was a battle wound that had made his sword-training fiercer and his battle mien more menacing. In the mercenary business, such a scar benefited him. But here, as the lord of a genteel manor, it was a liability. Now he would have to suffer questions, skirt the truth, or tell lies about how he’d received it. There would be gasps of dismay and horror, and—worse—pity.
He knew this, and though he’d worn no patch since his accident, he wore one now, for the trip home. The patch covered the worst of it, and yet still Louve’s horse skittered at the sudden jerk of his master’s reins.
He’d only just set foot on his land and had a fair distance to go before he reached the manor. He’d hoped for a brief reprieve until then, so he could see how his land fared. Instead, one of his oldest friends—one of those who’d betrayed him—had ridden out to greet him and almost toppled his horse as a result.
He didn’t want this.
Nicholas held his horse steady as Louve settled his. Neither man lowered his gaze. When Louve dismounted, so did he. For just that time Nicholas let Louve gawk at his injury.
He studied Louve as well, and noticed minor changes. His dark hair was longer, and he had more strength to him. But the irreverent look in his eyes, the way he held himself as if the world was a joke—that was painfully familiar.
Another moment passed and then Louve’s lips pursed and he whistled low. ‘You dumb bastard. You’ve returned but you’ve forgotten your eye.’
Nicholas was a liar. He was damned glad to see Louve—but that didn’t mean he liked it. Whatever friendship they had once shared had been battered away.
But what to do about it? Strike him down? Shove a sword through his guts? Nothing. He would do nothing right now. The disquiet coursing through him over coming here was gone, only to be replaced by a burning frustration at the injustice of liars and thieves.
‘Well, I can’t go back for it,’ Nicholas said, gauging this man’s reactions. Louve wasn’t Roger, or Matilda, but still he’d played his part. Something would have to be done.
‘I suppose we’ll have to take you as you are?’ Louve asked.
And there was the crux. He was the lord of this manor, and he’d been sending coin to make Mei Solis prosperous again. But he’d given the control of his home to two men and a woman. Despite the law, this man did have a say as to whether he could return. Which was one of the reasons why Nicholas had not written to inform anyone of his intended homecoming.
When Nicholas shrugged, Louve took the steps necessary to pound his aching back and shake him—briefly and far too roughly.
Unexpected. Unwanted. Nicholas stepped away from his touch.
Louve’s easy manner fell, and he gathered his horse’s reins.
Refusing to ease Louve’s feelings, Nicholas grabbed his horse’s reins and stepped in beside him.
‘Could you look any worse?’
A joke. Did Louve think to make light talk, as if six years didn’t separate them? What was his game?
‘I asked the bastard to take the other eye, but he couldn’t because I’d killed him.’
Louve raised one brow. ‘So you decided to wear some pauper’s unwashed clothes to finish the look instead?’
Wearing a rich man’s clothes would get him killed. ‘I’ve travelled far.’
‘Alone?’ Louve eyed the other tethered horses, which carried large satchels.
Nicholas knew Louve would guess there was coin in there, and he was right.
‘Just since London. Are we walking to the manor?’ It was miles yet, and he’d ridden hard since London.
‘If we ride we’ll be there in a few minutes. Walking gives us time to talk.’
A conversation amongst friends?
A part of him wanted to toss Louve to the ground and demand to know why he hadn’t stopped Matilda’s marriage. Why he hadn’t at least written to him, warn him. No, it was too soon. He would make them reveal their game first, before he revealed his.
‘I’ve written you letters almost every month for the last six years.’
‘True, but I notice the lack of any letter informing us of your return. We’ll probably never hear the end of it from Cook. But I have to admit the coin you sent was convenient.’
‘Was it?’
He was too far away to see the village or his home. Mei Solis was an open field manor. In the centre of his land was the manor itself, with a small courtyard and some buildings for his own private use, such as his stables. A simple gate kept his property separate from the village and from the tenants that encircled the manor for their own protection. Surrounding everything were fields for livestock and crops. All he could see so far was this road, which was narrow and rough, and useless fallow fields.
It stung to return here and be so brutally reminded of his failed past. He might have lost his eye, but while he’d been gone he’d gained balance, and a sense of worth as a mercenary. He’d gained friends—and wealth as well. And yet he was not even a furrow’s length on his land and the weight of his past burdens cloaked him again.
‘Your coin was quite handy. I’d be pleased to show you how,’ Louve said. ‘You are staying, I presume?’
Was Louve’s game to pretend to be friends? Maybe he thought to put Nicholas at ease so he would return to his mercenary life and leave them alone.
A dark, insidious thought came. Matilda had married Roger, but maybe she’d had Louve as well. What did he know? He’d thought she was true to him, as he had been to her. But her marrying Roger had proved she was as faithless as his stepmother had been. And Roger’s and Louve’s lack of correspondence depicted men without honour. All were without honour.
As such, if he did nothing else he would put no one at ease and tell nothing of his intentions. ‘Since I can barely feel my legs, I will stay until they can carry me again.’
Louve shot his gaze over to him, but Nicholas pretended not to see it.
‘I suppose that’s more information than we’ve had in the past,’ Louve said, after several more moments.
‘Not good enough?’ Nicholas said.
‘You’re as surly as a wolf in winter, but I understand why.’
So he should, thought Nicholas.
‘She’s out in the fields now,’ Louve remarked.
She. Matilda. It was late harvest time, and he could envisage her there. Her red-gold hair shining brighter than any crop. Her hazel eyes lit with more colours than a field of green. Matilda—who at one point in his life had meant everything to him, who had been his very soul.
Then she had broken her promise to him and betrayed him in the cruellest of manners. He’d returned to Mei Solis to fix his past. He
