The nun hastily crossed herself and grabbed the hourglass. “The English are heretics. You should keep them from her and save her soul.”
“That sounds as though you are judging me, Sister.” Curan stepped up closer to the bed and eyed the nun. She grabbed her fellow sister’s arm and pulled her off her knees.
“God will judge us all.”
“Yes, He shall.” Curan leaned forward with his response, and the nuns slipped on the floor because they tried to run so quickly. The chamber door burst open as they hit it hard. Curan shrugged.
“I seem to have forgotten how to deal with nuns.”
“I hear being raised in England has that effect.”
Curan knelt down, and his armor shifted and filled the chamber with the soft sounds of metal moving against metal. He sat his helmet aside and reached for his sister’s hand.
“Open the bed drapes, I need light.”
Gordon slid the drapes back to allow the afternoon light to illuminate the bed. Jemma’s breath was the only sound in the room, and it was far too faint. Her brother lifted her hand, tilting it so that the light fell on it.
“What are you looking for?”
“A blue tinge on the fingernails. It’s a sign of eastern poisons.” Curan continued to inspect his sister’s hand but finally gave a grunt of satisfaction. “There is none, and for that we should be grateful. The Moors brew poison that is deadly.”
The chamber door opened, and several people slipped inside. They walked carefully, mindful of their steps. Curan turned to speak to one.
“Her nails are white but not blue.”
The man was thin and lanky, obviously young. Gordon glared at Curan. “How can someone that young know anything of value when it comes to poisons?”
The knight behind the youth reached forward and lifted the helmet off the youth’s head. It proved an easy task because the youth only measured up to the knight’s shoulder. The helmet had hidden a face that was clearly female. She was quite a beauty, even lacking feminine clothing.
“This is the Lady Justina.” And the woman was dressed every inch like a boy. A pair of baggy britches hid the curves of her hips, and a solid armor breastplate covered up her other feminine curves.
Gordon crossed his arms in front of his chest. “The same lady who betrayed ye by betraying the location of the side gate that yer bride used to escape through?”
“Aye.” Curan nodded. “She has been my guest since that time for I cannot in good conscience send her back to a guardian who charges her with such tasks.”
“You take too much upon yourself.” Lady Justina sent a hard look toward Curan.
“I disagree, Lady. If the one who sent you wants you back, he can ask me and admit that he sent you.”
Lady Justina shook her head but Gordon had no patience for their quarrel. He only had time for Jemma.
“Why is she here? I have enough people I distrust around me. I don’t need one of yers to watch me back for.”
“She is here because she has spent her entire life at court and knows far more about poison than any of us, because that is the place where such evil is used often.”
Gordon narrowed his eyes, but the lady didn’t crumple beneath his displeasure. She offered him a serene look, but if one took a moment to peer deeper into her eyes, they could see the strength hidden there. She looked delicate, but she was solid like stone. It was something he was more accustomed to seeing in knights. That look which a man gained from witnessing death.
“Reject me if you wish, Lord Barras, but I will tell you plainly that I am your best hope of catching this assassin, and that you need to reconsider sending me away.”
Gordon felt one of his eyebrows rise. “Ye’ve caught so many of them, I suppose?”
“A few.”
“Which is more than I have.” Curan cast a look back at his sister. “If Jemma survives, she will only face waiting for the next attack or returning home with me.”
Gordon stiffened. He clamped down on the denial he wanted to issue to Curan because he had to. Never once had he been defeated when fighting against men he could see coming at him, but this manner of attack was one that he knew no way to challenge.
“What is yer plan, Lady?”
Justina held up a hand and turned in a full circle, inspecting every bit of the room. She began to walk, looking at the floor and pushing at any boards that appeared uneven. It was the sort of inspection that placed confidence in him when he had been so sure mistrust was the only thing he might have for the Lady. Justina finished and came back to drop to her knees and crawl beneath the bed that Jemma slept in. They heard her tapping on the boards with her hands before she emerged from the other side.
“First we shall move Jemma, but it must be done in secret and I must inspect the chamber before she is taken there.”
Justina stood up and wet one fingertip before reaching out to run it along the sheet that Jemma lay on. She tasted her finger gingerly.
“Ye think there is poison in the sheet?”
Justina licked another finger and ran it along the chemise his wife wore. “It would not be the first time, and do
