The Champion (Knights of the Black Rose Series : Harlequin Historicals, No 491) by Barclay Suzanne

Author:Barclay, Suzanne [Barclay, Suzanne]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises
Published: 2011-07-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Simon!” Brother Anselme swayed in the doorway of the shop, one hand clutched to his heart.

“Easy, Brother.” Simon took hold of the infirmarer and half carried him to the bench by the hearth.

“You are alive!” Brother Anselme’s face was pale, his red-rimmed eyes filled with hope. “What of Linnet?”

“She is above stairs, resting.” Simon glanced up to find them encircled by an audience: the worried Drusa, avid Aiken and two curious soldiers. “Drusa, I think the good brother is in need of a-drink.”

“I will fetch some whiskey and assure the mistress all is well.” She departed in a flurry of russet skirts.

Simon sent Miles and Jasper to search the garden and Aiken to look out the front, then sat beside the monk. “Who told you we were dead?” Simon asked. “And when?”

“It was late afternoon, hours past None. I had gone to tell Brother Crispin of my findings. Sheriff Hamel and Lady Odeline were with him, celebrating the demise of Thurstan’s killers.”

“Meaning Linnet and myself.” Simon stroked his chin.

“Aye. Crispin is determined you two are guilty. But what happened? How came you to be reported dead?”

“Later,” he murmured as Drusa rushed in bearing a flask.

Linnet followed close behind. Rising, he gave way for Linnet to sit by the monk and stood back watching the tearful reunion. The closeness between Linnet and Anselme was as obvious as the hovering Drusa’s concern. The outpouring of genuine affection stirred something in Simon’s gut. Envy, he thought and tried, unsuccessfully, to will it away.

A commotion at the rear door signaled the return of the soldiers just as Aiken clumped in through the workroom. All three reported nothing was amiss.

Simon welcomed the interruption. Briskly he sent the soldiers back to their posts and considered how best to handle this. He had questions to ask of the monk and no desire to be overheard, even by Linnet. Especially by her. “Brother Anselme, I will walk you back to the cathedral.”

Linnet whipped her head up. Shock and exhaustion had dulled the golden lights in her eyes, but they brightened briefly with suspicion. “I will come with you.”

“Ye’ll do no such thing,” Drusa cried. “It’s off to bed with ye, miss, and I’ll be sitting with ye till ye sleep.”

Linnet glared at Simon. He smiled benignly back. Careful to keep his smugness hidden, he borrowed a coarse cloak from Jasper and hustled Anselme from the shop. Once outside, with the door barred behind them, Simon heaved a sigh of relief.

“What is going on?” Anselme hissed.

“I will tell you while we walk.” Simon pulled the cowl up to shield his face and set out via the back streets. The night was nippy and there were few folks abroad, but he kept his voice low as he retold the day’s events.

“Thanks be to God you are safe.” Anselme crossed himself. “But why would this brigand seek you out?”

“I think our assailant is the sheriff’s man.”

“The sheriff in league with outlaws?” Anselme shook his head. “I can scarcely credit it.”

“That is because few people know what Hamel is really like,” Simon muttered.

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