was the only man Ranulf knew who was even more against the idea of marriage than himself. And the reasons why were a mystery.
Secrets, however, did not bother Ranulf. Every man had them. If he didn’t, then he was either still a boy and had not lived long enough to accumulate them, or was a braggart who could not be trusted to keep them. And besides, Ranulf had several of his own. His most recent, he had almost unwittingly exposed.
He hadn’t meant to stare at Bronwyn. But her dark penetrating eyes prevented him from looking away. Even at a distance they seemed to be able to peer behind his mask and see inside his soul. She wanted answers, reasons, the truth. He had forced himself to break their connection, glad she couldn’t see the details of what he really looked like. And based upon his latest actions and methods of evicting her, his angel would probably only view him as the devil.
Today’s encounter solidified his resolve. Until he was in full control of himself and once again uncaring of how others saw or reacted to him, Ranulf had no intention of meeting Lady Bronwyn or her sisters. And if last night’s inability to sleep was an indicator, it might be a long while before that time came.
A short, burly man with curly red-brown hair and matching beard entered the darkened room in the gatehouse. “They’re ready to leave, my lord.”
Ranulf waved Magnus over to where he stood in the dimly lit gatehouse. “Tristan, Gowan, Ansel, and Drake are going with you. One of you is to return at least every two days until I say otherwise. For now, you are in charge of the women’s welfare and I will hold you responsible if anything happens to them.” Ranulf held out his arm and Magnus clutched it. “If all is ready, depart and ride swiftly. By sundown they should be back and safe where they belong.”
If Magnus was nervous with the responsibility, he did not show it. With a sharp nod, he turned and left to see that his lord’s orders were obeyed. Ranulf followed him but stopped just inside the doorframe to scan for Bronwyn. His line of sight, however, was hampered by carts laden with food and provisions and those who were returning to their responsibilities at Syndlear. The small exiting group had become quite large.
Tyr, who had remained out of sight since their last encounter, popped into view and sauntered over with a grin he knew would aggravate Ranulf. “You can thank me later.”
Ranulf gestured to the mass starting to make their way out of the castle gates. “You’re responsible for this?”
“It looks like more are leaving than there are. The women needed a few families to help them or did you think that they should also do without servants, ladies’ maids, or even a cook? I could just see Magnus tackling the job.”
Ranulf grimaced. He had forgotten that Syndlear had been abandoned. “Where are they?”
“The women? Your future bride? Gone. They were the first to leave. So, you can finally escape this gatehouse.”
Ranulf’s brows popped up in a high arch of denial. “Listen, friend,” Tyr continued, “I won’t pry into why you care about what these women think, but don’t ask me to pretend that that’s not the reason behind this nonsense.”
Ranulf eyed his friend for a few seconds and then decided against refuting what was the unfortunate truth. “And just what would you have me do? Force them to be in my presence day after day?”
Tyr did nothing to hide his exasperation. “Not all women are like those of court, Ranulf.”
“No, but I still have a responsibility to protect Laon’s daughters, even if it is from me. It is better they should leave and save them the trouble of pretending not to be offended. Meanwhile, do me a favor and go make sure that Drake knows to stay in the back and help with the slower in the group.”
“Where’re you going?”
Ranulf shrugged and headed toward the round tower. “You know so much. You figure it out.”
Ranulf arrived at the tower steps and was about to enter when the frizzy-haired old woman who had practically sneered at him when he had refused an audience stepped into his path. “You don’t want to be doing that, my lord.”
“I could say the same for you,” Ranulf warned.
Constance held his gaze for several seconds and then moved aside, but she didn’t do so quietly. “Men like you have too much pride and for that you’ll pay a price.” She pointed to the stairwell. “If you enter this tower, I promise that you will have wished you spent just a few minutes with my mistress to learn about this place.”
Her direct stare held no shock, pity, or revulsion at his missing eye. If anything, the woman was quite indignant at his behavior to her mistress and was openly letting him know so. Ranulf found himself surprised by her reaction and consequently, was more abrupt with his reply than he attended. “You’re one of their maids, are you not? Then why are you still here? Leave and tend to their needs. There is no one left who needs your advice or assistance.”
Constance refused to be intimidated. “Oh, you are very wrong, my lord. There is you. Then again, maybe you’re right about me leaving. I never did have the patience for fools.”
Less than a second later she was gone with the insult still hanging in the air. Ranulf considered chasing her down, but he suspected that just might be what she wanted. Besides, he wanted to watch the group—and Bronwyn—as they left. So he entered the structure and began to climb. The stone stairwell wound in a tight corkscrew up four floors to the roof. He didn’t know who lived in the tower as he had not seen anyone enter or leave the structure since his arrival. He had glimpsed a few large items at the bottom in the shadows, but they appeared untouched for some time.
Ranulf pushed open the latched ceiling door and climbed up onto the tower roof. Leaning against the battlements, he surveyed Hunswick.
Located in the woodsier portion of Cumbria, the castle and the lake behind it were surrounded by trees. This made local game plentiful, but farms more distant, enemies invisible, and a strong defense difficult. At least the key defense structures had been converted to stone. But the castle had been originally built around a village and therefore was not laid out for protection, but for improved living. The place had several niceties, such as a chapel, a dovecote, and several wooden lean-tos so that villagers could just come and live practically in the lap of their lord.
The people of Hunswick were far from numerous, unlike some large castles where one could hardly move around the yard without tripping over some child, person, or object. Here there was ample room in the spacious bailey, perfect for the upcoming Twelfthtide festivities.
Ranulf had never really participated in the merriment that made up the season, but he suspected that these women did and that their people looked forward to each day’s events. For a second, he felt a brief pang of guilt that he was making them move when it was obvious all the revelry would be at Hunswick. Then he remembered how people had reacted the handful of times he had participated in the holiday and his resolve once again grew firm.
They and I will be better off if they are in their own home and not mine, he promised himself.
Bronwyn pushed aside a low-lying branch as she moved through one of the thickets outside Hunswick. Giving her reins a light tug to the right, she nudged her horse out of the group’s way before pausing to yank off the uncomfortable headdress.
“Stopping?” Edythe asked, halting her own progress.
Bronwyn gave
