This is your idea of good fortune?” Ela turned away before she beat Os over the head with her “new” sewing box. The name MARY was neatly cross stitched over the top. Os kept a straight face as he stared at her—starting at the feet. She wiggled her toes in her tight shoes, feeling Os’s eyes on every part of her.
Including the four inches of stocking from ankle to calf that was visible between her shoe and the hem of the maid’s skirt. If he so much as smirked …
“I know nothing about being a maid. I can barely sew on a button. This woman is going to be very upset with you when she finds out how badly I react to being given orders.” Ela’s chin lifted as proud tears burned the back of her eyes.
Her hair was tightly braided, and she wore a scrap of a veil over her head. How had it come to this?
“She knows that you, my sister, are new and that you hope to get a position at the castle. If you show any potential, she will give you a recommendation.”
“Oh!” Ela set the box down. If only Henry wasn’t sleeping inside the box, she’d throw it for sure. “You make me angry, Os. You chose this plan without talking to me about it. Against my wishes. I could have come up with a better solution than this.”
“This is the best plan.” Os stood before her, having the audacity to look noble and handsome in a clean tunic and leggings, while she looked ridiculous. It wasn’t fair.
“We could have told her the truth. You lie easily for a man who can’t see past his own honorable nose.”
“This lie will save your life. Just my men and I know who you really are, so there is no chance of de Havel finding you between now and the castle.”
“What is Lady Steffen going to do when she finds out that I’m not who we said? I’ll not stay in this”—Ela looked down at the apron she wore and sniffed—”horrible outfit to meet the earl.” She raised her fist to Os. “Do you understand that?”
He rocked back on his heels. “I hear you, Ela, as does the entire inn. Lower your voice, for pity’s sake.”
“Hmm? Do you think she’ll forgive the lie?”
“She won’t give you a recommendation, that’s all.”
“Osbert …” Ela felt her blood boil as she gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. Now was not the time for him to develop a sense of humor.
Os held up one hand. “Once you think it through, you’ll realize that this is the best way to get you into Norwich unnoticed. De Havel’s men have already seen the inside of Lady Steffen’s coach, so why would they search it again? We get into the earl’s castle, and you can be Lady Ela Montehue. But until you’re safe, you are Kathryn Edyvean. My sister.”
She didn’t want to be his sister.
She wanted to be his equal. His partner.
Not an obligation to be handed over to the earl and then forgotten.
Ela swallowed the bitter taste of unshed tears trickling down the back of her throat. The spark she felt whenever she looked at Os hadn’t died—if anything, it had grown despite his arrogance and his honorable sense of duty.
He saw her as a witch, or, if not that, a female who would never conform to his ideas of the perfect bride. What could she do to make him see her as a woman?
She just had to get to the castle and out of these clothes.
“You’re right,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Thomas won’t stop until he finds me. Something drives him that I don’t understand. If being a maid will keep us both safe and hurry us to the castle, then so be it. You won’t leave me, will you?”
He calmed the spurt of fear in her belly immediately by saying, “Nay. St. Germaine, Warin, and I will take turns driving the carriage. Lady Steffen’s driver chose to retire.”
“I’m sure it had nothing to do with almost dying and then being called incompetent.” Ela picked up the sewing box by the handle.
Os laughed. “You will be fine.”
“How will I control my temper if she calls me incompetent?”
“Bite your tongue and imagine the stories you will be able to tell your family when you get back home.”
Ela took a deep breath. “Aye. I wanted adventure. I just didn’t think I’d have to look silly while having it.”
Osbert wanted more than anything to reach over and kiss Ela on the tip of her nose. She looked as forlorn as a puppy being sent from the table.
Speaking of pets, he had to ask. “Ela, where is Henry?”
She pinched her lips together. Then lifted the sewing box. “In here.”
Rubbing his forehead didn’t release the tension, not as Ela had been able to do with her simple touch. “Ela. What do you think Lady Steffen will say to you having a polecat in your sewing basket?”
“She has no business going through my things.”
Os exhaled. Loudly. “Ela. You are working for her, and she can go through whatever she wants.” They had to make this situation work, for Ela’s sake. He didn’t like Henry much, but he knew that his likes didn’t matter.
“I’ll not leave him behind.” Her chin jutted stubbornly.
“He can ride with me.” Had he really just offered to carry a polecat?
Her face blossomed with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Aye? Oh, Osbert, thank you so much. Henry will be so good, you won’t even know he’s there.”
Osbert lifted the lid of the sewing basket and was greeted with black eyes and twitching whiskers. “I’ll know.”
Henry settled himself at the back of Os’s neck beneath the shelter of his cloak. Os wondered how long it would take to get used to the slight weight. “Let’s go, shall we?”
Ela bit her bottom lip. “Thank you. I’m ready.”
Os led the way from the room to the courtyard in front of the inn. He waited at the bottom of the stairs, watching Ela come down them. Her posture was perfect, her bearing not the tiniest bit subservient.
“This will never work,” he said as she reached the last stair. “Slouch or something. You need to be needy.”
Albric laughed. “Don’t forget to say ‘yes, my lady’ and ‘no, my lady.’”
Ela practiced in her perfect French, and Warin suggested that she be like St. Germaine and grunt a lot instead. “Ye’re supposed to be Os’s sister. Look at him—obviously lives by the sword, and doesn’t make enough money to be fashionable. Think poor, my lady, and you’ll do better.”
Os glared at his friend who was his friend no longer. “Come, Ela, and let me introduce you to Lady Steffen. Ignore these villeins.”
He led the way to the carriage. The wheel had been fixed, although the door hung crooked from the roll on the road. It was good enough to get them to the earl’s castle, which was all that mattered.
Os couldn’t think about anything else after that.
Doubts threatened his plans. What if the earl was not satisfied with Boadicea’s flesh and blood? He’d not found the spear, as the earl had charged him to do. He’d spent a year turning over every rock and every small clue just to find Nan in Wales. The priest there had told him about Nan’s sister in England, and back he’d come.
For certes, he’d heard bits and pieces of the lore around Boadicea. She was a queen betrayed by the Romans. A woman betrayed by love. She had daughters—or she had no daughters, depending on who was telling the story.
One teller, an old man who lived deep in the marshland, said that Boadicea’s kin had once lived in the Fenlands. If that had been true, Os hadn’t found any other evidence of it. Old men liked their tales as well as anybody else, and no doubt the man had been lonely. Os still carried the coin the man had given him for luck on his quest on a leather thong around his neck.
A talisman, the old man had called it.
It had brought him to Ela, which could be good or nay, depending on the earl’s reaction. A piece of land where he could raise goats and earn an honest living was a large boon to ask of a knight’s liege.
Ela stopped abruptly, and Os stayed at her side.
Lady Steffen was dressed from wimple to slipper in ruby red. Her face was whiter than milk and her slim hands covered in black silk gloves, with rings over the top. Jewels the size of robins’ eggs glittered in the sun. Os felt Ela’s hesitation and grabbed her by the elbow before she could bolt. He whispered, “You’ll be fine.”
“Nay. I’ll be blinded by gold and amethyst—draped in red at my funeral. This is no simple chore you want me to perform. It will take a miracle by St. Cuthbert to get me out of this impossible situation. I say we tell her the truth.”
“You are afraid of a woman who paints her face?” He shook his head.
“I’m afraid of what lies beneath the paint, and that’s the truth.”
“I see. You run around the countryside unchaperoned, in a torn dress—with a stranger, no less—and yet a woman who desires to be attractive makes your knees tremble. Shame on you, Ela Montehue.”
Henry chirruped.
Ela shook his hand from her elbow. “You are the one who should be ashamed. Lies, lies, and more lies. I’m surprised God hasn’t made your tongue fall out. All right, brother Os, come and introduce me to the good Lady Steffen.”
He laughed when she sent him a very evil glare.
“For certes, sis. Come with me.”
Lady Steffen stared at them as they walked the last few feet toward the carriage. “Is this my new maid, Osbert?”
“Aye, my lady. She’s very honored to have this opportunity to serve you until we reach the castle.”
Lady Steffen looked down her noble nose, then reached out to pinch Ela’s cheek. “Have you a name?”
Ela stiffened at the lady’s touch. “Aye. E—, Kathryn, my lady. Kathryn Edyvean.” Good girl, Os thought.
“Well, come on then. I do hope you don’t chatter. If you can’t have a decent conversation, then I prefer silence.”
Os watched as Ela chewed her lower lip, then nodded.
Lady Steffen sent him an amused glance. “She’ll do well in my employ,” she said. “A woman who knows when to hold her tongue is worth her weight in gold.”
Good luck, Ela.
Had that been a promise of retribution in her eyes?
After helping first Lady Steffen, and then Ela, into the carriage, Os found Bartholomew. Albric and Warin were already mounted, and St. Germaine held the reins.
“Should take no more than two days to reach the southernmost section of Norwich. We’ll reach the castle on day three. And then what will you do?”
Os glanced back at the closed carriage, then turned to Albric. “Since the earl was gone when I gathered you all for a show of force against the Montehues, I imagine I will have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Aye. He ordered ye to get a spear, and ye’re bringing him a woman. Not what he asked for, eh?”
“He wants Boadicea’s spear. Who better to solve the mystery than Boadicea’s kin?”
“You just hope that you’ll get your land.” Albric scratched his head. “Goats. I still think ye’re crazy.”
“Think what you like,” Os said. “Not one person mentioned a spear in relation to Boadicea. Well, other than the stories that she went to war against the Romans driving a chariot, wearing a golden torc, and carrying a spear. Nothing specific to follow, you see?”
“Oh, I understand. But will the earl?”
Os shrugged. “I wish I knew what he wanted with the damned thing. He never did say.”
“I imagine that we’ll find out soon enough, once you see his reaction to the girl instead of the spear.”
Bowing his head, Os prayed for a miracle. St. Cuthbert was going to be a busy saint in the upcoming days.
Ela sat across from Lady Steffen, her hands folded in her lap and her basket at her feet. She kept her mouth shut and her head bowed in what she imagined was a respectful, maidish pose.
Trying to act like Bertha would do no good since the maid had her own mind and didn’t even try to keep her opinions to herself.
“Are you comfortable?”
Ela lifted her head and gave a brief nod of assent. The lady tilted her head and smiled. Expectantly. Cheeks burning, Ela added, “Aye, my lady. Very comfortable.”
“Good.”
Lady Steffen’s aura was red and pink, with an undertone of green. Healthy, vibrant, and earthy, with a hint of something secret. Ela quickly decided that she was intelligent as well as beautiful, and it would be a bad thing to make this woman an enemy.
“Have you ever been away from home before?”
For a woman who said she didn’t like chatter, she was full of questions. Ela nodded. So did Lady Steffen.
“Er … but not far.” Ela thought of where Bertha had ever gone. “To the fair, in the next village.”
“Ah.” Lady Steffen laughed. “Do you have a sweetheart?”
Ela’s skin hurt from the instant rush of heat. She’d never asked Bertha any of these personal questions—but then again, Bertha volunteered the information.
“No, my lady.”
“You’re pretty enough. You’ll be married within the year, I’ve no doubt of it.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Ela lowered her head, hoping that Lady Steffen would stop talking. The woman wasn’t the awful, gold-seeking female that she’d been worried about, but still … for every tale she told, she’d have to remember the lie. Maybe if she asked the questions?
“How are you faring, my lady, after the carriage accident?” Ela watched Lady Steffen’s aura spike with a dark purple shade. A sign of excitement. Or danger.
“I twisted my ankle, but it seems better today. The driver was so careless—I’m glad to have found a replacement.” She smiled. “Three of them, actually.”
Ela couldn’t detect any injury on the woman. “How long have you been friends with … oh.” Not an appropriate question from a maid to her lady.
Lady Steffen laughed. “The Countess Ida was a dear companion to me when I spent a few years at court. Ages ago. I was married then, but she hadn’t yet said her vows.”
Taking in Lady Steffen’s smooth, white face, Ela couldn’t guess the woman’s age. Her confidence was high, which leant an air of maturity her skin didn’t give away. “You are quite beautiful, my lady.”
“Well said.” Lady Steffen lightly clapped her hands.
“Thank you,” Ela allowed herself to smile in return.
If all noblewomen were like Lady Steffen, then the castle might not be so lonely a place after all. Ela had always worried that she would stand out like a country cousin. She looked at her pinched feet and laughed to herself. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d be in service.
“I assumed that you were going to Norwich to find a husband, but I may be wrong. Am I?”
Astute. Aye, the lady was intelligent. Ela answered honestly. “I don’t believe that love is for me, my lady.”
“Oooh. Intriguing. Did you have your heart broken, then?”
Ela shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Men are scoundrels. ‘Tis true that they think nothing of our women’s soft hearts before they tread over the top of us.” Her mouth tightened, and the white makeup showed a crease.
Ela caught a glimpse of how hard Lady Steffen fought age. “Are you married still, my lady?”
“Pass me that wine. If we are to talk about husbands, I need a drink.”
“Here you are, my lady.” Ela removed the cork. Mayhap if she got Lady Steffen drunk, she’d sleep the entire day away.
Two wineskins and four husbands later, Lady Steffen was lightly snoring and Ela had an earful of gossip that was in no way appropriate—but wonderfully entertaining.
They stopped for the night at a town large enough for two inns. It was easy for Ela to help Lady Steffen—considering how hard the woman’s life had been. It was amazing that she had the capacity to love at all, and yet her aura showed her to be a passionate lady.
Ela carried the sewing box and two bags and followed Lady Steffen up the stairs into a small, clean room with a single bed and a cot by the door. Dropping her sewing box on the cot—knowing that she had no chance at the bed—she then set Lady Steffen’s bags by the nightstand.
“Would you like me to bring you a tray, my lady? Or should I help you dress for a shared meal in the common room downstairs?”
Lady Steffen sank to the bed. “I’ve a headache. Too much wine—my own fault, but those men always made me drink more than I should.”
“I can help you, my lady. I’ve a light touch.”
Lady Steffen opened one eye and leaned on her elbows. “If you can cure a headache, Kathryn, your services as a lady’s maid will be assured.”
Ela smiled. She hadn’t expected to be good. She sat behind her on the bed. “Lie back, your head in my lap.” Ela put her hands on Lady Steffen’s temples and envisioned healing pinks and light blue swirls of energy.
“‘Tis warm. Pleasant.” She closed her eyes.
“Just a few moments more. You can rest and then join us downstairs, if you feel up to it.”
“Hmm.”
As soon as Lady Steffen’s breaths were even and her aura back to normal, Ela eased off the bed and out of the room. She headed downstairs in search of Os.
She found him in the stables, feeding Bartholomew. He looked so … alone, as if he was thinking heavy thoughts—dark thoughts instead of dreams of goat farms and families.
“Hello.”
He jerked at the sound of her voice, dropping the bag of feed. He bent to pick it up without a glance in her direction. “Escaping your duties already?”
“Lady Steffen is fast asleep, thank you, sir.”
“You wore her out? I thought I heard a lot of chatter going on inside the carriage.”
“That would have been Lady Steffen. She’s led quite an interesting life. Mayhap I’ll tell you someday.”
“I am not interested in gossip.” He hung the empty bag up on a peg and shut the stall door behind him.
When he finally turned to face Ela, she got to see the dark shadows beneath his eyes. Since she couldn’t read his aura, she had to use that physical clue—with his tight shoulders and clenched jaw—to see that he was worried. As usual.
“Now isn’t the time to decide I wasn’t worth kidnapping.”
He gave her a reluctant smile before turning away and walking toward a large bale of hay. He sat down and patted the spot next to him. “I haven’t been honest with you.”
Her heart skipped. “Oh?” She stayed where she was, until he explained further.
“I have to tell you the truth before we get to the castle. The earl ordered me to find Boadicea’s spear. I had no right to take you from your home against your will. You—intrigued me. I know that is no excuse. But the chances are high that Roger Bigod will send you home as soon as you arrive.”
He suffered guilt. She joined him on the bale of hay. “Before you bury yourself unconfessed, I would remind you that I was being carried away by Thomas de Havel’s men. You saved me, remember?”
He nudged her and shook his head. “You escaped on your own. When your father tossed me out on my arse, I shouldn’t have gathered the earl’s men to come back and take you. I told myself I did this for the earl and for the land he would grant me—but I didn’t do what he asked, and bringing you, the blood descendent of Boadicea, is not the same as bringing him the Iceni queen’s fabled spear.”
Os sounded so upset with himself that Ela put her arm around his shoulders and hugged him close.
“The truth is, I wanted you. I was blinded by—desire.” He scraped his hair off his forehead. “Ever since I met you, that night in the glen when you—well—this is ridiculous, but I feel as if I know you.”
Her toes curled with anticipation. This confession could lead to a kiss … certainly something to fan the spark that flamed within her.
“I’m not worthy of your trust or the earl’s.”
He stood, rejecting her embrace.
“What are you saying?” Ela narrowed her eyes, the spark spluttering.
“When we get to Norwich, I will hand you over to the earl. Albric and Warin will see to it that you return home safely.”
Her belly turned cold. “Where will you be?”
“I’m a warrior. A knight. Having my own land was a dream, nothing more. I will make a pilgrimage back to the Holy Land and offer my sword arm for hire. It is what I do.” His voice was hard, and his stance determined.
If he left, she would never see him again. She felt it in her bones. “You promised my father you would see me home safe. I don’t release you from that pledge.” He couldn’t leave—not if he was the one man she could love. She wasn’t getting any younger, and neither was he.
His face paled. “Ela … I have to—”
Ela stood, and pointed her finger at his chest. “You are a quitter.”
“Never!” His head lifted, and his blue gray eyes turned as dark as the clouds before a storm.
“Aye,” she said, her body tense. “You let guilt sway you from getting what you want. What good does that do, pray tell?”
He clenched his fists at his side.
Ela took a step forward. He would never hurt her, she knew it. But he had to see himself as she saw him—an honorable knight worthy of any prize. “Let me tell you what is going to happen when we get to Norwich. The earl will be in residence, we know that, because Lady Steffen is on her way to visit the countess. Aye, and the earl will see you, and he’ll have questions. You’ll tell him that it was God smiling on you, the day you found me—a living, breathing descendent of Boadicea. You’ll not apologize for being who you are, do you understand?”
Her breath came fast, and she was mere inches away from him. His broad shoulders were straight and his back stiff, as if he were cautious—of her. She reveled in the power. What would he do if she kissed him now?
So fast she never saw it coming, he pulled her forward until her mouth was joined with his. He ravaged her with a kiss so hot it melted the last of her anger. Ela slid her arms around his waist, feeling the play of muscles in his lower back as she slipped her hands up to clasp him as close as she could.
He buried his hands in the tangles of her long hair, then he dropped light kisses on her eyes and nose before returning to the warmth of her eager lips.
He pulled back. “This,” he said with his forehead pressed to hers, “is why I must leave.”
“I don’t understand.” Her loins ached, and her heart beat as if she’d run an hour or more.
“You. I want you so much that I am willing to go to hell.”
Confusion riddled her thoughts. “Loving me will send you to hell?”
She heard him swallow as they stayed locked together, hip to hip. Finally he whispered, “I made a vow of chastity. Until I have land of my own—until I can take a wife … I can’t. It would be the loss of your honor and mine.”
Ela exhaled, then put her hands to his chest and pushed him away from her. The lack of his heat physically hurt her. “Why did you make such a ridiculous oath?”
“I was in Jerusalem. I was honoring God.” He rocked back on his heels. “You are everything I can never have—I shouldn’t even want you, and yet you run through my dreams like a succubus.”
“A demon?” Ela felt her eyes widen with shock. “I told you, I’m no witch!”
“I believe you—and yet, I’ve seen you with my own two eyes. I am caught in your spell. I’ve seen you heal—is that a miracle? I don’t know. But even if you are the Black Witch of the Sixth Scroll, I wouldn’t care—do you see what you do to me?”
Ela pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off the oncoming headache. It didn’t help. Her temples pounded with tension. “You … I don’t know what to say to you after that. You think of me as some kind of seed-sucking demon from hell—but you claim not to mind, although you push me away each time we get close. I thought I could love you. Me—Boadicea’s kin, who loses everything by choosing poorly—I thought you might just be the one. Thank God—or whomever—that we had this talk before you truly broke my heart.”
She pushed past him, blinded by salty tears. She made her way into the yard behind the inn and found a sheltering oak tree. Crying couldn’t ease the pain that felt familiar and ancient—it did nothing but make her eyes itch.
Henry chittered at her feet, pawing at the toes of her tight slippers before rolling over onto his back to be petted.
After wiping her face on her apron, Ela gathered Henry to her chest and let him snuggle under her chin. “Osbert Edyvean deserves to be miserable, Henry. I, however, do not. I guess I’ll raise polecats and live in a hut in the forest. I can be crazy Aunt Ela.” She sniffed back the last of the tears.
Henry shook his head, tickling her neck with his whiskers.
“But before we do that, we’ll get Osbert Boadicea’s spear—if it exists. My pride demands the fulfillment of my own quest for answers. If it’s true that the Iceni tribe lived around Norwich, then there has to be some sort of record. And if it exists, why does the earl want it? Lastly, if my nightmares are any indication, I believe that Boadicea wants me to find her.” She blew out a hot breath. “And then we will be free of that stubborn man.”