yes it would, but—”
She gave him no time to complete his sentence before asking, “And since I was the one who kept him waiting for so long, is it not right that I spend a little time assuring him of our welcome?”
Everett tugged his forelock and dipped his head. “You are correct. Pray, forgive me.”
He gave in far too easily, but unwilling to pursue this any further at this time, she relented. “Fear not, Sir Everett, I will do nothing to bring shame or disgrace to Thornson.” To herself she added, Especially not with Darius. We’ve shamed ourselves more than once in the past. I’ll not repeat my childish mistakes.
Marguerite nearly laughed at Everett’s loud sigh of relief. She waved him away. “Go. See that Faucon’s men have all they require. Let them have no reason to question our hospitality—or loyalty to King Stephen.”
She knew that Everett fully understood what would happen if Faucon discovered Thornson’s loyalty to Empress Matilda. Her captain would be the last person that would let that happen.
After Sir Everett left, she headed toward the alcove at the back of the Great Hall, mentally ticking off the tasks still needing attention this afternoon.
The cooks would need an accounting of how many more mouths would require food. And she needed to assure herself that everyone understood her odd request of silence about Marcus. To do that, she would have to travel into the village, and while there it would be a sin not to visit with Bertha’s sister, who was due with her fifth child any day now. Sally Miller had mentioned that her husband’s joints ached him to no end of late; she should see how he fared. Then, she could spend some time with Marcus. He would be gone from her soon and she wanted to spend every moment possible in his company until they were parted.
And when all of that was done, she would need to conjure some womanly type of excuse to give to Darius for disobeying his orders. Marguerite rolled her eyes. Orders, indeed. She was the Lady of Thornson and she’d not seen anything in King Stephen’s missive that changed her status.
Darius already knew she’d lied. He just didn’t yet realize it had been intentional. She needed his attention focused on her.
With a little subterfuge on her part and a lot of luck, she would be Darius of Faucon’s weakness. If he spent most of his waking hours concentrating on what she was doing, or not doing, he’d not notice the activities of her men.
“Pray tell me, how did Faucon come to be inside Thornson?”
Sir Everett flinched at the smooth tone of his inquisitor’s voice. He’d learned that the calm hid a violent temper. “Faucon and his men were sent here on King Stephen’s orders. They tried to capture the smugglers, and then attacked the keep.”
A twig snapped beneath the man’s boot when he stepped closer. “I saw what happened on the beach. And I heard about the attack.” Like a snake attacking its hapless prey, he wrapped his fingers around Everett’s neck. “I asked you how Faucon came to be inside the keep.”
Everett swallowed. His throat strained against the deadly grasp. “Lady Thornson cried truce and let them enter.”
The other’s loud curse sent a nearby rodent scurrying beneath the leaves on the forest floor. “No one will be permitted to thwart my plans. No one. Keep an eye on both of them. Make certain the lady does nothing further to jeopardize our plans, and find out all you can about Faucon.” He released his hold on Everett’s neck and stepped back. “I will return tomorrow. Have some news by then.”
Still gasping to draw air into his burning chest, Everett could do little but nod.
Marguerite slipped into the kitchens through an oftused tunnel door. The cook and her helpers merely nodded and carried on with their duties.
This afternoon’s tasks had taken longer than she’d expected. She had little time left to make herself presentable before the evening meal was served.
The servants were in the process of setting up the long trestle tables in the hall when she passed through on her way to her chamber. She had less time than she had thought. Since she’d used the maze of tunnels to exit and return to the keep, it had wasted more time than usual.
But it wasn’t as if she would have been permitted to simply walk through the gates. She’d had no other choice but the tunnels.
At least her day had not been wasteful. Even during this trying time it had been filled with joy. She smiled at the memories.
She and Marcus had ventured into the forest seeking yarrow for one of Bertha’s concoctions. They’d laughed and danced about the forest as if not a care in the world beset them or Thornson.
And when she’d forced herself to part from him to return to the keep, their shared tears of sadness at the coming separation had mingled. Not long, my love. Our parting will not be for long. It was a vow she would sooner die than break.
Would that Faucon’s departure came soon. She needed things at Thornson to return to some semblance of normalcy. Even if they found another man for her to marry, a stranger’s presence would be better than Faucon’s. Someone who knew her not.
Bertha joined her at the foot of the stairs. “How fares my sister?”
“Other than being anxious for the babe to arrive, she is fine, Bertha.” Marguerite glanced about the hall before heading up to her chamber. “Have you seen Faucon or his men?”
Bertha followed. “His men guard the walls and the gates.”
“His men? What about Thornson’s guards?” Marguerite was thankful she’d not approached the gates.
“Our men have been relieved of duty, my lady. I am not certain what, but something happened earlier that seemed to anger Faucon.”
“I wonder what it could have been?” No doubt he’d found her missing.
The women paused at the top of the landing. Marguerite noted Faucon’s guards flanking the stairs. She raised her eyebrows at their presence, but said nothing as she and Bertha walked by them.
She pushed the door to her chamber open and frowned at the warmth rushing out from inside the room. “Bertha, did you—”
Her maid’s gasp effectively stopped her question. Marguerite spun around.
Sir Osbert smiled at her from behind the maid. He had one hand covering Bertha’s mouth and his other wrapped around the maid’s arm. He nodded toward the chamber before leading Bertha away.
“Get in here and close the door.”
Marguerite’s heart thumped against her chest. She turned toward the stairs, only to see both guards waiting for her. Escape would not be an option.
After taking a deep breath, she entered her chamber and shut the door behind her.
Darius stood by the lit brazier—the source of the heat she’d felt. He held out a goblet. “Here, join me.”
“Join you in what?”
“Our evening meal. Since it seems you cannot follow even the simplest order to remain in your
