask, considering how much you seem to put away.” She eyed the trim lines of Crispin’s large frame with more interest than she should have.
“This will satisfy, I am sure. Please pass my thanks on to the kitchen staff.”
She bobbed a curtsey and left without further comment.
Once her footfalls grew faint, Crispin sat down heavily in the nearest chair. In silence, he studied the empty air before him as though not even aware that I stood a few steps away. He was thinking deeply. It fit with the other times I had observed him falling into sudden, intense silences, like when I came upon him immediately after he discovered the ancient documents.
“I have to leave.” He announced it so suddenly that I jumped.
“I know, in a few days.”
“No.” He stood to his feet. “Now. Tonight.” He turned toward me, his features grim and his gaze slightly unfocused as though his thoughts were elsewhere.
“What about the copying you need to do?”
“I need to ask a favor.”
I almost smiled. “Copy the documents?”
He nodded. “Bring them with you when you meet me at the rendezvous.” He began gathering up his gear, the few things he had removed from his satchel.
“What about Rodney?” I asked. Crispin had been so worried about my safety only moments before, and now he planned to abandon me for a time without any protection.
He paused with a heavy sigh. “I have hope that he will be distracted just long enough to keep you safe.” Lifting his golden-brown head, he met my gaze with a strange mixture of worry, concern, and something I couldn’t name. Perhaps he was conflicted. “Has Rodney been ordered to court another noblewoman before?”
“None that I know of. Few visit the Worthenave court despite the duke’s efforts to attract them.”
Crispin nodded. “Then he must obey. He will have no choice.”
“That or wed me as ordered. Anything is better than marrying the ugly urchin in the tower.” The slightly bitter taste to my words took me by surprise.
“No.” The sound was almost a growl. Crispin dropped his satchel on the table regardless of the mess it created, scattering toast and berries. He strode across the room to me. Catching my shoulders gently beneath his large hands, he bent over me so that our faces were level. “Never say such things about yourself, Ryda. You are neither ugly nor a child. Promise me you will not believe the lies Rodney has uttered.”
The intensity in the dark depths of his eyes warmed me from the middle out. I dropped my gaze from his face as mine heated beneath his regard.
“Promise me.” This time his voice, still low and slightly growly, had softened.
Unable to speak, I nodded.
“Good.” He awkwardly released my shoulders. “I will return for you.”
“When should I expect the signal?”
He collected his satchel from the midst of the mess on the table. “The eve before your third wash day from now.”
I nodded. The same timing as before the unusual visitors. Now I just had to stay alive and unmarried until then.
He took a step toward the gate before pausing. Turning around to face me one last time, his gaze went to my face again. Suddenly still once more, he studied me. “Stay safe, Ryda.” And then, he was gone through the gate, moving more quickly than I had thought possible for a man so large.
I sank to sit on the floor and closed my eyes, burning the image of him in my memory. Despite all his promises, I feared he would never return.
~~~~~
KEEPING OUT OF SIGHT, I made my way to my chamber. I packed our gear in record time, less than an hour. Then, with two sets of saddlebags, my satchel, and two additional sacks of supplies slung over my shoulders, I headed toward the stables.
Thankfully, the stable yard was a hub of activity as the stable boys, grooms, and other servants rushed about seeing to the new arrivals’ gear and animals. I counted thirty horses, three wagons, and a whole crowd of men in Greenwood’s livery. Between the whinnies, snorts, and yells, it was easy to slip through a back entrance to the area where the stalls lined the walls.
Fearing that Pip had been recruited into the chaos outside, I rushed down the aisle toward where our horse, Taffy, was boarded. To my great relief, Pip was sitting on the top of the stall door, watching the craziness outside the open stable doors.
“Oh, good, you are here.”
“Where else would I be?” Pip asked as he jumped down to take some of my burdens.
“I thought you might have been recruited to join the fracas out there.” I jutted my chin toward the yard.
Pip snorted. “Not likely. The last time I tried to help, I got sworn at. No more, I say.” He frowned at the quantity of my load. “What did you do, pack half our room?”
“I packed all of it.” I set down the last of the saddlebags and started to prepare Taffy for leaving.
“What? Whatever for?”
“We are leaving.”
“Now? Why?” The lad frowned, arms crossing over his narrow chest.
I groaned. I had forgotten that I would have to explain it all to Pip. Unlike Ryda, he would demand the whole story and not cooperate until he got it. Resting my head against Taffy’s warm side, I prayed for wisdom.
“Are you running from something?” Pip asked.
“Sort of,” I admitted as I resumed preparing our mount. “Someone has just arrived who I can’t let see me.”
“Or what?” Like a dog with a bone, Pip wasn’t about to let this go.
Pausing with the bridle in my hands, I turned to the lad. “How long have you known me, Pip?”
He grimaced with the effort of counting the weeks. “Two or three months, I guess.”
It was close enough to make my point. “Have I made you do anything that wasn’t necessary?”
“Work on my letters?”
I groaned in exasperation before I realized that he grinned at me in that teasing way I had grown to expect at the oddest moments. “No joking about, Pip. I am serious.”
“Fine.” He cleared his throat and straightened his face into a semblance of seriousness. “You are an even-tempered and reliable fellow, I admit, if that is what you are getting at.”
“I am.” Working hard to keep my temper in check, I continued. “And based on the earned assessment, I am asking you to trust me right now, no extra explanations.”
“Ah, but only if the explanations will come later.”
“Fine, I will explain it all later if you will just load up our horse and help me get out of here without being seen.”
“Agreed.” He stuck his hand out as though sealing a pledge.
“No time,” I informed him as I dropped the bridle into his outstretched hand. “I will get the saddle.”
Within minutes, the horse had been prepared, and we were slipping out into the continuing ruckus in the stable yard. Keeping my hood out and my head down, I was able to slip past Greenwood’s knights, out through the castle gate, and into the city itself.
The hours were filled with hasty preparations because only a fool would begin a journey without provisions. By nightfall, Pip and I rode out through the main gates of the city. I dropped a letter of formal thanks with the guards at the gate. Despite not being able to risk announcing my departure in person, it was essential to the plan to have the duke be aware I had left.
I drew my mount to a halt at the top of the first rise in the road heading northeast so I could glance back at the city. Of its own accord, my gaze went to Ryda’s tower. Was she at her window watching for a sign of me as I did now for her?
“Will he leave her alone?” Pip’s voice broke my reverie. There was no question that Pip was referring to Rodney.
“I pray he does. He has plenty to keep him occupied with the new visitors.”
“So, does Greenwood have a price on your head or something?”
I turned my mount’s head toward the northeast and urged it forward. “It is a bit less dramatic than that.”
“Well, then spill.” Pip nudged Taffy to join my mount side by side. “We got time.”
Time we did have. I began explaining about my complicated family and the promises my father had required of each of us boys at fifteen. “We promised to never reveal to anyone who our father was. We swore not to trade on our name or leave the family open to attack through us by means of our lack of honor.”
Pip mulled this over for a bit. “And staying in the Duke of Worthenave’s castle would have caused your family connection to become known?”
“Yes.”
He eyed me with a sideways glance. “Hardly honorable, though, considering the lady.”
“But it is all in an effort to free her. What could be more honorable than that?” I asked him.
“True. Rescuing the fair maiden and all of that definitely qualifies.”
We rode for a few moments in silence.
“Still,” he suddenly said, “the whole strikes me as more of a rabbit move than that of a knight.”
I laughed. “Good thing I am not a knight then.”
He snorted. “Scribes don’t get to have any fun.”
“Scribes live to fight when the odds are more in their favor,” I pointed out. He grimaced to show his lack of agreement.
