Chapter 20
It took them less than an hour to find their way out of Salliswoods. Lily sent a withering look at those groping trees. She’d spent all night and more trying to escape. In all that time, she’d been less than an hour from the camp she’d run from.
Mortified, she sagged with weariness. Pride forced her to hide it. As they rode into camp, the eyes of all the knights and men-at-arms were upon her, making their resentment obvious. She heard the muttering undertone but thankfully could not catch what was being said.
With an effort, she sat up straight and smoothed back her hair.
Having long ago escaped its confines, the chestnut mass tumbled hopelessly down her back.
Her torn hood hung about her shoulders, and her skirts and cape were stained and grubby.
She clasped the tattered garment tight about herself because there were unsightly bruises on her legs where the ruffian had caught her.
Fortunately, there were none on her arms. All the same, she resembled a lowly waif rather than a lady worthy of their liege, and she knew it.
The earl dismounted in the center of the camp in front of his pavilion.
All around them, men-at-arms were busy striking camp, but Edward’s tent had not yet been touched.
It would be the last one dismantled. In his household, no matter the location, nothing was done that inconvenienced him, whether on the move or in residence.
Mathew and Dunstan stood on either side of the tent flap, looking none too happy, as Lily was dragged down from the sorrel and propelled toward the entrance.
“Where are we going…? Where is my aunt?” she asked in an urgent whisper, realizing Edward’s intent. Embarrassed enough, she did not need further humiliation. “Y-you can’t take me in there, my lord, please, ‘tis unseemly,” she pleaded, pulling her arms from his grip.
“Why?” he yelled, for all to hear. He let go of her arm, his hands on his hips. “You did not give a damn when you deserted her,” he accused. “And why was that? Eager for a frolic in the woods, were you?”
“Frolic?” she managed to breathe. Lily had a vision of the leering, ugly faces of her attackers and the horror of their lurid intent. She floundered as her spirit sagged even lower.
He glanced briefly at her; the ice in his stare demolished any protest she could make.
She felt tears hover behind her burning lids and prayed very hard that she could stop them from falling.
That would be the final disgrace, and she did not think she could bear it.
Swallowing, she tried to find the words to convince the implacable tyrant who ruled her fate, but her weary mind could not come up with anything clever enough to change his mind.
Her chin dropped to her chest. She heard his satisfied grunt.
Having cowed her successfully, he turned on the knights standing before him. They, too, were going to get the brunt of his temper, so it seemed. Lily almost felt as sorry for them as she did for herself.
“Well, sirs, let us have an accounting. I want to know how it came to be that this… this untried female managed to outfox an entire encampment and get away with it. And by the by, without too much effort, she also managed to purloin my horse.”
Mathew’s handsome face, beset with embarrassment, looked everywhere but at the earl, and even Dunstan’s amiable expression crumpled in shame.
Nor was the censure concentrated on them alone, for the earl swept the entire field of men with his scalding contempt.
With the result that fifty stalwart, battle-tested warriors stopped whatever they were busy with, and found reason to stare at the ground.
They too could not look their liege lord in the eye.
“Explain,” the earl bellowed. “Come along, do not be shy. I want an explanation. Mathew, I volunteer you as spokesman,” he bit out.
Mathew hemmed and hawed. “We uh, we’re unsure how she contrived it, my lord. Some of the men mutter about those who walk unseen.”
“’Tis the likenesses…” stammered Dunstan. “It has them ups—”
“Hellfire!” Edward’s bellow cut him off. “Never speak such rot in my presence again. Her escapade was due to your incompetence. All of you. Understood?”
Dunstan stared straight ahead. His pale demeanor spoke to his unhappiness. “You asked, my lord, and I am merely reporting. I do not believe ill of your lady, but perhaps she can be prevailed upon…” he let the rest of his thoughts dangle.
Lily knew what they were asking of her. She sighed.
People were suspicious of such activities as painting likenesses.
Women, for the most part, never did such things; few men did.
Court painters, and such. Sometimes, kings looking for suitable foreign wives had portraits done, but the practice was strange and openly frowned upon in certain quarters.
Lily looked at the men crowded in a circle about their liege lord.
What difference would it make? Her confession wouldn’t change their minds about her.
To a man, they were angry because they had been blamed for her audaciousness.
She had to admit it was not strictly fair to be blamed for another’s behavior.
This was especially true when that behavior wasn’t properly understood.
“What Sir Dunstan wants me to tell you, my lord, is that I played an old jester’s trick on my guard,” said Lily. “I persuaded him to look only in one place, so I could escape unseen in another. I believe it’s called distraction.”
Every man there knew about distraction, for they used it in warfare. One presumptive king even used the banner of the Pope to ally himself with divine approval to the great distraction and ultimate defeat of his enemies in 1066.
A rumble went through the ranks of men, accompanied by a whole lot of nodding. Put in those terms, they considered the lady’s distraction in a more wholesome light and not as witchcraft. It was, after all, a legitimate technique in conflict.
“As for the horses, “ Lily continued, “Windfar chose me, not I him, so even his one guard wasn’t to blame.”
Her statement enraged Edward. “Do you never stop your lying?” he bellowed. “There’s never just one guard.”
“I do not lie,” she said. “Not to you.”
Edward was about to bring out the example of her promise not to hide in her bedchamber, but he stopped himself. She might not always tell the whole truth, but neither had he. She had told him outright she did not want to wed with him.
Indeed, she had taunted him about withholding her heart from him. The very thought of that conversation still made him boil with impotent fury.
“Diggens,” he shouted, “tell the lady how many guards are required for my horses alone.”
Diggens made a strangled sound. Edward’s gaze leapt at him. “Diggens-”
“’Tis not his fault, my lord,” said Lily hurriedly, trying to shield the squire by holding out her billowing cape so he could hide.
“The horse guards were also distracted. ‘Tis not Diggens’s fault. He did not know of it. My er… my distraction was chosen to… er… distract. The nymph… well, the plan worked.”
Edward stared at her as if she had materialized out of a witch’s pot.
“Remind me to consult with you next time I am faced with a siege,” he said in what could have been sarcasm or grudging approval.
He turned back to his men, a black frown across his brow. “You would do well to reconsider your conduct, and in light of your failures, each of you will do double duty until further notice.
“You will also improve your safety tactics. Anticipate that you are dealing with a devious, willful, and possibly lawless mind and sharpen up. The lady is mischief, and if you are inclined to grumble,” he added with a caustic look in his affianced wife’s direction, “you will know where the blame lies.”
A camp full of masculine eyes descended on Lily, their expression decidedly cool. Apparently, the amnesty recently afforded her vanished beneath the pall of double duty. Only Diggens did not look upon her as the enemy.
Her brothers had warned her long ago not to play fancy with masculine pride, for it was and remained a delicate thing.
At that moment, all she could think about was her aching head and the heaviness of her exhausted body.
She hungered for sleep, for sweet oblivion.
She wouldn’t be able to remain on her feet for much longer.
Too nauseated to be hungry, she felt hollow inside.
That, added to her encounter with the ruffians, made her feel suddenly faint.
She became aware that the earl was issuing orders for the men to finish striking camp and depart. Dunstan and Mathew received additional instruction delivered with the same bluster and spark of a bonfire in November.
Lily was having difficulty grasping the earl’s complaints. Black spots twirled before her eyes. She put out a hand, feeling for Diggens, desperate to prevent making a spectacle of herself.
Thankfully, the boy realized something was amiss and sprang forward to catch her as she toppled.
But it was Edward’s arms that snatched her away. “I’ll take her, my lad,” he growled at his squire.
Iron bands fastened about her, and in that moment, Lily’s day of torment fell away.