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Then she would turn her head toward the west and wonder what lay beyond the orchard and the fields and even the village itself…. As if through no will of her own, Sybil turned her head, but this time she saw a sight that had never greeted her before: Robin de Burgh.
He looked strange in the little herb garden, though others of his sex had been here before on occasion—servants usually. He was different somehow. Larger, more masculine, he seemed to fill the small space with his strength and his maleness, as out of place as a bull among the delicate early-blooming violets. No, not a bull, with its rage and clumsiness, but something else wholly beyond her experience.
Sybil’s brow furrowed at that puzzle. She didn’t care to be caught at a loss, and her reaction came swiftly and automatically, outrage pushing aside her guilt and pain. How could the abbess ask her to work with this, this man? Not only was he a member of the outside world, but he was a male! He had no business involving himself in the affairs of the nuns. He was an intruder into this sheltered place, a reminder of what existed outside, bold and untamed and unknown.
Sybil seethed. She had taken exception to him the moment he strode into the garden, free and strong and confident, his clothes boldly declaring his station and the set of his wide jaw bespeaking his arrogance. He represented all that she was not, and Sybil was honest enough to admit that she resented his power and his sex. But there was more to her rancor than simple envy.
What she most disliked about Robin de Burgh was the way he made her feel, for he affected her as no one ever had before. It was apparent the instant she laid eyes upon him. She had been kneeling over Elise, shocked and stu
His chest was broad, his shoulders massive, his arms and legs thick with muscle, and yet he moved with a grace that belied his form. A knight, the abbess had called him, which explained the strength of his body, but not the reaction of her own. Sybil felt as though she had taken a blow to the chest, her heart pumping, her lungs struggling for breath, and then she had looked upon his face….
He was beautiful.
Sybil had slipped back upon her heels, dumbstruck that a mere man could exhibit such perfection: thick, dark hair, a comely brow over wide cheeks, ta
But it wasn’t. Even now she burned with an odd sort of need for this man, and this man only, a feeling that made her even more resentful of his presence here and the task the abbess had laid before her, to work with him. It was intolerable, Sybil vowed, and would soon be put to an end. He might be coroner, but she would find Elise’s murderer herself and be rid of Robin de Burgh and the havoc he wrought.
Just thinking of him had quickened her heartbeat, and Sybil glared across the small expanse of the garden at him, but that did little to ease her distress. Indeed, her gaze was caught by the shift of his wide shoulders as he began to move, and she trembled like a weakling as her attention drifted down his tall back to the narrow hips that were hidden beneath his mail coat. Cheeks flaming, Sybil drew a deep breath and shook off this unhealthy preoccupation with a male form, quickly transforming her dismay into anger.
“Where are you going?” she demanded even as she hurried after him.
He didn’t bother to stop and acknowledge her, but spoke over one of those massive shoulders of his. “Outside to have a look about the grounds.”
Sybil hesitated a moment, seized by a cowardly urge to quit his company, but it was swiftly overwhelmed by curiosity. And determination. Should this knight find something, she refused to remain ignorant of it. Besides, she was to keep an eye upon him. Although her instincts told her he was not a killer, still she owed it to the abbess to do her duty. And right now her duty was Robin de Burgh.
And so she followed. He did not wait for her, and she cursed his long legs that seemed to eat up the ground as he strode through the passage to the great hall. Oblivious to the stares of those around him, he continued out the main doors and around the building, unerringly heading toward the walls of the herb garden, which looked out over the orchard.
There she found him pacing along the stone barrier, head bent, as if he expected the murderer to have left his mark upon the grass. He paused, here and there, just as he had in the garden, kneeling to inspect the ground, though Sybil could see nothing. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes so beautiful that Sybil nearly swallowed her tongue.
“There’s nothing here,” he said, with a grimace.
Sybil could do no more than stare stupidly at him while she tried to control the sudden trembling in her limbs.
“Have there been any strangers about?” he asked.
Sybil shook her head. She found it difficult to concentrate on his words when his mouth moved. She had torn her attention away from his eyes only to find it engaged by his lips. Out here in the vast expanse of the grounds, he seemed more approachable, more real, as the sunlight dappled his features, and somehow the notion made her heart pound erratically.
Then his mouth moved again. “No one unusual?” he prompted, and his questioning look made Sybil wrest control of herself from whatever forces were affecting her.
“No. None that I am aware of beyond the occasional cleric, but I deal mostly with boarders, not travelers. We should check with Elizabeth, who handles lodging for the poor, pilgrims and others seeking but a night’s stay. And the abbess would have more contact with visitors.”
“And the servants knowledge of packmen and the sort,” Robin mused. Rising to his feet in one graceful motion that almost stopped her breath, he glanced toward Sybil again, and she felt his attention clear down to her toes. He seemed to study her with a wary sort of animosity, that had Sybil wondering just what his complaint was before she realized he probably disliked being paired with a woman.
“If you’re to help, then let us be about questioning these people while their memories are fresh,” he snapped, confirming her suspicions.
Well, she didn’t care to be stuck with him either, Sybil thought, lifting her chin, but the abbess had decreed that they must work together, so she would obey. She could only hope that the killer would be found soon, for once the murder was solved, Robin de Burgh would be on his way.
And Sybil would be glad of it.
Chapter Three
Although Robin didn’t like spending any more time than necessary with the One, she appeared to be not only his assistant as coroner, but his sole contact within the nu
After all, he couldn’t remain here indefinitely, when no one at Baddersly knew his exact whereabouts. He had promised the solicitous steward there that he would not hare off without a word, as his brother Simon had done before him. God knows he didn’t want Florian to think he was entangled with a female, as Simon had been. And anyway, he needed some clothes and personal effects, more than the few he had brought with him, for he had no idea how long he would be staying.