Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

"D on't look at me like that or I'll never make it outside."

Andia had just finished pulling on a sleeping shift because the room had grown cold for lack of stoking the fire. She had been watching Torran dress, smiling dreamily at him, and he'd just told her not to.

She ignored him.

"Can I not look at the man I have married?" she asked. "Can I not gaze upon his handsomeness and feel proud? You belong to me, Torran. Can I not marvel at my good fortune?"

He was standing over by the bed, securing his tunic. "Cease," he said without force. "You are going to swell my head."

"Good," she said, going to the dressing table near the hearth and picking up a horsehair brush belonging to Torran's mother. "I hope I do. I hope you understand how very fortunate I feel. I hope you know that your touch, as new as it is to me, feels as if I have always known it. As if it was meant to be."

He stopped fussing with the belt and looked at her. "That is a very flattering thing to say," he said. "I feel the same way, but you are better at putting it into words."

Andia smiled as she began to brush her long hair. "We will always feel this way."

"Are you certain?"

"Of course," she said. "We shall never grow weary of one another. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever."

He heard his words reflected in her sentiment and grinned, resuming with the belt. "I pray that is forever true, my dearest," he said softly. "For certain, I could have never imagined this day, considering the rough start we had."

Andia turned to look in the mirror as she brushed. "Odd how our paths of life come together," she said. "Be it fate or divine intervention, I do not care what it is. All I care about is the fact that our paths have come together. Now we walk the same road."

He smiled as he sat down on the bed to pull his boots on. "You are poetic," he said. "I like to think that God has brought us together. I've thought about this situation we find ourselves in and it came when we both needed it. You needed it because your dreams had been crushed by a careless father and a demanding brother. But me… I've spent much of my life trying to discover who, and what, I am. I've killed and I've sinned and I've wandered, but now I find myself in the very place I was looking for. As if you are the absolution for a life I've lived and the promise of what is to come."

She looked at him, mid-brush. "I am your absolution?"

He nodded. "It has several meanings," he said. "Forgiveness… release… freedom. You give me the freedom to be who I was meant to be, Andie."

A soft knock on the door caught their attention. "I think you are very poetic," Andia said, tilting her head in the direction of the door. "If we ignore the knocking, will they go away?"

He grinned. "Probably not."

"Shall I answer it?"

Torran nodded with resignation. "It will be Stefan, wondering what is keeping me."

Andia fought off a smirk as she made her way to the door. "Will you tell him?"

"Nay," Torran said firmly before she even finished her question. When he saw her giggle, he shook his head at her. "And you will not, either. What we do… That is for us and us alone."

She was snorting as she put her hand on the latch. "I will not say a word, I promise," she said. "I would never do such a thing."

He winked at her, going back to his other book, as she opened the door.

What occurred after that happened in a matter of seconds.

Someone reached out and grabbed her, yanking her out of the chamber. By the time Torran rushed to the door, he could see two men on the landing, one of them holding Andia against him with an already-bloodied dagger to her throat.

"What is your name, woman?" the man with a heavy French accent demanded. "Name!"

He was shouting in her ear, and Andia screamed in terror. "Andia!" she cried out.

"Let her go," Torran boomed, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "If you value your lives, you will let her go!"

But the man didn't let her go. He had his hand on her throat as he held her against him, that horrible dagger tip pointed right at her jaw. He was backing away to the stairs as his companion put himself between Andia and Torran.

"Stop where you are, big man," he said calmly. "She is coming with me."

Torran didn't say a word. He disappeared for about two seconds before reappearing in the doorway with Absolution in his hand. That enormous, wicked-looking broadsword caught the light, glinting malevolently.

"I told you to release her," Torran said, his voice steely. "Let her go now and I will not harm you. Fail to comply and I will make sure your death is as painful as possible."

The man between Torran and Andia shook his head. "My apologies, but you shall not keep your whore," he said. "How dare you take her as your whore? That is a finely bred woman you keep to your bed."

The man holding Andia took the first step on the stairs, but she failed to navigate it because she couldn't see where he was going. She ended up slipping and shrieking, terrified she was going to fall down the stairs. Enraged, Torran came out of the chamber as the man holding the dagger jabbed her in the jaw with it.

Blood began to stream.

"That was a warning, big man," the Frenchman said. "She comes with us."

Torran's instinct was to cut the man down in front of him and then deal with the Frenchman who held Andia, but he had no doubt that the man could sink that dagger into her neck faster than he could get to her.

It was a struggle to calm his rage and speak rationally.

"She is not my whore, but my wife," he said evenly. "You have no right to take my wife."

The man standing between him and the Frenchman looked puzzled. "Wife?" he repeated. "She… she is married?"

Over with the Frenchman, Andia burst into soft tears. She was terrified and the prick to her jaw bloody well hurt. "Please," she begged softly. "Please let me go."

The man between her and Torran looked at her. "Answer me," he barked. "You have married?"

Andia had no idea who the man was, asking such questions. "Aye," she said. "I am married. Please let me go!"

The man stared at her a moment before scratching his head in an oddly casual gesture. "This was not conveyed to me," he said. "Where is the boy?"

Andia looked at him in confusion. "What boy?"

"Your brother. Where is he?"

Now she was incredibly confused, and the tears started to fade. "My brother ?" she said. "Who are you? Why do you ask such questions?"

"Is Aeron here?"

Andia looked at Torran, who nodded his head faintly. Struggling to swallow her tears, she nodded as much as she could with a hand around her throat and a dagger pointed at her face.

"Aye," she said. "He is here. Who are you? What is this about?"

The man gazed at her a moment longer before motioning to the man who held her. "Take her downstairs," he said. "I do not like this confined space. It is dangerous for all of us. Go."

The man began to drag Andia down the stairs, and she panicked because she was afraid of falling. Torran followed, sword in hand, watching the man drag his wife down the stairs, holding her tightly, until they reached the entry level of the manse.

All the while, Torran was stalking them like a hunter. He was seriously wondering where in the hell Stefan was, and both answers were disturbing—either he had been disabled by these men or he hadn't heard them. Mayhap he was in a place where the sights or sounds of a break-in hadn't reached him. Torran wasn't sure how he could alert him without endangering Andia, which he wasn't willing to do.

Therefore, all he could do was stalk them.

Wait.

And pray.

"I would suggest you let her go," he said as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "She is of no value to you. Tell me what you want and I will ensure that you get it, but only if you release her."

Before the man could reply, the entry door slammed back on its hinges and Kent appeared. Before Torran could call him off, he charged the man holding Andia, who had enough time to turn around and present Andia as a human shield. It was enough of a distraction for both intruders that Torran could finally act. He had no choice. He came off the stairs, goring the man who had been standing between him and his wife. The man screamed, falling to the ground, as Torran leapt over him and attacked the man holding Andia from behind.

Unable to defend on two fronts with a woman held against him, the man shoved Andia to the ground, but not before his dagger cut her on her neck and shoulder. On the ground, she quickly crawled away from the fight just as Aeron came running through the door with one of those awful, rusty spears. One look at his bloodied sister and the boy went mad with rage.

"I'll kill you!" he shouted, aiming for the injured man on the ground. "You hurt my sister!"

The man on the ground was in a bad way. Torran had sliced his belly deeply and his innards were starting to spill out. He screamed, holding out a hand against Aeron, who used the man like a pincushion. He stabbed him at least four times before the sight of blood got to him and made him sick. The spear clattered to the floor and he ran to Andia, pulling her away from the battle as much as he was able.

But it was a short battle, indeed.

The Frenchman was very good, but not good enough against two of the Guard of Six. In four or five moves, Kent cut the man in the back of the knee, severing a major tendon and rendering him unable to walk, and Torran sliced his chest and belly wide open. Guts and blood gushed out over the floor. As the Frenchman pitched forward, onto his face, a man Andia didn't recognize appeared in the doorway, armed, and she screamed. Torran and Kent turned to the source of her terror and the swords went up. As they started to charge, the man in the doorway immediately dropped his weapon and put up his hands in surrender.

"Nay!" he said urgently. "I am an ally! Peter de Lohr is my commander!"

That brought Torran and Kent to an immediate, yet confused, halt. "De Lohr?" Torran repeated. "Explain yourself or I'll gut you where you stand."

The man looked at the two bleeding corpses on the ground before speaking. "My name is Cormac de Dere," he said as calmly as he could. "I am an Executioner Knight. I was assigned to this mission to prevent the assassination of the king."

Torran looked at him in shock for a moment. "You… You're what ?" he gasped. "An Executioner Knight?"

Cormac nodded steadily. "I am an ally, I swear it," he said. Then he pointed to the face-down body. "That is Gaubert Chambery. He is plotting to assassinate Henry, so I have been shadowing him."

Suddenly, everything Roi had told Torran came rushing back and he lowered his sword, his eyes wide in disbelief. "The agent," he said as the situation became clear. " You are the agent Cheltenham told us about, the one the Frenchman had solicited as an assassin."

"Exactly, my lord. That is me."

When he realized that they weren't about to engage in another battle, Torran's relief knew no bounds. But just as quickly, his attention turned in Andia's direction. She was covered in blood, from her jaw to her waist, and he rushed to her side, setting Absolution to the ground as he moved to help her.

"Christ," he muttered, his voice trembling. "Let me see what they've done to you."

Andia was pale, quivering, and still terrified as Torran pulled her hair back to get a look at the wound.

"Are you well?" she asked, running her hands over his left arm and chest. "You were not injured, were you?"

Torran looked at her, startled by her question, and tears filled his eyes. Here she was, bleeding all over herself, and she was only concerned about him. He honestly couldn't answer her, but he didn't have to. Kent and Cormac were suddenly beside him, and Cormac took hold of the sleeve of her sleeping shift and began to tear off pieces of it.

Kent took them.

"Let me see where she is wounded," Kent said because Torran had tears streaming down his face. He could see the bloody slice by her collarbone. "It does not look too serious, Torran. She's not going to die."

As Torran nearly fell apart attempting to comfort Andia, Kent put the pieces of material from her shift over the wound on her neck and collarbone, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Beside him, Cormac tore a few more pieces from the hem of her shift.

"There is a wounded knight outside," Cormac said. "He needs a physic."

Torran's features became washed with concern. "Stefan," he muttered, quickly wiping at his face. "I knew something had happened to him. He would have never let anyone enter had they not disabled him. Is it bad?"

Cormac stood up, torn pieces of hem in his hand. "Bad enough, but I think he'll live," he said. "If anything vital had been hit, he would have bled to death by now. The last I saw of him, some soldiers were helping him. I'll be back."

He started to move away, but Aeron stopped him.

"I want to help," he insisted. There wasn't much he could do for his sister, but Stefan was hurt and he wanted to help the knight who was both the bane of his young existence and someone he admired. "Should I get something for him? Wine?"

Cormac nodded. "That would be very helpful, little man," he said. "Go get some wine and bring it back here."

Aeron took off for the kitchens as Cormac slipped out into the darkness. The entry was suddenly still, with Torran struggling to regain his composure and Kent pressing the linen against Andia's collarbone.

"Go and help Stefan," Torran said hoarsely. "I'll take care of Andia, but you must send someone for the physic. There is one in London, on Candlewick Street, the same one who tended Andie when she was ill with fever."

Kent turned everything over to Torran as the man took a deep breath, steadied himself, and focused on his wife's care. Truthfully, he'd never seen Torran react like he had to Andia's injury. The Torran he knew was like a rock—immovable, unemotional in battle. Nothing disturbed him. But his breakdown when he saw that his wife was injured told Kent that, perhaps, Torran wasn't as against this marriage as he and Jareth had speculated.

Perhaps not against it at all.

He let his gaze linger on Torran for a moment, with perhaps a bit of a smile at the realization he might actually be happy about the marriage, before he rushed out into the darkness to help Stefan.

That left Torran alone with Andia.

"It doesn't look too bad," he reassured her softly. "The physic may need to stitch it, but you will heal completely."

Andia looked at her pale, shaken husband and lifted her right hand, putting it against his face. "I am not worried," she said. "I will be quite well by tomorrow, even. But you did not answer me."

"About what?"

"Are you well? You were not injured in the fight?"

He had been looking at her shoulder and neck. When she asked him that, he seemed to freeze. He was still staring at her shoulder when big, fat tears popped out of his eyes and onto Andia. Startled, she began to caress his face.

"What is it?" she begged softly. "Why do you weep?"

He blinked furiously. "I… I do not know," he said. "All I know is that you are bleeding and injured, yet you are only concerned with me. I've never had anyone concerned about me, not like that. Not someone who meant so much to me. Someone like you. I… I cannot explain it more than that."

Her thumb stroked his stubbled cheek. "Do you not wish for me to be concerned?"

He met her eye then. "I do," he whispered. "But it is the strangest thing. It makes me feel vulnerable, yet in the same breath, it makes me feel like the strongest man in the world."

She grinned at the bewildered man. "You had better decide how you feel about this because I am certain it will not be the last time I inquire as to your health," she said. "It is not a weakness to allow someone to care for you, Torran. I do care and I will always care. Today, tomorrow, and forever."

He smiled weakly. "That sounds like it is to be our battle cry."

"What?"

"Today, tomorrow, and forever."

"I think it aptly describes you and me. It is the most beautiful sentiment in the world."

He kissed her, so incredibly grateful that she was alive and would heal. He kissed her again, eyes closed, before taking a close look at her wound, which was clotting nicely. As he thought about moving her into the solar where there was a leather chair she could more comfortably sit in, Kent and Cormac appeared, carrying Stefan between them.

Stefan was conscious but pale. However, he took one look at Andia, with blood all over her, and he very nearly walked to her himself without assistance.

"What happened?" he demanded. "How badly hurt is she?"

"It is a serious cut, but she will heal," Torran said as they sat Stefan down next to Andia. "And you? How badly hurt are you?"

Stefan had to lie back on the floor. He was too weak to sit up. Aeron appeared with a pitcher of wine that was spilling over the sides as he walked. Emile came in behind him, eyes wide with the carnage, but he'd come to help Aeron with whatever was needed. Aeron handed the wine over to Kent before going back to the rusty spear he'd dropped. Picking it up, he went to Stefan and sat down beside him, prepared to protect the downed knight. Stefan might have thought it was rather sweet had he not felt so weak.

"I was caught off guard when they came through the gate," he said after a moment, looking over to the two bodies on the ground several feet away. "That man in the royal tunic stabbed me. He is dressed like the messenger who was just here delivering Cheltenham's missive, so I thought the messenger had returned. I had no sooner opened the gate than he thrust a dagger into my side."

"I've sent a couple of soldiers for the physic, Torran," Kent said quietly. "I told them to hurry."

"Good," Torran said. But then he found himself looking at the dead men behind him. "Does anyone know what has happened? Who are these men? Cormac? You came with them, did you not?"

Cormac nodded. "I can explain," he said. "As I said before, the man in the royal tunic is Gaubert Chambery. He is a cousin to Queen Eleanor. The other man is Donnel de Meudon, Lord Dudwell."

Torran was the first to react. "Dudwell!" he exclaimed as he looked at Stefan. "We were correct to be on our guard, weren't we? He did put the pieces of the puzzle together. Somehow… Damnation, I knew he would."

As Stefan nodded to the revelation, Andia looked at Cormac in surprise. "Donnel?" she repeated. "Uncle Donnel?"

Torran looked at her, brow furrowed. "Who is Uncle Donnel?"

Distressed, Andia was peering around Torran, trying to get a look at the dead men on the floor. "Lord Dudwell is my mother's brother," she said. "Donnel de Meudon. My father stopped speaking to him after my mother passed away because he said all Uncle Donnel wanted was money. I think he actually stole from my father, though my father never told me that directly. Whatever happened, my father and Uncle Donnel stopped speaking and I've not seen him in years. I did not even recognize him."

"He wanted guardianship over you and your brother, my lady," Cormac said. "I heard the plans. God knows, Donnel and Gaubert were full of plans. From what I understand, it started when Donnel was outraged because Henry sacked Kennington. He wanted to seek guardianship of you and your brother, and by doing so, he wanted to control the Ashford fortune."

Torran shook his head in disgust. "That is exactly what we suspected," he said to Andia, to the others. "It was speculation, of course, but reasonable speculation. But what about Gaubert? How does he fit into this?"

Cormac cocked an eyebrow. "That is where it becomes muddled," he said. "It was Donnel, as far as I understand, that suggested the death of Henry. Gaubert, who is a cousin to Eleanor, evidently does not like Henry, so he agreed to find an assassin for the king. He went to The Pox, of all places, and I happened to be there. When I realized what he wanted, I sent word to Cheltenham because I knew he was at Westminster. Even though his brother commands the Executioner Knights, I knew Cheltenham would want to know. He was also much closer than his brother, who is at Ludlow Castle, in case I needed direction on how to proceed."

It all made sense, so far, and Torran nodded as he digested the entire sordid situation. But there had to be more to it.

"But what was in it for Gaubert?" Torran asked. "Other than his hatred for Henry, why did he become involved?"

"Money," Cormac said. "Donnel promised him money from Ashford. This entire circumstance is about money, my lord. Greed does terrible things to men. Those two ended up here because Donnel was able to discover where his niece and nephew were being held. It was not difficult to find the property once we knew the name. At that point, I though I'd better stay close and be prepared to assist whoever was holding the lady and her brother. Knowing those two were out for blood, I was fairly certain they would try to kill whoever was guarding them."

Everything was becoming clear. Now, at least Torran and the others knew who their attackers were and what it was all about. A greedy uncle and an opportunist, and an incendiary situation was born. As Cormac had said, greed did terrible things to men.

"It could have been worse," Torran finally said. "How they made it into the house, I do not know, but it could have been worse. All things considered, I think we escaped relatively unscathed."

"They got into the house because the door was not bolted when I left you earlier this evening," Stefan said quietly. He had been listening to the entire sordid tale, at least as much as he could, and caught the gist of Torran's statement. "When they caught me unaware at the gate, I was unable to stop them. Cormac came to my aid and probably could have stopped them had young Aeron not hit him in the head with a hammer because he thought Cormac was trying to harm me. That was a brave thing, Aeron. I am appreciative."

Sitting with his dirty spear, Aeron had no idea how to respond. He was so used to fighting with the knights that appreciation wasn't something he could quite comprehend. Everyone looked at him, and, seeing the attention, he turned red.

"I… I still do not want to clean all of these spears," he said to Stefan. "Do I have to? Still?"

Everyone started chuckling, especially Stefan. Leave it to Aeron to impress upon them what was truly important in his world—not cleaning those damn rusty spears.

Torran was the one who answered.

"Mayhap a reward, Stefan?" he said, tilting his head in the direction of the boy. "He did try to save you."

"True," Stefan said. He cast a long look at Aeron, studying the boy for a moment. "I will return your shepherd's sling to you. I will not make you clean the spears for it. By trying to help me, I believe you have earned it back."

Aeron leapt to his feet. "Where is it?" he asked eagerly.

Stefan grinned as Torran waved the boy off. "Not now," he told him. "At the moment, we must get your sister back into her chamber and then find a clean bed for Sir Stefan so the physic can tend them both. Then we can discuss your shepherd's sling."

"But—!"

"Later, Aeron."

The boy shut his mouth, rising to his feet with that rusty spear as Cormac and Kent helped Stefan to stand. As Aeron and Emile rushed up the stairs to find a proper bed for Stefan, Torran scooped Andia up into his arms and the group of them, ignoring the two corpses still in the entry, headed up the stairs to find beds, rest, healing, and the prospect of a better tomorrow. Andia, in particular, was grateful for this moment because five minutes earlier, she wasn't sure she would ever see it.

She'd thought her dreams might be lost all over again.

Fortunately for Andia and Torran, the lady of lost dreams was lost no more.

And neither was her husband.