The Loyal Heart Part 22

"Where?"

"On me." She glowered at his temper. "Remember?" He held his tongue. "Joanna, fetch me some clean water and a towel." Joanna nodded and rushed into the house, sparing a worried look for her master. "And you," she ordered Crispin, "sit."

Crispin sighed and sat dutifully on the wall's rounded top. He was tall enough that even sitting Aubrey's head was only just above his. She brushed the hair back from his wounded face to have a closer look as he scowled in resentment, unable to meet her eyes.

"Buxton did this?" She couldn't believe that the small, petty man had the strength to cause this much damage.

"He ordered one of the guards to do it."

Aubrey's eyebrows shot up. "Buxton ordered someone to smash your face?"

"Yes."

She gaped. Ever since witnessing the confrontation between Crispin and Buxton in the chapel when Madeline and Sister Bernadette had been taken prisoner she had questioned Crispin's relations.h.i.+p with his master. She'd questioned Buxton's sanity too. Reluctant as she was to admit it, this destroyed any lingering idea that Crispin was Buxton's lap-dog. "Why?"

Joanna returned with a small bowl of water and a cloth, handing them to Aubrey before leaving them alone. Aubrey dampened the cloth and began dabbing at Crispin's face. He kept his mouth pressed shut.

"Well?" She cupped his rough chin with her hand and tilted his head up to get a better look at the cuts as the dried blood came away in the cloth.

"Does Buxton really need a reason to be violent?" His voice was thick and a flush came to his cheeks. Their eyes met. She caught her breath. Her hand cradled his jaw, his skin was warm and rough in her palm. She dropped her hand as if it had ignited.

"No, I guess he doesn't." She cleared her throat and studied his face. "Was the guard wearing mail?" Her tone rose as she realized what the rows of half-moon welts were.

"Yes."

"Buxton had a man wearing mail hit you?" Her hands shook with indignation. She was getting used to the fact that she had been wrong about every a.s.sumption she had held since she was a girl, but the abuse in front of her made something inside her snap. It only made her more gentle as she cleaned the last of the dried blood. "Why do you still serve him?" she hissed.

"I have to." She snorted in irritation. "You don't believe me, but I do." She cast a sidelong look at his scowl and folded her arms. His eyes dropped from hers the second they met. Aubrey's chest tightened at the sight of so much shame in his otherwise strong face. "What do you think would happen if I stopped being useful to him?"

The answer looked right back at her from the welts on Crispin's face.

"There has to be some other way," she whispered, half to him and half to figuring it out for herself. "You can't go on like this."

His glance drifted across the village and he stiffened. Aubrey turned to follow his eyes but saw nothing. When she turned back to Crispin she could have sworn he had just nodded at someone.

"I'll think of something," he told her, distracted.

She dipped the rag in the bowl of water and finished cleaning his face, letting herself linger at the task longer than was necessary. The effort of fighting off the affection welling in her gut was exhausting. When she took a step back he stood, towering over her.

"Thank you, Aubrey." She flushed as his expression filled with mournful tenderness. He nodded to the bowl and damp, reddish cloth. "For taking care of me."

She didn't know what to do with the kind words. Her mind searched for the barb in them, but there was none. And she had no barbs to give either. It was the oddest feeling, almost ... normal. "Any time." The calm, tender way that he smiled at her that made her heart beat faster. She hid the awkwardness it created by clearing her throat as she grabbed the bowl and made her way through the garden and into the kitchens.

Crispin watched Aubrey retreat to the house, long plait bouncing against her back, before starting towards the barn. Unless he was much mistaken, he had just had a civil, enjoyable conversation with his wife that had not contained an argument, in which she had touched him with care and left him with a smile. It was the kind of thing that could sustain him for days, Buxton or no Buxton.

His smile dropped and the pain in his face flared to his attention. He should have expected Buxton to turn to violence. It was short-sighted to forget that marrying Aubrey would set him off.

Jack leaned against the side of the barn, an uncharacteristic scowl on his face, one foot planted on the barn wall.

"Haven't I told you not to come here."

"Yeah, well, there's been a change of plans," Jack mumbled.

"What change of plans?"

Jack sniffed, kicked the dirt, took a breath, then looked up at Crispin and blurted, "I been found out, mate."

Crispin blew out a breath and hit the barn wall. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l." He ground his fist into his palm and glowered at Jack. Jack crossed his arms and pulled himself to his full height. Jack's face bore as many bruises as his own. He'd been discovered but he hadn't come to Windale with his tail between his legs. He'd come ready for more.

He was a fool for considering it, but the weight of the work he still had to do for the Harvest Faire was crus.h.i.+ng him. "Are you loyal, Jack Tanner?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oy, of course, mate."

"Do you even know what true loyalty is?" Crispin stepped towards Jack, towering above him. The man could be as c.o.c.ky as he wanted as long he knew when it was time to be serious.

To his satisfaction, a glint of steel pierced the man's eyes. "Yeah, I do."

Crispin was under no illusions that Jack thought of himself first and foremost, but he was just the sort of ally he needed. There was no denying the situation in the castle had changed. The pain that throbbed in his face was proof of that. He needed an ally. G.o.d help him, he needed a friend.

"I asked you to be my eyes and ears before, among Windale's camp. Are you prepared to do the same thing, be my eyes and ears, my hands if necessary, at the castle, with Buxton?"

Determination and danger danced with each other in Jack's grin. "Yeah, I can do that."

The surreal twists his life was taking were heady enough to make Crispin want to laugh. His face betrayed no emotion though as he nodded for Jack to follow him up to the house.

Jack said a quick thank you to whatever deity would listen, going so far as to kiss the rosary wrapped around his wrist as he took off after Crispin. They strode up the hill to the manor house and in through the front door. Once inside Crispin stopped and confronted him. "Do not speak until I give you leave to speak, understand?"

"Right," Jack nodded his answer. He stepped back to the wall and surveyed the room. The main hall of Windale Manor looked like any of the other manor halls he'd ever seen. It had beamed ceilings, a fire burning at one end of the room, and a long table with a runner, candlesticks and a few chairs around it. It all looked very normal, almost cozy.

"Crispin, is that you?" Aubrey's voice drifted in from the kitchen along with the sound of her footsteps. A wide grin split Jack's face in spite of himself. He honestly missed his days plotting with Aubrey. "Joanna has been teaching me about healing herbs and I made this, I dunno, I guess it's a poultice or something for your head." She breezed into the room with a small mortar and pestle, pounding some green goo as she chattered. "I can't remember if it's comfrey or borage, but apparently it helps cuts to heal faster. Sit down."

With one last warning glance to Jack, Crispin walked over to the table and sat against the edge, lowering himself enough so that when Aubrey reached him she could dip her finger into the mixture and spread some on Crispin's worst cuts without reaching up. Crispin tried not to flinch when she touched his skin.

Jack grinned at the scene that played out in front of him. Aubrey didn't look hurt or unhappy or trapped or anything. In fact, she looked like she was enjoying patching Crispin up. The sight filled him with a burst of indignant anger as much as it made him want to crack a joke. Ethan had spun whopping stories of Crispin's cruelty towards Aubrey and here she was, happier and more comfortable than the lot of them. That settled it. Ethan was a liar who deserved what he got.

"Aubrey, we have a guest." Crispin nodded to Jack as he spoke and Jack returned the gesture with conviction.

"A what?" She lowered her hand and the pestle and turned. When she saw Jack standing there, looking back at her with a fond grin, her face flushed. "Jack! What are you doing here?"

"Oy, I been kicked out," he answered with feigned cheer in spite of Crispin's warning not to speak. When he saw that Crispin wasn't going to scold him, he went on. "Yeah, Ethan kicked me out of the forest. Like he has any right to say who can and can't b.u.m around some b.l.o.o.d.y forest. So I came here, lookin' for a job you might say."

"Kicked you out?" Aubrey stammered, trying to catch up. "A job?" She turned to Crispin for an answer.

"Jack is my man," he answered her.

"Why would Ethan kick you out of the forest?" Aubrey spun back to Jack, still holding the pestle and her sticky fingers up.

"Because he was spying on them," Crispin answered, "for me."

Jack was surprised to hear Crispin admit that, and to Aubrey. It added a tiny morsel to his respect for the man.

"For you?" Aubrey whipped her head back to Crispin. Her look darkened and she blinked at the pestle, putting it on the table and wiping her hand on her black skirt. "And just why were you spying on Ethan?"

He crossed his arms and fixed her with a flat stare. "I was protecting my interests."

"And by interests you mean...?" She planted her hands on her hips, making it clear that she thought he was referring to her.

"My trade." His voice grew louder still. "s.h.i.+pments of cash and merchandise through the forest." She rolled her eyes and fixed him with a flat stare. "I don't know if you've noticed this, Aubrey, but your friend has a nasty habit of interrupting honest commerce."

"Honest commerce?" She arched an eyebrow.

"What about it is dishonest?" He stood to his full height and crossed his arms, raising his own eyebrow. "Or should we ask the Bandit?"

Jack would have laughed aloud if he didn't think one or both of them would flay him alive for it. Aubrey worked her jaw as she tried to come up with something to snap at Crispin. She lost the battle and exhaled a loud, frustrated breath. "Is your spy staying for supper?"

Crispin glanced to Jack, who hid his amus.e.m.e.nt under a deadpan stare. "Why not."

Aubrey nodded to Jack then stormed out of the room, muttering and giving the pestle a few more mashes to vent her frustration. Jack let himself laugh as soon as he thought it was safe. He glanced up to Crispin to find him watching the doorway Aubrey had just disappeared through with a self-satisfied if somewhat moony smile. "I hate to break it to you, mate, but you two fight like an old married couple."

Crispin lost all traces of mirth. "We are a married couple."

"Right, right." Jack felt bolder. He walked forward from his post near the wall and slapped Crispin on the back like a friend. "It's just not what I expected to see is all, mate."

The cold flare in Crispin's eyes made Jack cringe. "And what did you expect to see? Aubrey tied to a chair dressed in rags and covered in bruises?"

"Well, yeah, something like that."

The exhaustion in Crispin's sigh tipped Jack off-guard. Sparring with Aubrey was one thing, but it was obvious that Crispin cared for her. Poor man. He nodded his head towards a narrow hallway as he continued. "Get your things and come with me. I want you to stay in the castle, but as long as you're here I'll make sure there's a room for you."

Jack couldn't believe his good luck, really couldn't believe it. Outside the October afternoon was turning cold, but here he was in Windale Manor, roof over his head and the promise of a hot meal in just a few short hours. Crispin was going to employ him and yeah, it sounded dangerous, but he was no stranger to danger. He had risked his life and limb for a lot less. Sure, the room he was given was hardly big enough to turn 'round in but it was better than sleeping out in the forest, no matter how clever they had been at making tents. Crispin even had one of the Windale servants scare up a good black tunic with a silver wolf's head on the collar and chausses to make him look the part.

By the time he'd gotten himself settled and returned to the main hall for supper Crispin was already sitting at one end of the table and with Aubrey at the other and a place with a steaming plate set for him in the middle. Aubrey blinked and sat up straighter when Jack strolled into the room, which made him feel just a little more smug than he was sure was good for him. Crispin jerked his head to the table, telling him to sit. Jack lunged for his chair and dove into the food placed in front of him.

"Nice outfit," Aubrey teased.

"Aw, yeah, eh?" He grinned from ear to ear, his mouth full of roast chicken.

"I didn't think black was your color." She tweaked an eyebrow.

"'S not my color, it's his." Jack motioned to Crispin as he chomped on a b.u.t.tered potato at the end of his fork. "You gotta keep up with these things, let people know who you belong to 'n all."

Aubrey stopped dead, her fork halfway to her mouth, her smile dissolving. She glanced at her own black dress, pressing a hand to her chest. Then her gaze flicked across the table to Crispin. And Jack saw something he'd never seen before. Crispin was laughing.

"I was wondering when you would figure that one out." The man's face was actually turning pink. Pink! Jack couldn't help but laugh along.

For a moment there was silence. Aubrey's lips quivered as she battled to stop herself from laughing. She lost that battle tremendously. The laugh burst out of her in a snort and she slapped a hand to her mouth, eyes dancing across the table to Crispin. Jack glanced between them, eyes growing larger by the second as they laughed at each other laughing. They couldn't have been any more obvious if they carried banners. He shook his head, feeling warm down to his toes. Ethan was in for one mighty rude awakening if he ever tried to separate these two.

There wasn't much to say during the rest of the meal, although every time the three of them looked at each other they would break down again. The remainder of the meal became an exercise in eating without choking. For Crispin it was far and away the most pleasant meal he could remember. Oddly enough, Jack's presence added to the enjoyment instead of killing it. He was disappointed when it was over.

The servants came to fetch their dirty plates and he nodded for Jack to go about his own business. He sat back in his chair and watched as Aubrey stood and tried to gather the plates and balance them before handing them off to a servant. The poor girl who stood receiving them was shocked and dismayed that her mistress was getting her hands dirty. When she had exhausted her ability to get in the way of the staff she stood back and watched them carry everything off. Then they were alone together in the hall.

He continued to sit in his chair watching her. She paced a few steps away from the table as if looking for something, then dropped her hands and bit her lip. She went to the sideboard and drummed her fingers on the top before changing her mind and biting her nails instead. She tapped her foot and glanced up the stairs. Then she sighed and let herself look up to meet his eyes. He couldn't tell if she was pleased or distressed at what she saw, but the way she bit her lip as she looked at him sent a jolt of hot energy through him.

"You still have green stuff on your head," she found her voice.

"Do I?" He sat up straight and raised a hand to his forehead. Flecks of green and dark brown came off on his fingers.

Aubrey jumped into action. "Come here." She grabbed one of the goblets of water that the servants hadn't taken and a spare napkin from her place. Crispin stood and met her in the center of the table. "Let me see."

Crispin sat on the side of the table, resting his hands on the warm wooden edge. He could hear the distant clatter of the servants in the pantry, the crackling of the fire in the great fireplace, but the house was still, holding its breath. Aubrey dipped the napkin in the water and bit her lip as she stood in front of him, between his knees, and wiped away the remnants of her handiwork. He forced himself to breathe as she touched him. She used her free hand to hold his head still in her palm as she worked.

"There." The one word echoed through him.

He could feel her warmth inches away, could hardly move, hardly look at her. He wanted her so desperately he shook. Slowly he raised his eyes to her. She met his gaze with a warm sparkle that contained just a hint of fear. It wasn't fear the way he had seen it in her up to that moment.

A lock of her hair had slipped from her plait. He reached up and brushed it behind her ear. She didn't move or flinch. He let his fingers trail across the warm skin in front of her ear, along her jaw. Still she didn't move. He repeated the gentle caress across her face, his heart audible in his ears, his breathing shallow. He rested his hand on her face, brus.h.i.+ng her hot cheek with his thumb. Then he leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers, inch by inch. Still she didn't move, didn't breath. He pulled her closer still, closing his eyes as his mouth touched hers.

He kissed her. Lightly at first, waiting for rejection. But when she didn't push him away, when he felt her body sway towards him he kissed her a hair's breadth more firmly. But still with more restraint than his heart felt. It wasn't until he felt her hands on his chest that he breathed out a quick sigh and pulled her against him, arms encircling her, mouth tasting her. Still he feared the moment would evaporate, even with her arms sliding up his shoulders and across his neck as her hands threaded through his hair.

He wanted to taste her, explore her, not devour her. Her mouth opened for him and his heart squeezed in his chest as his lips caressed her. His arm slid low over her back and he pressed her hips into the hard evidence of his desire. She gasped, her mouth against his, and her hands tightened in his hair. She didn't pull away. She swiveled her hips against him.

He let her go with a shaky breath, unable to meet her eyes when they leaned apart for fear of what he would see. He could not have this perfect moment ruptured by the truth. He was seconds from losing all control, and if he lost control he knew he would hurt her. His body ached as he looked at her. Her lips were still parted, swollen and tender from the kiss. He fled before he changed his mind.

"Crispin!" His name on her lips stopped him. He turned to her. "I-"

"Thank you," he interrupted, not wanting to hear her reb.u.t.tal. He took a deep breath. "For taking care of my injury. Thank you." He cursed his voice for shaking with locked up pa.s.sion.

She leaned against the table, her body limp and fluid. He looked away so that she wouldn't see his desire for her burn in his eyes. He knew he should say something else to her, but didn't know what. Finally he pushed himself forward and strode out of the room and into the chilly Autumn night, leaving her standing alone in the hall.

Chapter Eighteen.

Jack marched through the halls of Derby castle and up the stairs leading to the High Tower a couple of steps behind Crispin, scowling. In two weeks as Crispin's man he had discovered that everything Ethan had told him had been complete rubbish.

It started with Aubrey. Ethan prattled on and on about how he loved her, about how she had married Crispin under duress. Well, he had spotted them kissing in the hall after supper that night, and by the looks of things they would be un-duressed in no time.

As he crossed the hallway at the top of the High Tower and followed Crispin into Buxton's room he took a deep breath and worked his face into a blank mask. Ethan had been dead wrong about other things too. He kept his place behind Crispin when they stopped and avoided looking at the big other thing who stood playing with one of the mice he kept in a huge hutch on his table. He thanked his lucky stars that Buxton had never bothered to see him when he'd been dragged in for horse thieving and that Crispin didn't seem inclined to spill those beans now.

"My lord," Crispin directed his anger at Buxton behind a schooled blank expression, "an emissary from the crown has come to see you."

"Ah!" Buxton dropped the mouse on the floor and stepped on it as he moved towards them. "Show him in!"