Julie Garwood - The Prize

"Who is this informant you mentioned?" Royce asked. "And why do you trust him?"

"The man's name is James, and I haven't said I trust him," Hugh answered. "He has proved to be reliable thus far, that's all. He tells me he's hated by the other Saxons because he was given the unholy chore of collecting the tax. James is very familiar with the families in this area. He was raised here, you see. He knows all the favorite hiding places, too. Has the wind not taken on a wicked bite this past hour, Royce?" Hugh asked then, switching topics as he pulled his heavy cloak around his shoulders. "My bones are feeling the rattle of winter now."

Royce barely noticed the cold. A fine mist of snow was swirling around them, but it wasn't sufficient to blanket the ground. "You have old bones, Hugh. That's the reason you feel the cold." He grinned at his friend to soften the insult.

Hugh smiled back. "Old, say you? You'll change your opinion when you hear about my astonishing victories against the Saxons."

The arrogant warrior then began to relate, detail by methodical detail, the series of victories he'd claimed in William's name. He didn't finish with his litany of boasts until they were in the courtyard of the castle.

Ingelram wasn't there to greet his lord, and Royce surmised the besotted vassal was still abovestairs, staring at the nun.

The mere reminder of the Saxon woman made him uneasy-something about her bothered Royce, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

Perhaps, he thought to himself, it was because she waited until Hugh was settled before answering. "Aye, my lord. The parents are both dead. They're buried in the family plot atop the crest to the north."

James's neck began to ache from having to tilt his head all the way back in order to look up at the Norman's face. When the crick became too irritating, he turned his gaze to the floor. The action proved a blessing, for the tightness in his chest immediately loosened once he wasn't looking directly at the warrior's face. The Norman's eyes were just as terrifying as the hideous scar covering most of his right cheek, James admitted. His hard, cold gaze was far more intimidating than his size or his marks.

"Now tell me about the other members of this family," Royce commanded.

James hurried to answer. "There are two brothers. Thurston is the eldest of the children. It was reported he died during the battle in the north. This hasn't been verified yet."

"And the other brother?"

"His name is Justin. He's the youngest in the family. He was injured in the same battle. The nuns are taking care of him now at the abbey. It isn't believed Justin will live, though. His injuries were quite severe."

Ingelram continued to stand by his leader's side. Royce suddenly turned to his vassal. "Did I not order you to bring the nun to me?" he demanded, still speaking Saxon.

Ingelram answered him in the same language. "I didn't know you meant to question her, Baron."

"It isn't your duty to know what I plan to do, Ingelram. You're to obey without question."

Ingelram took a deep breath. "She isn't here," he blurted out.

Royce resisted the urge to strangle his vassal. "Explain yourself," he ordered in a hard voice.

It took all the courage Ingelram possessed to meet his lord's stare. "Sister Danielle requested an escort back to the abbey. She'd given her word to her superiors she'd be back before dark. She was also most concerned about her brother. Because he's the youngest in the family, she feels great responsibility for him."

Throughout the halting explanation, Royce hadn't shown any reaction. Ingelram didn't have the faintest idea what his lord was thinking. The not knowing made his voice squeak when he continued. "The brother's injuries are life-threatening, Baron, and she wanted to sit by his side through the night. She promised me she'd return to us in the morning. Surely then she'll answer any questions you have for her."

Royce had to take a deep, calming breath before he dared to speak again. "And if she doesn't return to us in the morning?" he asked in a mild, thoroughly controlled voice.

Ingelram looked stunned by that question. He'd never considered such a dark possibility. "She gave me her word, Baron. She wouldn't lie to me. She couldn't. She's a bride of the church. It would be a mortal sin on her soul if she didn't tell the truth. If, for some reason, she cannot leave the abbey in the morning, I'll be happy to go inside and fetch her for you."

Royce was conditioned by years of training to control his temper. He did so now, though the urge to shout at the foolish vassal made his throat ache. The fact that the Saxon informant was in the hall did help somewhat, for Royce would never ever chastise one of his men in front of an outsider. It would be an indignity, and Royce always treated his men the way he expected to be treated. Respect was earned, not demanded, but dignity was taught by example.

Hugh cleared his throat, gaining Royce's full attention. The older warrior gave his friend a sympathetic look, then turned to Ingelram. "Son, you can't go inside the sacred walls to get her. The left hand of God would descend upon all of us if we dared to violate the most holy law of all."

"The holy law?" Ingelram stammered out, clearly not understanding.

Hugh rolled his eyes heavenward. "She's under the protection of the church now, son. You've just given her sanctuary."

Ingelram was finally beginning to understand the ramifications of his deed. He was horrified by his own conduct. He was also desperate to find a way to redeem himself in his lord's eyes. "But she promised me-"

"Be silent."

Royce hadn't raised his voice when he gave that command, but the Saxon informant jumped a good foot, for he'd gotten a glimpse of the fury in the warrior's gray eyes. He took several steps back in a puny attempt to separate himself from the Norman's wrath.

Royce was amused by the Saxon's cowardly retreat. The little man was literally shaking in his boots. "You've told me about the brothers, James," Royce said then, returning the conversation to the household. "Now tell me about the twin sisters. We were told that one is a nun and the other…"

He stopped when the Saxon shook his head. "There is no nun in this household," James blurted out. "There is Lady Nicholaa," he added in a rush when he saw how his explanation was affecting the Norman. The jagged scar on the warrior's face had turned stark white. "Lady Nicholaa is-"

Royce interrupted him. "We know about Lady Nicholaa," he said. "She's the one who defended her castle against us, isn't that correct?"

"Aye, my lord," James answered. "That is correct."

"Now I want to hear about the other twin. If she isn't a nun, then…"

The Saxon dared to shake his head at him again. James looked more perplexed than frightened now. "But my lord," he whispered, "there is only one. Lady Nicholaa does not have a twin."

Royce's reaction to the Saxon's announcement was swift and surprising. He threw back his head and laughed until tears filled his eyes. Lady Nicholaa's clever ploy to gain sanctuary astonished him. The woman had proved to be extremely resourceful, a trait he was quick to appreciate whenever he chanced upon it.

Nicholaa wasn't a nun. Relief swelled inside him. He didn't understand the reason for such a reaction, however, and quickly pushed the feeling aside. Then he started laughing again. By God, he hadn't lusted after a bride of the church after all.

Ingelram didn't know what to make of his lord's bizarre behavior. In the short while he'd been under the baron's command, he'd never even seen him smile. The vassal suddenly realized he'd never witnessed his leader accept defeat, either.

"Don't you understand, Baron?" Ingelram blurted out. "You've suffered a humiliation because of me. I believed her lies. I gave her escort to the abbey."