Chapter 5
It didn’t take long for Winter and Wallace to get to the docks. They had the wagon loaded down with tools they would need as well as a trunk with some of the late blacksmith’s wife’s clothes and some extra things for Wallace. Excitement, as well as a little fear, filled Winter. The squire stopped the horse-drawn wagon at the pier.
De Grey’s ship was docked alongside several smaller ships that belonged to tradesmen, merchants, and fishermen. His was a huge ship – large enough that the man had brought his horses with him! A dockhand led the lord’s steed up the gangplank.
“We’d better hurry,” said the squire named Rock, hopping off the bench of the cart. He held out his arms to help Winter, but she jumped down by herself. “Lord de Grey is not a patient man.”
“So, I’ve noticed,” she said, still eying up the ship. It was a flat-bottom cog with lapstrake planking on the sides. One thick mast rose up from the center of the ship that had one large square sail. At the top of the mast, flew the lord’s flag with colors of black and gold.
A falcon swooped down from the sky, landing on the sidewall of the wagon.
“Well, hello there,” she said, loving animals of any kind. “Can I pet you?” She reached out to pet the bird, but a long arm shot over her shoulder and fingers clamped around her wrist to stop her. She looked back to find Lord de Grey – though she hadn’t even seen him approach.
“Andromeda doesn’t like strangers,” he told her. “She might bite.”
“I’ll attest to that,” commented the squire, helping Wallace haul the things out of the back of the wagon. “I tried the same thing once, and she left her calling card.” He held up a hand to show the tip of one of his fingers shorter than it should be.
“Oh. Thank you,” she said, her eyes traveling upward to look into the deep blue orbs of Lord de Grey. Out in the daylight and up so close she could see his features very well. His shoulder-length ebony hair lifted in the breeze. A light coating of stubble covered his jaw. She stood so close that she could even see the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He looked to be close to ten years older than her age of eighteen.
No matter his age, his sculpted face was very handsome. That is, except for the irritation she detected in his gaze.
“Rock, get their things aboard the ship and tell my captain we set sail in five minutes.”
“Aye, my lord.” His squire hauled their things down the pier with Wallace helping him.
“We’ll need to get the horse and cart back to town,” said Winter. “We borrowed it from the undertaker.”
“I’ll have the dockhand take it.” He finally released her wrist. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he wanted to touch her. A part of her told her to be repelled, but she actually enjoyed it. It wasn’t every day a handsome lord stood so close with his hand around her wrist.
“Wait, dinna leave!” came a shout as another horse-drawn wagon pulled up, driven by the castle’s stableboy. Next to him on the seat was the old healer.
“Nairnie,” she said under her breath. She’d almost forgotten about her. There was no way Winter would be able to go with Lord de Grey now. Nairnie wouldn’t let her leave and would most likely reveal to Lord de Grey her true identity as well.
“Do you know her?” asked Martin.
“She’s the healer from the castle. I’ll see what she wants.” Winter rushed over to the newcomers before Lord de Grey could stop her. Meeting Nairnie as she dismounted the cart, Winter glanced over her shoulder quickly and then spoke in a hushed whisper. “Nairnie what are you doing here?”
“I ken ye’re goin’ with him,” said Nairnie, nodding toward Martin with a look of disgust on her face.
“What are you talking about?” Winter tried to maintain an act of innocence, but Nairnie saw right through it.
“Dinna act naïve with me, lassie. I had a vision and that’s why I hurried down to the docks.”
“You can’t stop me, Nairnie. I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to go with Wallace to Castle Heaton. I have to help him so he can get his son back.”
“I ken that.” She looked over to the stableboy. “Bring that trunk to the ship immediately,” she commanded. Then she turned back to Winter. “I’m goin’ with ye.”
Winter’s eyes opened wide. The last thing she wanted was Nairnie tagging along. She would make the trip unbearable.
“Nay, you can’t come with us,” she said. “And what is in that trunk?”
“I’ve packed up some of yer things, lassie.”
“Nairnie, nay!” Her words came out louder than she intended. Once more, she glanced back at Lord de Grey. He was preoccupied, talking to his pet falcon that was on his arm now. “I can’t wear the clothes of a noblewoman,” she said in a soft voice. “Lord de Grey thinks I’m Wallace’s daughter.”
“What? Why would he think that?” Nairnie squinted an eye. “Ye lied to get him to take ye with him, didna ye?”
“He’s the one who assumed I was Wallace’s daughter since I was wearing the clothes of a commoner and working the forge. And it was his idea I go with him, not mine.”
“What did he say when ye told him ye are a lady?” Nairnie stared her down.
“Oh, all right,” she admitted with a sigh. “I didn’t correct him. But I swear I only did it to help Wallace. It’s very important we keep up the ploy. If Lord de Grey knows who I really am, he’ll make me stay here and Wallace will be doomed. The blacksmith needs me to help him make the sword.”
“Makin’ swords is the man’s trade. If I’m no’ mistaken, he was the one to teach ye everythin’ ye ken about the forge in the first place.”
“Aye, that’s true. But he’s losing his sight, Nairnie. He can’t tell the difference between a nail and a punch unless he’s holding it right up to his face. Lord de Grey has his son, and it’s the only way to get him back.”
“I dinna like this. What will Lord Ravenscar say? Or what about yer brathairs?”
Winter hadn’t thought about what her brothers might do if they found out she was posing as a commoner and traveling to a warlord’s castle. It wouldn’t fare well for her or Wallace if they found out. “We will have to make sure they don’t find out a thing until after I’ve returned.”
“Winter. Ye are more trouble than all three of yer sisters wrapped in one.”
“Oh, Nairnie, please don’t say anything.” She noticed Lord de Grey walking over to them. His bird was still on his arm. “Please.” Winter wanted desperately to do this, and the only person who could stop her now was an old woman with a stare so intense it was sending a wave of fear up her spine.
“Winnie, get on the ship. We’re about to leave,” said Martin, getting a snort from Nairnie. “You, too, Andromeda.” He flicked his arm, and the bird flew up into the air.
“Yes, my lord.” Winter turned and walked with Martin toward the ship. By the sound of the shuffling from behind her, she didn’t need to look to know that Nairnie followed.
“She’s no’ goin’ anywhere without me,” said Nairnie, waddling along on her short legs, trying to keep up with them. Martin stopped and dragged a hand through his hair, turning to talk to Nairnie.
“Who are you, old woman?”
“I’m Nairnie. I’m a healer and midwife.”
“Go back to the castle and leave us alone.” He touched his head again.
“Ye need me, my lord.”
“I have a healer back at my castle and I’m certainly not in need of a midwife. Now leave before I make you go.”
“Ye have a headache, dinna ye?” she asked.
He looked up in surprise. “How did you know?”
“Nairnie also has visions,” Winter informed him. “She can see things before they happen and she is never wrong.”
“Hardly ever wrong,” Nairnie corrected her. “After all, I cheated death just recently.”
“Can you see things – like the outcome of a battle?” asked Martin.
“Possibly,” answered Nairnie.
“What about having visions of the best time to attack an enemy?”
“Ye’re givin’ yerself a headache with all yer worryin’,” scolded Nairnie, digging into her bag and retrieving a small vial. She popped the cork and held it up. “Ye need some of this spread on yer temples and yer headache will go away.”
Martin did have a headache and wanted to get back to Northumberland as quickly as possible. The old woman intrigued him, but she looked to be more trouble than she was worth. However, if she had visions, perhaps she’d be able to tell him what to do to go up against the Dunbars and win. Then again, she was Scottish, and might not help him. He loathed the idea of taking a Scot with him and felt confused and unable to decide with the infernal pounding in his brain.
“What is in that vial?” he asked, not really caring, just stalling until he decided what to do with the old lady.
“It’s peppermint oil,” she told him. “Rub some on yer temples, and ye’ll see what I mean.”
“Nay, I don’t have time for this.” He pushed it back, but the girl reached out and took the vial from her.
“I’ll do it,” she said with a sigh. She dribbled some of the oil over the tips of her fingers and handed the vial back to Nairnie. After spreading it in her hands, she reached up and touched his head. Making small, sensual circles on his temples with her fingertips, he felt immensely comforted. His eyes closed at the touch of her soft skin against his. This felt good.
“Breathe in the scent,” she said in her melodic voice. He took a deep breath, feeling better already. His senses started reeling and, before he knew it, something else started to happen as well. He felt himself growing under his belt at her gentle and sensual touch. His eyes popped open and his hand covered hers, trapping it against the side of his head. Looking deeply into her green pools of seduction, he found himself lost and also feeling very randy.
“That’s enough,” said the old woman, pulling the girl’s hand out of his embrace. “Is yer headache gone now?”
“Huh?” He tore his gaze away from Winnie to see the old woman’s wrinkled face coming between them. “Yes, I do believe I’m feeling better.”
“Come along . . . Winnie. We need to get on the ship and stop stallin’.” The old healer took hold of the girl’s arm and hauled her down the pier and to the gangplank of the ship. Martin let out an exasperated breath. Damn, this wench infatuated him and he didn’t understand the power she seemed to hold over his emotions.
No longer wanting to waste any more precious time, he decided to let the old woman join them on their journey after all. But something in the back of his mind told him he was probably going to regret this decision.
* * *
The trip up the coast was beautiful. Winter stood at the rail of the ship watching the coastline change. It became rockier and full of lush vegetation as they got closer to the border of Scotland. It made her wonder about her time growing up in the Lowlands before most of her family fled to England at the onset of Burnt Candlemas. That was over fifteen years ago, and Winter didn’t remember their home in Scotland at all since she’d been so young at the time.
“You seem to like the journey so far.” Martin walked up and put his hand on the rail, standing next to her. His falcon swooped from his arm and settled on the lookout basket atop the main mast.
“I have always been intrigued by new challenges and going new places.”
“I’ll bet you have lived in Ravenscar your entire life.”
“Nay, that is not so. I just recently arrived here.”
“Really?”
She could have kicked herself for saying that. Now she was going to have to tell him something that wouldn’t make him suspicious. “We originally came from Hetherpool,” she told him, which was not a lie.
“Ah, Hetherpool,” he answered.
“Are you familiar with it?” she asked, trying to find out how much he knew and if he knew her grandfather.
“I’ve never been there personally, but I’ve heard that was the home of the mother of the king’s bastard triplets.”
“Yes. Their mother was King Edward’s mistress. Gabrielle is dead, but her twin is still alive.”
“You seem to know a lot about these bastards.”
“So I’ve been told.” She looked out over the water, biting her tongue to keep from saying more.
“I’ve never met up with the bastard triplets, but I hear they’re self-absorbed, black-hearted and cruel,” he said.
“Nay! That’s not true,” she spat, wanting to defend her brothers but, at the same time, knowing the more she said, the more questions he would ask. “So I’ve heard.”
“They raided their own father under the guise of the Demon Thief,” he stated.
“Only because King Edward ordered them killed as babies. They are lucky to be alive.”
He looked at her oddly.
“I hear a lot from tradesmen and travelers when I’m working at the forge.”
“Aye, I suppose you do. You are unlike any girl I’ve ever met before,” he told her.
“Really?” She smiled slightly, hoping he wasn’t seeing through her charade.
“I’ve never known a woman who works at the forge. Are you just the blacksmith’s helper or do you have a true talent for the trade?”
How was she going to answer that? He thought Wallace was the one with the talent – and at one time it was true. But now . . . without her, Wallace would be doomed. If Lord de Grey knew that, there was no telling what he might do.
“I learned everything I know from Wallace – my father,” she corrected herself. “So, tell me. What is Castle Heaton like? Is it big?”
Asking any man how big his castle was would surely distract him. Thankfully, her little plan worked beautifully.
“Does a size of a man’s castle really matter?” He said it with hooded eyes, making heat rush to her face. Somehow, she got the idea they were no longer talking about a castle.
“I’ve heard some lords have castles so large that ladies from all across the country would do anything to marry them and experience it for themselves.”
“My castle is large enough that I assure you any lady who has experienced it has been quite satisfied.”
“Interesting.” She was the one to raise a brow this time. “I’ve also heard the Scots have nice castles. They are known for their big . . . castles.”
He cleared his throat and adjusted his stance. His hand cupped her chin and he brought his face closer to her. “I would love to give you a tour of my big castle personally.” His mouth came closer and his eyes focused on her mouth. She was sure he was going to kiss her. “Would you like that?” he asked in a low whisper. He was so close now that she could feel his hot breath on her lips.
Her body warmed at his touch and a tingle of excitement coursed through her. “I . . . would,” she whispered, closing her eyes and waiting for the kiss. To be kissed by a handsome lord was something she welcomed.
“My lord, would ye like a sweetmeat?”
Winter’s eyes popped open to see Nairnie’s hand reaching up between them with a dried fig in her bony fingers.
“Nay,” he said, releasing Winter and standing upright. He cleared his throat again. “Prepare to dock,” Martin shouted out. Then, in a few long strides, he was across the deck, giving orders to his men.
“Nairnie, what did you do that for?” asked Winter, upset that the woman had interrupted her first kiss.
“Ye’d better watch yerself, lassie or ye’re goin’ to find yerself in a compromisin’ position with that one.” She popped the sweetmeat between her thin lips and chewed.
“It was only a kiss – and you ruined it,” complained Winter, crossing her arms over her chest, frustrated with the old healer. “Nothing more would have happened.”
“So sure are ye?” asked Nairnie, digging another sweetmeat from her bag and offering it to Winter.
Winter shook her head, so Nairnie popped that one into her mouth as well.
“Nairnie, I am eighteen years old, and I’ve yet to have my first kiss. If you keep interfering, I’ll never know what it’s like.”
“Ye’re forgettin’ that Lord de Grey thinks ye are naught but the daughter of a blacksmith. He’s used to takin’ servants and commoners to his bed only to sate his lustful desires. It willna mean a thing to him. Ye dinna want that. He will ruin ye for any lord that might want to marry ye in the future. Ye are a lady and need to remember that. I dinna like this game ye are playin’. Ye need to tell Lord de Grey who ye are, or I will.”
“Nay, don’t do that, Nairnie.” Winter held up her hands trying to ward off Nairnie’s threat. “I will tell him. I promise I will. Just not yet. Not until the sword is completed and Josef is set free.”
“Ye’re playin’ with fire, Lady Winter.”
“Don’t worry, Nairnie. I’m used to the hot flames, and I’m careful. I haven’t been burned yet.”
“Bein’ burned by fire is one thing. Bein’ burned by a man who will lead ye on to get what he wants and then drop ye faster than the swish of a horse’s tail is another thing altogether. Do ye think ye can handle that?”
“I can,” said Winter, not feeling as confident as she was before Lord de Grey almost kissed her. She had turned molten in his hands. Aye, this man did seem to hold a power over her, and she didn’t like to feel that weak around anyone. Perhaps Nairnie was right. She should be more careful around the handsome Lord de Grey.