Page 41 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

T he day had been long and tense, bouts of fear coming in waves as the sun traveled the sky.

Sometimes, Cantia was quite calm, but other times, she was in tears of terror.

Yet none of those feelings were particularly productive.

As Cantia sat in her prison along with Hunt and Arabel, she truly wondered what was to become of them.

The camp had been active all day. At least, what she could hear from inside her dark and smelly prison made the place appear very active.

Sounds of people were all around her, shouting, working, doing what they needed to do in order to survive.

After Gillywiss had left them, no one had bothered them except for a woman who had come to bring them food.

She brought them a rather large fare of small apples, pears, three roasted rabbits, and two large loaves of dark bread.

Cantia and the children had eaten until they nearly burst.

With bellies full, they were able to think more clearly.

Arabel still seemed to be feeling poorly, having slept all morning and into the afternoon, and Cantia was very concerned for the girl.

There was a hole dug in the ground in one corner of the hut that they quickly discovered was the chamber pot because it smelled up the entire room.

Cantia had helped the girl use it, once, as Hunt sat at the other end of the hut and faced the wall to afford Arabel some privacy.

Arabel had been embarrassed that she required such assistance but there wasn’t much she could do about it, so she thanked Cantia profusely for her kindness and swore she’d be as little trouble as possible.

Cantia had merely smiled and touched the girl’s cheek affectionately.

As a mother, it was in her nature to be helpful to a child and she truly didn’t mind.

Every time she looked into that beautiful face, she saw Tevin. She was happy to do what she could .

The dusk settled cool and dark, and as the moon began to rise, silver shadows were cast upon the land.

Owls hooted and other creatures of the night rooted around for their supper as Cantia sat on the ground next to Hunt, her arms around the boy as the hut grew very cold and dark.

As she rocked Hunt, attempting to lull him to sleep, the door to the hut jerked open.

Startled, Cantia stopped rocking her child as Gillywiss entered the chamber and pulled the door shut behind him.

He had a fish oil lamp in his hand, a bowl of liquefied fat with a floating wick that gave off a significant amount of smoke and light.

His dark eyes found her in the dim hut and, as she had seen earlier in the day, he flashed her a rather crazed expression complete with big toothy smile.

“My lady,” he greeted. “And how are you faring on this beautiful night?”

Cantia was in no mood for his jovial attitude. “Cold,” she said flatly. “It is cold and dark in here.”

He looked around as if just noticing the darkness. “So it is,” he said, finding more interest in her bags over by the wall. “Do you not have something warm to wear?”

Cantia watched him set the lamp down and pull open a satchel. “We need a fire,” she said. “The children need warmth that cannot be provided by clothing.”

Gillywiss was back to digging around in her bags, pulling forth the garments he had so carefully replaced earlier in the day.

As Cantia watched, the man began pulling them on again, inspecting the fine fabric, running his fingers over the delicate stitching.

It was the second time that day he had come to put on her clothes and rifle through her belongings, and Cantia was quite curious about his behavior.

In moments like this, she could almost believe he was non-violent and rather sympathetic.

In fact, she thought she might try to take advantage of his fascination for her wardrobe.

“My lord,” she said softly, “if you like the coats so much, I would happily exchange them for our freedom. ”

Gillywiss looked up from the orange-colored surcoat he was presently inspecting. His dark eyes were curious on her, perhaps even interested, but before he could reply, Arabel spoke.

“My lord,” she said in her sweet, child-like voice.

“I am the Lady Arabel du Reims. My father is Viscount Winterton. As Lady Cantia said, he will reward you greatly for delivering us to him, but I would like to offer you all that I have so that you may let us go. I… I have fifty gold crowns, some jewelry, a white goat and a black and white pony that I would give you if you will only let us go home. I promise I will have these things brought to you if you will… please, I just want to go home.”

The last words were spoken in tears. Cantia went to the girl to comfort her, pulling her up into her arms and rocking her gently. Arabel was so tiny that it was like holding Hunt on her lap, and Cantia soothed the girl softly.

Gillywiss was watching the exchange carefully.

He wasn’t very adept at hiding his feelings so he looked away, back to the satchel, and began to pull out more belongings.

He could hear Arabel weeping and Cantia’s soft words, and it fed both his guilt and his irritation.

As his rummaging began to grow more agitated in motion, he began to realize there was someone beside him.

He turned to see Hunt’s big blue eyes gazing up at him.

“Do you have a boy?” the child asked.

Gillywiss seemed reluctant to answer but he did. “Nay,” he replied. “No boy. Just girls.”

“A wife?”

“She is dead.”

He turned his attention back to the bag and Hunt joined him.

The little boy reached into his mother’s bag and pulled forth a beaded belt, handing it to Gillywiss.

The man slowed his digging, meeting Hunt’s gaze with some reluctance.

It was clear that he was having some difficulty ignoring what was going on around him.

Arabel’s weeping was pathetic and sorrowful, and Gillywiss was feeling it .

“I am not a bad man,” he finally said, looking over at Arabel and Cantia. “There are those in this village who would slit a man’s throat as easily as speak to him, but I am not one of them. You have nothing to fear from me.”

“Please take my offer,” Arabel sobbed. “I want to go home. I want to see my father.”

Gillywiss looked at the frail young girl, his sense of remorse growing. He wasn’t any good at fighting off his feelings, torn between knowing he shouldn’t care yet inherently caring. A sick child’s tears were not to be ignored.

“You would do this?” he finally asked her, some disbelief in his tone. “You would give me everything you own just to go home?”

Arabel nodded vigorously. “Aye, I would. Will you not accept, sir?”

Gillywiss pondered her words before letting his gaze move to Cantia and then to Hunt.

He knew about the nobility of this country.

He knew they were all arrogant and greedy, men and women included.

They sucked the peasants dry and still hungered for more.

He’d spent his entire life knowing these facts, yet when he looked at Cantia and the children, he did not sense greed or arrogance.

In fact, he sensed a good deal of compassion, of intelligence, and of kindness, especially from Cantia.

She was a strikingly beautiful woman, to be sure, and he knew he could sell her to the highest bidder for a great deal of money.

But the truth was that he had no desire to sell her.

She intrigued him greatly. The whole family did, and he wasn’t exactly sure why.

“Tell me something,” he sat back on his bum, Cantia’s fine things still on his head or in his hand. “You have a desire only to see your father?”

Arabel nodded firmly. “Aye, sir.”

“Why not your mother? I do not understand the relation of this woman to you. She says she is the viscount’s wife, yet she is not your mother?”

He was pointing at Cantia, who looked at Arabel as she thought of an explanation.

“Arabel’s mother abandoned her when she was a baby,” Cantia said softly, hoping that if she divulged personal details, the man might feel more of a connection to them and, therefore, more sympathy in his decision to let them go. “She knows no mother.”

Gillywiss lifted an eyebrow. “But you are the viscount’s wife?”

Cantia hesitated a moment before shaking her head. “Not in the eyes of the church,” she whispered. “But we are married in our hearts. That will never change.”

Arabel hadn’t heard of the true relationship between her father and Lady Cantia when she had been at Rochester, but in truth she wasn’t surprised.

She had seen the way her father looked at Lady Cantia and, if she thought on it, she wasn’t all that upset about it.

She liked Lady Cantia and she wanted her father to be happy.

He was, in fact, a very lonely man, and Lady Cantia was very kind.

More than that, she understood why her father could not marry Cantia.

She was young, but she wasn’t ignorant in the least. Like her father, she was exceptionally bright.

“My mother left me when I was born,” she said.

“Although my father told me that she had to go away, I know it was because she did not love me. I was born sick and I must have chased her away and made her ashamed. My father cannot marry again because he is still married to my mother even though she ran away from us.”

Gillywiss was listening seriously to a rather tragic, and very personal, story. His dark gaze found Cantia. “Is this true?”

Cantia couldn’t look at him. These were thoughts and situations that she had only discussed with Tevin. Now a stranger was hearing them and she was uncomfortable.