Nicola’s brow furrowed, puzzled. “What does that mean?”
“He will be turned over to Edward.”
“And what will Edward do with him?”
Saxilby shrugged. “That is difficult to say, my lady,” he replied. “Please, may I offer you wine? You must be exhausted after your travels.”
Nicola shook her head, almost violently. She was starting to shake, anticipation of seeing Kenton almost too much to bear. “Nay,” she replied. “I would see Sir Kenton immediately.”
She was most adamant about it. Saxilby looked at St. John, bewildered by her passion, before returning his attention to her. “I do not understand, my lady,” he said. “Whymust you see him?”
Nicola’s jaw began to tick. “It is my right. He held my castle captive. He… he stole from me. I want to see himnow.”
Saxilby realized that he had the unhappy task of trying to keep the irate lady calm. “Most understandable, my lady,” he said, trying to soothe her. “It must have been very frighteningto have Kenton le Bec confiscate your castle and occupy it, but I assure you that he can no longer harm or harass you. He is locked up safe.”
Nicola was only growing more agitated. “You will take me to him now,” she demanded again. “He smashed my husband’s crypt, for God’s sake. I have every right to tell the man what I think of his behavior and I will not wait. I have traveled three days to come here and you will not deny nor delay me. Take me to himnow. I will not ask you again. I will simply go look for him myself.”
Her words were final and Saxilby believed her implicitly. He stopped trying to soothe or delay her, for he saw her point. He could see how upset she was.
“Very well,” he said after a moment, his gaze moving down her arms to her glove-covered hands. “You are not bearing any daggers, are you? No weapons of any kind?”
Nicola shook her head. “Of course not.”
Saxilby lifted his eyebrows, unapologetic. “I had to ask,” he said. “I would not be surprised if you came to kill the man who disrupted your life so.”
He did disrupt my life, but in ways you cannot begin to comprehend, Nicola thought to herself. Again, she shook her head. “I am not here to kill him,” she said. “I simply wish to speak with him and tell him… tell him what I think of him.”
It was the truth, although everyone in the room took it to mean something other than what she had intended. Without another word, Saxilby motioned her with him and she immediately pursued, on the man’s heels, as St. John and Conor followed. When St. John realized that the lady’s knight was in tow, he waved the man off and, unhappy, Conor remained at the door to the solar, watching Nicola and the two men walk away, disappearing into a darkened stairwell.
But Nicola didn’t know that Conor had been left behind nor did she care. Her palms were beginning to sweat because she knew Kenton was close, nearer to her than he’d been in weeks, and it was as if her heart knew it. It was as if it could sense him, beating so strongly she was sure it was about to burst from her chest as she followed Saxilby up three flights of mural stairs built into the thickness of Conisbrough’s walls. By the time they reached the top floor, the ceiling was low, the landing was darkened, and there were four heavily-armed soldiers on this level guarding two doors from what Nicola could see.
Suddenly, she felt a bit nervous, intimidated even. The armed men were looking at her with suspicion, curiosity, and some interest and she felt exposed and fearful even though St. John and Saxilby were escorting her. She was so overwhelmed and excited to finally be within feet of Kenton that she was starting to feel faint. She wanted to see him in the worst way but her anxiety had the better of her. As St. John led her to one of the doors and put his hand up to throw the bolt, she stopped him.
“I will see him alone,” she said, looking at the disapproving faces of Saxilby and St. John. “I will scream if I need assistance, but what I have to say to le Bec will not be heard by anyone but him. Is that understood?”
She was making demands and the men, though wary, naturally agreed because a lady was always to be accommodated. Moreover, they figured the woman had been through enough with le Bec and deserved to verbally abuse the man after what he’d done to her family and to her fortress. St. John, the most reluctant of the men, sighed heavily.
“This is not advisable, my lady,” he said quietly. “Kenton le Bec is a very dangerous man.”
Nicola nodded impatiently. “I know he is,” she said, “and I will call you if I need you, but for now, you will remain out here. Please.”
So she was trying to be polite about it now even though she’d practically bullied and demanded to see Kenton since she had arrived at Conisbrough. St. John simply threw the bolt and pulled the door open. Nicola, with only a slight hesitation to reveal the apprehension she was feeling, entered the chamber.
St. John closed the door behind her, wondering how long it was going to be before he started hearing cries of help, from either one of them.
*
At first, Kentonthought he was hallucinating.
He’d been standing by the window, the sun on his shoulders, when the door to his chamber opened. He turned, casually, thinking it was Saxilby, but the figure stepping into the room wasn’t Saxilby at all. It was a vision he’d been dreaming of, fantasizing over, and agonizing over for days and weeks. It seemed like years. He couldn’t even remember how long the vision had been on his mind because it seemed like forever. Suddenly, Nicola was standing just inside the door and Kenton actually staggered. His shock was so great that he came away from the wall, stumbled and nearly pitched forward. His face, an open mask of astonishment, gazed at Nicola with more vulnerability than he had ever displayed. Before he could say anything, however, Nicola spoke.
“Are you well, Kenton?” she asked softly.
He nodded, once. Then, his head jerked and he nodded several times, rapidly. He could hardly draw a breath as he drank in her pale, lovely face.
“Aye,” he said hoarsely. “Are you?”
“Aye.”