Chapter Two

Fugitive

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Marie coaxed me awake the following morning with a gentle hand on my shoulder and an apology in her expression.

"Mistress, the steward is asking for you."

I sat suddenly upright on noticing how high the sun was. "Why did you not wake me sooner? The letter-"

"It was sent with a messenger at dawn," my maidservant assured, adding at an attempted protest from me: "You slept so poorly, I did not wish to disturb you."

I recalled the hours I had spent tossing and turning, fretting over what my cousin's arrival might mean, or might lead to. Smiling weakly, I thanked Marie for her consideration.

"Did Jocelyn say what he wants?" I asked as Marie helped me into a dress.

The woman pressed her lips together, not looking at me but intent on adjusting the trim on the neckline of my bodice. "All I have heard is that he and your cousin await your presence in the solar."

I could sense from the stiffness of her words that there was more to it, and pressed her to elaborate. She submitted with a sigh of resignation.

"Some of the servants heard raised voices."

"A disagreement, then." I shook my head, disapproving. "Jocelyn, you fool." Had he not spoken of the 'stories' surrounding my cousin's reputation only the night before? If the rumours were true, Guy de Gisborne was not a man one should wilfully rile.

When finally I entered the solar with Marie close on my heels, the tension between the men was palpable. Both quickly stood – Jocelyn from the farthest window seat, Guy, dressed in garments borrowed from Guillaume's wardrobe, from a chair by the fireplace – and greeted me with gruff politeness. While Jocelyn's face showed evidence of his anger, his skin flushed to the roots of his golden hair, Guy's was the opposite. His beard gone, I could now make out my cousin's sharp, noble features. His expression was neutral, though his eyes – which I had initially taken for sable, but were in fact a blue that bordered on silver – glittered with suppressed fury, much as they had the previous night.

"You wished to see me?" I asked, turning my attention to the steward.

"Sir Guy insists on having his sword returned to him," said Jocelyn tersely, the crease between his brows becoming ever more prominent.

Guy inhaled deeply in an obvious effort to remain calm. "My lady, I mean no harm."

Jocelyn let out a bark of disbelieving laughter. "You expect us to believe that?"

"Jocelyn, please."

My warning caused him to turn away like a surly child. Satisfied he would not interrupt, I met my cousin's gaze, my own eyes narrowed in speculation.

"Why?" was all I said.

"The sword was a gift from my father, commissioned for my fourteenth name day."

I did not respond for a long moment, but considered how I might get the entire truth from him. Instinct told me there was more to his request than he would say without my prompting.

"Your sword is perfectly safe, Sir Guy," I said, leisurely crossing to the settle opposite his vacated chair. "You won't require it during your stay here. I assure you my brother's guard-"

"It is of particular sentimental value," interposed Guy.

"And if I was to offer you another?"

His hesitation, though brief, was answer enough. I sat primly on the settle, eyes unyieldingly fixed on his.

"It would make little difference to you, would it, cousin? Whether it was your blade in your hand, or something borrowed from the armoury."

He turned his back on me, and Marie walked a cautious, wide arch around him to come stand near the settle. Her closeness was a comfort.

Running an agitated hand through his hair, Guy moved to face me once more. His smile reminded me of a dog baring its teeth.

"Is it a crime?" he asked. "To wish to protect myself?"

"To protect yourself?" repeated Jocelyn, alarmed. His expression darkened as he took a menacing step forward. "Who from? Or perhaps it's as they say – the list is far too long."

"Jocelyn," I said sharply, continuing in a softer tone of voice. "I am sure you have other, more pressing matters to deal with."

He opened his mouth to argue, but I would not hear it.

"It was not a request."

Jocelyn snapped his jaw shut with an audible click, bowed his head to me, spared Guy one last scathing look, then left. I waited until his footfalls had faded before speaking.

"You came here to seek my brother's protection." It was not a question, but still my cousin's curt, affirmative nod sent a chill through me. I rose with courtly detachment and swept to a window. In the yard below I could see servants and guards going about their business, boots and hems saturated with mud – the only evidence of the previous night's storm.

"Who is it you are running from?" I asked. Despite my efforts to keep the quaver from my voice, it was not as steady as I'd have liked.

When he did not immediately answer I turned to regard him. He'd returned to his chair and held a fist to his lips, deliberating. At length, he met my gaze, his countenance steely.

"My sister," he said. "Isabella."

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TBC.