Free Magic in His Kiss by Shari Anton Page B

moment you realized what I was about and lost your fear.”
    She had? “When?”
    “You leaned into me, so I need not hold you so tightly. I knew then you were willing to cooperate. Are you familiar with the castle grounds?”
    She didn’t remember willingly leaning into Rhodri. But she supposed she must have if Rhodri had taken the movement as a sign of her cooperation.
    “I have been in Oxford Castle often with Mother Abbess, when she came to confer with the prior of St. Frideswide, which we passed on the road coming into town, or with the abbess of Godstow Abbey, which is a few leagues north of Oxford. Mother Abbess was also friendly with Lady Julia, the earl’s niece. ’Tis one of Julia’s old gowns I wear.”
    Nicole crossed her arms over her middle, an effort to contain her nervousness. She’d babbled enough nonsense. Rhodri certainly didn’t give a fig about Mother Abbess’s friends or care whose gown Nicole wore.
    He snatched off her circlet and, along with the key to the cell, stuffed her precious possession into the harp’s sack, an attempt to make her less noticeable, she supposed.
    From the cell above came the sounds of fists pounding on the door and Sir Walter’s muffled shouts hailing his soldiers.
    Nicole reached into her boot and drew out the dagger. “I am sure you can use this in more efficient manner than I. You take the dagger and give me the harp so your hands are free.”
    He raised a questioning eyebrow as they exchanged possessions.
    “My brother’s,” she answered his unspoken question—then remembered her promise to another dead man, Thomas Thatcher.
    The poor man must have died in the upstairs cell for his spirit to have lingered in this place. Despite the need for haste, she’d given the spirit her oath not to forsake him.
    “Lead on, my lady,” Rhodri ordered.
    “A moment.”
    Nicole closed her eyes and silently summoned a spirit, something she hadn’t done in many a year, not since she’d learned that most spirits remained tied to this earth for unconscionable reasons. Thomas, however, had seemed a reasonable sort.
    Thomas, why do you linger? Why do you not pass on?
    My friend, John the cobbler, died by my hand. An unintended mishap, I swear. Still, I cannot seek God’s mercy until I have obtained earthly forgiveness.
    Heaven help him, Thomas had killed his friend and sought absolution! Which she couldn’t give him.
    I cannot help you, Thomas. Only a member of the clergy can grant absolution.
    I did not die unshriven, but my heart failed before I could express my bitter sorrow to John’s family. ’Tis their forgiveness for my misdeed I require before I can seek my peace.
    The pounding on the cell’s door became louder. Soon one of the guards patrolling the wall walk would hear.
    “Nicole?”
    She held up a hand to hold off Rhodri a moment longer.
    You seek the forgiveness of the cobbler’s family?
    Aye, and I will be grateful to you for an eternity for this one small service.
    Nicole bit her bottom lip in indecision. She knew where in Oxford to find the cobbler’s shop. Would she have time to not only pass by the shop but convince a member of the cobbler’s family to forgive a death of long ago?
    Poor Thomas might linger here for another man’s lifetime if she didn’t try.
    Will you be aware if I am successful?
    I will know.
    Nicole opened her eyes to find Rhodri staring at her, stricken with alarm.
    “Did I harm you?” he asked. “Truly, I tried to be careful not to hamper your breathing.”
    She couldn’t very well tell Rhodri she’d been speaking silently to a man long dead. Rhodri would be shocked, and they didn’t have time for explanations that he probably wouldn’t believe anyway.
    “I am fine. We can go now.”
    Rhodri wasn’t accustomed to following a woman’s lead, especially a woman who seemed so distracted. Still, Nicole wound her way through the dusty, crowded bailey, cradling his harp, staying as close to the wall as possible, her chin high