Evermore (Knight Everlasting Book 3) Page 10

  “Do you know why I’m here, then? Did you see me leave the castle? What are you doing out here?”

  He furrowed his brow. “I can’t answer why you’re here and I didn’t see you leave the castle. And, uh, I was hunting.” He looked down at his hands and grew a darker shade of red. “Setting snares, I mean.”

  “Yes, that makes more sense since you don’t have any weapons with you. You don’t mind killing animals then?” She smirked. “Your—what was it called? Pastifick ways don’t apply to hares?”

  “Pacifist,” he corrected, a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you teasing me?”

  “Perhaps a little. I had never heard such a thing before.”

  Amazingly, she felt better and better. She patted the ground near her and motioned for him to have a seat. She didn’t think she could stand if she tried. Not yet. He sat a few feet away, cross-legged, with his hands folded in his lap.

  “It’s probably not a thing in this time,” he muttered, then looked up, eyes wide. “I mean, it’s a very new belief system.”

  “It sounds lovely,” she admitted. “I hate the bloody ways of knights. The way they’re so proud of all their carnage.”

  She instantly wished she hadn’t said it. He was a close friend of Sir Leo and would probably take offense. Sophie would be angry with her. She didn’t usually spew out all her thoughts, but she was rattled by her current situation. And Lord Jordan put her at ease, sitting so calmly, with such a look of compassion in his eyes. His very pretty blue eyes. “Please forget I said that.”

  He shrugged. “You’re entitled to your opinion.”

  “Am I?” She laughed caustically. “Most would disagree. And I honestly meant no disrespect to my—Sir Walter or Sophie or Fay. I mean Lady Sophie and Lady Fay.”

  “Hey, go ahead and be comfortable. I call her Sophie and she’s never evaporated from the lack of the title.”

  She gasped. There was that impertinence again. “How are you so close with La—Sophie? I know she’s only known you as long as the rest of us.”

  He laughed at that, but it didn’t seem like he actually found it funny. “I’m very close with Sir Leo, remember? Or since we’re being casual, Leo. I’ve served alongside him for years.” His face had a bitter look to it now. “As a chancellor.”

  “A respectable profession,” she assured him.

  She felt low for the first time in her life. She was only a lady’s maid. That was respectable as well, of course. But would a man with a title think so? And why should she care? She reminded herself that she was of high birth, though, only brought to her place by circumstance. Her head started to hurt. It was always the same when she thought of her childhood. Was she brought to her place by circumstance?

  As if reading her trouble thoughts, he asked, “How long have you been at the castle?”

  Her head throbbed. “As long as I can remember,” she said, pressing at her temples.

  “Are you all right? Does your head hurt? My medicine from Italy will clear it right up.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said while everything was rushing back at her. “It’s only that I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  “I should sit next to you at night and tell you long, boring stories in a droning voice,” he said, smiling widely at her. “Once upon a time …”

  She blushed at his scandalous suggestion, but didn’t look away. Perhaps Batty was right and it wasn’t only his hair that caught her fancy. He did have a rather handsome face. More importantly than that, there was kindness in his eyes. Compassion. She looked hard at him, somewhat enjoying the little quiver she felt in her midsection. It was so much nicer than the constant fear and exhaustion.

  “Perhaps you could share your stories with Edgar,” she said bitterly. “His advice isn’t much better.”

  She’d gone to Edgar the night before for something to help her sleep. He’d pressed his hand to her brow hard enough to call up a new headache and breathed his foul alcohol-soaked breath all over her face. He told her to pray harder and if she didn’t get any sleep that night, he’d drain off some of her evil humors for her. She found she was scowling and forced her face to relax.

  Jordan clapped his hands and leaned forward eagerly. Surprisingly, the sudden movement didn’t frighten her.

  “Yes, tell me all about the drunken physician, Edgar. Every single person in the castle pulls a face like yours when they mention his name.”

  “I shouldn’t gossip,” she said, longing to gossip.

  “Yes you should,” he answered instantly.

  “He’s a hundred years old if he’s a day,” she sighed. “I think he’s just lived far too long. I mustn’t speak poorly of him, but he only seems to make Anne worse instead of better. Every time he treats her.”

  “You’re very close to Anne,” he said.

  It wasn’t a question and she felt warmed that he could see her feelings. Everyone else counted her as miserable and sour, but perhaps Lord Jordan saw her differently.

  “Yes, she’s very dear to me, like a—” she stopped, not wanting to be presumptuous, though she was sure Anne felt much the same. “How disappointed she’d be to know what’s wrong with me.” She blinked away more tears before they could fall. If she didn’t hurry back, everyone would worry and wonder. She was reluctant to leave his calming presence and smiled weakly. “You’ve been so kind. You’ve distracted me into almost forgetting why I’m out here. Which I still don’t have any idea.”

  To her surprise, he leaned forward and took her hand. Her first instinct was to snatch it away, but another, older and wiser instinct, let her keep it in his grasp.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said forcefully. “I promise. I can’t explain why because you wouldn’t believe me. But can you trust me that you’re fine? You are not insane at all.”

  She sniffled. “I want to believe you. Who wants to go mad? None of your medicines will help with my sleep problem, will they?”

  His look of concern was back. “Maybe one of the antihistamines, but I really don’t think you should take any of it unless you need it. The aspirin for your headache shouldn’t hurt you but I can’t vouch for any of the other stuff. In fact, I’m still not sure Anne should take any of it, no matter how sick she is.”

  She blinked several times at his fast speech. “The pain in my head was all but gone until you said all that. And Anne’s already taken some. Sophie brought it two nights ago, with your instructions. They were your instructions, weren’t they?”

  He rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. She was sorry to lose the warmth. “Well, I guess the horse is out of the barn. That brat.” He shook his head and smiled. “Don’t mind me, I’m just rambling. I’m sure Anne will be fine.” She couldn’t help but smile back. She was still shaken by the mysterious way she’d found herself in the woods, but his words had soothed her. She didn’t know why she should believe him, but he spoke with such authority. “And Marjorie?” he asked.

  “Yes?”

  “You won’t find yourself out here again. I know that for sure. So if you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, believe that.”

  She liked the way he spoke. As if he really did know. She liked how he didn’t recoil at her mad crying, but sat quietly and soothed her with nonsensical talk. She was sure now that she must have sleepwalked out here. She might have gone to lie down on a bench in the kitchen and drifted off. No one would have stopped her if she left. They all would have assumed she had a reason for whatever she was doing.

  “I wonder if I could beg you to not say anything about finding me here. You’ve been such a comfort, I feel presumptuous for asking anything of you.”

  He laughed. It was a true laugh this time. She wasn’t offended, feeling that it wasn’t at her. She felt much happier herself.

  “I like the way you talk,” he said. “And you don’t have to beg me or even ask me. We’re friends now, after all. It goes without saying that this stays between us.” He stood and held out his hand to help her up. She t
ook it and he pulled her effortlessly to her feet. He may not have believed in fighting but he was still strong. “Can I walk you back to the castle?”

  She gasped. “No, that wouldn’t be—I mean what if—”

  “Ah, that’s right, your reputation. I’m sorry, I forgot. Please know your reputation is of the utmost importance to me. I’ll continue on in the forest for a while so you can go back on your own.”

  She beamed at him. She hadn’t smiled that hard in a long time. Maybe ever. It hurt her face, but in a good way. She was glad now she’d forgiven him their first awkward encounter and hadn’t judged his odd behavior in the hall that one night. Now she was being rewarded by not being judged. She was more grateful to him for that than she could ever say.

  “I shall see you at supper, perhaps,” she said. She gathered up every bit of courage she had and added, “I like the way you talk as well.”

  She didn’t wait to see his reaction. His smile was enough. She turned and ran all the way back to the castle. She didn’t get to see him at supper because Batty told her she looked dead on her feet. Anne heard and called from her sickbed, “Go to sleep, Marjorie. You’re excused from all duties.”

  She fell into bed, asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She had the first dreamless night’s sleep in as long as she could remember.

  *

  Jordan watched Marjorie trot away toward the castle, knowing he could never summon Lyra again. He was grateful to see how recovered Marjorie seemed from when he first came upon her. He was glad he’d been able to cheer her up, though he’d said such stupid things he still wasn’t sure how he’d done it.

  He supposed it was just her nature that made her so accepting of the nonsense he spewed. They were actually pretty friendly with each other there at the end. He appreciated that she hadn’t scorned his supposed lack of fighting skills. That still rankled him, because he could hold his own in his proper time. It was just too bad he’d never been threatened with a battle axe. He was certain if his sister stopped bursting into tears every time he suggested training with the squires he could gain plenty of medieval skills and hold his own in this time, too. But now that Marjorie thought his peaceful nature was lovely, it made him rethink his desire to learn to swing a sword.

  He chuckled as he meandered through the forest, wasting time before he went back. She had actually teased him a little, which meant she must not be scared he was a filthy pervert anymore. That was a weight off his shoulders. Maybe she could get Batty to stop glaring at him. Yes, he quite liked Marjorie.

  That was why he was determined not to summon Lyra again. He was sorry to miss his chance to ask the questions he needed answers to. He was really sorry he was going to have to take the tongue lashings and possible actual lashings when he got back and couldn’t smugly tell them everything he’d learned. But after seeing Marjorie in such a confused and frightened state, he was done with all the possession nonsense. He smiled again, recalling how Lyra had complained about Marjorie being strong. She had obviously meant Marjorie must have put up a fierce mental battle every time the witch took over her body. Well, Marjorie won the battle today. That was for sure, even though it had left her in the middle of the woods with no recollection of how she got there.

  Jordan thought he heard more voices, blown in on a rare breeze through the trees. He stopped short when the men’s voices flared louder. It was clearly an argument.

  “Attacking the castle ahead of schedule was foolish. We agreed you’d take Dernier Keep first,” one voice said angrily. “Now both of our men suffered injuries for naught. Did you think I wouldn’t fight on their side?”

  “Aye, well you didn’t have to make it so convincing,” the second voice grumbled. “And I was sick of waiting for you to make up your mind so I took action. If you hadn’t been such a coward, we would have taken the castle.”

  Score! It seemed like Jordan was going to have information to share when he got back after all. He wanted to peek around the trunk of the tree and see who the men were, but he couldn’t risk them seeing him.

  “Watch yourself,” the first man said. “You’ll be wise to remember who is keeping you and your men in coin. And I had very clearly made my decisions known to you. Dernier first. To call away Sir Tristan and his men. I secure the Grancourt wench and then we take the castle from Sir Walter. Now, I’m under suspicion and may not get his blessing.”

  “Bah, not after the way you and your men slashed and pummeled mine. No one’s suspicious, Drayton, so calm down. I still say we could have seized the castle if you’d played along.”

  Jordan had to bite his finger to keep from making a noise. Sophie had been wrong in wanting to give Lord Drayton the benefit of the doubt. Fay was correct in her diagnosis of the man as a weasel.

  “Fool. It’s not that simple,” Lord Drayton said. “The crown can contest my ownership if I merely take the place by force. Hence, marrying the old man’s sickly daughter. I’d be the one it goes to after Walter’s out of the way. It won’t be much longer to be free of the daughter. If her damned annoying cough doesn’t take her off my hands, there are a few poisons that will hasten her departure.”

  Jordan leaned over, fighting nausea. That was way too much. It had all been fun and games until Drayton mentioned poison. He prayed for them to go away so he could get back to the castle to warn everyone. There was a sudden silence and he waited, still bent over and holding his breath. Had he made a noise? Were they waiting in silence to see if he made another? After what seemed an eternity, Drayton spoke up again.

  “Go and do what I tell you from now on,” he said.

  “Aye, Dernier Keep. I hear and obey, my lord.”

  Jordan waited in utter stillness as they crashed away through the forest. There was no way they could have heard him if they were making that much of a racket. As the crunches and crackles subsided, he waited a few more seconds and then stuck his head around the tree.

  Oh, crap. They not only must have heard him make a noise, they had thoroughly tricked him. Lord Drayton and his goon were not five feet away, staring expectantly at the tree he hid behind. Lord Drayton smiled.

  “Get him,” he said calmly.

  Jordan, anything but calm, turned and ran.

  Chapter 13

  “You’re looking very pretty today, Marjorie,” Catherine said.

  Marjorie looked up from her mending, stunned. “Do I? Well, thank you.”

  Batty reached over and tugged on her chin, turning Marjorie’s face toward her. “She’s right, you look radiant today.”

  “Goodness, I don’t know what’s different.”

  “You’re glowing, dear,” Catherine said.

  “You actually look happy, Marjorie,” Batty added.

  Marjorie shook her head, feeling they were laying it on a bit thick at that point. She poked the needle through the fabric, finding her hands a little unsteady. Her cheeks felt hot at the attention. She never understood why everyone always told her she acted sour or was making a face. She had never thought of herself that way and had assumed she was as happy as anyone. But now she did feel a difference. A lightness. Her jaw wasn’t so tight. Had that tight jaw come from a constant sour face?

  It had to have been the wonderful, peaceful sleep she’d had the night before. Hours and hours of uninterrupted bliss. And the knowledge that she wasn’t losing her mind. She stabbed her finger and promptly stuck it in her mouth to keep from bleeding on Sir Walter’s linen shirt. What had made her so sure of that? Lord Jordan’s word for it? She almost giggled, thinking of Lord Jordan. He was as mad as anyone was, but in a good way. Could there be a good way to be mad? Why was she so aflutter? Her thoughts never ran in such circles. She was a very straightforward girl who never fluttered. And yet she found something going on in her stomach while she thought of Lord Jordan.

  It was probably a bad breakfast. She glanced to Batty and Catherine, relieved they didn’t sense her wayward thoughts. She managed to finish mending the shirt without incident and reached f
or something else off the mending pile when Sophie came rushing toward them. She plopped herself down on the bench, clearly agitated.

  “Have any of you seen Lord Jordan?” she asked.

  “No,” came from both Batty and Catherine, neither one looking up from their work.

  Marjorie, on the other hand, dropped hers and looked at Sophie. Something was definitely wrong by the look on her face. She kept silent, not wanting to admit to being in the woods at all and certainly not with Lord Jordan.

  “Why haven’t we heard the announcement yet?” Batty asked, still not looking up. “I thought Sir Leo was going to speak to Sir Walter yesterday.”

  Sophie groaned. “He got sidetracked. None of you saw Lord Jordan today? Not at breakfast?”

  “Is something wrong?” Marjorie asked.

  “He disappeared yesterday and Sir Leo said he never returned the entire night. I’m, I mean, he’s rightfully worried since Lord Jordan is …”

  “Such a cowardly, lacking man?” Batty supplied.

  “He’s not,” Marjorie said, louder than she meant. “He values peace, which we all should do. That’s all.”

  They eyed her for far too long and she picked the tunic off the ground and continued mending it fiercely.

  Sophie stood up. “If any of you sees him, please tell me. Or tell him to find Sir Leo. He’s sick with worry.”

  It was Sophie who looked sick with worry as she left them. Marjorie argued with herself for several moments before tossing the half-mended tunic back into the pile. “I’ll see you at chapel later,” she said absently, hurrying after Sophie.

  “I saw him in the woods yesterday, a little past midday,” she said when she caught up with Sophie. “It was just in passing. I was setting snares.” She latched on to Lord Jordan’s own excuse for being in the forest. “We spoke a few words and he was on his way. I didn’t say anything because you know how Batty is.”

  Sophie’s face went pale. “Do you think you could show us where you saw him?”

  “Are you really that concerned?” Marjorie asked. “I don’t think he’s as lacking as everyone else does. I’m sure he must be fine.” She couldn’t help wring her hands, wondering why he hadn’t come back.