licked her lips and tried again. “Henry.”
She said it firmly though her body shook a little. To speak with such
familiarly and hear his name slipping off her lips startled even her. But it
worked. His head jerked in her direction as he slipped the sword into the belt.
“I wish to come with you.”
Shaking his head, he adjusted the sword and
glanced at her again. She thought he might give in. There was a slight drop of
his shoulders as though resigned but he shook his head again and said, “Nay.”
Then he made for the door at the end of the
armoury and moved with purpose through the house once more, leaving her tagging
along like a lost puppy. When he reached the hallway—a part of the large
building she actually knew—he snatched a mantle from some hooks on the wall and
tossed it over one shoulder. He pinned it in place, and a lump lodged in her
throat. If he were not her captor, she would be impressed by the figure he
struck. Dashing, bold, brave. Even with the severe
dips in his brow, he was the sort of man of which girls dreamed.
Not her, however. She had learned well enough to
stay away from men.
“Take me with you,” she demanded again. “ Por
favour , I shall be no bother . I shall not
misbehave. I wish only to see my father.”
“You nearly drowned, Antonia. It would be remiss
of me to have you do anything other than rest.”
Damn him, did he have to speak so reasonably, as
though he actually cared for her welfare as anything other than a prisoner? She
drew up her chin. “If you refuse to take me, I shall look for him myself.”
Henry whirled around, sending his cloak swishing
about his shoulders. “Need I remind you that you are a prisoner here? I wish
not to lock you away but I will if I must.”
“You would not.” Her voice wavered as did her
confidence. In truth, she had little idea what he might do to her. He could
place her in irons or have her locked away somewhere if he wished to. But he
hadn’t so far.
And she prayed he would not.
“If...if he is dying, I would wish to be with
him,” she tried.
Henry squeezed the bridge of his nose. “We have
much coastline to search. He could well be washed up on the many miles of beach.
‘Twill be a long day’s search.”
“I care not.”
“You did not sleep last night,” he stated.
“ No .”
And he must not have either if he was aware
she’d been awake all night. It shouldn’t touch her but it did. Had he been
awake, thinking of her? Was it simply fear that she might escape or something
else? She couldn’t make this man out. Chivalrous and bold one moment and gruff
and commanding the next. As changing as the sea. And
she was powerless against him. His ever-changing moods could batter her against
the rocks if she was not careful. She needed to shore up her defences against
him and be brave.
“That does not mean I cannot aid you. Think you
that I shall sleep while you are gone, fearing for my father’s welfare?”
His jaw worked. “You shall only hinder me. If
you care aught for your father’s welfare, you shall wish for me to find him
quickly.”
“I take it your men have been searching for
him.”
“Aye.”
“Think you he might be evading capture?”
“Mayhap.”
Or he was at the bottom of the ocean. That was what
Henry’s dark look said. But she was not so sure. Her father had to be alive
surely or else she would know it. He had looked after her since she was a
little girl and then after Lorenzo’s death.
“If he is, think you he will not be more likely
to give himself up when he sees that I am safe and
well?”
Now she heard his teeth grinding as he
considered her. “You can ride?”
“ Si .”
“Fast?”
“ Si.” She
nodded eagerly.
He skimmed his gaze up and down her, taking note
of her simple gown and borrowed boots. She knew she could ride well enough in
this gown—even if it was not a riding one—and she was a fast rider. Her father
had always indulged her love of horses. She wouldn’t
Learning to Kill: Stories