Chapter Eight #3
Bronwyn knew at that moment which she would prefer. Her breath hitched, and she felt her blood start to pulse in her veins. His hands on her arms sent warm tingles down her spine.
“Have you any idea how dangerous that was? Coming here alone with a message from the empress? Extremely, in case you’re wondering.” His dark eyes bore into hers, the black irises widening.
“I’m not alone. I ran into Rupert and he escorted me here.”
That was the worst thing she could have said. At the mention of Rupert’s name, Theobold’s hands dropped. “Of course he did. How lucky you ran into the traitor on your way here. No doubt he was watching you.”
She looked up at him. “Why are you so suspicious?”
“’Cause he’s a traitor, that’s why. The moment we were under attack, he broke ranks and ran.
You remember Sir Ranulf, the knight of Maud’s he was told to serve?
He’s royally angry with Rupert for leaving his service.
Luckily for Rupert, the knight is fighting right now; otherwise, there’d be hell to pay. ”
She frowned at him. “Rupert’s my friend.”
“You choose strange company to be friends with. You may want to rethink your loyalties.” Theobold glared at her and cursed. “I’m glad to see you alive and well. I…” He ran a hand through his dark curls. “I don’t want to talk about him. I’d rather—”
“Theobold,” a voice called.
“I’d better go.” He met her eyes. “Promise me you’ll be careful in getting back?”
She nodded. “I will.”
“I assume Rupert’s going to see you back there.”
“I reckon so.”
The voice called for Theobold again.
“Very well. I don’t like it, though.” He leaned down and kissed her slowly, on the lips.
The moment Theobold’s lips met hers, her eyes closed, and a warm thrill fluttered through her.
He cupped her chin in his hands, and she dropped her basket, letting it fall to the ground, forgotten.
She kissed him back, liking the subtle roughness of his lips against hers.
She felt the press of his body, all rough-hewn hard muscle but warm, as she was pinned against the stone wall.
Her hands tangled in his dark curls as he pulled her against him, trailing soft kisses down her neck.
They tickled. She gasped, and her eyes opened.
“Theobold,” she hissed, trying to ignore the touch of his lips and facial hair on his chin against her neck.
“I’m sorry.” He released her. “I should never have pushed you into that. It was wrong of me.” He looked away.
“No, it’s not that. I mean that’s true, but I… We’re not alone,” she whispered.
He whirled around, covering her with his body.
Protecting her, she realized.
It was a page. “Sir Robert wants you, Theobold. Right now.” The page nodded and left.
Theobold cursed and turned back to her, his eyes black. Then a slow smile crept up his face.
She knew it well, for it matched her own. He’d kissed her, and she’d liked it. She felt her cheeks; they were warm.
He laughed, and she blushed. Theobold winked at her, and she looked away, earning another laugh from him. He took her hand. “I’ll see you to the entrance. For your protection.”
She knelt to pick up her basket, but he was faster and picked it up for her. Holding it in his left hand, he entwined her left arm in his right, as if he were escorting a grand lady through the corridors. She smiled at the thought.
All too soon, they were at the entrance to the grounds. He returned the basket to her. “Will you be all right getting back? Even with him nearby, I…”
“Worried about me?” she teased.
The smile left his face. He gave a quick nod. “I would go with you if I could.” He looked at his shoes. “People know me as Sir Robert’s squire. If I were captured, they would torture me for information or ransom me. I’m not worth paying a ransom for, so I need to stay by his side.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“Be careful, Bronwyn.” He raised her left hand to his lips. “I mean it.”
She exited the grounds, where Rupert met her a short distance away. He stepped out of the shadows and said, “You’re acting different. What happened?”
“Nothing.” She blushed, thinking of Theobold’s kiss.
Rupert snorted. “Uh-huh. Sure. Then why are you walking with a twist to your hips and why are your cheeks so pink? You look like you’ve been…”
“I’m fine. I met Theobold.”
“’Course you did.” Rupert’s expression darkened. “As long as he didn’t force you into doing anything.”
“No. Nothing like that.”
He saw her blushing smile and laughed.
Once they were at a safe distance and were back at the castle, Rupert bid her good evening. “Tell Alice I said hello.”
Bronwyn nodded and waited for him to disappear into the shadows before she took the precaution to make a circle around the castle first, then dart up the hill, using the secret passage through the brewery to get back inside.
She hurried as quick as she could to the throne room and begged an audience with the empress, on a matter of urgency. The guards frowned. “What’s a maid like you want with the empress?”
“Please. She sent me to deliver a message.”
“A maid? Don’t you know there’s a war on? Likely story. Look, not just anyone can see the empress, all right? Now get back to where you belong or I’ll take my boot to yer backside.” The guard looked interested in this possibility.
“Leave it, Edwin, I’ve seen her around before. Works in the kitchens.” To Bronwyn, he said, “Wait here,” and disappeared inside the room.
A minute or so later, he came out again and opened the door. “You’re to go in. But keep it short.”
The other guard, Edwin, was wide-eyed. “Her? What’s the empress want her for?”
“Maybe she wants to place an order for food. I don’t know, and I didn’t ask. Go on in, girl.”
Bronwyn took a deep breath and walked in, feeling her palms sweat as the guards shut the doors behind her with a loud thud. She rubbed her palms on her skirts to dry them.
She strode to the front of the room, where the empress sat on her wooden throne, with guards and Sir Miles by her side. At the sight of Bronwyn, he stared. “You’re alive.”
Bronwyn curtsied.
“Rise. I am glad to see you, Mistress Blakenhale. Tell me how you made it out there. You did not get accosted or give away all our secrets?”
“No, Your Grace. I delivered the message, as you bid me.”
“And?”
“Sir Robert said they will follow your plan.”
“No other message?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Very good. You may go.” The empress waved her away.
As she curtsied and backed away, Bronwyn heard her say, “Well, wonders never cease. She made it back. I wonder how she did it.”
Sir Miles said, “No doubt the soldiers didn’t bother with killing a maidservant. She’s too unimportant to be of use. They’re only interested in warriors.” A moment later, he said, “We’ll have to use her again.”
Once she’d returned to the kitchen, Bronwyn helped clean up the pots and pans, then scrubbed the cooking cauldrons from dinner.
She needed busy work to help her mind consider what was happening.
Who would want to kill Tristan, and why?
He was the squire to Sir Miles, an earl, and one of the empress’s trusted military commanders.
Was his death a message to his master? Was there a spy or an enemy in the empress’s court?
Or was the answer closer to home, in a way?
As she scrubbed the inside of a pot with water and a scouring brush, she thought about how Tristan had said he’d figured who was behind the little accidents.
Maybe he’d gotten too close, and whomever he’d suspected had overheard their conversation about how Tristan had needed to reveal all at dinner that evening and so the real culprit had killed him before he could escape.
Maybe they had paid him off to leave. Or perhaps they had met to discuss something with him, and he’d fled out of fear, when they’d found him in the stables and killed him, making his death look like an accident.
She thought back to the scene of his death. There was no apparent murder weapon. So how had he gotten so much blood on him? It just didn’t make sense.
She found a spot on the floor in the great hall near the other servants that night and slept. The floor was cold, but now being September, the summer heat was fleeting, and she was glad to be inside. There was a fire in the hearth, and it crackled. Its embers were warm and inviting.
A hand woke her up in the dead of night. Lady Alice stared down at her. “Bronwyn,” she said, her eyes wide. “It’s the empress. She’s gone.”