Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,6

shortcomings would prove the end of King Sweyn’s quest to claim England for himself.

“Much trouble that woman,” Zedekiah murmured, shifting on his mount alongside Vitalis. Receiving no response, he made his gaze felt.

Wondering what the man saw that caused him to linger over the one he named his lord, Vitalis took inventory of his face. Assured his expression was temperate and no ill shone upon it now he had recovered from the flux, he said, “She is much trouble, but for Lady Hawisa and her husband, I shall bear this burden.”

Zedekiah returned his regard to the Danes surrounding the horse that carried Bjorn and Nicola, the latter stiff with anger as the earl conversed with his son. “Lady Hawisa’s sister-in-law may be fine of face and figure,” he murmured, “but she is a termagant.”

That was what Vitalis had named her a fortnight past when curiosity bade her discover who was in the abbess’s apartment.

Having escorted to Lillefarne children separated from their families by Le Bâtard’s harrying, Vitalis had found himself trapped inside the walls when Sir Maël rode upon the abbey. But the chevalier had not come for the king’s enemy. He had delivered his cousin, Lady Nicola, who was to aid with the refugees fleeing Northern homes torn from their hands and hearts.

Following the departure of the king’s man, Vitalis would have rejoined Zedekiah in the wood, but the flux that continued to bedevil him during the struggle to stay ahead of his pursuers had finally dropped the warrior to his knees.

For three days Abbess Mary Sarah had secretly tended him, and on the day he was to depart, the curious Lady Nicola had sniffed him out. Though he could have stayed behind the locked door of the abbess’s private chamber, he had invited her inside.

The first reason for doing so was to give into her keeping the mantle piece for which her cousin pursued him. Vitalis had not believed its return would end Le Bâtard’s desire for vengeance, but as he could make no use of the trophy which, at best, would shame the devil firmly seated on the throne, at worst, see more Saxons punished for that shame, he had decided to send it back by way of the lady.

As for the other reason he let her in…

Two years ago, after she crossed the channel and took up residence on the demesne King William awarded one of her brothers, Vitalis had met her when he freed another of her brothers from the resistance’s camp. The chevalier he delivered to Stern Castle had been half dead from beatings dealt by the rebel who betrayed Lady Hawisa for her refusal to indiscriminately slay Normans overrunning her lands.

Believing Vitalis responsible for Sir Guarin’s beating, Nicola had rushed over the drawbridge, named him a Saxon pig, and threatened to kill him should her brother die. Had not men-at-arms snatched her back, she might have tried.

Hence, the second reason for admitting her—curiosity over what those years had wrought in she who had become a woman in full. And regrettable attraction.

It was only the silver in her hair, he had told himself when she stood before him in the abbess’s chamber, dagger drawn and the D’Argent in her green eyes challenging him to test her skill. But it went beyond that, there something very appealing in her spirit and confidence, and he knew what it was.

Lady Hawisa, whom long his heart had leaned toward, possessed the same in greater measure. And it was that Saxon lady, a dozen years older than Nicola, who had gifted her sister-in-law with training beyond what her brothers began in her.

The termagant, as Zedekiah named her this day, now the vixen, as Vitalis had amended that day, had agreed to deliver the cloth to Sir Maël, and a strange loss Vitalis had felt when she departed. And greater that loss when he learned that whatever she knew of warring had not been enough to keep her out of the hands of the Danes who came for the Abbess of Lillefarne.

There had been no opportunity to speak with Lady Nicola when he joined her abductors shortly thereafter, but regardless of how near she had stood to Bjorn, how many smiles she bestowed, how many flutters of the lashes made the young man puff his chest, Vitalis had been certain her promises were empty.

He had sensed her anger toward this Saxon rebel for siding with her abductors, and more impassioned that anger when he advised the prince to trade her