Линси Сэндс - Meant to Be Immortal [calibre]

“What riddle?” Lucan asked breathlessly and Hugh sneered at his being taking in by this trickery. When the woman merely raised dark eyes to stare at the other knight, he shifted and asked, “Well then, what if he does not solve the riddle?”

“Death awaits.”

Hugh saw the conviction in her eyes and swallowed nervously. Then she sat back and waved an impatient hand. “Begone. I am weary and your presence annoys me.”

The two men were more than happy to comply. They removed themselves from the dim cottage, and stepped out into the sunlight with relief.

“Well?” Lucan queried as they returned to their mounts.

Grim-faced, Hugh waited until he was back atop his mount to ask, “Well what?”

“Do you return on the morrow for her or no?”

“He’ll return.”

Head snapping around, Hugh glared at the old woman for eavesdropping, then angrily tugged on his reins, drawing his horse around before spurring him into a canter that left Lucan scrambling to mount and catch up to him.

Hugh had to slow down once he hit the trees; there was no true path to or from this cottage, which had made finding it an adventure. His decreased speed allowed Lucan to catch up to him. The moment he did, he again asked whether Hugh would marry the girl.

Hugh scowled at the question. His visit with Lord Wynekyn and the solicitor had been short. Once he had heard the bit about his being expected to marry some by-blow named Willa, he had worked himself into a fine temper. After bellowing and stomping about a bit, he had headed for Hillcrest. Hugh had no desire to marry the girl. But he wasn’t sure how he could get himself out of it. The way the solicitor had phrased it, he had to marry her in order to gain his inheritance. “I do not wish it, but fear I may have no choice if I want Hillcrest.”

“Surely you cannot be denied Hillcrest,” Lucan argued. “ ’Tis yours by law of primogeniture. You are next in line. Whether you marry the girl or not, Hillcrest cannot be refused you.”

Hugh perked up at this comment. “Aye. You are right.”

“Aye. So what will you do with her?” Lucan asked and Hugh’s posture deflated, along with his mood. “I do not know.”

They were both silent, then Hugh said slowly, “I suppose I really have to see to her future. She is a relative after all.”

“Aye,” Lucan murmured. Then, when Hugh did not continue, he suggested tentatively, “Perhaps you could arrange a marriage for her. See her settled.”

Hugh pondered that briefly, then gave a slow nod. “Aye. That might be just the thing. She may even have a fondness for someone of her own class.”

“Aye. She may.”

Relaxing a little, Hugh set his mind to accomplishing the task. He would have to work around the old woman, that was obvious. If the hag got wind of his idea, she would most likely put an end to it right quick and make trouble for him. He supposed that wouldn’t be his responsibility. After all, the only thing he could do was try to see to the girl’s future well-being. If the old woman wouldn’t accept anything from him but marriage . . . well, she was going to be disappointed. It was just a shame if she made things harder on the girl than need be.

The melodious voice—high, clear, and angelic—came to him again moments later. Cocking his head, he turned it by degrees until he could tell from which direction the song came, and then he headed his horse toward it. Hugh came upon a clearing to find the sound sweet in the air, but no sign of the girl from whose lips it came.

Perplexed, he scanned the area more carefully. He spied her half-hidden in a crush of weeds. Rather than search out the garlic the old lady had sent her after, the girl lay in a tangle of weeds and flowers. She made dandelion chains as she sang. Hugh urged his horse forward, almost sorry when her song died mid-word and she sat up abruptly.

“She sent you for garlic. Is this how you obey your guardian?” Hugh asked. When she merely stared up at him in blank confusion, he shifted impatiently. “Answer me!”

“She has no need of garlic, my lord. I collected that yesterday.”

“Mayhap she needed more. Why else did she ask you to fetch it?”

“She merely wished to speak to you alone.”

Hugh accepted that news in silence. His gaze moved around the clearing and he began to frown. “ ’Tis not wise to wander about alone. You could be set upon. Then what would you do?”

“Wolfy and Fen would keep me safe.”

His eyebrows rose, but he did not question her.

She tilted her head in a listening attitude before collecting her empty basket and getting to her feet. “I must return. She will want me now that you have left.”

“Wait.” Leaning down, Hugh caught her arm, then released her as if stung when she turned back in question. Shaking his head at his own reaction to her, he held his hand out. “I will take you back.”

Willa did not hesitate, but promptly placed her fingers in his. For one moment, Hugh wondered at her placing her trust in him so easily. Then he reasoned that as far as she knew, he was her betrothed. Of course she would trust him. The issue resolved in his mind, he lifted her up and settled her on the saddle before him, then adjusted his hold on the reins. Hugh turned the horse in a slow circle back the way he had come, aware that Lucan was following a discreet distance behind on his own mount.

“Who are Wilf and Fin?” he asked.

“Wolfy and Fen,” she corrected, then added, “friends.” The girl wiggled about a bit on the saddle in search of a more comfortable seat.

Hugh gritted his teeth against his body’s natural reaction as she rubbed against him, but continued determinedly with his questions. “Would you ever consider marrying either of them?”

That brought her head swinging around, her lovely golden tresses brushing across his face. Much to his chagrin, a burble of laughter burst from her lips. “Nay! My lord, that would be quite impossible.”

Her sincere amusement at the idea brought a scowl to Hugh’s face as she turned to face front. Unfortunately, though she turned away, her hair remained plastered across his face, caught in the stubble on his cheeks. He jerked his head backward to dislodge the soft tendrils, then considered his next question. While he was still curious about the Wolfy and Fen she had mentioned, Hugh was more concerned about resolving this situation in such a way that he would not have to marry her, yet would not have to feel guilty either.

“Is there anyone who holds a special place in your affections?” he asked at last.

“Of course.”

Hugh went still, his hands tightening on the reins as hope rose at those easily confessed words. He hadn’t expected to be so lucky. But if she held a tendre for someone, all he need do was to arrange for her to marry the fellow. He would then settle some money on the couple and his troubles would be over.

“Eada is like a mother to me,” she said, bursting his bubble. “She is a wonderful woman. Very special.”

Hugh rolled his eyes at that, finding it hard to see anything special or wonderful about the hag. But, in any case, the girl obviously hadn’t understood his question. It seemed he would have to be more specific. He should have expected that, of course. She was an uneducated peasant, no doubt simple-minded.

Willa shifted about on the saddle before him, then gave her head a shake that sent several strands of golden hair up to catch again on his unshaven cheeks. Scrubbing one hand down his face as if removing cobwebs caught there, Hugh thought with some irritation that he should have taken the time to bathe and shave before seeking out the hag’s cottage. He hadn’t been in the mood for such niceties at the time, however. After learning the particulars of his inheritance, he had made the two-day ride to Hillcrest with Lucan as company. He had stopped at Hillcrest just long enough to look around, ask a few questions, and get directions on where to find this Willa who had been left to him. It was then that he had heard about the hag, Eada. His uncle’s men and servants had been eager to warn him of her witchy ways, but less happy to part with news of the girl the creature was said to guard. From what he had seen, the descriptions of the crone had been right on the mark, he thought, recalling her spooky air.