Leaves On The Wind. Carol Townend

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СКАЧАТЬ He’d have killed you! What did you really do?”

      Rannulf met her disbelieving gaze squarely. “As I said. I confronted Baron Hugo with what I thought was the evidence…”

      “You expect me to believe that you accused Baron Hugo of killing me, and lived to tell the tale?” Judith demanded incredulously.

      “Of course.” He gave her an impenetrable look. “We both saw him at your cottage. He seemed the most likely suspect. I wondered if perhaps he’d decided to eliminate the whole family. I had to find out.”

      “What did he do to you?”

      “Do? Why nothing. Except he managed to produce a witness to testify that he couldn’t have had anything to do with your death.” Rannulf raised his goblet to her. “As you see, I live to drink to your beautiful eyes.”

      His drinking vessel was fashioned from beaten copper. It glowed in the flickering light.

      Rannulf drank deep. His face changed, he lowered the cup and frowned into it.

      “Don’t you like the wine?” Judith asked.

      “The wine’s good enough.”

      “What’s the matter then? You look—”

      “Judith, who do you think I am?”

      She grimaced at his curt tone. “A Saxon poacher who, like many of his countrymen, has had to flee the country and take refuge abroad,” she answered confidently. “You’re a poacher from the Chase.”

      Rannulf swore under his breath. “And who am I fleeing from? The Normans?” he sounded bitter.

      “Aye. Who else?”

      “Who else indeed? Do you still nurse a hatred against all their race?” he enquired, staring intently at his sandals.

      “I do. I shall never forget that a Norman murdered my father. Never forgive it. And my mother died too.”

      Rannulf’s head came up.

      “The Baron did not actually use a sword on her—though he might as well have done. My mother was granted sanctuary by the Abbot. She did not see the month out. She had been ill, but it was the Baron who caused her death. She died of a broken heart.”

      “And you hate every Norman alive?”

      Judith nodded. “Devils every one,” she confirmed “They contaminate God’s earth. If I could call down a pestilence to eliminate them all, I would.

      “Baron Hugo oppresses our people. Justice is a thing of the past. You must know that, Rannulf. You must have seen what was going on before you left. De Mandeville disinherited the true heirs to the land, and ever since then he’s done whatever he pleases.” And recently, since Lady de Mandeville’s death, Judith thought, the Baron’s activities had made the Devil seem angelic.

      “I believe that the sole reason I’m here in this—” Judith choked “—in this…place, is because the Baron must have found out I knew about his squalid deals with the slavers. He knew I’d denounce him to the Abbot. Why, if someone cut out his black heart and fed it to the swine—I’d bless them for it!”

      “Judith—” Rannulf shoved his hand through his hair and gave her a despairing look.

      Judith stiffened. “My language offends you?”

      Rannulf shook his head. “Nay. But…Judith, you cannot blame all of his race.”

      Judith lifted her chin and maintained a stony silence.

      Rannulf sighed. “Is there no forgiveness to be found in your heart?”

      “Not for any Norman.”

      He smiled. “I do not believe you. I do not believe you could be so narrow.”

      Judith shrugged.

      “Take care, Judith, lest your heart turn to stone,” Rannulf warned. “It would seem I misread you, all those years ago. I thought you a gentle, delicate maid—”

      “I’ve changed,” Judith declared flatly. “I’ve had to. Living as I’ve had to would change anyone.”

      Rannulf’s green eyes caught hers.

      Judith felt her cheeks grown warm. It was as though he would see into her soul. She wriggled on her cushion, and tore her eyes away. “Rannulf…you must agree de Mandeville is worse than any plague? Do you not know what has been happening?”

      Rannulf ran his hand round the back of his neck. “I’ve been away too long. I left England for the crusade very soon after your f…after we last saw each other. I was led to believe that the Baron had reformed. I was told he was ruling with wisdom and justice. I wanted to believe those reports.”

      Judith snorted. “Wisdom! Justice! That man doesn’t know the meaning of the words! Don’t glower at me like that, Rannulf. Oh, I don’t want to talk about Baron Hugo,” she sighed. “I’ve had enough of coming to blows over him in the past. I’ll worry about him when I get back home—if I ever do.” Tears pricked behind her eyes. She averted her head, and sank her teeth into her bottom lip, but, even so, her eyes swam.

      For a few moments she had forgotten the reality of her situation. She was a prisoner in a House of Pleasure. Misery engulfed her. Would she ever see England again? A tear trailed down her cheek. She tried chewing her forefinger. A second tear followed the path of the first.

      Rannulf pulled her hand from her mouth. “You will return. I shall help you,” he promised, squeezing her hand.

      Her shaming tears forgotten, Judith stared at him, and tried not to cling too hard to his hand. “You…you can get me home?”

      Gentle fingertips brushed away her tears. Rannulf nodded. “Of course. Why do you think I am here?”

      Judith went scarlet.

      Rannulf’s eyes crinkled, but he chose not to tease her. “First, we’ll sneak you out of this place.” He raised a brow. “I take it you’ll accept my assistance?”

      “Accept? Oh, aye. I accept,” Judith blurted eagerly. “But how? It won’t be easy.”

      “You’re right. It won’t be easy. But, then, if something’s worth having, it’s worth fighting for, is it not?”

      There was a strange edge to his voice. She shot him a sharp glance under her lashes, but his expression was bland.

      “I tried to arrange your escape for tonight,” Rannulf informed her. “But it wasn’t possible in the short time I had. You’ll have to stay here another night.”

      Her heart dropped like a stone. “But that would mean me spending another whole day here. They might find me another…another…” She gulped and tried again. “What I mean is, I might have to…”

      Rannulf was at her side in a moment. Judith’s hand met his halfway. Long, brown fingers closed over hers. His eyes were very dark.

      “It СКАЧАТЬ