The Loyal Heart Read Online Free

Buxton’s boots,” Ethan went on. “I can’t just let my people suffer under Huntingdon’s iron grip.”
    “Well they’re not exactly suffering,” Aubrey snapped, refusing to look at him. “I can’t say if Huntingdon is good to them, I haven’t been to Windale in ages, but they prosper as much as any other village.”
    “It’s my land and I want it back.”
    “So get it back,” she hissed and threw the last pouch into the saddlebag. “Swallow your pride and appeal to Buxton directly. You never know unless you try. He can’t be entirely unreasonable.”
    “You don’t know Buxton like I do,” Ethan snarled.
    “Oh, and you know him?”
    “Well enough. And Huntingdon,” he spat the name.
    “Don’t start that again.” Aubrey narrowed her eyes. Every time Crispin’s name was mentioned Ethan started hurling accusations. Granted, Crispin wasn’t the most charming or cheerful man she knew, but the worst that could be said about him was that he was Buxton’s lackey. He was no murderer. She knew him well enough to know that. She knew him better than Ethan thought she did.
    “Well don’t just stand there looking like a lost sheep.” She grasped her saddle and pulled herself to mount. Once settled she asked, “Wanna ride with me?”
    Ethan pulled himself out of his dark thoughts long enough to give Aubrey a warm smile. “Thanks, but I’ll walk.” Aubrey fought not to let her grin fade. Ethan glanced ahead to where Geoffrey had finally made it to his mount’s back. Toby leaned against the beast panting with effort. “And I think I will come with you to the castle tomorrow.”

Chapter Two
     
     
    Sir Crispin of Huntingdon stormed up the curving staircase leading to the High Tower of Derby Castle, his jaw tight and his stomach in a painful twist. The dark circles under his eyes betrayed the sleepless night he’d endured after the attack in the forest. It was nothing to the misery that awaited him. He reached the High Tower’s top floor and marched to the door at the end of the hall with grim determination. The guards let him pass without hesitation.
    “My lord.” He bowed his head as he entered.
    Lord Alfred of Buxton stood at the far end of the room on the other side of a long, narrow table on which sat a wire mesh hutch. His sharp eyes flickered to Crispin as his hands caressed a ball of gray fur. “Ah, Crispy,” he cooed at the whiskered face in his hands. He held the tiny mouse up to his mouth and made kissing noises, wiggling his own pointed nose at it before tossing it back in the hutch with two dozen others. “How’d it go?” He wore a false smile as he sauntered around the table, rich robe trailing on the stones behind him.
    Crispin kept his face impassive. “We were attacked by the Derbywood Bandit, my lord,” he confessed, stomach rolling.
    Buxton’s crooked smile grew as he came toe to toe with Crispin. “I’m sorry,” he coaxed, “What was that?”
    Crispin cleared his throat, hunched his shoulders. “We were halfway through the forest when the Bandit attacked us.”
    “What!” Buxton snapped to fury before Crispin could blink.
    “We only lost thirty-five pounds-”
    “Thirty-five pounds?” Buxton choked.
    “-but the two guards who came with the shipment were injured. They are in the infirmary now.”
    “I don’t care if they are in Hell now!” Buxton’s wrath erupted. “Do you know how much thirty-five pounds is, Huntingdon? Thirty-five pounds will feed an army of mercenaries for a week! Thirty-five pounds will arm a man for battle. Thirty-five pounds is not some trifle that you can just toss away to a lunatic in the forest!” He grabbed a fistful of Crispin’s tunic. “And you’re telling me that one skinny little outlaw bested two of my guards and you ?”
    “My lord, I almost had him.”
    “Almost?” Buxton yanked Crispin’s tunic hard enough to force him to bow.
    The burning in Crispin’s stomach flared. “I was inches from unmasking him and killing