Knave's Honour. Margaret Moore

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ her with cool deliberation. “Would you hold a peasant to a higher standard than the nobles of the court? Even the courtiers who are wed take their pleasure wherever they can get it.”

      She had heard that from Adelaide, too. Nevertheless, she had no intention of commenting on the morality of the court, or thinking about his conquests, so she returned to the original subject of their discussion. “And while you were with this woman, your brother was captured by Wimarc’s men.”

      “Aye,” Finn said grimly, “and by the time I heard what was afoot, three of them had him pinned, and when I went to help him, Garreth stopped me.”

      Remembering that she’d assured Garreth she wouldn’t reveal what he’d told her about that, Lizette didn’t let on she already knew how.

      Finn gave her a wry little self-deprecating smile. “He shot me in the foot. Well, my boot. He thought he was doing the right thing, so I don’t fault the lad. I blame myself for Ryder’s capture. I should have taken better care, but I did not. Fortunately, Garreth did more harm to my boot than he did to me.”

      She could see and hear his remorse and guilt for not saving Ryder. But whose fault had it really been? His, for being with a woman, or his brother’s, for starting the fight?

      She, who’d dawdled and left her cortege open to attack, knew—and it was not the older brother’s. “Garreth probably thought you’d have been imprisoned, too, and then where would you be? Now at least you can try to rescue your brother—although that won’t be easy if Wimarc’s men are like the ones who attacked my cortege. How do you plan to do it?”

      “If I had a plan, I’d be acting on it already.”

      “You impersonate a nobleman very well. Could you not use that to your advantage?”

      “Aye, if getting into Wimarc’s castle was all I needed to do. Unfortunately, it’s finding Ryder and getting out again without being caught that’s the trouble.”

      Garreth burst out of the trees as if he’d been flushed like the pheasant he carried by its feet. “Somebody’s coming!” he panted. “Just round the bend. Men and horses, and I heard a woman, too.”

      Finn stiffened as if he’d seen Medusa. “Into the trees,” he ordered.

      Garreth obeyed at once, while Keldra jumped to her feet, panic in her face. She was about to follow Garreth, until Lizette ordered her to wait.

      “I don’t want us to get separated,” Lizette lied when she saw Finn’s brows contract in consternation.

      Paying him no more heed, she hurried to her maid.

      “What are you up to, my lady?” he demanded.

      Since he’d guessed she wasn’t simply going to Keldra to ensure they stayed together, she decided to be honest, or at least partly, and if he were truly taking them to the convent as he claimed, he should agree with her plan.

      “If there are women in the group approaching, it must not be Wimarc’s mercenaries,” she said, meeting his querying gaze steadily. “These must be other people—farmers, perhaps, or merchants, or maybe even nobles. I’ll ask them for assistance, and surely they’ll give it when they find out I’m a noblewoman.”

      Then she wouldn’t have to worry about trusting an Irish outlaw, or be troubled by her attraction for him, which was risky and unwise, no matter how handsome he was.

      Surprise, and something that looked rather like dismay flashed in Finn’s eyes, although it was quickly quelled. “You don’t know who these people might be. I can tell you, my lady, that there are bands of outlaws who have women among them. There’s no guarantee the people approaching will be any more likely to treat you honorably than Wimarc’s men.”

      “I’m grateful for your assistance, but Keldra is exhausted, and so am I. We can’t keep going at such a pace, and it’s just as likely these people will help us as the nuns at the convent—which you’ve never named,” she noted.

      “St. Mary’s-in-the-Meadow,” he shot back. “And I didn’t risk my life to have you put yourself—and your maidservant—in danger again.”

      She’d obviously wounded his pride as surely as if he were a knight of the realm and she had called him dishonorable, but that could not be helped. “I don’t think that’s likely, so unless you want to be seen, you should hide.”

      “Oh, now you will protect me? How generous, my lady,” he replied, making a mocking imitation of his formerly elegant bow.

      “Will you linger to disparage me and get caught?” she demanded, more worried about his safety than upset by his sarcasm. “It would be poor recompense for you if I let that happen.”

      She would never see him again; what harm to say more if it encouraged him to leave? “Indeed, I would regret it very much if you were to suffer because you helped me.”

      He didn’t reply. He simply continued to look at her with those intense brown eyes of his.

      “What will happen to your brother if you’re taken?” she demanded at last, determined to have her way in this and prevent his possible capture.

      Finally she had said something that would make him go, and he turned on his heel.

      She was relieved. She had to be.

      “Godspeed!” she called out as he strode into the woods with Garreth quickly following. “And thank you.”

      Finn didn’t even look back.

       CHAPTER SIX

      LIZETTE WAITED by the side of the road with a trembling Keldra and tried to convince herself she was doing the right thing.

      After all, could she really be sure that Finn and Garreth were helping them? He could be taking her to Wimarc, or some other place where he could hold her for ransom, since he knew who she was and to whom she was related. She was surely right to get away from him as soon as she could.

      Brushing her tousled hair back from her face, she realized she must look more like a peasant than a noblewoman with her disheveled, matted hair and dirty face. Hopefully her accent and demeanor would mark her for the noblewoman she was. Nevertheless, she smoothed down her mud-stained skirts and pulled her cloak more tightly about her over her soiled gown.

      Two soldiers rounded the corner—proper soldiers, not mercenaries in motley armor probably stolen. Their helmets gleamed in the morning light, no spots of rust marred their mail, and they wore matching woolen surcoats of scarlet and green. There was something vaguely familiar about those surcoats and the arms upon them, and the banners flapping from the pikes they carried.

      Before she could remember to whom those soldiers belonged, a knight in gleaming chain mail seated on a marvelous destrier, with a woman dressed in a cloak of green-and-gold damask trimmed with fox fur, rode around the bend. The man had pushed back his coif and wore no helmet, so his fair hair, smoothed and cut in the bowl shape the Normans favored, shone in the sunlight.

      She knew that hair, and she knew that face, and now she remembered whose standard it was: Lord Gilbert of Fairbourne, who had once visited Averette in the hopes of winning Adelaide’s СКАЧАТЬ