Exile’s Bane (30 page)

Duncan’s eyes remained blank, his manner severely reserved, though Annie had swung back around to hang happily off his arm. I had forgotten how impressive his build was, even beside the tall, lanky prince.

How could I forget the feel of those muscular shoulders under my palms? Deep within me, a quiver began.

“Lady Elena.” I forced myself to look away from Duncan to the attentive prince who stood so amicably before me.

“I present to you from the King’s care, a witnessed copy of your jointure deed with Tor House.”

My mouth fell open in pleased astonishment.

“I
knew
such a thing existed. Devlin is a fool,” Gorgon roared, his keen eyes afire in indignation.

“Spare me your noise, Gorgon,” Rupert said, in that deep, chilling voice I had heard only once before, in the library weeks and weeks ago.

“But Lady Elena is my betrothed,” Gorgon complained. “I am entitled to the rights of her jointure. Tor House is mine.”

“I doubt that will continue.” Prince Rupert gave a quick, haughty laugh.

“Let me assure you, it will not continue,” I said with pride, while the prince stood by me, the leather of the jointure cover warming in my hand.

Gorgon grasped my arm. The prince raised a warning finger and my arm fell free. I quickly put the deed away deep in my dress pocket.

“I will hold my own home,” I cried. I looked boldly at Duncan, who sucked in a breath through his mouth, looking uncomfortable. His gaze slid from the prince to Gorgon and back to me. I raised my eyebrows at him. He nodded and moved about in discomfort.

Beside him, Annie’s eyes flashed. She frowned at the eye play between us and settled in closer under Duncan’s protective arm, claiming her place.

He would meet me, that nod meant, but he did not like it. Still, it was my chance, perhaps my last, to make a difference with him and, hopefully, to regain his love and support.

I dared a look at Gorgon, whose entire attention had devolved into a malevolent glare at Duncan.

“Lady Elena.” Rupert bowed to me. “I ask but a night’s shelter at your walls for my remaining troops. We have been living off the land and done surprisingly well. We dare not stay long, nor does the King wish you to endanger your life by remaining at Tor House. Later, when Lancashire is free again, your jointure deed will grant you your rights here. For now, Lancashire under Parliamentary control will not be safe.”

I stared at him in horror and remembered Thomas’ fear of a Parliamentary approach. Yet my champion had returned . . . if he would have me.

“And last, but most important,” With a glance at Peg, the prince shifted his feet and went on. “I come to claim Mistresses Carey and McGuire. They will accompany us into Wales, where I go to recruit, train, and regroup. The King’s war must be won.”

“Where is Boye?” Peg asked beside me. She drew a frantic breath. I glanced toward her to find her head of shiny auburn hair moving this way and that as she searched around the men at the door. Finally, she looked up in deep anxiety at the prince.

Rupert settled back on his heels and tipped his head sideways. “He lies dead on Marston Moor, as great a hero as any man.” He stepped closer and took Peg’s hand. “He slipped his collar and followed me into battle,” he said quietly to her, his personal grief writhing in his eyes.

“Oh,” Peg sighed in dismay.

Only then did I remember the white blur following the prince’s guard in my dreams. Hero or not, my heart mourned the loss of the prince’s happy, loyal companion.

I supported Peg with a hand at her elbow and looked up at the magnificent prince in his dusty clothes. I was so pleased with his saving presence that a smile broke over my face.

“I am thrilled to see that you live, your Highness,” I said. “We have heard so many tales.”

“Thanks to Colonel Comrie here, yes.” Rupert motioned in Duncan’s direction. “His effrontery and his unmitigated courage brought me out of an untenable position.”

So Duncan had won a field promotion. For what, I already knew.

“You were encircled by the enemy,” I said quietly. Night after night I had watched the prince within that solid ring of shifting, dogged Roundheads, pistols and swords raised, threatening the life and liberty of the one man capable of winning this war for the King. But, as it was . . .

“I would have been, if not for Comrie. We cut our way out,” he responded with a crooked smile. “I see you harbor foreknowledge as he describes.”

“I will open the water channels, your Highness,” I said quickly. Hopefully, he would say no more of my part in his escape. “You and your men are welcome here, so long as you wish. There should be water for all, yourselves and your animals, within an hour or two. See to it,” I said insolently to Gorgon’s new guard captain.

The man stared at me, dumbfounded, then shifted his gaze to Gorgon who nodded, his face curling into his beard in a frown. The officer shouldered his way through the crowd at the front entry and disappeared.

“Your old rooms await you in the private tower, and there will be food available for yourself and your officers within the hour.”

“In your charming gallery?” the prince asked, with a glance up at the dark screens.

“Yes, your Highness.”

The prince put out a commanding hand. Peg squeezed my hand in affection and went to him.

Peg and her tall prince, two officers, Duncan, and Annie progressed with excited yet subdued talk among them past Gorgon and myself toward the central corridor. The officers left behind slowly coalesced and retreated back through the main entry to their waiting mounts.

I remained within the malevolent shadow of Edward Gorgon and his two guards.

How had our lives, Peg’s and mine, so grossly deviated?

Sudden echoes sounded as Gorgon strode to the washstand beside the earl’s chair and lathed his hands over and over, finally wiping them on the towel hung there for that purpose. He finished and returned to confront me with a bitter sneer.

“Even on her deathbed, my mother kept me informed. Her visions were mine, leading to my success on the isle and here.” His voice rose ominously. “But no,
you
give the benefit of your sight to anyone but me, your betrothed.” His fist came at me and pain tore through my jaw. “You are useless to me without your dreams,” he shouted down at me, for I had fallen with the blow.

I put a hand to my agonized, pulsating face. I opened and closed my mouth. At least the jaw worked, and my teeth seemed sound. I got to my feet.

“Will you then release me from our betrothal?” I asked muzzily, hardly able to close my mouth.

“Not just yet.” He crossed his arms, mollified by his violence against me.

I glared at him. Anger and resentment climbed within me, despite the pounding ache in my jaw.

“This chair fits.” He nodded at the oversized earl’s chair. “I am meant to rule, as you shall see. I have finally found the power I was meant to hold.” His face glowered, a dark cloud of beard and grimace. “When the prince is gone, Elena, then you will realize that piece of paper means nothing. You deserve what awaits you.” He strode off in lofty arrogance with his guards.

I crumpled to the floor and held hands to my throbbing face. The great hall had emptied. I sat alone for some moments, rocking back and forth in anguish among the silent, heartless stones I had loved and fought so hard to keep.

Careful to keep my face averted so I would not have to explain my swelling jaw, I went to the kitchens and conferred with Mrs. Deane over dinner. My rooms were empty when I returned. After hiding my jointure under my sword in the chest Wallace had provided, I applied a wet, cool cloth to my face and laid down in the dark peace of my bed until the throbbing lessened.

I did not expect him to be at Amilie’s blocked-off hallway yet. But I hurried to the dark passage anyway and settled back into the dimness along the northeasterly wall, my sore jaw pressed against the cool stone.

“I am proud of you,” came the deep, passionate voice I remembered from behind me.

I sighed with pleasure and relief. His ragged mustache tickled my shoulder where he snuggled at my neck.

We embraced as though we had never been apart, the quickening of our breath, the rush of our hands familiar and longed for. Yet we had changed, each of us. I pulled away, barely able to stand the pressure of his mouth on the right side of my face without crying out.

“Where is Annie?”

“She is with Peg and the prince for now, in his old rooms just down the hall in the private tower. I do not want her near Gorgon.”

“Neither do I.”

“You inhabit my dreams, you know,” he said in a mellow hush. His poor cut hand came out of the darkness and cupped my lower lip, his fingertips exploring its edges.

“We cannot tarry here.” I swallowed with difficulty around a great lump in my throat, tears close behind. I wanted to hold him and never let go.

Suddenly, he grasped my face between calloused palms and lifted my chin.

“This was not here earlier,” he said in a sharp, demanding voice. He ran his fingers over the swollen curve of my jaw. “What happened?”

“Gorgon did not approve of my actions.” My attempt at a laugh came out weak and sickly.

“I expect not.” His eyes narrowed, his mouth a hard line under his mustache. “We shall have to fix that.”

I nodded, his thoughts in line with my own. “Your horse?”

“Ajax?”

“Where is he?” So the great black had survived as well. I smiled despite the difficulty of my swollen jaw.

“Actually, in your stable. I took the liberty—”

“Good,” I interrupted. “We ride.”

We rode at a good pace, anxious to reach our destination before dark, though the full moon rose like a ghost on the eastern horizon. A taunting breeze, cool and refreshing, came at us, also out of the east. It was enough to comfort my sore jaw, for the swelling had gone down and it felt better, though still tender to the touch.

We dismounted at the great trees to the left of the road and walked our horses in among them to prevent undue alarm. The old hut was still as I had last seen it, nestled in a natural meadow among the wood giants. A loud chorus of crickets greeted us.

No one appeared to be about, the horses gone and the little house empty.

“Wallace and Thomas should be here. Where could they be? Do you think Gorgon . . .?”

“No, not Gorgon.”

“Why not?”

“I expect the prince is keeping him busy. If it is as you said and Wallace has been surviving on his own, he is out hunting while he can, this close to dusk. Probably took Thomas with him, to keep track of him.”

“That makes sense.”

We entered the frame dwelling. Why they called it a hut, I could not imagine. It was a one-room structure with a loft and a ladder. Despite that lowly origin, there was a quaint privacy within the creaking walls, a counterpoint to the crickets both inside and out.

A clumsy, battered old wall sconce clung tenaciously to the wall beside the door. This was impressive. Not even the Reedy house had such an implement. Wallace must have confiscated it from among the discarded hardware at Tor House.

There was no table, only a newly constructed sideboard set in between the loft and the hearth. A sturdy high-backed chair sat before the tumbledown fireplace, and a cooking hook protruded from the hearth’s mouth as though someone had been about to heat water or cook a meal. No fire was laid, but a pile of split wood lay neatly stacked beside the hearthstones.