Page 35 of Gambling with the Earl
Guy looked coldly at his manservant, small and dark against the thin shafts of light shining through his unopened shutters. “How do you know that?”
Thomas blanched. The chests were closed. His indiscretion was apparent.
“I wanted to check that I had brought up the right chests, my lord.”
Guy bit back an enquiry as to how many chests could be hidden inside one narrow well. There was nothing to be gained as Thomas would never acknowledge any lapse on his part. Butequally, Guy would not forget this. He filed the incident away in his mind.
Still, he had no wish to explore the chests under Thomas’s watchful gaze. Not now the spark of distrust had been lighted between them.
“My horse is unsettled,” he addressed him levelly. “Kindly go to the stables and enquire after him.”
Thomas rose to his feet. His face showed displeasure.
“Ensure the stableboys are feeding him well,” Guy added. “They are accustomed only to cart horses.”
He suspected this faint praise would bring Thomas back on side. Although he was growing to dislike the man and his mean ways, Guy knew the benefits of having a long-standing servant here at Rossfarne. Without Thomas, he would be surrounded by strangers.
Thomas nodded, colour returning to his cheeks. “I’ll see to it now, my lord.”
“If you could reassure me that he has had his fill of oats, I would go easier about my morning,” Guy added for good measure. He wanted Thomas out of his way so that he could properly document the contents of the chests.
Thomas left the chamber, his footsteps heavy as he descended the stone steps, and Guy sighed with relief. He had not expected his manservant to be so hasty in carrying out last night’s instructions. Thomas had laboriously carried up the coin chests before Guy had even woken. Now he juggled his desires to explore them with a rumbling stomach, for he had not yet broken his fast.
But food would have to wait. He had never anticipated finding wealth such as this. Wealth which would not only finance repairs to the castle and pay his tithes but wealth which could transform life in Rossfarne Castle.
But he did not intend to stay, he reminded himself. What use were extra servants and welcoming fires if the master of the house was sleeping elsewhere, beneath the flag of the king?
He must arrange better security, that was apparent. None but Thomas had seen the riches in the well, but still, they could not remain there. And he must hire guards, right away.
Alight with purpose, for the first time in months, Guy stepped lightly over the nearest chest and reached down to heave open another. At once, a sharp stabbing pain overtook him. He must take things slowly. Now was not the time to set back his recovery.
He straightened up, taking a step backwards and falling clumsily over the open chest. A new wave of throbbing agony clutched his left side as he landed awkwardly, banging his head on the floor.
“Damnation,” he cursed, curling himself up into a ball and waiting for the pain to lessen its cruel grip. But his movement didn’t aid him, instead a ripping sensation unfurled along his ribs, bringing fresh, stinging pain and a sensation of wetness.
Had his wound reopened?
Guy could curse his stupidity. He could shout and wail and beat his hands upon the floor, but none of this would help. He needed to get upright and assess the scale of the damage. But his strength had drained away from him. And the positioning of the coin chests meant he couldn’t roll over and push himself onto his good arm. He would have to shout for help.
How long was it since he sent Thomas to the stables? Mayhap his servant had dallied on the stairs. He might still be within hearing distance.
Guy closed his eyes, hating this moment of weakness. What wouldn’t he give to be healed and well again? But his recklessness in throwing himself in front of an opponent’s bladehad saved the life of a friend’s young squire, and he couldn’t regret that.
“Thomas,” he croaked, aware even as he said the name that he would have to shout louder than that. His choices were clear. He could broadcast his current position, or else stay here, perhaps for hours, until Thomas returned.
His good hand gripped the edge of his tunic. “Help me,” he roared.
A scurry of light footsteps announced his plea had been heard. Who would enter his chamber and see him so enfeebled? He grimaced as he realised this person would also spy the heavy coin chests. Another would witness the extent of his newfound wealth. Who could he trust with such knowledge?
It was not in his gift to decide. He was in the hands of fate.
A knock sounded on his chamber door. He winced with the inevitability of summoning them inside and all that would mean. Still, he had no choice.
“Enter,” he commanded. His voice at least still carried authority.
“I heard shouting, my lord,” came a voice, high and musical. A voice that had permeated his dreams.
Would he have wished for her to come?No. She was the last person he would want to see him like this.
