– not for England ’ s good.
She fled through the town, her feet carrying her swiftly, her breath coming in labored gasps from the combination of exertion and anticipation. She raced through the keep, ignoring all the activity in her path, and ran up the back stairs to the chamber that was Minerva ’ s.
Ferris slumped against the closed door, a tear tracing its way down his ruddy cheek. He lifted his head as Anne ’ s foot touched the top step. “ She is dead, ” he said.
“ No, ” she said in a breath, shaking her head.
Ferris grasped her by the upper arms and kissed her brow. “ It is almost as if she chose to die while you were away. She loved you so. ” He looked into her eyes. “ Prepare her, my sweet. Her body needs to be readied by loving hands, and yours are the only ones I know. ”
“ Oh Papa, I cannot, ” she cried, panicked. Ferris held her away and looked into her eyes. “ Not Minerva, ” she said, the tears flowing freely, tears that to her shame were not for her old nurse, but for the cursed delay. She should have fled with Dylan instantly.
“ You would not do this for Minerva? ” he asked, frowning through the pain in his eyes.
“ Papa, I .. . ” It was on her lips to tell him. There was a fleeting hope that he would understand her, even help her. Although Ferris was committed to his cause for the Duke of York and had admitted hatred for Lord deFrayne, he did not encourage his sons to take up the feud. She knew he disliked the continued animosity between the two families. But Ferris, even as the lord of Raedelle, could not control the hatred of the others. And he could not betray the family honor. If he knew Dylan was here for his daughter, he might stand aside as the others captured a deFrayne. She was still afraid to confide in him.
“ I will do it, Papa. Go to church for me, buy a prayer for her soul and tell the priest. ”
Ferris nodded and walked wearily down the stairs. Anne en tered the sickroom and looked down at the peaceful face of her nurse and lifelong friend. Minerva was old and had worked hard. In death, she had rest and peace. It was almost as if she smiled. Anne bent over the bed and kissed Minerva ’ s brow. “ Forgive me, my love, ” she whispered, a fresh tear dropping onto the wrinkled face.
Then she whirled, grasped a shawl from the coffer at the foot of the bed, and raced down the back stairs through the gallery to her own chamber. She stripped off her bright rose-colored gown and donned a dull tan working apron and tucked her hair under a cap. She dug through her small jewel chest and stuffed her few tr inkets into her pockets – things that could be sold for money if Dylan had little. She pushed Minerva ’ s shawl into a basket and scurried again toward the back stair. Though the passage was longer, she would leave the keep through the cook ery to avoid passing her brothers in the courtyard. She hoped no one would notice her. She could be taken for any village wench.
The tower horn sounded and Anne stopped short. She low ered her eyes again and resumed walking, aware of running all around her. Oh dear God, no , her heart screamed. Oh dear God, give me flight, and I will never ask another thing.
Afraid of the truth, she walked swiftly. Her cheeks drained of color and her eyes glazed over. Her heart beat wildly and her stomach churned miserably. The knights armed themselves and began to run. At the wall the men were clumsily struggling to arm the new bronze cannon. Quentin, already astride, held his prancing steed in wait for the opening of the gate. Wings, dear Father in heaven. Give me wings to clear the wall.
“ A deFrayne troop, ” she heard a man shout. She lifted her eyes. Twenty or more knights cleared the gates with destriers, spears, and lances, and the mighty oaken portal was closing behind them. “ A deFrayne troop is being engaged by our riders on the south Driscoll cross. ”
“ No, ” she said in a breath, shaking her head. “ Oh
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