Chapter Twelve
Bundled in layers of wool and covered with a heavy oiled tarp, Arissa sat beside one of Richmond’s soldiers on the bench of a wagon.
Weeping softly, she hardly noticed Richmond and Gavan move their company of weary men through the battered front gates of Lambourn.
Around her, the destroyed bailey was eerie and silent in the midst of the driving rain, but she ignored that as well. She could only focus on her grief.
Not an hour before she had been whisked from her cozy bed by Richmond.
With barely a word, he commanded her to dress as warmly as possible while he and Gavan packed everything they could fit into a single large trunk.
When she demanded to know what was amiss, her inquiry had been met with silence.
And when Regine and Emma had come to the door to see how she was faring after her harrowing day, Richmond had barked them away so severely that Regine had burst into tears.
Arissa could still hear her sister crying through the closed door.
It did not take an over amount of intelligence to realize they were leaving.
But she hadn’t been permitted to say farewell to anyone and Richmond had carried her, puzzled and bewildered, from the warmth of her bower into the mess that had once been the bailey of Lambourn.
As her bafflement wore thin, the tears of fright and disorientation came and she struggled with them even now as Richmond mounted his weary charger and ordered the wagon forward.
He reined his mount next to her as the rig exited the open gates, partially burned from the siege.
Her pale green eyes fell on the thrashed panels of wood, turning to gaze at her cherished home as the wagon made way into the night.
The tears fell harder and faster as she returned her gaze forward, mystified and sorrowful.
They were leaving, never to return. Even though he’d not said a word, she knew in her heart that she was seeing her last of her beloved Lambourn.
They were barely clear of the gates when Richmond reached out to touch her hand.
Startled, not to mention suddenly furious with him for his silence and cruelty, she yanked her arm away.
He did not say a word, nor did he look to her.
After a moment, he simply drove his charger forward into the midst of the column.
She watched him from behind her soaked handkerchief, her fury rapidly fading.
She resisted the urge to call out to him, to apologize for her flash of anger.
But, Sweet St. Jude, she did not understand any of what had happened.
Being swept from her warm bed and thrust out into the raining dead of night had left her rattled and bewildered.
Beyond her grief and disorientation was the deeply puzzling question as to where, exactly, was their intended destination.
She suspected that Richmond was terribly uncomfortable now that the Welsh rebels knew the whereabouts of Henry’s illegitimate daughter.
They would return for her as they promised, and Richmond had decided to move her immediately.
…. but move her where?
Another charger moved beside her, jolting her from her thoughts, and she found herself passing a long glance at Gavan.
His visor was raised, keeping the rain off his face, and he smiled when their eyes met.
But she was not ready to give into his kindness, either, and she lowered her red-swollen gaze.
Gavan’s smile faded as his eyes lingered on her shrouded head; spurring his steed forward, he charged through the rain and mud to reach Richmond.
“Talk to her, Richmond,” he said softly. “She’s bewildered and hurt, and you are making it worse with your silence.”
Richmond ignored him. “I have sent a messenger to London to inform Henry of what has happened,” he told him. “I have instructed him to wait for a reply. Until and unless we have a different directive, it is my intention to take Arissa directly to Whitby. She will be safe there.”
Gavan nodded at the business-like reply. Richmond was being cold as only Richmond was capable of doing, like a great block of ice. No emotion, no feelings. Gavan cleared his throat softly.
“Agreed,” he said, shifting back to his original statement. “But you must tell her something. She’s understandably frightened.”
Slowly, Richmond shook his head. “Do you think she will want to hear that the only father she’s ever known has sworn to kill her on sight?
How do you think she will feel when I tell her that William blames her for Bart’s injury?
” he sighed heavily, ignoring the dripping water on his face.
“I cannot bring myself to tell her those things. Any of it.”
“So you would allow her to cry herself ill while you refrain from explaining why she had to leave home?” Gavan closed his visor against the driving rain. “You are being cruel.”
Richmond’s head snapped to Gavan, his blue eyes blazing beneath his open visor. “I am sparing her feelings.”
“Not at all. You are hoping she will never question your reasons for abruptly leaving Lambourn, therefore, you will not voluntarily tell her the factors behind her departure,” his helmed head turned to his friend.
“That’s not like you, Richmond. You have always been exceedingly honest and forthright. ”
Richmond’s intense gaze lingered on his second a moment longer before turning away. After a heady pause, he let out a sharp sigh.
“You are right, of course. She’s to know, even if it is only a portion of the truth.”
Gavan eyed him for a moment. “’Tis understandable that you are afraid to tell her. You do not want to be the cause of her grief.”
“I loathe to be the cause of her grief.”
“But you do not seem to realize that you are causing her more grief with your silence.”
Richmond slanted the man an intolerant, nearly-mocking glance. “You are too damn wise for your own good, Hage. Get away from me; you have piqued my irritation because your wisdom exceeds mine.”
Gavan smiled. “’Tis time you come to realize my superiority.”
“Arrogant swine.” Richmond slammed his visor down, reining his charger towards the rear of the column where Arissa rode aboard the provisions wagon.
Arissa did not see him approach until mud suddenly splashed up from the road, pelting the heavy cloth across her lap. Directing his destrier next to the jostling wagon, he raised his visor, his weary face wet from the rain.
“I am sorry we had to leave in the middle of this storm,” he said quietly. “Are you comfortable?”
She did not say anything for a moment. Then, her angry, pale face glared at him from beneath her hood. “Why did we have to leave so suddenly? I did not even get to say farewell to anyone.”
His blue eyes were laced with fatigue, the shadowy stubble on his face speaking volumes of a man who hadn’t seen a moment’s rest since before dawn. He held her gaze for a lengthy pause.
“Because you are still my charge, Lady Arissa, and I deemed it necessary to leave Lambourn immediately to preserve your safety and possibly your life,” he sounded snappish.
“In case you haven’t realized it, Lambourn is a battle zone and certainly no place for you.
Furthermore, your natural father’s enemies have discovered your whereabouts and the sooner you leave, the better. Do you comprehend me?”
Her fury faded and she lowered her gaze, ashamed with her behavior. As always, he was only thinking of her best interests and she should not have become angry with him for doing what he must.
She wiped at her nose daintily. “But why couldn’t I even say good-bye?”
His compassion for her plight deepened, torn so brutally from her friends and family. His voice softened. “Because we could not spare the time. I am sorry, kitten. I truly am.”
She sniffled softly, wiping at her nose again. “I…. I am going to miss them terribly. I did not even have the chance to tell Penelope how sorry I was for her father’s death.”
He reached out to touch her hand; this time, she did not pull away and wound her fingers tightly around his massive gauntlet. “She knows how sorry you are, kitten. Do not fret so.”
They rode in silence for a few moments. The rain had lessened in intensity, although it was still quite wet.
But there was a peace to the rain, a soothing quality that comforted and consoled weary soldiers and lady alike.
Arissa listened to the rain, holding Richmond’s hand and feeling a measureable degree of tranquility.
But the calming sounds did nothing to ease the apprehension for her future.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked quietly.
His grip tightened around her fingers. “Whitby.”
Whitby. A month ahead of schedule. She had been looking forward to spending the next thirty-one days with Richmond, exploring and discovering, creating memories to lock deep into her heart that she could draw upon when she was forced into the lonely isolation of the abbey.
She had been counting on those recollections to preserve her sanity.
But Richmond had decided to alter that schedule. She did not want to go to Whitby; not now, not ever. The tears that had so recently fled were back with a vengeance, and she sobbed softly into her handkerchief.
Richmond squeezed her hand tightly. “Do not cry, kitten. You shall be perfectly safe there while I attend to necessary duties. I will not be long, I promise. Just long enough to plead for your hand.”
Her sobbing grew louder, more hysterical. “But…. I do-on’t want to go. I-I shall be away from you for C-Christmas, Richmond. Do not take me t-there, not now!”
He tugged on her hand, hard enough to cause her to lurch to her feet. Before she realized it, he was grasping her about the waist and placing her in front of him in the saddle. Adjusting the oiled cloth to keep her dry, he spurred his charger forward.