Defiant (41 page)

“I said, do not ever leave me,” he rasped, his eyes on her.

She threw her head back as he entered her. It was a swift, hard, messy coupling. They were like mad things for each other, teeth bumping, hands gripping, squeezing, hard, deep movements designed to emblazon and possess. It was as if even Jamie, whatever he would admit aloud, knew that perhaps this was the last time they would touch.

He yanked at the ties of her tunic, unlacing them at the sides, and yanked down on her collar until he could close his hot mouth around her breast. He suckled as he pumped into her, lifting her on each surge of his hips, entering her deeper, his hands gripping her hips. In moments, she shuddered over the edge. Her head jerked backward as her body exploded, and she felt him clench her hard as hard, hot spasms of his essence pumped into her as she whispered his name into his neck, holding as tight as she could.

He fell back on the bed, Eva sprawled atop him, still kissing, and he did not seem to notice that she was tying his wrists to the bedpost until it was too late.

E
va?” he mumbled, suddenly aware of a rope tugging on his wrist. No, both wrists.

“Jamie,” she whispered, sliding off him, rustling her skirts back into place, standing a safe distance away. She ran her fingers down his bare belly, then . . . turned away.

He bolted upright. The ropes jerked him back down. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded, yanking on the ropes. They were firm and tight. He looked up at Eva. She was at the door.

She was leaving him.

“Jamie, whatever you may say, Roger is not safe. The king is mad. He must be stopped.”

His heart hammered. “Eva,” he said darkly, slowly. “What are you doing?”

She continued as if he’d not spoken. She had clearly rehearsed the lines. “How useful can John find one fifteen-year-old man whose only riches come from the land the king himself already holds? Compared to the great and rich men who will no doubt be putting their petitions forward, Roger rates as notably as a gnat. And you?” She shook her head. “He will see you hang.”

He yanked again on the ropes, struggling to sit up. “Eva.
What you say has merit. We will talk, I will listen, but, Eva—”

“That is because you are a good man. The king is not. I know this. He is my father.”

“Eva,
do not do this.
”

She put her hand on the door as he struggled against the ropes. “I hear your warning, Jamie. My whole life has been warnings. And do you know what is to come after? More of the same. All due King John. More more running, more darkness—”

“You cannot show yourself to the king until I—”

“—and it will be this way forever.”

“—marry you!” he shouted.

She stopped talking for a brief moment. “And how is our marriage of value to King John?”

His heart thundered in his chest. “I will claim Everoot,” he said, and it felt as if he’d meant to say the words forever. “I will claim it, and you, and
that
has value.”

His declaration did not seem to impress Eva. “And then you will be naught but a bigger threat. A powerful lord, wed to the daughter of a king? And after what he has no doubt been told by your Cigogné? After he learns that you intended, for a while, to kill him.” She shook her head and opened the door. “Nay, Jamie. There is but one way to settle this.”

He stilled. “What does that mean? What are you going to do?”

“This not killing the king, Jamie, this was not so good a thing. And now all the good men are dead or soon to be. I will take care of this, since no one else has.”

“Jésu, Eva, you are mad.” He had a sudden, crushing vision of how Ry must feel toward him. “You have no idea what murder does to a person.”

“You have killed,” she said placidly. She had no idea the enormity of her actions. “And you are a good man.”

“Aye, I have killed, and I am a dying thing inside. I
was
dead until you, Eva.”

“But for cause,” she whispered, her hand on the door. “For good cause? Surely this matters.”

“It matters. For a while.”

“I have only one deed to do.”

“You do not comprehend me Eva:
one is all it will take for you.
”

“That is all I have in me, Jamie. One.”

He gave a roar, and fisting one hand atop the other, he yanked on the ropes with a vicious jerk. The wood post gave a thin, loud crack. Eva started; her face paled. “I swear, I will kill you myself,” he growled.

He yanked again. Another crack of the wood. She stepped through the doorway.

“I have lived in darkness too long, Jamie,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder. “I cannot do it anymore. Neither shall Roger. Neither shall you.” She pulled the door shut behind her, but not before she whispered, “I love you.”

Then she was gone.

He put his head down and renewed his assault on the bedposts. At this rate, it would take half an hour.

E
VA
walked down the familiar corridor to the lord’s tower. White rushes of sound swept through her skull like wind as she counted the stones under her boots. The world she’d lived in was receding like land from a boat, as you slipped out to sea on powerful but invisible currents. She felt as though she had just given the oars a little push, and they had slid over the sides and into the water. There could be no changes in direction now. She was aimed like an arrow and would travel on, unstoppable.

It was impossible to contemplate that she would never see Roger again, so she did not. It was impossible to imagine she would never see Jamie again, so she did not. Never have Jamie
mark her like a target with his smile, never have his thumb caress her neck, so much power, so restrained, on her. Never hear wolves. Breathe air. Feel her hard, ugly boots hit the hard, beautiful earth again.

The things she could not think of grew and grew, until she was a tiny prick of darkness in all the bright things she could not imagine in the world.

She slipped into the king’s outer chamber. It was not difficult; Eva knew how to make herself invisible. She sat on a small bench against the wall, staring at nothing, until she heard a sound, a scrape of a boot on the stone outside.

She got to her feet and pulled her cape closer around herself, so she could go unseen as long as possible, and kill her father the king before he destroyed anyone else she loved.

J
amie jerked his arms again. No crack of wood. He clenched his fists and jerked repeatedly, until his arms and belly burned, then stopped to catch his breath. He stared up at the ceiling.

Eva had been right. Ry as well. Ry mostly. Jamie had lived in a netherworld for years, neither reaching out nor moving away. Indecision had marked his life, for all that his actions were unwavering.

But now came the convergence. If he did not claim Everoot, others would. This had lit a fire inside him, although he’d ignored it. When presented with the possibility that someone else might rule Everoot, it had simply taken his breath away.

Needing to claim it to save Eva gave it back. He could do this thing. Would do it. A sense of power and destiny snapped through him a hot whip of intent.

Enough of sawing on the bit; ’twas time to come unleashed.

Lying here naked, strapped to a bed, did give one cause to reflect on one’s past errors. For instance, he would have to be sure to impress upon Eva how very much he did not approve of her method of solving problems.

He renewed his assault on the bedpost.

R
Y
and Angus got into Everoot by blending with a wagon train of merchants and whores. They went looking for Lucia, the dark-skinned, hot-blooded Italian lass who’d worked years ago at Baynard Castle, who had left when Ry had.
Because
he had. She cared not that he was Jewish, nor that he lived most of his days in mortal danger, nor that he could barely keep his hands off her whenever they were close. In fact, she seemed to like that a great deal. She cared only that he smiled at her, looked at no other woman, and would commit to spend the rest of his life with her.

This had become a bone of contention: Ry’s life was about saving Jamie’s, since he could not save his family’s, and he had not been able to leave off it. Not even for Lucia.

So she’d finally tossed him aside with an airy flip of her thick, dark hair, and said she wished never to see him again.

Ry hoped that was not true. She had not married another, and she had not left the king’s service, which surely she could have, got a place in any noble household. If she truly wished never to see him again, that is what she would have done. Correct?

He and Angus hunted her down through the endless corners of Everoot’s castle and battlement walls. Ry planned the reunion in his mind. He would kiss her, ask her to marry him, demand to know where Roger and Jamie were. In that order.

J
AMIE
clenched his jaw for yet another mighty pull as the door flung open. He jerked his head up and stared. Roger and Ry and Angus stood in the doorway.

They took in his naked body, lashed to the bedpost, and their jaws dropped. “Jésu, Jamie,” Ry muttered. “What happened?”

“Eva happened,” Roger interjected with the sort of grim certitude Jamie would expect from someone who knew Eva’s tricks. Jamie would have to take counsel with him. Perhaps while Eva was tied to a tree nearby.

“I have no idea how you have come here, but I have ne’er been so glad to have three men ogle my naked body. Untie me.”

Angus took door watch, while Ry and Roger hurried over. Each took an arm, as Jamie flung his head to swing the hair off his face. “I owe you,” he said with feeling.

“Again,” Ry grunted, head down, focused on the ropes.

“Why did you come?”

“I like the idea of you being indebted to me. And I was wrong,” Ry added. “I am sorry.”

Jamie shook his head. “No. You were absolutely right. About everything.”

“I feel as though I should commemorate this moment somehow,” Ry muttered, sawing at the ropes. “I wonder if an engraved plate would do.”

“How about me owing you my life?”

Ry smiled faintly. “My mission is done.”

“I will repay you.”

Ry shrugged as he shifted how he cut at the rope. “I manage all your accounts and coin, Jamie. You are a rich man. I will just steal what I want.”

The ropes fell away and Jamie swung up, clapped Ry on the shoulder, then Roger, then shot off the bed and reached for the small pack Peter of London had given him. He pulled out the Everoot surcoat and pulled it over his head. “How did you find Roger?” Jamie’s voice was muffled by the silk.

“Lucia.” Ry reached over and pulled the surcoat down. Jamie’s head popped out. He looked surprised. Ry grinned. “She does indeed
pine.
”

“That is good. I am glad.” He put on the ring. It felt heavy, more heavy than the metals constructing it. It must be the weight of destiny, settling down on him. “How did you find me?”

Roger was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his big, young energy almost bursting him out of his skin. “I did that, sir. I heard the servants talking about the countess of Misselthwaite, absent all her belongings and escorted by a very demanding courtier. I knew it must be you.”

“Roger, you have a future as a judge if you wish for it.” Ry grabbed Jamie’s other sword belt and carried it over.

Jamie took it, and looked at him. “And you?” he asked quietly. “Where did you go?”

Ry’s smile faded. “Nowhere. I drank. I helped Jakob Doctor repair his home. Angus told me I was a fool. But what news, that?” He got up and strode to the door. “Where is Eva?”

Jamie put a hand on his shoulder as he passed. Ry stopped but didn’t look over. “You have long been after me to put the money to good use. Your family is good use. Get them out of London. Buy land. Take them there, where they will be safe.”

“Where, Jamie? Where shall I buy ‘safe land’? In all of Christendom, there is no safe place. They would have to declaim what they are, and that, they will not do.”

What was there to say? The enormity of the thing was towering, like a black cloud stretched across the horizon. You knew it was going to bring destruction, and you could do nothing about it.

Jamie clamped tighter on the hand he’d placed on Ry’s shoulder. “We can still do good.”

Ry lifted a brow. “Only if you are claiming. If not, then we shall simply die.”

“Why did you come, then?”

Ry put his hand atop Jamie’s. “Because I am your friend.”

Jamie grinned. “That matters more than all the rest.” He reached for his cape and pinned it with the Everoot brooch at his shoulder. Its green eye glinted, as did the gem on the signet
ring. They would not be missed. “I am claiming, Ry. I am Jamie of Everoot.”

Roger stepped forward to their sides. “And I am Roger d’Endshire.”

Angus poked his head in. “Ye’re all a lot of fools. What are we waiting for? A whole herd of nobles just went into the keep, Jamie. Like for an audience or council.”

Jamie flung the door wide and they strode out into the danger as their fathers had done.

“Let us go make them sorry.”

T
HEY
went to the main keep along the battlement walls, not even attempting to hide. Up here, the winds blew briskly and the sun burned hot. It seemed the news had spread now that Jamie Lost was a wanted man. They could hear the shouts, word traveling. The king was here, and he wanted Jamie.

They sized up the best direction to circle around. “I was young, my lord, I do not recall which way will get us there the quickest,” Roger said quietly.

“I do,” Jamie replied gravely. His head was up, his cape blown back, the ring on his finger gleamed, and the cobalt of Everoot’s colors burned in the sun.