Chapter Fourteen

A lyce awoke irritated from a night of fitful sleep and dreams of a raven-haired man gliding over her body with his hands and lips, piercing her with those dark eyes, watching her, teasing her, daring her to tell him to stop. Now, frustrated, and restless, she was consumed with worry about the meeting with Cynwulf.

She'd tried to get him to tell her everything would be all right last night at dinner, that there was no reason to worry about the presence of Hawk and his men. Montworth had interrupted their discussion, but not before Cynwulf had said the words that still gnawed at her when she pressed him to agree all was right at Hawkspur: Do not be so sure.

The low flames in the hearth flickered softly against the walls as she rose out of bed and pulled a fresh chemise from the wooden chest at the foot of her bed. She studied the tunics hanging from a row of pegs in the wall, knowing she should choose something practical to accommodate the duties of her day, which included spending time inventorying the storerooms. But first, she would seek out her brother. She was determined to get to the bottom of whatever had him acting so strangely.

Her other obligation today was to give Hawk a tour of the village, and a small part of her wanted to choose something more flattering. She reached for a burgundy tunic with flowers embroidered along the neckline and sleeves but stayed her hand and chided herself for vanity. Hawk had made his position clear last night when he broke off their kiss and left her standing on the parapet. He had stung her pride at the time, but now she was grateful for his rude behavior. He was a complication she did not need.

If she was honest with herself, he was also a complication she could not handle. Her judgment became clouded when she was with Hawk. She spent far too much time thinking about his lips and the feel of his arms when he trapped her against his chest; she should be thinking about how to convince him Cynwulf was not guilty of anything treasonous.

But what happens if he is?

The thought came to her unbidden, like a punch to the stomach. She shook her head, refusing to believe Cynwulf would do anything to put Hawkspur in danger. But, she had to admit, the problem with her brother was that he sometimes created trouble unintentionally by making promises he could not keep.

In his first year as lord of Hawkspur, he sold the entirety of their excess grain inventory to a neighboring lord who offered a very tempting amount of gold. Cynwulf didn't question why the man was buying more grain than he needed for his small estate; he only thought about how much easier it would be to sell it all in one transaction and be done with it. As a result, other lords who relied on trading for the grain in exchange for items needed at Hawkspur were left with no other option but to buy the grain at an exorbitant cost from the man who held it all in his greedy hands. And Cynwulf was forced to pay more gold than planned for the supplies they needed to get through the winter ahead.

Shortly after that debacle, he'd appointed Alyce as his chatelaine to manage the business of Hawkspur castle while he managed the protection. Even if Cynwulf's good intentions did not always have positive outcomes, together they had always been able to correct the damage.

Had he finally done something irreparable? Her mind started to turn over all of the possibilities of what Cynwulf may be doing that Hawk could misconstrue as a threat.

"Stop!" she commanded out loud to herself.

With that, she took a blue tunic from one of the pegs and pulled it over her head. It was plain, with no embroidery anywhere. Even with a leather belt cinching in the waist to give her a little shape, she did not feel at all alluring in it, which would serve her purpose perfectly. Her focus needed to be on Cynwulf and Hawkspur, not on Hawk, and the way his kisses made her want to forget the inevitable heartache.

Alyce pulled the fur back from the windowpane to see the sun beginning to rise on the horizon. Ffyddlon whined in protest as she stretched by the fire, then started beating her tail against the floor planks.

"Up, girl," Alyce coaxed, scratching the wolfhound behind her ears when she rose and leaned against Alyce's legs in greeting.

She slipped out of her room into the corridor with Ffyddlon at her side, dim morning light shining through the narrow openings on the outer wall to guide their way. Her knock at Cynwulf's bedchamber door went unanswered, so she proceeded down the stairs to the solar. Alyce breathed a sigh of relief at the soft glow flickering beneath the door. She knocked, then let herself in.

Cynwulf was seated behind the table, a single candle standing over the parchment he had spread open before him. His expression stiffened at the sight of her, and he gestured toward a chair for her to sit.

"I finally get you to myself," Alyce said, sliding into the seat facing her brother while Ffyddlon curled up near the fire. Her shoulders relaxed with relief now that she had a chance to talk to him, but her stomach roiled with the fear of what she may hear.

Cynwulf nodded, but his eyes did not meet hers. "I said I would meet with you this morning."

"You did." Alyce waited for him to say more, but he returned his attention to the vellum spread on the table and rubbed at his temples. "Cynwulf?"

He looked up at her and sighed.

"Tell me," she prodded. "Share your burdens with me so we can carry the load together."

"Not this time, Alyce."

A chill curled up her spine, but it was quickly replaced with a surge of anger. "Do not shut me out!" She took a deep breath to calm her ire, forcing herself to lower her voice. "Hawkspur is as much my responsibility as it is yours. If there is a threat to Hawkspur, I should be made aware."

"It is my job to protect Hawkspur." He scrubbed his hands through his hair. "And you. You have to trust me in this."

She'd seen Cynwulf angry, frustrated, and impatient, but never had she seen him this way. His eyes had lost their luster and his expression was flat with defeat. She scooted out of the chair and stepped around the table, grabbing his hands in hers. "It is you who must trust me. You can tell me anything, Cynwulf, you know this. We've always been truthful with each other."

He rose to his feet and pulled her into his arms, squeezing her as though he feared losing her. Alyce squeezed him back. "Please, Cynwulf." The words were muffled against his chest, but she knew he heard her from his heavy sigh.

"Everything will be fine in the end," Cynwulf said in a hoarse whisper. "But until then, you are safer if I tell you nothing."

Alyce tried to pull out of his arms, her lips forming a protest, but he would not release his iron grip on her.

"Alyce, I have never asked you for anything like this before. I am begging you to trust me."

Alyce felt like a knife had been stabbed into her heart. Helplessness constricted her lungs until she could hardly breathe. She loved her brother, and she would do nearly anything for him…but this was too much to ask. She could not stand by and do nothing if he was troubled or in trouble.

"I'm afraid," she said against his chest.

He released his grip on her and brushed a soothing hand over her hair. She lifted her face and peered up until he dropped his head to look her in the eye. "Don't be afraid. It will all be fine in the end."

He smiled then, and some of the sparks returned to his eyes, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. She stared at him, trying to find the right words to say, desperate to believe him.

A loud knock sounded against the door causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. Cynwulf steadied her as Aelwin requested permission to enter.

"Come in," Cynwulf called out. He squeezed her arm in a reassuring gesture before he let her go and turned his attention to his first in command as he entered the office. She retreated to stand by the hearth and Ffyddlon moved to her side to nudge her hand, sensing her distress.

The men began discussing training schedules and weapon repairs. Alyce tuned out the words and focused on Cynwulf, willing him to look at her, but he did not.

"Let us be on our way," he said finally, putting an end to the conversation with his men. Alyce noticed he picked up the vellum from the table as he looked to the door and gestured with his other hand for Aelwin, Alyce, and Ffyddlon to precede him from the solar.

She glanced over her shoulder when he seemed to hesitate and saw the flames leaping higher in the hearth as though something had been tossed into them. He closed the door behind him and locked it before touching her lightly on the arm and following Aelwin through the entry into the great hall leaving her behind.

Alyce stood motionless for a moment, watching them leave, staring intently at Cynwulf's hands swinging easily at his sides…the parchment was gone.