Master of Mayhem (The Enchanted Well #2)

Chapter Six

S he had seen Ruben for the last time.

An idea had never tormented her so greatly before. It felt as if the knowledge alone was tearing away at her insides with sharp claws. Nausea threatened to send her to the garderobe to retch, while tears stung her eyes.

“You look like you are contemplating breaking down the door, Modesty.”

Somehow, Modesty had forgotten that Temperance was there with her. Modesty snapped her attention toward her sister to discover Temperance watching her with wide eyes.

Modesty shot up out of her seat, looking for something to do. Her knitting wires spilled onto the floor. Thin and made of silver, they were pointed on both ends. Temperance immediately stopped working her spinning wheel to help retrieve them.

“You are so fortunate to have such a useful skill,” Temperance remarked when she handed over two of the shiny wires. “You have tried to teach me.”

“We make a good team.” Modesty tried to soothe her sister, but it only made her return to thinking about the fact that she was leaving tomorrow.

She pushed the knitting wires into her pinned up braids for safekeeping. Settling down to begin knitting seemed impossible. The wires were slim, requiring her to pay close attention to the little loops or see her efforts wasted when it became a mess. The pitcher they used for water caught her eye.

“I will go and draw some fresh water.”

Temperance had sat back down at the spinning wheel. She had a handful of carded wool in her fingers that looked like a cloud she’d plucked from the sky. She began to work the foot pedals to begin spinning. The spindle spun, twisting the wool thread while Temperance gently plucked and fed bits of the fluffy wool into the line of new thread.

“That would be nice,” Temperance replied, her attention on her spinning.

Opening the door of the shed relieved some of the tension knotting up the muscles of her neck. Modesty closed it behind her to keep the warmth in. Spring was so very new, the air fresh and clean but it was still crisp. The shed didn’t have a hearth for warmth.

The pitcher was earthenware. Modesty hugged it tight. On the other side of the house sat the well the family used. She stared down at the house with its shutters so tightly shut, even well into the morning. It felt as if that noose was tightening around her neck again.

She didn’t want to go down to the house. She didn’t want to let fear close around her like a cloak. All around her life was budding. The desire to be a part of it was flickering inside of her, making her realize how dark her existence had been.

But her wedding was planned. The rest of her life had already been decided. She turned her back on the house, finding it to be the only way she could breathe.

The Midnight Well was all the way across the open space at the top. Her sister Braylin had gone up there and looked into the water beneath a full moon to see the face of her true love. Maybe it was foolish to believe in enchantments, but Modesty turned and started toward the well because she just couldn’t make herself turn her back on enjoying the fine spring morning.

Tomorrow would arrive soon enough.

Today, well today there was birdsong to listen to. Modesty smiled on her way across the meadow. Near the center of it, where the sunlight didn’t have to filter between the branches of the forest trees, there were flowers.

It was like a magical fae glen. One moment she was walking through dry, dead grass bent over from the winter snow and in the next she was treading among new blossoms. Pink, purple, white, and yellow. She was careful where she put her feet down, not wanting to trample the new blooms.

The birds suddenly stopped chattering.

Modesty looked up, horrified to see two men wearing the uniform of the queen’s soldiers standing near the well. They were rough and unkempt, but the coat of Mary Tudor was clear on their cassocks. One of them grinned at her, showing off yellow teeth.

“Looks like we’re going to get a taste of the May queen herself,” one of them declared gleefully. He began to rub his hands together, his eye glittering with appreciation.

Modesty clamped her jaw tight against an involuntary scream. Temperance would come to investigate if she heard her.

She must safeguard her sister.

“Do not trifle with me.” Modesty fought to keep her rising fear from her voice. “I will report you.”

“No, you will not,” the first one said. He was edging toward her. “You will do everything I demand of you…” he pointed past her at the house, “or I will be back with shackles for your Puritan family.”

His comrade snickered sickeningly. “The queen has issued a decree. It’s our duty to bring in the traitors.”

“My family are not traitors.” Modesty attempted to appeal to them. She shifted, taking a few quick steps to keep the well between herself and the men.

The two soldiers shared a look before they split and came at her from both directions.

“Come here to me and maybe you can convince me to forget about the Puritans in yonder house.”

He licked his lower lip in anticipation. The gleam in his eyes was most defiantly unholy.

Modesty was horrified. She knew she wasn’t the first girl to be offered such a bargain. It disgusted her, but she didn’t have time to be emotional.

She must not draw Temperance out of the shed. The need to protect her sister started pounding through her. Modesty realized she was no longer afraid. Now, she was determined. A strange sense of purpose had hold of her. It felt as if something hardened inside of her.

She’d do whatever she must.

Whatever…

The first one lunged at her. Modesty swung the pitcher at him. It made a dull, sickening sound when it collided with his head and broke into several pieces. He went staggering off to the side, his knees folding while he held his head.

“You little bitch!” he growled.

The first man grabbed her arm, yanking her back toward the well. Modesty slammed into it, the hard stone exterior sending pain shooting through her lower back.

The first soldier was on her, his foul breath hitting her in the face. “You’re going to pay for that!”

Something snapped inside of her. Modesty felt the need to fight flaring through her like straw catching fire. She reached up, intent on clawing his face when he suddenly went stumbling away from her. She gained a brief look at Ruben’s furious face before he turned his back on her to look at the soldier.

“Ye English scum,” Ruben growled.

He’d flipped around, placing himself between Modesty and the soldier.

“This is England!” the soldier snarled. “We are the queen’s men!”

“What ye are is bastards,” Ruben growled.

The soldier got to his feet. He reached down, pulling a knife from the top of his boot. “You won’t be the first Scot I’ve killed!”

The second man joined in, the sunlight flashing off his blade. Ruben looked between them, but they separated, coming at him from two opposite directions. Time slowed down, tormenting her with seconds that lasted as long as hours during which she saw both men handling their weapons with a confidence that she knew meant that they had killed before.

And they weren’t going to be fair, either.

They came at Ruben together. He turned and raised his arm to block a downward strike from one of them. The other took advantage of Ruben’s exposed side, swinging his blade.

Modesty stepped between them. She’d grabbed the knitting wires out of her hair and thrust them at the man’s unprotected neck. The sharp points combined with the rigidity of the silver meant the thin needles easily punctured the man’s skin, sliding deeply into his throat.

His eyes went wide. His lips moved but no words came across them. He attempted to thrust his knife toward her and would have found his target, but Ruben grabbed her, yanking her back so that the blade of the knife sliced through the air in front of her.

Ruben kicked out, his foot landing in the man’s belly. He fell back, his body contorting.

“Did he cut ye, lass?” Ruben demanded.

Modesty was still staring at the bright red blood coating the man’s neck and chest.

“Sabine.”

Ruben grasped her shoulders and turned her more toward him. She suddenly recalled the first man and his intention to kill Ruben.

“He was going to kill you,” she said.

Whatever he thought of her actions, Ruben suddenly shoved her behind him. Modesty had to lean over and look around his trim middle to see what was in front of them.

Four Scotsmen had been charging down from the top of the meadow. Their faces were flushed with their efforts. They suddenly stopped, huffing and puffing while they tried to regain their breath.

“Christ in heaven, that was too close,” one of them declared.

Another made the sign of the cross over himself after looking closely at the one Modesty had killed.

“Arland sent ye after me,” Ruben grumbled. He shook his head.

One of the men shrugged. “Aye. The laird is not going to last much longer.”

One of his comrades elbowed him in the ribs.

“He knows it well enough, Eachan. No need to jab me over speaking the plain truth.”

Eachan was looking at the two bodies. “We should have been closer.”

The first man leaned over and pulled the knitting wires free. He wiped them across the dead soldier’s clothing before looking at what he held. “What are these, lass?”

Ruben turned sideways so his fellow clansmen could see her. He pointed at the one with the wires. “This is Ardan, Nechtan, and Fintan. Me kin.”

They all reached up to tug on the corners of their bonnets when introduced as though there weren’t two newly murdered men lying at their feet.

“I didn’t think…” Modesty felt as if her throat was already in a noose. She couldn’t seem to get any air from her chest into her mouth.

“I am right glad ye took action, lass,” Ardan stated.

“As am I,” Ruben added.

Modesty jerked her attention back to him. She suddenly needed to see that he was whole and unscathed. “Are you well? Did he cut you?”

Modesty wasn’t waiting for Ruben to answer her. She reached right out, flattening her hands on his back to make certain his clothing wasn’t wet with blood.

Ruben grunted. He looked at his men.

“Pick them up. Let’s toss them into the river and be gone,” Ruben ordered his men.

There was a solid ring of authority in his voice. The four men didn’t hesitate. They split into two teams, hoisting the bodies to begin carrying them back into the forest. They climbed up to the top of the hill, the sound of the river on the other side filling their ears.

Modesty went because she realized she wasn’t ready to part from him just yet. A few more moments and she’d be ready to face the reality of what she had done.

She didn’t lament it. In all honesty, she could not repent for Ruben’s life had hung in the balance. Without a doubt, she knew she would do the same thing again if she might go back a half hour.

“Best to strip the cassocks off them,” Arden advised.

A cassock was a full circle garment, designed to fit all sorts of different body types. It made it simple to pull off the men before their bodies were heaved off the top of a ravine. So new into spring, the river at the bottom of the hill was full. The current was fast, quickly swallowing up the bodies.

“Thank you,” Modesty said. “I’m grateful to you for not leaving them so close to my family.”

“Someone might have witnessed the fight,” Ruben informed her gruffly.

Modesty felt a chill shoot down her spine. She swallowed hard, grasping at her composure. “I will face whatever is to come.”

Ruben turned his full attention to her. In their brief encounters, she’d somehow failed to recognize just how large and hard he was. With his kin surrounding him, she had little hope of disobeying him. Without a doubt, he was a man with authority.

A ripple went across her skin. A sensation of vulnerability was left behind. The look in Ruben’s eyes promised her he was intent on having his way.

“Ye cannot stay here, Sabine. I will not allow ye to shoulder the blame when it was my life ye saved,” Ruben told her.

“You were only trying to prevent them from…” She couldn’t quite get the word past her lips. Ruben’s eyes narrowed.

“God gave me a strong back. I will not shame myself by turning it on those in jeopardy,” Ruben declared firmly.

“You are an honorable man, Ruben,” Modesty muttered.

He liked her compliment. She saw enjoyment flicker briefly in his eyes before he sent her a stern look. “We must be leaving. Come, lass.”

He extended his hand to her. This time, there was a demand in his gaze.

“This is my home,” she argued.

Ruben shook his head. “Not anymore.”

Modesty tried to recoil but he reached out and captured her wrist. Modesty ended up backing up a pace, her arms stretched out between them because Ruben refused to release her.

“It is May Day morning, Sabine. The forest is full of people,” Ruben spoke softly. “I cannot leave ye here to an uncertain fate.”

“But no one…cried out,” she argued.

“They might be running to alert the other soldiers,” Ruben explained. “If ye return to yer home, the soldiers have every reason to arrest your entire family. If ye are gone, they will consider that ye fled rather than face justice. It is the only way to protect yer family.”

Modesty shook her head. She tugged on her wrist. For a moment, Ruben held tight but then released her wrist with a grunt. Modesty stumbled back but stopped, realizing she was uncertain as to what to do next.

“My family was not involved,” Modesty insisted. “Any witness will know that it was but me and you. And that the soldiers attacked me.”

The Scotsmen scoffed at her reasoning. Several of them shaking their heads.

“English soldiers will protect their own,” Eachan stated.

“Any witness will say ye started the matter, that Ruben is yer Scottish lover,” Arden added.

Modesty blushed scarlet but Ruben had no mercy for her. “Ye were alone with me, Sabine.”

She had been. It seemed impossible that everything had become such a mess. “It was just a bit of May Day fun.”

Tears flooded her eyes. Controlling them was beyond her. They trickled down her cheeks. Ruben closed the space between them, cupping her face between his large, warm hands.

“It is not yer fault, lass.” He tried to sooth her.

“I am not sorry,” she declared firmly. “They were evil men. Intent on…on depravity.”

“I heard.” Ruben’s jaw tightened. He swept a last tear off her cheek before he reached down for her wrist again. “Ye must come with us.”

“Modesty?”

Temperance was looking out of the door of the work shed. She lifted one hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Ruben closed the distance between them with a quick step.

“Be quiet, lass. Do not bring her into this.”

Modesty sent him a disgruntled look. “Why do you think I didn’t scream when those soldiers came close?”

Ruben nodded. “That was a fine thing to do. Ye are a good sister.”

Temperance scanned the meadow but didn’t actually step outside of the work shed. She looked toward the house, likely believing that Modesty had gone down to the well in front of the house and was now inside the house. She shrugged before retreating back inside the shed.

Modesty let out a little sigh of relief.

“Aye, ye are a fine sister, Sabine. I will help ye continue to be so.”

Modesty turned to look at Ruben, not understanding what he meant.

She gained only a brief look at his face before he reached out and captured her wrist. He bent over and pulled her to him. Modesty tumbled forward, her belly hitting his shoulder. Ruben lifted her right off her feet, straightening up so that she was hanging over his shoulder like a sack of barley.

“Ruben…” she gasped. “Put me down.”

He complied but only after he walked across the ridge and she heard the sound of horses nearby. When he placed her on her feet once more, it was beside a huge, dark-coated stallion.

“Ye are coming with me, Sabine.”

He pointed at one of his men. Eachan tossed one of the cassocks. Ruben gave the garment a shake before he grabbed the piece of embroidered fabric on its front and yanked it free. The threads gave with a ripping sound. He lifted it above her head and dropped it down onto her.

Modesty tried to retreat but one of the other men cupped her shoulders, holding her securely in place. Since she hadn’t raised her arms to fit them into the sleeve, the heavy wool garment bound her arms against her body. Ruben grabbed the sleeves and tied them tight, securing her.

“Ruben…do not do this,” she implored him.

His jaw was tight. “I will not ride away knowing ye could face retribution. It is decided.”

Ruben clasped her waist and lifted her up. She gasped at how easily he hefted her weight. She landed in the saddle, and he swung up and onto the back of the horse behind her.

Ruben dug his heels in, and the stallion took off. The animal was eager to be on its way home.

But it wasn’t her home, and there was no way to stop him from taking her with him.