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*

“There will never be anyone else.

Only you….”

*

E veryone was crying.

The banging on Havilland’s door had gone on all afternoon as Amaline had kept to her chamber, the door locked, sobbing over Madeline and over the situation in general.

Since fleeing Madeline’s cell earlier in the day she had come to her chamber, making herself scarce.

In the meantime, however, something terrible had happened and Jamison had done something to upset Havilland, so much so that her sister had been locked in her chamber since morning, weeping steadily as Jamison begged her to open the door.

Amaline couldn’t really hear what was being said but she thought it was something about another woman. He was supposed to marry someone else. Or wasn’t he? Amaline wasn’t entirely sure; all she knew was that Havilland was hysterical because Jamison had some involvement with another woman.

He’d lied to her.

That concerned Amaline deeply. She didn’t dare go out onto the landing where Jamison was banging on Havilland’s door, begging her to open it.

She was frightened of all of the shouting and pleading and weeping.

But as the afternoon progressed and Jamison begged so much that his voice grew hoarse, all Amaline could think about was the fact that he’d evidently lied to her sister.

The same man who had called Madeline a traitor was now evidently a liar himself.

At least, that was the way it seemed to Amaline.

And with that realization, her doubts about Madeline grew.

Perhaps her sister really was innocent. Perhaps she hadn’t done any of those things he said she’d done.

How could any of them believe Jamison when he said Madeline was a traitor if he had, in fact, lied to Havilland about wanting to marry her?

And now Madeline was waiting for Lord de Lohr to arrive to cut her head off because of what Jamison accused her of.

Was it true?

Did she really spy for the Welsh?

The more time passed, the more uncertain of the situation Amaline became.

Indecision gripped her. She wept about it, prayed about it, and peered out of her window at the gatehouse, at the door with the steps that led down to the vault.

Madeline was down there, awaiting her sentence because of what a man had said.

Until just a few days ago, they hadn’t even known who Jamison Munro was.

Now, he’d thrown Madeline in the vault and had bewitched Havilland.

He’d done terrible things, in Amaline’s mind.

He’d torn them all apart.

Perhaps Madeline’s only chance would be to run for safety, to flee Four Crosses as she had said she would.

Now it wasn’t sounding like such a terrible idea.

Confused and frightened, Amaline didn’t want to be guilty of allowing her sister to be executed if Jamison had lied about her.

She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if that happened.

Perhaps she should free Madeline and let her run off, never to return as she had promised.

Perhaps that was the only way to save Madeline’s life.

By the time sunset neared, Amaline had all but convinced herself that Jamison had lied and that Madeline was innocent.

Listening to the man plead with Havilland all afternoon had fed that doubt, forcing her into a decision she wasn’t entirely certain about.

But decide she had; she would set Madeline free because she didn’t want her sister’s head to be cut off.

Jamison Munro was not to be trusted. With those thoughts in mind, she pulled a dark, heavy cloak off of the peg on the wall and timidly opened the chamber door.

The landing was dark outside but she could immediately see a massive body sitting against Havilland’s door. Her eyes met with Jamison’s in the dimness and he simply looked at her. His face was pale, his eyes red-rimmed, but after a moment, he smiled weakly at her.

“I dinna know ye were in yer chamber,” he said, his voice so hoarse that he could barely speak. “I am sorry for the noise.”

Amaline didn’t reply. Nervously, she scooted down the stairs and away from him as he sat in the landing, beaten and muddled.

She continued out of the keep, out into the dusk of night, seeing that there were men still in the arena with some kind of object they were running after.

She didn’t even know what they were doing, but evidently, the day’s games were still going on.

She was sorry she didn’t even get to see any of them, but that could not be helped.

Off to her left was the great hall and the kitchen yard, and straight ahead was the gatehouse.

Ever vigilant, she clutched the cloak against her as she kept an eye out for the de Lohr knights, thinking they must surely be somewhere nearby.

Even as she neared the gatehouse, she had yet to see them and wondered if they might be in the great hall.

She could see a good deal of smoke coming from the chimney, which meant someone was stoking the hearth against the coming winter evening.

Perhaps the knights were in there, warming themselves after a busy day.

The temperature outside was dropping, causing Amaline’s breath to hang in the air, heavy with moisture, as she made it to the entry to the gatehouse.

There were soldiers about as men took their posts for the coming night and she could hear a sergeant, somewhere, yelling.

Dogs barked. Looking around nervously, she was about to enter the stairwell leading down to the vault when it occurred to her that the cells were locked and the keys were usually with the sergeant who commanded the gatehouse.

She had to get those keys.

With the heavy cloak still clutched against her, she knew she had to come up with a plan for getting those keys.

She wasn’t very good at planning, hence forgetting about the locked cell in the first place.

Havilland and Madeline were the ones that usually did all of the planning.

She simply followed along. But now, she was having to come up with a scheme to break her sister out of the vault and she struggled not to become overwhelmed by it.

What could she possible do to get the keys from the sergeant?

What could she do?

So she stood there, apprehensively, as men walked past her, men heading to their posts or just being relieved of them.

Men over at the makeshift arena were just finishing up their games and were beginning to clear out, heading for the troop house.

Amaline watched them for a moment, her gaze falling on the archery targets from earlier in the day.

Now, they were a pile of broken wood near the troop house, having served their purpose.

Looking at the big pile of wood pieces, an idea suddenly occurred to her.

Formulating a plan, she quickly made her way over to the pile of wood and picked up a fairly heavy piece, something she could use to hit someone with.

Right in the head, hard enough to knock him out!

Quickly, she draped the cloak over her arm to cover up the hand holding the wood.

It was all nicely concealed. Now armed, and feeling much more confident than she had moments earlier, she went to find the sergeant in charge of the gatehouse.

Now, she had a plan.

The man wasn’t difficult to find. He was standing just inside the gatehouse near the guard’s room because the room was very warm and men were packed inside.

When she politely asked him to please admit her to Madeline’s cell, the man shook his head and pointed to the wall, explaining that Sir Thad had the keys.

Thad, the knight who had carried Amaline’s favor for games she had never even seen.

Feeling embarrassed, and very anxious, she went to find Thad.

It took her some time to locate the young knight.

He was on the northern part of the wall, watching the mist roll in, and she called to him, yelling two or three times until he actually heard her.

Quickly, he came to her bidding which only increased her apprehension considering what she was about to do.

He smiled at her as he slid down the ladder.

“Lady Amaline,” he said. “You ran off this morning and I did not see you at all after that. I hope all is well?”

She nodded, ashamed and nervous. “I… I was not feeling well,” she said. “I am sorry I deserted you. Did… did you win any of the games?”

Thad nodded. “I won the hammer toss,” he said proudly, “but I only won that because Jamison left and Tobias throws like an old woman. He is angry at me now for besting him.”

“Oh,” Amaline said, her eyes darting around the bailey. “Where is he?”

Thad was smiling at her, seeing that she appeared nervous but he thought it was because she was simply nervous to talk to a fine, handsome knight, of which he was one. He took it as a compliment.

“He is in the great hall with our visitors,” he said. “Did you see them?”

“See who?”

“Our visitors,” he said again. “The Lions of the Highlands have come back to England. They came to pay Jamison a visit. Evidently, there is trouble at home and Jamison’s father has sent for him.”

That bit of news caught Amaline by surprise. Was that why Havilland was so upset? Because Jamison had been summoned back to Scotland? Her confusion grew.

“I… I did not see any visitors,” she said. “But Jamison is in the keep. Havilland is weeping and she will not speak to him. He is sitting outside of her door.”

Thad lost some of his humor then. “I know,” he said. “There is more to it than that, poor man. I am not entirely sure he can straighten things out.”

“What things?”

Thad eyed the girl, realizing he’d probably said too much. It wasn’t his business, anyway, what was happening with Jamison. He didn’t want to start rumors. Therefore, he forced a smile again.

“It does not matter,” he said, brushing off her question. “Now, did you wish to speak with me, my lady?”