Candle in the Window (33 page)

This time he said it loudly, and Charles answered
as he pushed aside the screen that hid his bed. “I
don’t know what you’re up to, William, but you’re
a dunce to think you can get anything out of me. Blood out of a
stone would be easier.” He tucked his shirt into his breeches
as he spoke, and
William could see a very
pretty serving maid peeking at him from beneath the covers on the
bed.

“I didn’t come to take your
lands,” William protested. “I’m not so
dishonorable. I came to kill you.”

Charles stopped, his hand still caught in the
material, and stared at William as if he had taken leave of his
senses. “Kill me! Does your father know about
this?”

“Aye.” William floundered beneath the
hurt in Charles’s eyes. “You were the logical choice,
you see, to be trying to kill
me
.”

“Holy Mary and all the saints.” Charles
walked to the bench at the head table and sat down heavily, his
back to William. Placing his hands on his knees, he shook his head
in amazed disbelief. “What in the name of heaven makes you
think I’d try to kill you?”

“You need the money,” William explained
simply.

“The money?”

“Well, we can’t figure out why someone
would try to kill me unless ’twas for my lands and
my—”

“Maybe,” Charles interrupted, rising to
his feet and facing William. “Maybe ’tis because
you’re a pompous stew head who deserves a good beating!
I’ve changed my mind. Take your men and get the hell out of
my hall and we’ll fight. You dullard! You lout, you
addlepated—”

William held out his hands and shouted above
Charles’s roar. “You’ve convinced me.”

“Convinced you? Curse you to hell. Get out of
my castle, you yellow-bellied lickspittle!”

“Charles, I need your help.”

Charles stopped short, his tirade suspended by
disbelief. “You’ve never needed my help in your whole
life,” he accused.

“I need it now. Someone is threatening my
wife and me.”

“I thought you took care of that when you
killed Arthur.”

William jerked. “How did you know that I
killed Arthur?”

“Everyone knows you killed Arthur. Think, you
dunderhead! At your wedding, no one mentioned it to you, but does
that mean no one gossiped about it? Nay. ’Tis generally
acknowledged you killed Arthur when you discovered he’d been
the one to blind you.”

“Good God,” William said blankly.
“I never thought.”

“I suspected that,” Charles said, but
without his previous harshness. “Well, bring your men in and
we’ll break our fast and talk.”

“Aye, I need that. I need that very
much.”

“William said you would never have killed
Hawisa.” The wind blew off the ocean now, tossing the
tendrils that had escaped her braid and making her shiver with the
chill. As they’d ridden, they’d been joined by more and
more of his men, riding up and dropping in line behind them. Saura
felt surrounded, out of control and panicked. “That once you
owned Hawisa you would have maintained her.”

“I had to kill her. She threatened
you.”

He said it with such simple menace her breath
caught in anguish. “If you want me because William wants
me,” she said carefully, “if you love me because
William loves me, will you still love me when William is
dead?”

He didn’t say a word, lax with surprise. Then
he mused, “I hadn’t thought about it like that. William
has been in the way for so long, I can’t imagine a time when
he’s not here. Will I still love you?” They rode for so
long in silence, Saura almost jumped from the horse in desperation.
When he spoke, that breathy lust had settled into his voice.
“You
know, I believe I will. I really
believe I will. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of
you.” His arm tightened on her waist and placed a kiss on her
neck, moist and repulsive.

She wished she hadn’t asked, for what good
answer was there? He would kill her or he would keep her, and the
choice between an unshriven death and life under his hands seemed
difficult and depressing. Difficult and depressing. She laughed
harshly. An understatement indeed.

His mouth wandered up to her cheek, fueling the
fever of curiosity that seized her, and she couldn’t control
her question. “What happened to your two middle
brothers?”

“They died while I stayed at Burke, quite
beyond my control, I assure you. My father died, too.”
Nicholas sounded replete with satisfaction. “Thus when I
returned home, I had only my eldest brother ahead of me in line for
the inheritance. Lance was so honorable, just like William, and so
gullible, just like Lord Peter, and killing him was so
easy.”

“You killed your own brother?”
She’d begun to suspect it, but even so she recoiled.
“How?”

“Nothing so crude as fighting.” He
laughed as if he were pleased with himself, and added
matter-of-factly, “I poisoned him.”

“Holy Saint Wilfred.”

“He called on Saint Wilfred. He called on all
the saints before he died. Do you know his convulsions made him
look like a puppet on a string?” He sounded analytical, and
her gorge rose in her throat. “It took him three days to die.
Three days! I was in an agony of suspense, fearing he’d
recover and rob me of the position I’d worked so hard to
obtain.”

“Please….”

Protesting, she swayed in the saddle, but he
misinterpreted her pain. “Oh, don’t worry. He did die,
and without any
more help from me. But next
time I’ll give a larger dose of the herbs. I beat the witch
who gave them to me. She knows her duty now.”

With a jolt, she realized the hopelessness of
pleading for William’s life; any man who spoke of killing his
own flesh and blood with such casual contentment could hardly be
moved by words of mercy and kindness. No longer did she fear the
rape and horror that threatened; that fear was overthrown by the
conviction she must save William from this fiend. For the first
time on this dreadful ride, she began to plot.

“Whoever it is killed Hawisa,” William
reminded him.

“Then it can’t be Nicholas.”
Charles wiped his chin with his napkin. “He’d never
destroy anything that could make a penny for him.”

“That’s what I said,” William
agreed. “But who’s left?”

“You?”

“What?”

“Somebody killed that slut. Saura was the
logical choice.” Charles laughed. “Listen to me.
I’ve been with you too much.”

William pounded one fist on the table. “Saura
didn’t kill her.”

“Nay. If Saura’d tried to kill that
big, hulking maid, Saura’s neck would be broken. Still, she
threatened Saura and Saura threatened her in return. Thus, I
can’t help but suspect you.”

“I’ve never killed a woman in my
life,” William said without emotion. Charles said nothing,
looking steadily at his friend, and William shrugged. “Yes,
if I’d wanted to, Hawisa
would have been
the one. Remember how she would sneak into my bed and try to tempt
me?”

“Until the time Anne caught her, and then the
wench avoided you like the plague.”

They laughed together, but returned to their
serious contemplation.

Charles explained, “Anne outweighed Hawisa by
two stone. Lady Saura wasn’t big enough to scare Hawisa, so I
thought that you—”

“No. Whoever killed her is our
hellhound.” William peered at Charles. “It
couldn’t be Raymond.”

Charles snorted. “Marriage has scrambled your
brain. Raymond loves you.”

Hearing what he wanted to hear, William sighed with
relief, then straightened with consternation.

“And he loves your lady. Hell, I think half
the men at the wedding were in love with your lady. Raymond brooded
about her, I sighed over her, and you never even noticed. You had
eyes for no one save her. All her attention bent to you. Even
Nicholas lusted after her, and you know how he feels about
women.” Charles finished his second mug of ale and belched.
“Those stupid poems and all those innuendos he spread around.
And he kept looking at her with those red eyes, like the devil
who’d seen an angel land on earth.”

William turned his cup and gazed at the ale as if
somewhere inside he’d find the answer. “It had to be
someone at the wedding. It had to be someone who knew Burke Castle.
Whoever it was kept sneaking up on Saura, scaring her and
whispering to her. He even came into the garden through that little
back gate, remember it? And touched her.”

Charles growled in disgust. “That sounds like
Nicholas. He always liked to sneak around and frighten the folk who
couldn’t get back at him.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Shrugging, Charles explained, “You were four
years older. You were a squire when we were pages and a knight when
we were squires. When you came home to visit, you were the object
of our hero worship. God, for years we looked up to you. Especially
Nicholas. He kept his corruptions well hidden from you.”

A fear burgeoned within William, a fear he kept at
bay with his logic. “What else did he do?”

“The usual mean little-boy things. He liked
to tie his dog too tight and watch it gag. He’d
‘accidentally’ knock the squires down with his lance.
And he only rutted with women who were unwilling. Or
girls.”

William quivered, on the edge of discovery.
“But he didn’t kill Hawisa.”

“Nay.” Charles rinsed his hands in the
fingerbowl and nodded to his squire to take it away.
“He’d have to be mad to have killed that
maid.”

“That’s it!” William stood up and
shouted. “That’s it! That’s what’s wrong
with my logic. There’s no logic in madness, and Nicholas is
mad. Totally insane. Come on.” He smacked Charles on the arm
and leaped over the bench. “We’ve got to go. If he
hasn’t got Saura yet, he soon will have.”

“I used to worship him,”
Nicholas said plaintively. “Did you know that?”

“Who?” Saura crouched, shivering before
the fire in the great hall of Cran Castle.

“William. I used to worship his
footsteps.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Nothing.” He stepped closer to the
fire and she edged aside, tucking her skirt around her ankles.
“I never changed my mind as much as realized I could be
him.”

“Be him?” she asked stupidly. “Be
William?”

“Aye, don’t you see? That’s the
beauty of it. After I kill William, I’ll be Lord
Peter’s son.”

Astounded and confused, she blurted, “What
about Kimball?”

“Kimball?” He sounded almost
absentminded.

“Kimball, William’s son. The heir to
all Lord Peter’s lands.”

“Oh, Kimball.” He brushed him aside
with no concern. “I’ll have to kill Kimball.”

Closing her eyes in anguish, Saura prayed for
guidance. “Don’t you want to be…William…to
Kimball?”

“Be a father?” Nicholas considered it.
“Nay, children are too much trouble. He can remain until he
becomes of some consequence, and then he’ll have to die.
I’ll be his chief mourner, as William would be. Does that
make you happy?”

In all sincerity, he was offering her a boon, and
that was worse than what had gone before. His idea of kindness was
the murder of a boy, followed by a monstrous lie. Her control
slipped. She could hear her blood throbbing in her ears. He was
evil, and she wanted to send him back home, back to the devil. She
rose; she wanted to rip his eyes out, strike him, make him
bleed.

The sound of shod feet running up the stairs
stopped her. Cocking her head, she listened. The slap of shoes and
the whistling gasps reminded her of someone, and when the panting
messenger spoke, her fury dissolved in shock.

“I tol’ Lord William ye had her,
m’lord.”

“Dreadful rogue!” Saura exploded.
“Bronnie, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, m’lady, I hoped ye wouldn’t
know me.” Sounding more wretched than he had when she’d
left him in Arthur’s castle, Bronnie shuffled his feet.
“Lord Nicholas became my thane when Lord Arthur died
an’ I’m just doin’ what he tells me.”

“How could you!”

“I’m not likin’ it,” he
assured her. “I tried t’ tell Lord Nicholas not
t’ do it, but for some reason no un ever listens t’
me.”

“I’ve heard too much from you,”
Nicholas said frostily. “You’re not here to chat with
my wife, but to report—”

“Your wife? I thought ye said she was Lord
William’s wife!”

“Fool!”

The sharp crack of hand against face and
Bronnie’s groan made Saura wince.

“Mind the business you’re told to. Now
what did Lord William say?”

“I didn’t exactly see Lord
William.” Bronnie danced back and Saura assumed he’d
dodged another blow. “’Twasn’t possible! I found
Lord Charles’s castle just where you tol’ me, an’
I walks right up an’ knocks at th’ gate, but they say
th’ whole throng inside is gettin’ ready t’ ride
out, an’ I asks where, an’ they say t’ save Lady
Saura, an’ I says who’s got her? An’ they say
Lord Nicholas, an’ I says that’s right.”

Saura didn’t want to laugh. She knew hysteria
loomed close. But try as she would, she couldn’t dislodge her
grin. Bronnie’s obvious cowardice was too much. With a gasp,
she began to giggle and continued until Nicholas laughed, too.

“That’s fine, Bronnie,” he
assured the serf with assumed geniality. “As long as William
knows where she is.”

“That’s not all, Lord,” Bronnie
said eagerly. “Lord William’s comin’ by
hisself.”

“What!” Saura’s laughter stopped
and she sank down on a bench, clasping the sides with rigid
fingers. “By himself?”

“Aye, I went into th’ castle for a bite
t’ eat. Th’ kitchen maid seemed t’ take a fancy
to me.”

“Resting?” Nicholas snorted.

“A man can’t run so far an’ not
need t’ rest, m’lord.”

“Oh, of course not.”

Nicholas’s sarcasm flew over Bronnie’s
head, and the man sighed with relief. “Aye, I knew ye’d
agree. I heard him talkin’. Arguin’,
actually.”

“Lord William?” Nicholas tapped his
toe.

“Aye, Lord William! Who else? They were at
dinner an’ I
heard him. Tellin’ his
friend that th’ scurvy beast who had his lady would never let
an army in, but he might let just him in by hisself. Lord William,
I mean.”

“Scurvy beast, eh? We’ll see
who’s the beast. Could a beast have trapped the fabulous Lord
William? Could a beast have planned such an operation? Who else but
Lord Nicholas of Walham could have brought William of Miraval to
his knees?”

“Not quite to his knees. Not yet.”
Saura grunted when Nicholas reached over and pressed his fingers
into her shoulder, leaving a bruise, she was sure.

“What would Charles do while William comes to
me, by
hisself?
” he mocked. His
voice never wavered from her direction, but the query was for
Bronnie.

“Oh, he was goin’ for Lord
Peter.”

“Going to Lord Peter,” Nicholas said
thoughtfully. “Interesting. How long ago was this?”

“Yesterday. I ran like th’ wind back
here.”

“That’s what you’re good
for,” Nicholas said. “When were they
leaving?”

“Lord William, he was chomping at th’
bit, but Charles needed help organizing th’ men an’
preparing for war. Today at dawn, they said.”

“Did you hear that, my love? Luck is with
me.” Nicholas stroked his hands over her injured
shoulder.

“Lord Peter will never accept you,” she
said casually. “You said yourself he hides his contempt of
you.”

“He’ll be devastated by the death of
his son.” Nicholas paced away from her and then returned.
“’Tis time for bed.”

“Of course he’ll be devastated, but I
doubt he’ll lose his mind. Don’t you think he’ll
be just a mite suspicious when you appear with William’s
kidnapped wife in tow?”

“True.” He considered and then decided,
“I’ll just have to imprison you here until Lord
Peter’s death. Come.” He caught her wrists.
“Let’s use the bed in the solar. I’ve dreamed of
you there.”

The casual way he tossed away her freedom whetted
the edge of her courage, his intense desire drove her to
desperation. “What about your mother?” Saura threw the
question at him like a dart. “What did she think when you
killed your brother?”

He stopped propelling her toward his bed, and she
felt a tremor go through him. “My mother was a
saint.”

“Didn’t she love your brother, too?
’Tis an unnatural mother who doesn’t love all her
sons.”

Turning her around to face him, he grabbed her
shoulders and shook her. “She loved us all! She doted on us.
We were her flowers, her little jewels.”

The pain of the bruise, the humiliation of her
position made her insist, “What did she say when you killed
him?”

“She didn’t want me to leave her, but
they forced me.”

She snapped at the clue. “Did she cry when
you left?”

He ignored her. “My father had removed the
other boys from her early, but she kept me until I was eight. She
told me she’d never let me go and I swore I’d stay with
her forever.”

“Did she cry when you left?”

“My inheritance came too late for her.
She’s dead.”

“She cried, didn’t she? She cried
because you betrayed her like all the rest.”

“I didn’t betray her.”

He spoke without opening his teeth, and the muffled
bitterness in his voice made her quiver and then straighten.
“Your poor mother. Waiting here alone with only her memories,
waiting for her baby son to return. Waiting and waiting, while
you’re out learning to be a knight and japing with the
other lads and tossing the women’s skirts up
over their heads.”

“I didn’t have fun. ’Twas work,
all the time work. ’Twas work to be a knight and ’twas
work to train Arthur to follow me like a dog. And I didn’t
toss the women’s skirts unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless they fought me and ’twas
work.”

“You didn’t want to enjoy yourself
while your mother suffered alone.”

“Exactly.” She could hear the smile in
his voice. “You understand. I knew you would.”

She lashed him with her contempt. “I
understand you’re lying to me. I understand you enjoyed
training Arthur to follow you with unthinking devotion. I
understand you enjoyed watching him be destroyed by his foolish
plans for William. I understand you enjoyed fighting those women,
hurting those women, making them do what you wanted.”

“How could you understand that?”

“Because you’re doing the same thing to
me. You enjoy forcing yourself on the helpless. You’re
holding me, watching me squirm like a moth caught by a careless
boy. What would your mother think about that? All this pleasure you
get from manipulating people? Is that what she taught
you?”

“My mother was a saint!”

“Nay, she wasn’t. No wonder your father
removed you from her care. She was a nasty, perfidious woman who
couldn’t stand to let her sons go.”

Like an asp striking, he grabbed her by the throat.
Panicked, her hands flew to his wrists, but the tendons in his
hands stood rigid with fury. She lashed out with her foot, but his
arms were too long for her to reach him. His thumbs pressed into
her windpipe, and instantly her aggression
faltered. Her breath swelled in her chest, unable to
escape, and she clawed at him frantically. Tossing her like a rag
doll, he swung her around and leaned over her, and in some corner
of her mind she heard William instruct, “Do the
unexpected.”

Her knees collapsed beneath her and she dropped all
her body to the ground. Her weight shifted and his fingers slipped.
She sucked in a breath before he caught her again, but he rewrapped
his hands around her throat with great deliberation, like a man
prepared to do his duty and enjoy it.

He said nothing, she couldn’t speak. She knew
she was dying, for she heard a sharp whine fill the air. Did the
flap of angel wings sound like the whine of a mosquito?

Nicholas released her, and she fell to the floor,
gagging. As the throbbing in her head diminished, she thought
perhaps he was toying with her, waiting to move in for the kill.
Still, the whine grew louder and resolved itself into words.

“Ye can’t, m’lord. She’s
noble lady. Ye can’t kill a lady.”

“You stupid oaf.” Nicholas said it as
if it were a revelation. “I can do anything I
want.”

“Lord William’s comin’ for her.
He’ll want t’ see her.” Bronnie sounded anguished
and uncertain, arguing with his betters yet afraid to stop.

“William’s coming alone. I’ll let
him see her corpse and then—”

“Ah, nay.” Bronnie gasped with loud
astonishment. “No man could hold Lord William if he saw her
corpse. No man would try.” Doubtfully, he added,
“An’ even if ye managed to kill him, I’d not want
those two ghosts haunting
my
castle.”

Breathing heavily, Nicholas paced back and forth,
back and forth, using small and rapid steps. Coming to stand next
to Saura, he rolled her onto her back using his toe. She
flopped back, only half exaggerating her exhaustion
and her fear. “Get her up,” he ordered.
“Let’s see how clever she is when she’s cold and
hungry and the damp of the dungeon creeps into her
bones.”

“Ye can’t throw her into that
hole,” Bronnie protested. “She’s a
lady.”

“She’s a vixen, and deserves what she
receives. Get her up!” Nicholas’s fury waxed cold and
pure. “Or I will.”

Saura raised a pleading hand to Bronnie and he
shuffled to her side. “I’m sorry, m’lady, so
sorry, but I have t’ touch ye.” His big hands grasped
her shoulders and withdrew at her gasp of pain. “Grant
pardon, my lady,” he murmured again, and she motioned for him
to help her.

In cautious increments he eased his arms around her
until Nicholas barked, “Bring her now!”

Bronnie hefted her all the way off the ground in
one swift movement. “Sorry,” he muttered, carrying her
after Nicholas. They descended the privy stairs into the undercroft
and he apologized again, “I’d never touch a
lady.”

Saura didn’t care. Wishing to reserve her
strength for her last bout with Nicholas, she was glad of
Bronnie’s warmth and support. She hoped her voice would work;
her voice had to work. It was her only weapon in this unequal war,
That, and her brain; and her brain seemed to be operating slowly,
dazed with pain and shock.

Wine soaking into wood, herbs, meat kept too long;
the odors of the storeroom enveloped her. Here they would find the
trap door built into the floor of every castle. The trap door that
led straight down to agony and death.

She had to speak now, she had to talk to him.
Testing, she croaked, “Nicholas.”

Bronnie checked his stride, but Nicholas
didn’t answer. Perhaps he hadn’t heard; perhaps he
ignored her. “Nicho
las,” she tried
again, and her voice came out with strength. Still it grated, rusty
with pain. “I want you to promise me something.”

They stopped, the three of them, and she heard the
scrape of the metal handle and the creak of unoiled hinges. Then
the door slammed back against the floor and musty air rushed out.
It carried a whiff of damp and horror, of mildew and suffering.

Saura jerked back. Satisfied with her reaction,
Nicholas said, “I can promise you a living tomb.”

“Is it dark down there?” Sarcasm
colored her words and he cursed her. Undaunted, she insisted,
“I want you to promise you’ll not put William down with
me.” Her throat hurt and she placed her hand on it for
support. It had to last through this one final stratagem. “I
hate him. I’ll kill him if you put him in with me.”

“What trick is this?” he questioned
skeptically.

“No trick. We fought. We fought before he
left. Don’t you remember my tears in the woods?”