Page 23 of One Knight in the Forest

“Most likely.” Magdalen’s brow creased with a frown. “Sometimes I traveled with her. Is it possible that you and I met years ago, but do not remember?”

“’Tis possible,” he agreed, “although I only lived at Drandwick Keep for about four weeks, up until the day I…” A rueful laugh broke from him. “Well, let us just say that his lordship decided his castle might not be the best place for me. He sent me to his older brother’s keep, and I was much happier there.”

“What happened?” Magdalen was clearly fascinated. “Did you get into trouble?”

“Indeed I did. At eight years of age, I was one of the youngest pages at Drandwick. I was often bullied by older boys who had already become squires.”

“Oh, goodness,” she murmured.

“The teasing upset me, but I never fought back, not until that one afternoon—the day after your mother gave me the stag, actually—when I could stand the torment no longer. After a particularly cruel trick played on one of the other pages, I confronted the nastiest bully. I was terrified, but determined the mistreatment had to stop. He sneered and then mocked me, and my anger boiled over.” Cyn shook his head. “I walloped him in the jaw, hard enough to crack his teeth together, and then we were both clawing at each other, wrestling each other down to the dirt. Lord Falderston had to break up the fight.”

“Did you have to answer to his lordship?”

“I did. When I told him about the bullying, he confided that he had been aware of it, and had spoken to the squires about it, but the lads obviously had ignored his order to stop. He asked if I was unhappy, and when I said I was, he offered to send me to his brother’s fortress. ’Twas closer to my parents’ keep, and so I was glad to move. William was one of the first friends I made there. He was also a page. We have been close friends ever since.”

Her gaze had once again turned wary.

“How did you meet William?” Cyn asked. “Through Edwina?”

Magdalen set the stag down in her lap and then nodded. “I met her at Drandwick Keep, not long after Aislinn left to wed her first husband; she became a widow, so her marriage to Hugh, you see, was her second. Edwina and I became good friends, and after she married William, she asked me to move with her to Glemstow to be her lady-in-waiting.” A flush stained Magdalen’s cheekbones. “Truth be told, I was very pleased to receive her offer. A betrothal had been arranged for me, to a lord I did not love, but my fiancé died after being wounded in a duel he’d foolishly provoked. I had continued to live with the Falderstons since my fiancé’s demise, and while I appreciated her ladyship’s constant efforts to find me a husband, I refused to marry unless I was in love. I was glad in the end to leave Drandwick and begin anew.”

“A beginning I assume you got,” Cyn added, “and which was working out well until a couple of days ago.”

“Exactly,” Magdalen said, looking down at the stag.

“What happened?” He covered her hand still touching the ornament, her smaller, more delicate fingers enveloped by his. She shivered in his grasp. “Tell me. You must. William will likely come for you today, and while I may be sheriff, there are limits to what I can do to stop him.”

The crackle and hiss of the fire filled the silence as he waited. If she stubbornly refused to answer him yet again—

She raised her gaze from their joined hands. “I will not just tell you,” she said quietly. “I will show you.”

***

Her heartbeat loud in her ears, Magdalen pointed to her gown. “Can you bring it to me, please?”

Astonishment flared in Cyn’s eyes. “Do you mean to put it on?”

“Nay. As I said, I will show you what William wants.”

Cyn appeared puzzled, but nodded briskly and pushed to his feet.

She prayed she wasn’t making a grave error in judgment. Yet, if her mother had placed her faith in Cyn—and from what Magdalen remembered, her mother had always been an excellent judge of character—then Magdalen would trust him, too. She had to trust someone, and Cyn was right: William would arrive to take her back to the castle as soon as he could. She couldn’t be the only one who knew his vile secret.

Cyn strode to the rope to pull her gown free. Sunlight swept over him, gilding some parts of his body with bright golden light, others in inviting, grayed shadow. With his attention on his task, and not on her, she let her gaze slide down his broad back, down to where his tunic brushed against his dark-colored hose; the curves of his muscular buttocks were defined by the drape of the woolen cloth.

A flush warmed her face, and she snapped her gaze away. She would simply die if he caught her staring at his bottom. Still, she couldn’t deny he was as handsome as the lords and knights lauded in the chansons sheloved so much. If she weren’t in such a predicament, she might have enjoyed being cared for by such a man. ’Twas rather romantic that she’d swooned in the forest and he’d swept her up into his arms and carried her to his home to protect her. Years ago, she and Aislinn would have shrieked in delight and spent most of an afternoon huddled together in a secluded part of Drandwick Keep’s garden, discussing such a tantalizing tale; yet, Magdalen didn’t dare indulge in daydreaming now.

Returning to her, Cyn set the shimmering gown in her lap.

“I will need a knife.”

His dark brows rose. “I am even more curious now.” He reached into his right boot, drew out the leather-sheathed dagger, and handed it to her.

The costly silk, more torn than she’d thought from her frantic dash through the woods, rustled as she shifted the garment to locate the left sleeve. With the blade of the knife, Magdalen cut through the row of stitches, eased her fingers inside the hem, and withdrew the flattened parchment wrapped in the extra cloth she’d used to protect it. As the small parcel came into view, Cyn laughed, a sound of surprise.

“I would never have thought to look in your sleeve.”

“As I had hoped.”