Page 29

A li crept up the stairs and down the passageway toward the solar to prepare herself for the journey.

It wasn’t as if she had any gear, save a spare tunic inside the solar, but she wanted the chance to fetch her coins without anyone watching.

Colin hadn’t wanted to let her go, but she had invented the complaint of very sour bowels.

Apparently, he had thought such a malady would be enough to keep even Sir Etienne at bay.

Would that it could be.

Even so, Colin had vowed that if she didn’t return within minutes, he would be following her to see that she was safe.

Jason hadn’t been there to see to the task and she wondered why.

Either he’d been sent off on some other errand or he’d fled to recover from the repayment he’d had that afternoon for having teased Colin.

She’d watched earlier, open-mouthed, as Colin had escorted Jason out into the lists, then left him looking almost as inept as she herself was.

Jason had cried peace in the end, begged Colin’s pardon for having used him ill regarding that never-taken trip to the battlements to relish the view, then come and slung his arm around Ali’s neck and led her off the field in a perfectly fine humor.

Men.

Would she ever understand them?

What she did understand, however, was the fact that she was now being watched over almost constantly by her erstwhile betrothed in an effort to save her from another unsavoury thrashing at Sir Etienne’s hands.

She couldn’t help but feel a little gratitude mingled with her fear.

And ’twas her fear that made her scamper down the passageway when she might have, at another time, merely walked.

She didn’t want to encounter Sir Etienne again alone.

She stopped in the little alcove next to the solar where she’d hidden her coin. She knelt down, pulled the rock aside, then reached into the crack for her little pouch.

She froze.

It wasn’t there.

She shook her head and forced away her panic. It had to be there because she had hidden it well. She’d watched several people pass by her hiding place, but none of them had paused. She had just checked her coin herself but the day before and found it safely in its place.

She sat back on her heels, a sob catching in her throat. It couldn’t be. No one could have noticed the loose rock, even if they’d had thievery on their minds. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and wondered just what in the bloody hell she was supposed to do now.

“Looking for this?”

She spun around and stared up at none other than Sir Etienne, holding a pouch in his hands and smiling in a most unfriendly manner.

She gaped at him. “How did you come by that?”

“You need to learn to watch your back more carefully.”

She could scarce believe her eyes. Damnation, but the man was more clever than she’d given him credit for being. She leaped suddenly to her feet and grabbed for her coins, but he held the pouch far above her head.

“I don’t think so,” he growled.

“That isn’t yours.”

“What do you need it for?” he asked. “Thinking to flee?”

“Return it.”

He sneered at her. “What kind of fool do you take me for? I have counted the coins and read the paper.”

Ali cursed him. He slapped her so hard, she staggered. A whimper escaped her before she could stop it.

“I know who you are,” he said.

“You don’t,” she said, praying it was true. Surely the oaf in front of her couldn’t read. “You don’t know anything.”

“Ah, but I do. And I’m still thinking on what I want in trade for my silence.”

“You can’t read,” Ali whispered. “Not you.”

The swift anger in his face was enough to make her back up a pace. “I know who you are, Aliénore of Solonge,” he whispered harshly, “and I can tell all of England any time I choose.”

Ali felt her knees grow unsteady beneath her. Actually, it was worse than that. Her knees buckled and she went down. She would have gotten back up immediately, but her frame wasn’t equal to the task. All she could do was kneel there, miserable and weak.

“Are you interested in what I want?”

She shook her head.

Sir Etienne squatted down, took her chin in his hand and wrenched her face up. “Mayhap Lord Colin is.”

She could only stare at him in horror.

“I wonder how he would reward you for mocking him as you do,” he mused.

“I seem to remember him vowing to kill you did he ever manage to find you. And here you are, so close, so easily strangled, or beheaded, or hanged. Or perhaps he would merely take you out in the lists and allow his sword and his fists to speak for him. I’ve felt his displeasure. Perhaps ’tis time you felt it as well.”

Ali looked at the ruin of Sir Etienne’s nose and began to gasp. His grip on her chin tightened.

“Ask me what I want,” he commanded.

She swallowed, hard, then spoke around her immobile jaw. “What do you want?” she whispered.

He flung her face away so hard that the whole of her met the wall with a mighty force. She pulled away and felt something coursing down her cheek. Blood, perhaps. Tears, definitely.

“I haven’t decided yet,” he said, fingering her coins. “But I will. Tell no one what we’ve discussed here. If you do, I’ll shout your name long and loud from the battlements.”

“But—”

“And keep Berkhamshire far away from me.”

“How—”

“Do it,” he snapped. “Do it, or I’ll tell him.”

She bowed her head, gasping for air. When she looked up, he was gone. She didn’t hesitate. She ran for the garderobe, bolted herself inside, and wept until she thought she might be ill. How had Sir Etienne found her out? And if he knew, who else knew? And whom would he tell?

That he might give her away to Colin was more than she could bear thinking on.

She’d seen Colin in a fury. And there she was, having done nothing to prepare for her future save hoist a blade to satisfy the foolish whims of a man who would likely snap her neck in two if he discovered her true identity.

By the saints, she should have been giving more serious thought to escape.

At the very least she should have been asking where the nearest convent could be found.

She could become a nun. That didn’t take any skill besides kneeling in prayer, did it?

She shouldn’t have been loitering in the lists, endeavoring to learn skills that would never serve her.

She leaned her head against the door of the garderobe and wondered what to do at present. She couldn’t just flee Blackmour. She had no idea where she was in relation to everywhere else, and no firm destination in mind.

Worse still, now she had no coin.

The truth of her predicament presented itself in its fullest glory.

No priory would take her as she was, without dowry, without proof of her birth, without gold.

No guild would take her without skills or gold.

No fine hall would take her as a lady-in-waiting without title or gold.

She would be fortunate indeed to find a way to keep herself alive that didn’t entail either scraping along as a servant or limping along as a harlot.

With an effort, she pushed aside those thoughts. Perhaps her future didn’t have to be decided upon that night. She had a bit more time. At least until Colin’s company left Blackmour, she could more easily flee if she were outside the castle walls.

She thought back to his demands. How in the bloody hell was she supposed to keep Colin away from him?

By force? By asking? He would scoff at either one, especially if Sir Etienne displeased him.

That she should want Sir Etienne to be shown mercy would likely leave Colin shaking his head and drawing his sword to instruct the man in the finer points of chivalry.

Nay, she would have to see to humoring Sir Etienne until she could devise a plan.

Mayhap she could either steal her coins back, or throw herself on the mercy of some group of sisters of the cloth and beg for sanctuary.

Surely now and then they could be prevailed upon to take women simply for the pity of it, couldn’t they? She had a need. She could accept pity.

’Twas a fair bit more promising a prospect than accepting a knife between her ribs.

She took a deep breath and pushed open the door—only to face the very man whom she least wanted to see.

He was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. He frowned at her, then peered at her cheek. And his expression turned thunderous.

“I fell,” she blurted out. “I was clumsy and I fell.”

“Do not lie to me,” he warned.

As if she could tell him the truth! She put her shoulders back and looked him full in the face. “I hit my face against the wall,” she said. There was truth enough in that. No matter that she was flung against that wall against her will.

Colin studied her for a moment or two, then grunted. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me how your face came to meet that wall, will you?”

“I would have to lie.”

“As if I couldn’t guess the identity of your abuser easily enough.”

“But—”

He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. “He’ll be repaid.”

“Nay—”

“Say no more,” he said, shaking his head sharply. “He cannot use you so ill and not pay the price.”

She fought the desire to drop to her knees and begin to pray.

“Then again,” Colin said slowly, “perhaps ’twould be a better justice if I taught you how to do it yourself.”

“Aye,” she said, nodding enthusiastically.

“A perfectly wonderful idea.” She prayed fervently that he would decide that such was the better course of action.

In the time it would take him to make her into such a warrior, she would have likely come across some way to make a life for herself.

Either that or Sir Etienne would have died of old age.

One way or another, perhaps Colin might be thusly persuaded to leave the man alone and she would be safe.

For the moment.