am not even sure he knows it himself—but my sisters have reported that ere he returned to full consciousness following the blows that provided him an intimate view of death, he spoke your name several times, as well as your son’s.”
Helene did not think she had ever been so aware of the simple act of breathing as she had become since arriving at Soaring, but again she felt the pressure of breath below her throat and its absence from her mouth and nostrils. What did it mean that her name had been upon Sir Abel’s lips? Perhaps he—
Nay. If it was anything, it was desire that had made him speak of her from out of the darkness. And yet, he had spoken of John as well…
Dear Lord, why am I in such turmoil over a man I can never truly know? Why can I not simply leave him to his misery and go home to what I do know, that which is real and true and safe?
“Baron Wulfrith,” she said, “I believe you seek to gain my continued service by leading me to believe your brother has a care for me beyond passing interest. Though I do not doubt you know that I would be receptive to such feelings, surely you cannot think I am so fool to imagine there could ever be more for me than there was for my mother who birthed a son…”
You do it again, wee Helene.
So she did, but what harm was there? Her story was not unique, for many were the common misbegotten children of the nobility. And so, wishing Sister Clare away—though, in truth, there were few things she wanted more than to walk beside the nun again—she continued, “…my mother who birthed a son and daughter, both of whom were put in her belly by a man who was not born to a commoner’s life and would never make of her more than a pleasant diversion.”
As Baron Wulfrith stared at her with those same assessing eyes she had earlier felt in the hall, she straightened from the bench. Fortunately, he had not drawn so near that she had to strain her neck any more than when she had been seated. “I understand your motive, and I think it honorable that you care so deeply for your brother that you would see him restored to your family as fully as possible, but do not try to make of me a pawn whose sacrifice is of no consequence.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You speak nearly as forcefully and freely as my wife, Lady Annyn.”
So that was whom he thought would like her as told to his sister and mother.
Helene linked her fingers to keep them from making mischief among her skirts. “If I have offended, I apologize, for I know ‘tis not for me to address you in such manner, just as it was not for me to strike Sir Durand. However, neither is it for you to lead me to a room I am not allowed to enter.”
He inclined his head. “Well said. However, I would have you know that though I will do all I can to see Abel restored, I am not his keeper and do not hold the key to that room , as you call it. Nor would he tolerate my interference, having once before allowed others to fashion that key for him.”
Helene nearly groaned. “Am I to seek to unravel yet another riddle?”
“That I leave to Abel and you, for just as Sir Durand’s tale is not for me to tell, neither is my brother’s.”
And though he did not say it, since she was one who but provided a service, she had no right to do more than wonder at those tales.
“I ask only that you remain at Soaring,” he said, “at least until my return.”
She blinked. “You are leaving?”
“Aye, and my mother with me. Though I come as often as I am able, my people and lands are in need of their lord.”
Helene lowered her gaze to the toes of her slippers that bore the muddy traces of the wood.
“Will you give me an answer, Helene of Tippet?”
She returned her gaze to his. “When will you return to Soaring?”
“I shall be gone at least a fortnight, mayhap as long as a month.”
“A month,” she repeated, her thoughts winging to John to whom she had hoped to return within a fortnight.
“If it would convince you
Helene did not think she had ever been so aware of the simple act of breathing as she had become since arriving at Soaring, but again she felt the pressure of breath below her throat and its absence from her mouth and nostrils. What did it mean that her name had been upon Sir Abel’s lips? Perhaps he—
Nay. If it was anything, it was desire that had made him speak of her from out of the darkness. And yet, he had spoken of John as well…
Dear Lord, why am I in such turmoil over a man I can never truly know? Why can I not simply leave him to his misery and go home to what I do know, that which is real and true and safe?
“Baron Wulfrith,” she said, “I believe you seek to gain my continued service by leading me to believe your brother has a care for me beyond passing interest. Though I do not doubt you know that I would be receptive to such feelings, surely you cannot think I am so fool to imagine there could ever be more for me than there was for my mother who birthed a son…”
You do it again, wee Helene.
So she did, but what harm was there? Her story was not unique, for many were the common misbegotten children of the nobility. And so, wishing Sister Clare away—though, in truth, there were few things she wanted more than to walk beside the nun again—she continued, “…my mother who birthed a son and daughter, both of whom were put in her belly by a man who was not born to a commoner’s life and would never make of her more than a pleasant diversion.”
As Baron Wulfrith stared at her with those same assessing eyes she had earlier felt in the hall, she straightened from the bench. Fortunately, he had not drawn so near that she had to strain her neck any more than when she had been seated. “I understand your motive, and I think it honorable that you care so deeply for your brother that you would see him restored to your family as fully as possible, but do not try to make of me a pawn whose sacrifice is of no consequence.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You speak nearly as forcefully and freely as my wife, Lady Annyn.”
So that was whom he thought would like her as told to his sister and mother.
Helene linked her fingers to keep them from making mischief among her skirts. “If I have offended, I apologize, for I know ‘tis not for me to address you in such manner, just as it was not for me to strike Sir Durand. However, neither is it for you to lead me to a room I am not allowed to enter.”
He inclined his head. “Well said. However, I would have you know that though I will do all I can to see Abel restored, I am not his keeper and do not hold the key to that room , as you call it. Nor would he tolerate my interference, having once before allowed others to fashion that key for him.”
Helene nearly groaned. “Am I to seek to unravel yet another riddle?”
“That I leave to Abel and you, for just as Sir Durand’s tale is not for me to tell, neither is my brother’s.”
And though he did not say it, since she was one who but provided a service, she had no right to do more than wonder at those tales.
“I ask only that you remain at Soaring,” he said, “at least until my return.”
She blinked. “You are leaving?”
“Aye, and my mother with me. Though I come as often as I am able, my people and lands are in need of their lord.”
Helene lowered her gaze to the toes of her slippers that bore the muddy traces of the wood.
“Will you give me an answer, Helene of Tippet?”
She returned her gaze to his. “When will you return to Soaring?”
“I shall be gone at least a fortnight, mayhap as long as a month.”
“A month,” she repeated, her thoughts winging to John to whom she had hoped to return within a fortnight.
“If it would convince you
Similar Books
