Falcon's Heart. Denise Lynn
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soon regret doing so. “In a few moments.”
“Now would be better.”
Marianne smiled to herself. Without moving, she lazily stirred the water with her fingertips. “Do you have a name?”
“I am called John—Sir John.”
She blinked. Never would she have picked him as the knight of the pair. “Sir John, I will be ready soon.”
A twig snapped beneath the feet of the older man as he moved closer, too. He cleared his throat before asking, “What is taking so long?”
Marianne shrugged. “I lost a bauble in the water.” Realizing her tone of voice needed a little more urgency to sound convincing, she swished the water again and quickly added, “It was given to me by my brother. I must find it.”
The older man sighed heavily. “Oh, for the love of—let us be gone from here.”
“It is very special to me.” She glanced between the two men and added, “I think he said it was an heirloom.”
“It will not hurt to help her.” Sir John’s tone was sharp. He knelt beside her and peered into the stream. “I see nothing.”
Marianne pointed to a spot just beyond her reach. “I think it is right there. See? Something is dangling between those two larger rocks.”
The instant Sir John reached out, she pretended to lose her balance and bumped into him, knocking the man into the ice-cold stream.
She jumped up in a rush. “Oh, forgive me. I am sorry.” Marianne looked to the older guard. The scowl on his face deepened. But he moved forward to help his partner out of the water.
When he leaned forward to grasp John’s outstretched hand, Marianne placed the bottom of her booted foot against his arse and put all of her weight into the shove.
She stooped to grasp a large rock and hid it in the folds of her gown. Without waiting for the unsuspecting guards to come after her, she took off for the camp at a run.
After Marianne and his men left the camp, Bryce took a seat on a fallen log.
Jared joined him, asking, “Was it wise to send her off with only two men?”
Bryce shrugged. “If she tries anything foolish it will be two men against one tired woman.”
Instead of responding, Jared grunted. A noise that from the time they fostered at Redvers had made Bryce want to gnash his teeth together.
“I hope your hunt for me was not too strenuous.”
Jared admitted, “One of Redvers’s men pointed me toward Hampshire. Once there, it took nothing more than the promise of coin to discover the direction you took upon leaving there this morning. I simply followed the road until I found the men.”
“Then I assume you came here for some reason other than to grunt at me.”
“Curiosity drew me here. I wanted to see if you won the prize you sought.”
“And now that your curiosity has been satisfied, you will be departing on the morn?”
“Not alone. I’m to escort you and your…charge…to Baldwin.”
Bryce’s breath left him in a rush. The Earl of Devon, Baldwin de Redvers had taught him much. Even though Baldwin had had to give Carisbrooke over to Stephen, or lose his head, he still respected the man. But he also knew that when a notion struck Baldwin, there was no swaying him.
Bryce should have known the earl was up to something when he was sent the information on Marianne’s whereabouts. Because of Carisbrooke, Baldwin wanted revenge against King Stephen, or one of Stephen’s men. Taking possession of Faucon’s sister would serve the earl’s thirst for vengeance.
An event he should have foreseen. But he’d been too intent on righting his own thwarted plans to give the earl’s fortuitous help any thought. “I am to take refuge with the earl?”
“Nay. You, my friend, are to give custody of Faucon’s sister over to Redvers’ wife. And since I knew you would not be agreeable to that plan, I volunteered to bring you the news.”
“The earl will not take custody himself?”
“No. He has joined up with Gloucester and Anjou in Normandy.”
“And after I hand over Faucon’s sister?” Bryce assumed they would also join the battle for Anjou’s conquest of Normandy.
“We are to head toward Cambridge.” Jared attempted a halfhearted laugh before adding, “Just to see if we can convince the Earl of Essex not to destroy all of England.”
“And who issued those orders?”
“It was not precisely an order.” Jared shrugged. “It came as a request from the empress.”
Both men were intelligent enough to know a request from Empress Matilda was a rare, albeit nicely worded order. Bryce shuddered. “Has Mandeville run out of new methods of torture, or has he just run out of victims?”
“I am of the opinion he has only begun. True or not, I do know we will be unable to locate him.”
“Agreed.” The last thing Bryce wanted to do before he died was to get anywhere close to where Geoffrey de Mandeville might be. No one had ever called Bryce a coward, but Mandeville had become inhuman.
The man had lost all reason when King Stephen forced him to surrender the Tower of London along with two of his other castles. Since then, the earl had taken to burning, pillaging, raping and torturing not only those men who opposed him, but women and children. Not even men of God were safe from Mandeville’s wrath.
“I thought perhaps you would like to make use of my lair until you are able to rebuild your keep.”
Jared’s lair, as he called it since his dubbing of The Dragon, was a fortified stone keep on the Isle of Wight. It would be near Carisbrooke, but not close enough that any of Stephen’s men would happen upon them unseen. So far, as long as Jared did nothing to boldly provoke those currently holding Carisbrooke, he’d been left alone.
“Nay, thank you, but we are only a day’s ride from Ashforde. I would like to see how much progress has been completed on the building and I need to ensure there are supplies enough to last through the winter. Then I will escort Marianne to her brothers.”
“I understand, but Isabella and Beatrice were looking forward to enjoying your company.”
Bryce groaned. Jared’s sisters dabbled in herbal remedies. Their disagreeable-tasting concoctions were supposed to help them find husbands—providing their brews didn’t kill the men first. Thankfully, even though he had been on the receiving end of their potions more than once, he still breathed.
“So.” Jared stretched out his legs and nudged Bryce. “Tell me about your lady.”
Bryce wondered where to start. Marianne of Faucon was like no other woman he’d ever met. In the short span of time he’d been in her company, he’d come to realize that she could cause him more trouble than imaginable. And it would be trouble of the worst sort—the kind that would involve not only his heart and mind, but also his soul.
“Other than the fact she can use a blade, there isn’t much to tell.” Feeling Jared’s questioning stare, he grasped for an explanation at first. “She stabbed me, but ‘tis nothing more than a flesh wound.”
When his friend remained silent, Bryce continued, his thoughts easily flowing into words. “She’s too old to be unwed. But too young, too inexperienced to know much about men outside of her family.” He shrugged. “A instructional task that might prove interesting for the right man, if they could get by her brothers. Of course, then the greater problem would be Marianne herself.”
His friend stared at him with such an odd expression that prompted Bryce to add, “She