Curiosity made Alyx jump. She very much wanted to know about Raine’s family. “Yes, of course,” she said, gathering the armor and following Raine.
A man, dressed finely, his doublet embroidered with gold leopards, sat outside the tent, waiting patiently for Raine’s command. With the wave of one hand, the young man was dismissed and Alyx wondered if all Raine’s men obeyed so well and what a far cry from the outcasts they were.
There were two letters for Raine, one from his brother Gavin and one from his brother’s wife, Judith.
The news from Gavin was bad. Bronwyn, Raine’s other sister-in-law, had been taken prisoner by the same man who held Raine’s sister, Mary. Bronwyn’s husband was waiting, sitting and waiting, afraid to make a move for fear Roger Chatworth would kill his wife.
“Your brother Stephen,” Alyx asked tentatively, “he loves his wife?”
Raine only nodded, his lips drawn into a tight line, his eyes focused on nothing.
“But it says here that she was in Scotland when she was taken. Why was she in Scotland? The Scots are coarse, vicious people and—”
“Hold your tongue!” he commanded. “Bronwyn is the laird of a clan in Scotland and there is no finer woman. Read me the other letter.”
Chastised, Alyx opened the letter from Judith Montgomery, fully aware of the way Raine’s eyes softened as she began to read. The letter was full of prayers for Raine’s safety and entreaties for him to leave England until it was safe for him to return. She asked after his comfort, whether he had food and warm clothing, which made Raine chuckle and Alyx bristle at her wifely tones.
“Does her husband know she concerns herself so for her brother-in-law?” she asked primly.
“I’ll not have you speak of my family so,” he reprimanded and Alyx hung her head, embarrassed at her jealousy. It wasn’t fair that she had to pose as a boy and never have a chance of gaining his attention. If she could wear a pretty dress perhaps he’d notice her, but then again she certainly was no beauty.
“Take your head from the clouds, boy, and listen to me.”
His voice brought her to the present.
“Can you write what I say? I want to send letters back with my brother’s man.”
When she had pen, ink and paper, Raine began to dictate. The letter she was to write to his brother was one of anger and determination. He swore to stay as near as possible to his two sisters and he would wait as long as he could before bringing his fist to Chatworth’s head. As for the King, he had no fear, since Henry’s main source of income was from men he declared to be traitors. He told Gavin that Henry would pardon him as soon as he agreed to forfeit a goodly portion of his land.
Raine ignored Alyx’s startled gasps at the insolent way in which he referred to their sovereign.
The letter to Judith was as warm and loving as hers had been, even once referring to his new squire, who thought he had no sense, not even enough to keep warm, and often covered him at night. With her head lowered, Alyx wrote, not allowing Raine to see her flushed cheeks. She’d had no idea he was aware of the many times she’d tiptoed about the tent, pulling the fur-lined coverlet about his bare shoulders.
The rest of the letter Alyx merely wrote, too embarrassed to even read what she wrote, and when she finished them she held them open, ready for Raine’s signature. As he bent toward her, his face close to hers, she inhaled the smell of his hair, that thick, dark, curling mass and wanted to bury her face in it. Instead, she reached out and touched a lock of it, watched it curl about her fingertip.
Raine’s head came up as if he’d been burned, his face inches from hers, his eyes wide as he looked at her. Alyx knew her breath had stopped and her heart had leaped to her throat. Now he’ll know, she thought. Now he’ll say that I am a girl, a woman.
Frowning, Raine stepped away from her, looking at her as if he couldn’t quite decide what was happening. “Seal the letters,” he said quietly, “and give them to the messenger.” With that he left the tent.
Alyx gave a sigh that made one of the letters flutter to the floor and quick tears came to her eyes. Ugly, she thought. That’s what I am—very, very ugly. No wonder no man ever even tried to contradict the priest and take me for his wife. Why fight for a prize not worth winning? Who wanted a flat-chested, boyish girl with a noisy voice for a wife? And no wonder Raine didn’t see through her disguise.
With a sharp backhand swipe, she wiped her eyes and returned to the letters before her. No doubt his sisters-in-law and his sister were beautiful, beautiful women with chests . . .
With another sigh she finished the letters, sealed them and took them outside to the messenger, walking with him to his horse.
“Have you seen this Lady Judith or the Lady Bronwyn?” she asked the messenger.
“Aye, many times.”
“And are they, perhaps, handsome women?”
“Handsome?” he laughed, mounting his horse. “God must have been happy the day he created those women. Lord Raine will not leave England nor would I if I had either of those women in my family. Go on, boy, try and find someone to console him,” he said, motioning toward the tent. “The loss of such beauty even for a moment must make him a miserable man.”
Console him! Alyx muttered as she went back to the tent, only to be greeted by some commotion, Raine standing at the heart of it.
“It is well for your life that you did not kill her,” he was saying to two men, one a pickpocket, the other a beggar. Both had been on guard duty all morning. “Alyx,” he said over their heads. “Saddle my horse. We ride.”
Taking off at a run, Alyx had the big horse saddled and ready by the time Raine reemerged from the tent, a battle ax and a mace in his hand. He had mounted and pulled her up behind him before she could ask a question, and in seconds they were galloping through the forest at a breakneck speed.