The Loyal Heart Part 15

Crispin's eyes flashed up to meet Buxton's. "Then you agree to it?"

The room hushed as every nerve in Crispin's body screamed. Buxton raked him with an acid glare. The heat in his eyes as they devoured his form would have made his skin crawl if his heart hadn't been so full of Aubrey. A grin twitched the corners of Buxton's mouth and he shrugged. "Why not. Either way I win."

Crispin broke into a genuine smile before he could stop himself. "Thank you, my lord." He meant it as he hadn't meant those words for years. "I must go and tell Aubrey."

"Yes, of course," Buxton called after him as he turned to leave. "Give her plenty of time to figure out a back-up plan."

The words were like an arrow in his back. Again he had to fight his suspicion that she was a part of this scheme. He had to believe that at least a small part of her would be content to marry him. He loved her a thousand times more than any man ever could. That certain knowledge had to keep him going.

Aubrey pressed herself against the castle wall as the storm crashed around her, illuminating the square in front of the castle gate for a few seconds. It grated on her nerves that she had to sneak out in the dead of night to meet with Ethan and the others, just as it had set her teeth on edge that all Ethan wanted to talk about was his grand design for disrupting the Council of n.o.bles. Rescuing her friends, rescuing her from marrying Crispin, were afterthoughts.

She dashed across the courtyard and into the castle through the cloister with a bitter smirk. Here she was risking detection as the Bandit by dressing in her chausses and cloak to sneak through the night when what she should really be wearing was her most low-cut kirtle. Maybe that would snag Ethan's focus.

The castle had long since gone to bed and she was able to rush through the halls without being noticed. She made it to her room in one piece, shut the door, and pulled the wet cloak from her shoulders, dropping it in the middle of the floor. She unbuckled the sword from her belt, tossing it on the bed. Finally she stripped off her wet Bandit clothes and changed into her nightgown, scowling the whole time.

A knock at the door startled her. "Who's there?" She lunged to her wet clothes in a puddle by the fireplace and pushed them behind a heavy chair.

"Aubrey, it's me." Crispin's baritone made the hair stand up on her neck.

"Just a second."

She jumped towards the bed and shoved the sword under her pillows. Then she surveyed the room to make sure everything was concealed. A large damp spot stood out on the stones in front of the fireplace. There was nothing she could do about that except to keep Crispin from entering the room. She grabbed the robe that lay over the foot of her bed and threw it around her shoulders before answering the door.

The frown on Crispin's face melted when he saw her. For a heartbeat she caught something primal in the depths of his blue eyes as they raked from her toes to her face. She s.h.i.+vered in spite of herself. "Aubrey, are you well?"

"I'm fine." She hoped he couldn't see her heart beating through her skin. "It's late, Crispin, very late. Do you need something?"

He stood too still. His eyes followed the pale line of her neck as it dipped under the soft rose of her robe. A lock of his unruly black hair brushed across his forehead and his pale face was splashed with color. She found herself wondering how it would feel if his hands followed his eyes.

When he shook himself and let out a breath she blushed with shame at her disobedient imagination. "Would you like to see your friends?"

She blinked, not sure she had heard right, and sucked in a breath as she pulled the robe tighter across her chest. "My friends?"

"Buxton has ordered their room be cleaned." The softness of his jaw and the weariness in his eyes made heart thump harder. "I've had them moved to the library while the servants are working. They'll only be there for two hours."

"But ... but why would anyone clean a room in the middle of the night?"

Crispin stared at the floor before admitting, "Buxton doesn't want you to know they're not in their room. He wanted them to do it while you were asleep, so that you wouldn't try to see them."

"Then why are you here telling me about it?"

He glanced into her eyes. She blinked again as realization hit her. Her whole body burst into tingles against her will.

She turned and pulled her door shut, stepping out into the hallway with a quick shake of her head. "Crispin, you're taking too big a risk." She marched past him.

He fell into step behind her. She could feel him as if he were a breath away. "Your hair is wet."

His whispered observation made her already flushed face burn. "I took a bath before going to bed," she lied.

"I'm sorry to have woken you." He reached her side in one long stride.

"I wasn't asleep." She glanced up at him as he walked with her, frowning. "Are you sure this isn't too much of a risk for you? Buxton wouldn't approve."

"Buxton has been in bed for hours. As long as the servants are quiet he'll stay there."

Her eyebrows shot to her hairline. "What if he finds out?"

He paused as the stairs let out into the main section of the castle. "Are you going to tell him?"

He was so close to teasing her that Aubrey let the barest hint of a smile play on her lips. "No."

They continued side-by-side to the castle library. It was small compared to other libraries she had seen. There was only one shelf of bound volumes and a long table with mismatched chairs around it. The table was nothing more than a huge oak blotting pad where generations of scholars had spilled ink. Sister Bernadette sat slumped in a chair at the head of the table under a tall, narrow window that Madeline stared out. The rain and wind still lashed at the castle walls with an occasional clap of thunder but Aubrey ignored all of it. She rushed forward to Madeline and threw her arms around her. Madeline let out a squeal as she hugged her in return.

"What are you doing here?" She held her at arm's length, mouth gaping and eyes tearing.

"Crispin brought me."

"Sir Crispin? Oh Aubrey, we've heard the most horrible accusations! We've heard you are to marry him!"

Aubrey's gut seized at the fear in her voice. She turned to the door and was surprised when she saw that it had been shut behind her and Crispin wasn't there. They were alone in the room. "It's not an accusation."

Madeline gripped Aubrey's arms harder, trembling. "How ... how can it possibly be true?"

Aubrey took a deep breath to steel herself for her friends' sake. "I have a plan. Crispin said he would let you go on the day that I marry him."

Madeline blanched, her green eyes wide. "Aubrey, no! You can't sacrifice yourself to save us."

"I'm not sacrificing myself." She waved her to silence. Her glance flickered to Sister Bernadette and she knelt beside the chair to study the older woman's face. "I'll get you home to the convent so you can be healed."

"I am no invalid, my child," she protested, but her grimace as she s.h.i.+fted in her seat said otherwise.

"You need proper medical treatment," Aubrey insisted. "As soon as possible."

"I am grateful for your consideration, but-"

"The wedding will be at Windale." She hated to squash Sister Bernadette but she was tired of being argued with. She turned to Madeline. "I'll ask that you attend. They'll have to let you out of the castle to do that. You'll escape and Ethan will come and rescue me." It felt so good to finally tell someone the plan she had been mulling over for weeks now that a genuine smile lit her face.

"We can't just escape like that."

Her smile faltered. Madeline wasn't supposed to question her, she was supposed to congratulate her for the brilliant plan. "Ethan said that he would save me from marrying Crispin and...." She wanted to say that she believed him but the words wouldn't cross her lips. She cleared her throat. "Jack is in on it. He'll be there to take you to safety."

"We cannot leave without the Madonna." Sister Bernadette's solid declaration took Aubrey aback.

"What?" She had forgotten the statue in the heat of her plans.

"We will not leave without our treasure."

"But it will be hard enough to whisk you out of the castle as it is."

Sister Bernadette was unmoved. "We came here with one purpose only and we will not abandon that purpose."

Aubrey sighed and threw up her hands. A rumble of thunder underscored her growing temper. She rubbed her aching forehead, jaw clenched, as she scrambled for a way to talk the woman out of her plan. "I just don't think it's possible."

"With G.o.d all things are possible."

"Alright, fine." Aubrey sighed and dropped her arms. "We'll think of something." Why Jack loved nuns was beyond her. As far as she was concerned they were a bunch of troublemakers.

"It will work out Aubrey, you'll see." Madeline stepped forward and circled her arms around Aubrey's rigid body. "I have faith. In you and," she flickered a glance to Sister Bernadette then whispered, "and in Jack."

Aubrey couldn't help but give her friend a weak smile. "Thank you for that." She hugged her back. She set Madeline on her feet again and turned to take Sister Bernadette's hand. "I have to go, but I'll do everything I can to make sure you escape with your treasure."

"G.o.d be with you, my child," Sister Bernadette squeezed her hand. "And with your betrothed."

Aubrey fought not to roll her eyes as she turned to leave the room.

Crispin paced the hall outside of the library. Every noise spiked his nerves. He was a fool for being skittish over shadows. Buxton wouldn't find out. And if he did it changed nothing. The risks he took now were for Aubrey's sake.

His breath caught in his throat at the memory of her standing in her doorway, her robe loose around creamy shoulders. She hadn't even tried to cover herself. If he didn't know better he would have said she had let him look at the curve of her hip, the rise of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His body ached for her. He could imagine making love to her for hours, sweet and slow.

The thump of footsteps on the other side of the door snapped his back straight. She burst out into the hall, her expression troubled.

"Did you have a good conversation with your friends?" He cursed the gravel in his voice.

"Oh, yes, brilliant. Thanks." Sarcasm spilled off her words. She raked him with a hard glance then marched down the hall.

She was silent and agitated. He kept his mouth shut, matching her pace and watching her as she stormed through the halls to her room. Her robe skewed across her shoulder with each step she took, exposing more of her rosy flesh. With the fire in her eyes at that moment he figured he could throw her up against the wall and take her right there and she would love it. Frustrated by the heat that pounded through him he turned away.

"You're awfully quiet," she broke the silence when they were in the stairwell.

He cleared his throat in vain. "I have nothing to say." It was true. He didn't want to say anything.

"Oh." She sounded disappointed.

They continued up the stairs and along the hallway in silence. When they reached her room Aubrey entered and started to shut the door behind her. He stopped it from closing and stepped inside.

She turned and sighed at his boldness, crossing her arms. "I did not invite you in."

"Aubrey, I-"

"I thought you didn't have anything to say." One eyebrow quirked up over flas.h.i.+ng eyes. She stood firm but didn't order him out.

He left the door open as he approached her. The smooth line of her shoulder stood out in sharp relief against the lightning-split sky. His mouth watered to taste the salt of her skin. "Buxton has agreed to our marriage. He has set a date. Sat.u.r.day."

He searched her eyes for panic, fear, rejection. He found steel. "Buxton has given his consent." She repeated his statement with a flat stare, crossing her arms.

"Yes, he-"

"Buxton." She blew out a breath and shook her head.

Her hair had dried and spilled over her shoulder in warm brown waves. One curling lock had settled between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as she crossed her arms. He couldn't remember what she had said. "Is something the matter?"

"Do you have to ask his permission to p.i.s.s?"

The question withered the coil of heat in his gut. "He gave me land and a position of power and respect." He couldn't meet her eyes as he gave his worn excuse.

She took a step towards him. "That's in the past. How much control does he have now?" He turned away. She didn't give him time to gather his raging thoughts into an answer. "Could the Council of n.o.bles really vote to take Windale from you?"

His eyes snapped up to meet hers at the apparent change of subject. Suspicion constricted his throat. "Theoretically the Council could overturn any decision Buxton has made if they have the support of the crown. But it isn't likely. Buxton has most of the n.o.bles in his pocket and Prince John is his friend."

"And what about you?" She took another step towards him. The fire in his blood flared again. "Does he have you in his pocket?"

Yes. He did. The truth twisted his stomach.

"No," he answered her, stepping closer. She was a breath away, eyes flaring up to meet his. He could feel the heat of her anger spark the air between them. "Buxton does not control me."

"Then do something!" she seethed, gripping his arms as if she could steer the course of the world through his muscles. "Stop placating him. Set my friends free whether he gives his permission or not. Don't let him-"

His mouth crashed over hers before she could finish. He pulled her against him, one arm tight around her waist while the other cradled the back of her head. Her body was rigid in his arms as he tasted her, curled his fingers in her hair. She shuddered and her fingers dug into his biceps as he softened his kiss, teasing his tongue across hers, nipping at her lips. The hand on her waist caressed lower, splaying on the contour of her bottom, between her legs, pressing her hips up against his. He tipped her chin up and lowered his hungry mouth to her neck, licking her fiery pulse. Her nails burrowed harder and the groan from deep in her throat snapped him to his senses.

Gasping Crispin stepped back, pressing his wrist to his mouth and whipping away from her. "I'm sorry," he panted, "That was inappropriate." His voice was gruff with shame as he tore past her.

"Crispin-" She called his name as he fled into the hall, slamming the door behind him.

The room was spinning. Aubrey staggered to her bed as the door banged and grabbed the post with both arms to hold herself up. Her legs were weak and liquid fire sang between them. Her lips still burned with the taste of him. She was sure she had a molten handprint on her backside. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe to steady herself.

She had no idea what had just happened. It had been her intention to pry information out of him, to see if he could give her a hint about whether Ethan's plan for the Council of n.o.bles had a hope of succeeding. She wanted to test him to see if he would free her friends without Buxton's permission if it came to it. The last thing she expected was to become a part of him for one blinding moment. Ethan had kissed her plenty of times and it had been nice. Crispin had ignited her soul.

She glanced to the door, biting her lip and hoping that he would storm back into the room to throw her on her bed and finish what he had hinted at.

With a gasp she stood rod straight as if someone else had just thrown a lewd suggestion at her. Bitter guilt washed over her. She loved Ethan. If she was going to work herself into sizzling knots over anyone it was going to be Ethan. Crispin was her p.a.w.n, nothing else. She pushed away from the bedpost and staggered to the rain-lashed window. Throwing it open into the waning storm she thrust her head out into the rain. She wouldn't have been surprised if steam curled off of her skin.

Chapter Eleven.

Dressed as the Bandit, Aubrey dashed from the castle into the steamy summer night. Ethan and the others lingered just outside of the closed portcullis. It was lucky there were no guards posted tonight, which was odd, but she wasn't about to second-guess a bit of good fortune. She swallowed and ran down the long stone steps and across the courtyard to open the small door in the wall. She knew that the h.e.l.l she had to pay would begin the moment that Ethan saw her.

"I told you to let us in and then go back to your room," he snapped when he saw her disguise.

"I'm not going back to my room." She was in no mood to argue.

"Then I'm not partic.i.p.ating in this fool's errand." Ethan shook his head and turned to go.