Free Juliana Garnett by The Baron Page B

asked when she fell silent. She did not answer, and he smiled. “I have set my men to a search of your estate. For tax assessment, of course. Do me the honor of escorting me outside.”
    Outrage was plain on her face, and he did not blame her. It was an outrage to be so misused. No more so, however, than the outrage of having a bodkin tip leave blood on his throat while desperate men were set free to rob and kill again. Not for the first time, he wondered if she was as adept with the longbow as she was with her contempt for the law.
    He put a hand on her arm to guide her; her spine was rigid as they crossed the hall. At last, the ache in his groin eased.
    They passed the servant, Dena, who had returned with the cheese knife and looked after them apprehensively as they went out to the courtyard. It was bright after the shadowy gloom of the manor house, and he squinted. A glance found Guy lounging against a low wall that enclosed a small garden.
    A slight shake of blond head and a shrug; no outlaws had been found there. But he had not really expected it.
    “I have made inquiries, my lady,” he said, and put out a solicitoushand when she stumbled on a loose cobble. “Your late husband left the largest estate to a cousin also named Hugh. These lands were left to you to be held in security against the crown. If you do not remarry, the church receives your dowry grant while you retain dower rights.”
    “I am well aware of the terms of Hugh’s will.” Coldly; a distinct chill replaced her heated passion of earlier. “I cannot see where it is a concern of yours.”
    “Ah, but it is. It occurred to me that you may be in dire need, thus explaining why one might feel compelled to—thievery.”
    A deeply drawn breath was audible. She turned to face him with her back to the stone manor house, a gracious abode and a refuge.
    “If you have proof of my complicity with outlaws, arrest me.”
    “Jésu, these challenges. Did I accuse you?”
    “With all but the words.”
    Bold lady, bold enough to lie in wait in the greenwood. His first impression of her had not been altered by this knowledge of her duplicity. There was a bit of larceny in every soul, whether it was admitted to or not. Integrity was defined by a personal code of ethics.
    Still, it was gratifying to think her goal was not mere personal gain but a desire to lend misguided aid to those she deemed needy of it. A glance at the manor house proved minor neglect but not need. A husband’s hand would set all aright in short order.
    He frowned, and she mistook it for his response to her claim.
    “Do you deny it, my lord?”
    A moment’s recollection of her earlier remark, and he said, “Of course I do. If I had proof to arrest you, I would have done so.” A lie; necessary, but with this woman, strangely awkward on his tongue. Did honesty beget honesty?
    A dog barked and a harsh Norman command silenced it; her gaze flickered toward the soldiers waiting just out of hearing. He was not above intimidation. If it gained him his ends he used it.
    “Then.…” Uncertain hope in her voice.
    “Then you have been warned of outlaws nearby. If any are seen, send a messenger to Nottingham ere you find your household suspect.” He paused to allow the silent threat to sink in, and saw from the sudden light in eyes quickly veiled by her lashes that he had succeeded.
    “If any are seen, my lord, I will send a messenger.”
    Nodding, his gaze drifted again to the manor house. Sunlight picked out a loose shutter, a few broken cobblestones in the walled courtyard, overgrown shrubbery. Clouds of ivy swarmed up walls to the thatched roof and cascaded over the front door. At one side, gardens were laid out in neat squares and bisected with paving stones; fronds of mint, basil, sweet fennel, and pennyroyal waved in a light breeze.
    A faint fragrance wafted toward him: fresh mint from the lady. He breathed deeply. The sunshine was warm against his face, welcome. A relief after days of rain