CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maxton was in no mood for a nervous servant.
He’d met the woman rushing out of the chamber where he’d left Andressa, nearly running into her because she was moving so fast. When she saw him, she gasped, and Maxton received the distinct impression that she wasn’t happy to see him. She looked frightened. His brow furrowed as he peered at her.
“What is wrong?” he demanded. “Is Lady Andressa still in that room?”
He was pointing to the closed door and the old woman nodded vigorously. “Aye, m’lord,” he said. “You asked for clean clothing and a bath and food for her, and she has just finished her bath. But… but the clothing I brought for her will not fit her.”
“Why not?”
The old woman seemed to pale. “Because…,” she started, swallowed, and tried again. “M’lord, is the lass a nun? She wears the clothing of someone meant for the cloister.”
Maxton nodded. “She is a pledge,” he said. “What about her clothing? What is this about?”
The old woman struggled past her nervousness; she had to. She didn’t know of the knight’s relationship to the young woman, so she wasn’t sure how to answer him. She didn’t even really know the knight, only that he was one of William Marshal’s men. But he was looking at her, expecting an answer, so she proceeded as discreetly as she could.
“I brought her a dress belonging to one of the lord’s daughters,” she said quietly. “It will not fit her because of her belly, m’lord. I must find her a bigger garment.”
“What do you mean ‘because of her belly’?”
“She is with child, m’lord.”
Maxton stared at her for a moment. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He simply stared at her as her words flitted about in his muddled mind, trying to find some sense in them.
“She’s what?” he finally said. “That is impossible. You are mistaken.”
The old woman could see a flash of something in his eyes, of untold madness that could rip her limb from limb should he be displeased enough. But she knew what she saw.
“M’lord,” she said quietly, firmly. “I have had seven children myself. I know what a woman looks like who is with child, and the lass in that you had me bring clothing and a bath for is clearly with child. I would not have known it, either, for the shapeless clothing she wears, but believe me when I tell you – she is with child.”
Maxton couldn’t help his jaw from hanging open. He wasn’t sure what he felt at the moment, but astonishment was certainly among the possibilities. Shock, dismay, even sadness… was she really carrying a child?
What horrible secret had she been hiding from him?
Stunned, he struggled to think clearly.
“Then find her something suitable to wear,” he said. “Is she still in the room where I left her?”
“Aye, m’lord.”
Sending the woman on her way, Maxton headed straight for the chamber. The door was closed, and in hindsight, he should have knocked, but he was so determined to get to the truth of the situation that he barged in without thinking.
The chamber was lit by firelight and a few fat tapers, and almost cloyingly warm from the steam of the bath. He heard a gasp and caught sight of Andressa sitting next to the fire on a small stool, a comb in her hand and an expression of surprise upon her face. She had a drying towel wrapped around her, a big one, so he couldn’t see anything other than her bare feet and hands, and her head.
“My lord?” Andressa said, fear in her voice. “What is it? Has something happened?”
He looked at her. Has something happened? Clearly, something had, but not to him. Looking at the woman, all of the shock and dismay he’d felt had turned into something else, and now all he could manage to feel was sorrow. Pure, black sorrow, as black as a moonless night.
Hurt…
Bleeding Christ, why was he feeling hurt?
Because he was feeling something for her.
The thought struck him like a hammer to an anvil. He hadn’t been sure what he was feeling for her until this moment, but now, he knew. He’d known the woman all of one day and somehow, someway, they had connected on a level he’d never known before. Perhaps it was her dire circumstances, or perhaps it was simply the way she looked at him – with utter, complete trust. She knew of his background, but she didn’t care. He’d said it best when he told her that he wanted her to think he was indeed noble and generous. He wanted her to think well of him.
But why did he feel hurt? Because as much as she assured him that she trusted him, she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him of her condition.
Perhaps there wasn’t complete trust, after all.
“Are you with child?” he asked bluntly.
He was a man with no tact, and that was evident when Andressa’s eyes widened at his question. Even in the dim light, he could see the color drain from her face.
“My lord,” she breathed. “Why would you ask such a…?”
He cut her off. “Answer me,” he said. “Do you carry a child?”
Her breathing grew quicker; he could see her nostrils flaring as she looked at him with such horror that it was spilling out all over the place. The comb fell from her hand and she suddenly stood up, clutching the drying cloth tightly around her.
“I do not have to answer you,” she whispered tightly, verging on tears. “Tell the woman to bring my clothing.”
“You are not going anywhere until you answer me.”
“Let me out of here or I shall scream!”
She was quickly growing panicked. But Maxton backed up, standing by the door as if to block it. He wasn’t going to let her leave.
He wanted the truth.
“Nay,” he said, his head wagging back and forth slowly. “You are not leaving. You are going to tell me the truth, Andressa. You said you trusted me. You came here because you trusted me. Did you lie to me?”
“Nay,” she shook her head quickly, unable to look at him. “I did not lie.”
“Then if you trust me, tell me the truth.”
The tears were right on the surface, but she fought them. In fact, she looked a little lost, seemingly pondering his question, perhaps even the situation in general. All intentions ot leave the chamber seem to fade, and slowly, she lowered herself back to the stool, slumping over.
Defeated.
It was several long, painful moments before she dared speak.
“Why do you ask such a thing?” she murmured.
“I can easily discover the answer to my question myself, so I am asking you to tell me the truth.”
“And how would you discover it?”
“Do you truly think you can hide your condition beneath a thin drying towel and a shift?”
That brought her pause. Every emotion, every horror and every fragment of despair, rippled across her face as she tried to form the words that would give him a suitable answer.
She was trapped and she knew it.
“It is not as it sounds,” she finally said.
“What is not as it sounds?”
She looked away from him completely, so he could not see her face, but he could see her shoulders heaving as she silently wept. There was a long pause before she replied.
“He… he told me he loved me,” she whispered. “I believed him. He said he would return for me, but he did not.”
It was confirmation as far as Maxton was concerned and he felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He felt sick. Moving in her direction, he spoke softly.
“Tell me all of it,” he said softly. “Please.”
She was looking at the wall. “I cannot speak of it,” she whispered. “To speak of it makes it real, and I do not want this to be real.”
Maxton sighed faintly, lowering himself to the nearest chair. He was so despondent he found it difficult to stand. It was as if all of the energy had drained right out of him.
“It is real whether or not you speak of it,” he said. “Please tell me what happened.”
She sat there and struggled. Maxton could see that she was wiping her face. When she finally began to speak, he could hardly hear her.
“He said he loved me,” she repeated. “We knew each other at Okehampton. I thought we would marry someday, or at least I thought so before I was sent to St. Blitha. Last summer, he finally found me at St. Blitha and he told me he loved me. He said he would return for me, but he never did.”
Maxton could see how ashamed she was. “And he left you with child?”
She wiped at her face, struggling for the last vestiges of her dignity. “I did not want to admit it,” she said. “I have pretended nothing is wrong.”
“Did he force himself upon you? Did he rape you?”
She shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “But he seduced me and I did not resist as much as I should have. He told me he loved me and he wanted to demonstrate that love. I was so happy to see him that I believed him.”
“And he lied to you.”
Sobs caught in her throat as she nodded. “I will end up in The Chaos for this,” she said, finally turning to look at him. “I shall end up in The Chaos and so will the child. It will be dead before it ever has a chance to live. I will have killed it!”
Her voice was lifting in panic. Sighing heavily, Maxton stood up from the chair and made his way over to her.
“You will not end up in The Chaos,” he murmured. “Stand up.”
Andressa looked up at him, terror in her eyes, but as she gazed at him, the trust they’d established took hold. She had no one else in the world to turn to, but she had Maxton. He’d proven that.
Slowly, she obeyed him, clutching the damp drying towel around her body. The moment she rose to her feet, Maxton pushed the towel out of the way so that he could get a look at her torso. When the damp shift concealed too much, he put his hands onto her swollen belly to feel it for himself.
It was a bold move, and an intimate one. He heard her gasp, but she didn’t pull away. The moment his hands collided with her rounded belly, Andressa burst into quiet tears, turning her head away as he ran his fingers over the perfectly rounded bump. If there had been any question about the trust between the two of them before, his intimate action sealed their complete trust.
Now, it was set in stone.
“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “When did this happen?”
She put her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs. “Last summer.”
“Then you should be delivering this child in the next month or two.”
That only made her weep harder, as if she had no answer for him. “Did you truly not know you were with child, Andressa?” Maxton asked. “Did you truly think that the swelling of your belly meant something else?”
She lifted her slender shoulders. “I was praying it was not true,” she whispered. “I was praying it was all a great mistake. If I ignored it, I hoped it would go away. I… I worked very hard, hoping the seed would die, but it did not. Then, when the child began to move…”
“He moves?”
She nodded. “It moves quite a lot, especially when I am trying to sleep.”
He couldn’t help but notice she addressed the child as ‘it’. Not he, or she, but ‘it’. Beneath his hands, her belly was warm and firm. Not huge, but definitely rounded, about the size of a large melon and easily concealed by the loose clothing she wore. He removed his hands and pulled the damp drying towel tightly around her, covering her up.
Now, Maxton had a dilemma. A massive one. William Marshal wanted Andressa to return to St. Blitha, but if Maxton had been uncertain before, now he was doubly so. He couldn’t send a pregnant woman back there and a wild sense of protection swept him. This wasn’t even his child, but it didn’t seem to matter. Andressa was vulnerable and needed protecting. Wasn’t that what he was sworn to do, as a knight? God, he’s spent so much time killing men on command, or fighting other men’s battles – right or wrong- that the chivalry had left him long ago.
But now, it was back.
It didn’t matter that some foolish knight had seduced Andressa and left her with his child to deal with. Nay, that didn’t matter in the least. Maxton was the last one to judge when it came to sinning.
He told me he loved me…
It was one more horrific situation for this poor woman to deal with.
“I am sorry, my lord,” Andressa suddenly spoke, breaking the silence between them. “I am so very sorry for my failings and my weakness. It would seem that all you have known from me since the moment we met is failings and weakness, but I assure you, I was not always like this. Once, I was a strong, noble woman. I was excellent in my studies. I had many friends. Believe it or not, I was pretty once, too. Or, so I am told. But you have discovered me at my lowest and for that, I am very sorry. I wish you knew me before… before all of this.”
He looked at her. “You are beautiful,” he said as if she was mad to believe otherwise. “As for discovering you at your lowest, I am in no position to condemn you. My sins far outweigh your own.”
She looked at him in astonishment. “Then… then you are not… you do not think I am a horrible, failing creature for what I have done?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “I am going to tell you something, Andressa,” he said pointedly. “I, too, have indulged in pleasures of the flesh outside of marriage, so if that is a sin, then I have sinned many times over. You are not alone.”
One might have thought it to be a tasteless confession, but to Andressa, it was possibly the best thing he could have said. When he could have turned his nose up at her, he proudly told her that she wasn’t alone in her failings. Not every man would have done that.
“Then… you are not disgusted?” She was still incredulous.
“Nay,” he said. “We all have our moments of weakness. You are not to blame.”
Andressa could hardly believe his reaction. For something she’d been trying to ignore, to pretend wasn’t real, his attitude made her feel as if there was hope… hope for her, hope for everything. Hope that perhaps this wasn’t the end for her, after all.
“You are very understanding,” she said. “Most anyone would judge my actions harshly.”
He snorted softly. “As I said, I have sinned in such a way many times over, with many women who were not my wife.”
“Then you are not married, my lord?”
He shook his head. “Stop addressing me formally,” he said. “It seems ridiculous under these circumstances. You will call me Maxton. Or Max. Call me what you wish, Andressa. I will answer. But to answer your question, I am not married.”
“But why not?”
“Who would have me?”
She blinked, as if the question was ridiculous. “Any woman would be very fortunate to have you as a husband,” she said. “You are a skilled, kind, and generous knight, and surely you have much to offer any woman. Has someone been foolish enough to deny your suit? Is that it?”
He looked at her, a flicker of a smile on his lips. “I’ve not been brave enough or stupid enough to actually pursue a woman,” he said. “But your words are appreciated. I am not sure if they are true, but they are appreciated.”
Andressa eyed him. “You have told me of things from your past, things you are not proud of,” she said. “Will… will you tell me where you come from, my lo… I mean, Sir Maxton? You know much about me, but I know very little about you.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because I do. Will you please tell me?”
He thought on that. It seemed an odd subject shift, from the subject of her illicit pregnancy to speaking of his background, but the truth was that he was glad to be off the subject of the child, at least for the moment. Perhaps speaking of himself might distract her enough to cause her to relax.
“If you call me Sir Maxton again, I am going to pinch you,” he said, watching a timid smile spread across her face. He couldn’t help but grin in return, a light moment in the midst of a heady situation. “It is simply Maxton, or Max. As for my background, you already know I am from Devon. Though my family name is de Long, we are known for our castle of Loxbeare Cross. An ancestor of mine built it one hundred and fifty years ago, and simply used it to refer to his family instead of our family name. That is what we are known as – Loxbeare.”
Andressa understood. “So you are Maxton de Long of Loxbeare Cross,” she clarified, watching him nod. “I have heard of men using the names of their homes as identification. One such family that comes to mind is Pembury. There was a Lady Pembury, a friend of my patroness, Lady de Courtney, and she was from the town of Pembury. But her family name was Culpepper.”
Maxton nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “And I have two younger brothers and a younger sister, all three of whom I’ve not seen in almost twenty years.”
“Why not?”
Maxton lifted his shoulders, averting his gaze. “I left home at a young age,” he said. “My father, Magnus, and I do not get on well. Magnus wanted me to remain at Loxbeare Cross, as his heir, and be his shadow. He did not want me to leave, but I… I wanted to see the world. I wanted to find my own way in life and do what I wanted to do, and not what my father told me to do. My father is quite overbearing.”
“Did your brothers and sister remain with him, then?”
Maxton turned away from her at that point, returning to the chair he’d been sitting in as he settled into a conversation that, under normal circumstances, was uncomfortable for him.
“My brother, Emmett, is more like my father,” he said. “He is content to remain at home and rule with my father, while my brother, Jasper, has devoted his life to the church. The last I heard, he had taken his vows as a Benedictine priest somewhere in York. And my little sister, Lucy… I do not know what has become of her. She and I were quite close and when I left, she was around eight years of age. That would be at least twenty or more years ago. She was a light in my world. I miss her.”
Cracks in his façade were starting to show, emotions from the usually emotionless man. Andressa sensed that. “Surely you can write to your father and discover what has become of her?” she asked. “Mayhap she is married now, with many children to call you uncle.”
Maxton thought back to the little girl with the red curls, and how much she had wept when he’d left home. “I have written to my father,” he said quietly. “I never receive a reply.”
“Oh,” Andressa said as if sorry she had even suggested such a thing. “Is your father angry with you for leaving Loxbeare Cross, then?”
Maxton considered that question. “Angry? Aye,” he said. “But mostly disappointed. He did not want me to see the world and seek my own way in life. He wanted me to take after him, to be exactly like him. I could not do it. I had to follow my own path.”
“But you do not regret doing such a thing?”
“Never,” he said resolutely. “But I am sure my father has caught wind of my unsavory reputation as an Executioner Knight, among other things. Most everyone in England has. I am sure that is why he does not answer my missives. He is ashamed of me.”
Andressa was silent for a moment as she turned for the stool next to the hearth, lowering herself down to it. “You are still his son,” she said. “He has not stopped loving you.”
“I would not be too sure.”
“Mayhap you should go home and find out for yourself? At least, you would know for certain.”
Had anyone else made that suggestion, he would have scoffed, but coming from Andressa, he couldn’t seem to refute her. Her tone was gentle, her words reasonable. She had a great sense of wisdom about her, something he’d seen from the start. Therefore, he simply nodded his head.
“Mayhap,” he replied quietly. “But not today. Mayhap someday. In any case, now you know something of me. I am unspectacular.”
“You are fascinating,” she countered. “You are a man of great experience and I am sure your father will realize that someday. He raised a son who is not a follower, but a leader. Even I can see that.”
Maxton looked at her. Everything out of her mouth about him sounded like praise. He was quite unused to that, but it didn’t sound forced. In fact, he heard great respect in her tone when she spoke of him, and to him, and it was something that made him feel strong and alive. Perhaps that was why he was so attracted to her; unknowingly, she fed something in him that needed to be fed, filling a hole he never knew he had.
She made him feel like a man in ways he couldn’t begin to comprehend.
But that brought him around to the reason why they were in this room and why Andressa was even here. He couldn’t send her back to St. Blitha, not now. They would have to figure out how to stop the assassin nuns without her, because surely, he wasn’t about to put her and the life she carried into harm’s way again. He didn’t relish telling William of the latest development, but it had to be done.
There had to be another way.
“I am sure there are many who would disagree with you, but I thank you for the confidence,” he said, rising wearily to his feet. “Now, if you are finished interrogating me, I have duties to attend to. You may remain here and rest for the time being. Have you eaten yet?”
There was a lightness to his mood that hadn’t been there before, an undercurrent of humor that was appealing. Andressa liked it. But to his question, she shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “Truthfully, the bath was so wonderful, I have not missed it.”
He waved her off. “You must eat,” he said firmly. “I shall ensure food is sent up to you immediately. God only knows how the child you carry has been starved, so you must eat well if only for the child’s sake.”
He started to turn away but she stopped him. “Maxton?” she said, using his name for the first time and watching him turn to her immediately. “You have not mentioned… what I told you about King John… did you discuss this with William Marshal?”
It was exactly what he didn’t want to discuss with her, but looking into her anxious face, he reckoned that she had a right to know what was going on. It wouldn’t be fair to keep it from her since she was involved in it, as much as he was.
“I have,” he said. “We have been honest with each other from the start, so I will be honest with you now. The Marshal wants you to return to St. Blitha and keep an eye on the situation. If something unusual happens, then he wants you to tell us.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t seem distress by that directive. “But he is going to tell the king not to come to St. Blitha, is he not?”
Maxton shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “The king is not to know. Andressa, you must understand something – we knew of this threat to the king. We knew because last year, I was offered money to do what your Mother Abbess has been instructed to do. I refused and was jailed for it. We suspected that more assassins would be sent to complete the task, but we never dreamed the assassins would be killer nuns. When you told us of this happening, you unknowingly solved a mystery we had been trying to figure out. You, my little friend, have been the key to all of this. You have helped save your king.”
He watched her eyes widen at the news. “The Holy Father asked you to kill the king?” she gasped.
Maxton nodded. “I spent a long time at The Lateran Palace, at the Holy Father’s invitation, and was offered the task,” he said. “When I refused, he imprisoned me and simply gave the task to the nuns who, from what you have told me, have done this kind of work before.”
She nodded solemnly. “Aye,” she said. “They have. And they show no remorse for it.”
“That is why I do not want you to go back,” he said. When she looked at him with surprise, he continued. “I did not want you to go back before I knew you were with child, but now… now, you cannot possibly go back into that den of demons. That is no place for you or your child.”
The last time he had suggested she not return to St. Blitha, she’d become panicky and ran from him. But this time, she didn’t run. She could sense his concern, and she was flattered, but it didn’t change facts.
“I have no choice,” she said. “I told you that others have tried to flee the Mother Abbess and she has found them and brought them back. The woman will find me no matter where I go, and frankly, I do not have the means to go anywhere. It is not as if I can return home.”
Maxton sighed heavily, scratching his neck as he thought of his reply. “You will let me worry about that,” he said. “I told you I would protect you, like a big brother should. I will not go back on that promise.”
Andressa stood up, pulling the now-dry towel around her as she moved towards him, timid steps. “But I am not your responsibility,” she murmured firmly. “While I greatly appreciate your offer, the truth is that I am not your responsibility. You have made the offer out of pity and it will soon become a burden if I permit it.”
She had come within arm’s length of him and Maxton’s dark gaze moved to her. Her hair was dry now, curling around her face, long and silky down to her knees. He could see such beauty in her, such grace and wisdom. Something about her swept him off his feet and made him feel giddy, a feeling that not even her pregnancy could dissolve. He didn’t care that she carried another man’s child. It was a mistake; he understood that.
All he cared about, at the moment, was her.
“You would never become a burden to me,” he said. “And… and mayhap I have not been completely honest with you about my intentions.”
“What do you mean?”
What did he mean? He fumbled for the right words. “It is not as a big brother that I look upon you,” he said. “I do not look at you and see a sisterly relation. I look at you and see a woman of grace and beauty, and I have since I first met you. There is something so haunting about you, yet so strong. I am not sure I can explain it better than that. Let me take care of you, Andressa. Let me take care of you and the baby, and let us find a corner of this world where two sinners can find happiness with each other.”
Andressa was looking at him in astonishment. Her eyes widened and she simply stared at him as if he’d just said the most shocking thing she’d ever heard.
“You… you want to take care of… of…?”
“Aye, I want to take care of you.”
She swallowed hard, taking a step back as his words impacted her. She’d only just met the man; that was her first thought. How could he know that he wanted to take care of her? It was his pity talking. She knew that. He had a great deal of pity for her, more so now that he knew she was with child, and it was that kind and generous man acting on impulse. As much as she was flattered, and deeply touched, the offer terrified her immensely.
I am not your responsibility.
But, God, she wished that she was.
Maxton was a powerful, seasoned, handsome knight of the highest order. She remembered thinking that she wished she was good enough for him, because a man like Maxton deserved a fine, elegant wife, not a lowly pledge who was pregnant with another man’s child. She was certain he’d not thought extensively on the offer he just made, because if he had, he probably would not have made it. The mere thought of what he was suggesting was ludicrous.
For his sake, she could not agree to it.
“Your offer is as beautiful as your soul, Maxton,” she said quietly. “I know you have a past that suggests your soul is as black as soot, but my experience with you has been much different. You are a man that every girl dreams of. But you said that William Marshal wishes for me to return to St. Blitha?”
Her response made him hopeful. “He does.”
“Then that is where I should go.”
He grunted unhappily. “Andressa…”
“Please, Maxton,” she said, reaching out to put a slender hand on his arm. “I know you are trying to help me, but you must let me think on what you have said. I will not make a decision of this importance in only a few moments. Will you send food to me now? I am rather hungry.”
She was changing the subject and he was aware of it. He was also grossly unhappy that she wasn’t jumping on his offer, but he understood for the most part. It had been a turbulent day and a turbulent situation, and he was certain that she wasn’t thinking clearly. He thought that once she’d filled her belly and she’d had time to consider everything, that perhaps she would be more agreeable to his offer. If she was, then he would have to find a place to put her until the situation blew over. When the king went to St. Blitha in two days, he didn’t want her anywhere near the place.
He wanted her safe.
Collecting her hand as it rested on his arm, he held her cold digits in his big, rough palm. “I will get it for you,” he said. “But you will think on my offer. Swear it?”
She nodded steadily. “I am deeply grateful for it. And you.”
Maxton thought he sensed something in her tone, something that gave him great hope that perhaps she was feeling for him what he was feeling for her. He couldn’t even put it into words; all he knew was that he could see it in her eyes.
Impulsively, he put his arms around her and pulled her against him, his mouth slanting over hers to deliver a kiss that was warm and curious, tender and titillating. She stiffened at first, but only momentarily – quickly, he could feel her relaxing, surrendering to his power, and that only made him kiss her more deeply. She was warm and soft in his embrace, if not a bit boney, but it didn’t take away from his excitement or his enjoyment. He could also feel her hard belly pressing against his torso and strangely enough, it excited him. Her fertility excited him. He found it alluring and womanly, all strange thoughts from a very unconventional man.
He could get used to the feel of her in his arms quite easily.
A knock on the door startled him and he quickly let her go, moving a few feet away as the door opened and the old servant woman appeared. When she saw Maxton in the chamber, she gasped.
“I’m sorry, m’lord,” she said. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Maxton took a couple of long strides and was at the door. “I was just leaving,” he said, pulling the panel open wide. “I will have food sent up to the lady.”
With that, he was gone, leaving the room unnaturally fast. Andressa stood there a moment, glancing at the old serving woman and wondering if the woman was thinking that he had behaved strangely. Did she know they’d been in a passionate embrace only moments before? Andressa’s cheeks felt hot and she put a hand to them, feeling the heat, knowing Maxton had put it there.
It had been a moment she never thought she’d experience, but it only served to confirm what she was already thinking – Maxton was a man of impulse, and that was exactly what his offer had been – impulsive. But he was also sweet, passionate, and wildly handsome.
And that kiss… she was still reeling from it.
Still, she couldn’t let him make such a mistake, and the truth was that she didn’t want to make a mistake, either. She’d already had one foolish moment in her life. She couldn’t stand to have another and possibly ruin Maxton’s life in the process.
“Come along, m’lady,” the old serving woman cut into her thoughts. “I’ve brought something that you can wear.”
As the old woman went to pull away the drying towel, Andressa balked. “Nay,” she said. “Not that clothing. Where is the garment you took from me?”
“The spots are being cleaned from it, m’lady.”
Andressa pushed aside the garment that the old woman was extending to her. “Bring it back to me,” she said. “Hurry, now. I do not wish to wear anything else.”
“But –!”
“Now, please. Bring it in a hurry. I do not wish to catch a chill.”
Begrudgingly, the old woman left the chamber with the garment she had brought with her, a fine robe that belonged to William Marshal’s wife, and went down to the kitchens where a maid was scrubbing out the dirt from the rough woolen tunic. Collecting the half-cleaned garment, she took it back up to the stubborn lady, who took the garment from her and then asked for a blanket to cover herself with.
As the old serving women left Andressa alone to dress as she went on the blanket suitable for the young lady, Andressa very quickly pulled on her woolen garment and yanked on her shoes. The leather belt she wore was draped over a chair and she collected it quickly, rushing for the door as she tied it on.
Very quietly, she opened the chamber door, sticking her head out to see if anyone was around and, seeing that it was mostly vacant, she dashed from the door and down the stairs that led to the interior courtyard outside.
It was dark now, with dozens of torches lighting up the night, as she scurried through the courtyard and to the front gate. The gate guards were surprisingly willing to let her leave without so much as a word, and once the gate was opened for her, she slipped out into the night, braiding her freshly-washed hair as she rushed through the darkness, disappearing down the street on her way back to St. Blitha.
It wasn’t until nearly a half-hour later when Maxton returned that he discovered her missing.
No one had to tell him anything. He knew where she had gone.