Wildewood Revenge Read online

  He hoped they would soon be able to return to their homes, but until his feud with Gerard was settled, nothing was assured.

  Chapter Thirty

  “We need more than Mayflower,” Miles confided in Grace later. “We need more evidence to take to the king.”

  Grace drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her face a study in concentration. She sat on the bed cross-legged, covers pulled up around her, a goblet of elderflower wine in her hand, courtesy of the Foresters. It was her second and almost finished. For someone who couldn’t take her drink, Miles reckoned she was certainly getting some practice. He paced back and forth across the room, with the flagon. As he gestured with his hands, he sloshed the wine, over the floor and the toes of his leather boots.

  “Sit down. You’re making me dizzy just looking at you,” she demanded. He acquiesced, taking space at the bottom of the bed his booted feet on top of the covers. Grace looked pointedly at the boots and he moved his feet to the floor without comment.

  “We need to put Edward in a position where he cannot fail to decide in Wildewoods favour. He’ll not want to stand up to such a powerful family unless it’s advantageous for him to do so. He relies upon the power of the de Frouville’s to keep his northern border patrolled and safe from Scottish attack.”

  “Is it likely, he’ll do anything at all?” asked Grace. “How far back does his connection with the de Frouville’s go?”

  “Generations; It was King Henry II who first instructed the de Frouville’s to build a castle at Ahlborett. To be fair they have managed the land well, and defended the border as instructed, Alex would no doubt vouch for that. The region has enjoyed an extended period of peace which is largely due to the de Frouville’s. The fact Gerard has behaved like a prick since he was old enough to piss straight, is neither here nor there as long as he continues to protect the king’s border and doesn’t do anything to damage the king’s reputation. Edward will not allow Gerard to make a fool of him, but I doubt whether he’ll go so far as to hang him for murder.”

  “And yet your mother was a de Frouville’ and so are you. Surely the king could act as arbitrator in what is essentially a family disagreement?”

  Miles narrowed his eyes.

  “I do not care to think of myself as a de Frouville’. I have never been a part of that family. They maltreated my mother when she most needed their support. They murdered her when she was at her happiest. And I know Gerard would see me dead.”

  Grace hesitated. “What of your father?”

  “I know nothing of my father,” Miles replied curtly. That subject was not for discussion.

  “What else has Gerard done that might anger the king?” asked Grace.

  “In addition to the murder of my mother?”

  Grace winced. “Um...yes.”

  Miles thought about it. In his opinion everything else seemed insignificant. “He imprisoned Walter de Sweethope. Edward was forced to intervene to get him released.”

  Grace drained her goblet and clinging onto the covers with one hand, twisted around looking for the flagon. “Who is Walter de Sweethope?” she asked, leaning perilously over the side of the bed as she reached out blindly with her hand.

  “A landowner, from some way west of here. Kirkwhelpington, I believe.” Miles cocked his head and watched as the covers slid away and she hovered closer to the point of no return.

  “Why?”

  “Why did Gerard imprison him, or why did Edward intervene?”

  “Well, both I suppose.” She pulled herself back from the brink and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Not sure to both, I assume he pissed Gerard off for some reason, and I assume Gerard subsequently pissed Edward off. I don’t know the man, Sweethope, so I couldn’t really say.”

  Grace studied Miles. “Do you know your swearing is increasing, rather alarmingly?” He raised a brow and opened his mouth to reply but she beat him to it. “I think you’re mixing with the wrong people,” she giggled and he returned a grin of his own.

  “I think you’ve had enough to drink, I wouldn’t care to be accused of corrupting you.”

  “That’s better,” she said. “You look so much nicer when you smile.”

  “There hasn’t been much to smile about recently,” he replied. His eyes trailed over her, “Apart from you of course.”

  She crossed her legs again and rested her elbows on her knees, her chin pensively on her hands. “Okay, anything else?” She yawned softly.

  Miles tipped his head back, closed his eyes and put his boots back on the bed. He needed to stretch out. His thoughts were beginning to wander and his concentration not helped by glimpses of flesh and white lace. His imagination took hold as he visualised her stretched out next to him. “There was the business of the missing treasure,” he muttered.

  Grace leaned forward. “Treasure?”

  “Something Alex mentioned, Gerard was suspected of misappropriating some loot from the crusades. It was all supposed to come back to the king’s coffers and apparently Gerard’s didn’t. He claimed it was stolen.”

  “Wasn’t that your excuse?”

  “No, it wasn’t an excuse, it actually happened. Guy and his associates took it while I was otherwise engaged.”

  Grace let that go with a smile. “But if no one knew what Gerard had in his possession in the first place then it would be hard to prove.”

  Miles shrugged. It was late, his thoughts were already elsewhere.

  “Do you remember what you had, before Guy took it?”

  “Not everything.” It had been three years’ worth after all. “A collection of gold and jewellery, merely what could be carried on the back of a horse.”

  “Do you think Guy and Gerard might possibly have pooled their ill-gotten gains?”

  Miles considered it. They were both self-centred men and he doubted they would have the capacity to share anything unless they had a specific plan and purpose. The fact they were now working together, led him to believe there was indeed a plan afoot. “You think if they have, Guy may have included the valuables he took from me and I might be able to identify them?”

  “Possibly.”

  “But we’d have to find it first.”

  Grace’s face changed as something important finally dawned. Miles saw the excitement sparkle in her eyes. “I may just be able to help with that,” she cried excitedly.

  “You’re telling me you know where Gerard has hidden the treasure?” he raised a sceptical brow. “I thought we’d already established you aren’t a witch.”

  She glanced at him through lowered lashes, mischief lacing her words. “I think I do ... but who knows what powers I’ll need to unleash, in order to be sure.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t - not even in jest, Grace. There are people not so far from here who would hang you from the nearest bough simply because you’re … unusual. Don’t give them further cause. Anyway, how do you know?”

  Grace scrambled out of her cocoon of covers and left her empty goblet at the side of the bed. She crawled up the bed to him on all fours, sat astride his out stretched legs in her underwear and shuffled up onto his knee.

  “Careful,” he winced as she adjusted her position with a hand on his still tender abdomen. “We were talking about the treasure...I think.”

  She kissed the end of his nose and he put his hands on her hips to keep her still. “How do you imagine you know where it is?”

  “My grandfather told me.” She shivered delicately, goosebumps spreading over her bared flesh and reaching behind her she attempted to pull up the covers.

  Miles shook his head. “You expect me to concentrate while you writhe half naked on my lap?”

  “I’m testing your chivalry,” she replied with a grin, and continued to wriggle.

  “And I’ve told you, chivalry is dead. Long live – lust, revenge and pleasure -” He dipped his head and caught her mouth with his.

  “You underestimate yourself,” she said softly as she pushed him half-hear
tedly away.

  He helped her to pull the covers around her shoulders, allowed his palms to linger on the soft skin at the nape of her neck. “You said your grandfather told you?”

  “Yes. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, that’s why the name de Frouville’ was familiar when we first met.” She leaned into him conspiratorially and hushed to a soft whisper. “Apparently one of the de Frouville’s hid his stash in the crypt below the chapel at Kirk Knowe, or so the story goes. It must have been Gerard; it’s too much of a coincidence.”

  “And your grandfather, the gardener at Kirk Knowe, told you this - when?” asked Miles. Something didn’t add up. Her conflicting stories were beginning to overlap. His mind strayed back to spies and witches.

  Grace shrugged. He couldn’t tell whether her cheeks pinked as a result of subterfuge or something else. She wriggled closer and he cast all thought of spies from his mind.

  “But you haven’t seen it?” he croaked. She was doing things she shouldn’t and he should probably stop her, but his self-discipline was ebbing at a surprising rate.

  “Well, no of course not. It was just a story, but where better to hide something you didn’t want found?”

  Miles looked at her, weary scepticism creeping back into his expression. “A story? We need a little more substance than that.”

  “But it makes sense doesn’t it.” She smiled her sweet smile and slid her hand beneath his shirt.

  “Not entirely, but if it means we can forgo talking and move onto other things. I expect we could go and look.”

  * * *

  Grace faltered. Go to Kirk Knowe. How could they do that? Wasn’t it on the other side? Or was that just her Kirk Knowe, her cottage? It was complicated. What if they returned to Kirk Knowe and she was back in 2012 and he was with her? Or would he cease to exist if they crossed the divide? She looked at him and worried. She had demanded he take her back, and certainly after the incident with Guy she’d been more than ready to leave, this life was altogether too dangerous. But was she ready to go back and leave Miles behind?

  She backpedalled a little, suddenly scared and not entirely sure why.

  “But it’s miles away. It took us days to get here. We haven’t got days.”

  “It took us days,” replied Miles, “Because it was necessary to navigate a course to avoid Ahlborett Castle, and partly because of the weather, but mostly because of you. Your injury naturally slowed us down.”

  “Of course,” replied Grace. “I’d forgotten all about the fact that one of you tried to kill me. I’m sorry I caused you so much trouble.”

  Miles held her face gently between his palms and kissed her, lingering a little longer than necessary. “My lady, it was not I. Edward mistook you for a deer. Those large, doe eyes of yours obviously had something to do with it. And I would argue we did take care of you. We could have left you where we found you.”

  Grace kissed him back slowly, her mind not quite in the same place as her lips. If they travelled a different route then maybe the divide would not be crossed at all? She had no idea how these things worked and tried to remember how she’d slipped through the first time. One minute she’d heard the artillery fire and the next it was silent. Recalling the spot in the ancient wood when she’d first noticed the silence, she wondered if she’d be able to find it again if the need arose either to avoid, it or use it.

  “You took care of me very well,” she agreed, still distracted and concerned. “We would still need to avoid Ahlborett. It wouldn’t do to bump into Gerard.” She couldn’t quite work out in her head where they were in relation to the castle. Because of the arduous journey they’d taken to get to Wildewood, she imagined they were located many days ride from Gerard. She tried to recall the map she’d seen in Miles’ room, the images made little sense then, but now perhaps they would.

  “Not if we went after dark,” he replied. “We could pass quite close to the castle without being seen.”

  “How would we see where we’re going?” Grace imagined them lost in the great wood, bumping in to trees. There were no battery powered torches here, and despite having a myriad of other things in her pockets, a torch was not one of them.

  “We wouldn’t need to see, you’re not coming.”

  “But you said we.”

  “I meant John and I, there’s no way you’re going anywhere near Gerard, not after what happened with Guy.”

  “It was my idea,” Grace exclaimed indignantly.

  “And it’s a good idea,” Miles agreed. “But you’re not going. John and I will ride over, recover whatever’s there and deliver it to Edward on Sunday.”

  Grace shook her head, “You can’t take it, Edward has to find it himself or Gerard will just say you set him up. All we have to do is make sure it’s there.”

  “I told you, you’re not going.”

  “You need someone small to get in to the crypt.”

  She was clutching at straws and she knew Miles recognised it when he humoured her with a crooked smile.

  “We could just use the door.”

  “There is no door.” Although, she realised, it would have a door in the thirteenth century and it would also have a chapel above it. She shook her head. This was getting far too complicated. Her knowledge extended merely to a tiny opening below the foundations of her grandfather’s cottage. She remembered clearly the time his terrier, Skip had strayed through the aperture. The dog went in and didn’t come out for two days. Grace had been convinced he’d been eaten by monsters. Her grandfather however, simply left food outside the opening and waited for him to re-emerge. He’d turned up at the bottom of the steep dene at the back of the house where the ground dropped steeply to the river. Her grandfather reckoned Skip had come out on day one when they weren’t looking and been off chasing rabbits for two days.

  The old man kept her entertained for years with tales of what might lie beneath their feet. As a child she’d imagined skeletons and ghosts, and of course, treasure. There were remains of graves in the garden and years before her grandfather’s time, workmen unearthed a skeleton beneath the drive. She wondered now whose skeleton it was. Wondered if it was anyone she now knew. Glancing at Miles, she worried again.

  “You told me you were never going to let me out of your sight. What if Gerard turns up here while you and John are digging for treasure? What if he brings his witch-finder and a big stake? What if you come back from your little adventure and find me burnt to a crisp in the courtyard?” She left a dramatic pause.

  He shook his head at her. “There’s probably nothing there anyway.”

  “Then why was Gerard so interested in me, once he knew I was from Kirk Knowe? Don’t you see, this is not about witches, or spies, or even about his history with you? Although Guy probably thought he could use the situation to finish what he started, and it would suit Gerard to be rid of you at someone else’s hands. No, Gerard thinks I know about his hidden treasure. Treasure he should have given to Edward. He thinks I’m going to tell the king. The fact that Edward has suddenly decided to pay him a visit must be making him very nervous. Surely that would be enough for the king to lose patience with him. No wonder he wants me dead.”

  * * *

  Miles looked away. He couldn’t concentrate when she was seated on his knee in her underwear. It gave her an unfair advantage. It made sense though, what she was saying, and it would explain Guy’s involvement. Guy wasn’t interested in treasure, his father was the richest man in Lincolnshire, but he was interested in revenge and he’d still not managed to achieve it, not to his satisfaction. Every time he’d tried to exact it, Miles ended up the victor. He again regretted not running him through when he’d the chance. He was an extremely dangerous man, maybe more so now he’d suffered a further humiliation.

  “Maybe there’s another way.”

  “Such as?”

  “If Gerard has secreted the booty at Kirk Knowe and he does believe you know of it, and thinks you will reveal its location to the king; then
he has two choices. He has you silenced, or he moves the treasure.”

  “So?”

  “He knows I will thwart any attempt on your life. He’s seen firsthand what happened to Guy’s attempt to kidnap you. So he has to move the treasure. He has to move it before the king gets to Alnwick, and we have to make sure someone the king trusts, sees him do it.”

  “What if he’s already moved it?”

  Miles shrugged he was tired, his brain hurt. “Then we lose.”

  “Wrong answer, we put it back.”

  Miles watched her. She seemed exhilarated at the thought of beating them at their own game. It was rubbing off on him. “We’d need to go soon, we only have four days till the king arrives and Gerard may have already decided to move it.”

  “We could go now,” suggested Grace. “There’s a full moon to light our way.”

  Miles glanced at the window. The moonlight illuminated the room. He was torn. She was correct, the sooner they got this done the better, but he was tired and reluctant to remove himself from what was becoming an increasingly attractive position. She was warm against him, her skin soft and scented.

  “It’s late. It will take us half the night to get there, the rest of it to get back and we still need to plan. What shall we do if Gerard has beaten us to it? Do you really want to leave this warm bed and go out into the night on that wayward filly? Perhaps it would be wiser to delay until tomorrow evening.”

  Grace grinned at him and snuggled closer. “Or we could hurry and be back by dawn and still have time to finish what we’ve almost started.” She reached up and kissed him softly, allowing her hand to trail across his belly.

  Miles groaned, made to remove her hand then thought better of it. “Or we could finish what we’ve begun and then go treasure hunting...?”

  Grace laughed. “You’d need to be quick.”