Impostress (16 page)

"If you wish." She lifted a shoulder as if it were of no matter when inside her heart was beating like a drum.

"You've been deceiving me, little one, and not just today." He approached the bed.

"Kelan, no—"

"Do not lie. From the moment I set eyes on you," he said through lips that barely moved, "I have sensed it. Seen things, but ignored them with your seduction in this chamber. I can no longer. Something is wrong here. Very wrong. For a reason I have yet to understand you've been lying through those beautiful teeth of yours. Deceiving me. Playing me for a fool."

"I would not."

"Of course you would."

"But—have we not ..." She motioned to the bed and his gaze skated across the crumpled bedclothes.

"Marriage is not just lovemaking." He was so determined, his jaw set so tight. What could she tell him? What could she say?

"I suggest you tell me the truth. Right now." Looming over her, he appeared dangerous, and yet she refused to cower.

"I have been."

A muscle worked in his jaw. "By the gods, you confound me."

"As you confound me."

"Nay. 'Tis different. Either you tell me what you've been doing, wife, why you have been determined to keep me penned up here in your chamber, or make no mistake, I promise you, you'll pay for your lies and pay dearly."

"You threaten me?" She climbed out of the bed and, standing near the wall, forced herself to glare up at him. "Why?"

His eyes narrowed as if in squinting he could see past her lies. "I saw you through the window this morn, mounting to ride, and you looked about as if you were searching for something, or someone."

She was doomed. She had no choice but to tell him the truth. Oh, God. Desperation tore at her soul. "You were spying on me this morning?" she managed, remembering Kelan's shadowy form in Elyn's window. She inched her chin up a notch, hoping to appear outraged though her buttocks were pressed against the wall.

"Only because I couldn't chase you down. I was much too tired from our lovemaking to run after you." A dark, suspicious eyebrow arched and she wanted to die, to drop right through the stone floor and disappear. "Is that not odd? That while I could barely raise my head or drag myself out of bed to go to the latrine to relieve myself, you are racing through the keep so fast that I swear the castle dogs would not be able to keep up with you. And I am not one to be bedridden from drink." He paused.

Her heart was drumming wildly. Loudly. Thundering with fear.
Tell him the truth. Now! Let him hear it from your lips!
"You seem angry, husband," she said, her insides shaking.

"See how perceptive you are?" he mocked, not touching her but standing so close she could feel his heat, his rage.

Tell him!

"There ... there is much we have to discuss, 'tis true." God's teeth, could she admit the depths of her deception? Here? Now? What would he do? To her? To Elyn? To their father who was an innocent in this scheme? "But ... perhaps we should sit down." Kiera indicated the bed.

"So you can seduce me?"

"What?" Her head snapped up.

"Is that not part of your deception? To make me weak from lovemaking, or is there more? Do you ply me with food and drink that causes me to lose my strength?"

This was worse than she thought. "I—I don't understand."

"Do you not?" His lips twisted cynically and he shook his head as if disappointed that she would continue to try and deceive him.

"Are you suggesting that I do something to you? Poison you or—or what? Make love to you until you cannot stay awake?" She feigned innocence though her insides curdled with the deception. How long would she have to lie? Forever?

What if Elyn never returned? Dear God, and what if she did? What if she showed up here, now, to take her place, and for the rest of her life Kiera would have to pretend that she'd never known the feel of Kelan's lips upon hers, the touch of his hand upon her thigh, the smell of his skin as she lay with him. The niggling thought that had plagued her since last night emerged yet again. What if she'd become pregnant? What if even now she was carrying his child?
Confess to him!

"I don't know what to think of you, wife," he admitted, so close that his breath was warm against her face. His eyes delved deep into hers, searching for the truth and touching her rueful soul. "You're not what I expected."

"Nor, Kelan, are you," she said with heartfelt honesty. Never would she have guessed he would be a man who could intrigue, entrance, and frighten her so. She was breathing hard and his gaze strayed down her neck, to the telltale pulse beating at her throat. He hesitated and she was certain he noticed the rapid rise and fall of her chest. If possible, he stepped closer, his body a hair's breadth from hers.

"And I found vials near the bed this morning. One empty. One filled with blood."

She nearly dropped through the floor. Felt her face turn ashen. "Vials?" she repeated, her voice close to cracking. 'Twas too-late. He
knew.
For the love of the Holy Mother, he
knew.
"And you did not tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"But why would you not speak of it sooner?" she demanded. "If you thought something was amiss—"

He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders as if he intended to give her a quick shake. Instead he said, "Do not try to turn this around! I found the damned vials and I wondered, what were they for? Who put them there?"

"Perhaps a servant dropped them."

He snorted. "The room was clean, the rushes fresh, the firewood stacked, water in the basin clear. The linens clean. Nay, wife, this very room, the chamber in which we were to consummate our vows, had been carefully prepared."

"But a servant could have mistakenly dropped the vials and—"

"Hush! Lie no more! Don't forget that I saw you deter the servants from entering the room," he growled, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. His hands tightened over her shoulders. "The blood, I understand not, though I have heard of this ploy if a bride comes to her marriage bed no longer a virgin." Kiera forced her legs to support her, hoped her face did not betray her. "But you, little one, I have no doubts of your virtue, and the vial of blood is still full. Untouched. Now, the other vessel, it poses another question. What did it hold?" He paused, as if lost in thought, or waiting for her response.

"I—I know not," she stammered.

" 'Tis a puzzlement, but considering my lethargy, I can only guess it contained some potion intended to make me sleep the sleep of the dead."

"What are you suggesting?" she asked. "That I tricked you? That I tried to harm you? That somehow I was plotting against you? But why?" Oh, she was tangling herself more with each question.
Tell him now that you're not Elyn; try and explain that she left. It's not your fault. You never agreed to this foolish plan; she left and you had to save your family's honor ...
But she had lied and what honor was there in deceit?

"That's what I'm asking you. If you wanted me dead—"

She gasped. "No!"

" 'Twould have been easily done when I slept, yet here I am. Alive. Though something is not right, nay, 'tis very, very wrong and I want to know what it is." With deliberation he reached into his pocket and withdrew the damning vials. Kiera stared at them and realized she'd met her doom. Her luck had finally run out. She had to confide in him. Now. There was no escape. Elyn's fate had been sealed. As had hers.

From outside the chamber Kiera heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. Oh, God. Someone was coming. Running. Toward this very room. Before she had a chance to unburden herself. She had to tell him. Now, before— "Kelan, I—"

'Twas too late. Someone was pounding on the door, demanding to be let in, and before Kiera could protest, Kelan walked over and flung it wide open as Kiera spun, putting her back to the entry, hiding her face.

"There you are!" an unfamiliar male voice boomed.

Who? Was he talking to her? Or the Lord of Penbrooke?

She dared not peek over her shoulder until she was certain it was someone she didn't know. "Have you not heard?" the man demanded.

"What?" Kelan asked.

"Reginald arrived a few minutes ago with news from Penbrooke." His voice lowered, became more sober. "It's our mother."

Our
mother? Kelan's brother? She glanced around just in time to see Kelan's face drain of color. "What of her?"

Cautiously, Kiera looked over her shoulder. The man was tail and dark, his brow creased, and his lips were compressed into a sharp line beneath a dark beard. Blue eyes were troubled; his expression was bleak. "She's fallen," he said tightly. "According to Reginald, the physician thinks she has but a few days to live, and that was nearly three days ago."

"Then we leave now," Kelan said.

" 'Tis dark out."

"We'll ride by torchlight." His gaze swung to Kiera as he pocketed the vials. "Get ready."

"I can't leave tonight. We had an agreement," she protested. But she'd always known Kelan had to return to his ailing mother. Wasn't that why they had hastened into this marriage and why Elyn had to boil up this insane lie in which Kiera was now stuck? No, this was all wrong. She needed time to confide in him. Alone. And she couldn't leave Elyn and Penelope and her father without explaining. Yet she couldn't deny him a last chance to see his mother.

"Aye,
wife,
you can. And you will!" Turning again to his brother, he said, "We leave within the hour. I'll say my good-byes to our host, and you, Tadd, see that the stablemen have our horses ready."

Panic grabbed Kiera by the throat. "But I've not packed; I've not told my family good-bye; I've not—"

"And my mother is dying!" he snapped, grabbing her roughly by the arm again. "We depart within the hour, wife. Perhaps you should start saying your good-byes now."

* * * * *

"But you can't leave," Penelope wailed, pacing from one wall of Elyn's room to the other. She was wringing her hands, her face a mask of worry.

Kiera stuffed a few meager pieces of Elyn's clothing into a bag. She had little time. The rest of Elyn's belongings would be sent on a wagon within the week. And by that time she would certainly have had to confide the truth ... unless Elyn miraculously appeared. Then they would have to explain, or think of some new plan; simply switching places would never work. Not now. Too much time had passed. Kelan knew her and would sense the difference.

"What will happen when Elyn returns?" Penelope asked.

"I know not!" Kiera flung a tunic into her leather pouch as her younger sister anxiously rubbed her elbows. "Kelan found the vials from the wedding night, before I could remove them from the room. He showed them to me before the news of his mother arrived and accused me of drugging him."

"Father, protect us," Penelope whispered. She flung herself onto the bed and seemed about to burst into tears.

Kiera cleared her throat. Could she really leave? Had she any other choice? "Listen, if Elyn should return, she will have to catch up to us and we'll switch."

"Will your, er, her husband not know?"

"I hope not, but, aye, I think he would. He's ... he's not stupid and this has gone on much too long. As I said, he's already suspicious because of the vials and his inability to stay awake. Oh, I was foolish. This entire plan was a mistake from the beginning. I'll leave Elyn to explain it to him or to ... or to come up with some other mad story." She was almost certain there was no way for Elyn to take her place undetected. She and Kelan had spent so many hours together, and though it had been dark in the chamber and he'd been drugged, he was not a simple man. And he'd seen her when he was clearheaded. His mind and eyes were keen; certainly Elyn would look, smell, act, and, aye, taste different. Either Elyn or Kiera would have to admit the truth and then, God help them, the Furies of hell would surely be unleashed!

Hildy slipped into the room and closed the door softly behind her. "You cannot go, Kiera," she said in a rush. "You must tell your father and Lord Penbrooke the truth."

"Now?"

"Yes." She let out a long breath and fingered the stone dangling from her necklace. "I'm afraid that if you leave with Penbrooke tonight, you may never come back. That you will have to play the part of Kelan's wife for the rest of your life. That ... you will be doomed to live a lie forever." She placed an old hand on Kiera's shoulder. "I ... I think Elyn may not return."

Kiera nodded, absorbing the bitter reality. "I know."

Penelope shot off the bed. "You
know?
And you accept it? You're just going to leave ... leave me alone?"

" 'Tis temporary. You have Father."

"Nay. I've never had Father," Penelope said, shaking her head in a fit of emotion. "Elyn and you, yes, you had Father, but he never had any interest in me."

"You were Mother's favorite."

"And I lost her. Now Elyn's missing and you're leaving and ..." Tears rolled down Penelope's cheeks and angrily she dashed them away. "Everyone's gone."

"I'll be here," Hildy said soothingly, but her eyes were dark with worry. "You have to understand, Kiera, that if you leave tonight, you may never return. You may have to live the rest of your life as Kelan's bride."

"Not if I find Elyn," Kiera argued, wondering how in the world she would ever accomplish that particular feat.

Hildy sighed and shook her head. "As I said, I fear it may be too late for that."

"I have to try! And you must help me. If we don't find her within a week, I will tell Kelan the truth. I had planned to this day, but then he received the news of his mother's condition and now I ... I think it is not the right time."

"There will never be a
right
time," Penelope pointed out.

"Aye, but there will be a better one."

"After his mother dies?"

"I don't know. But if we leave now, I don't need to tell him now. No one at Penbrooke will recognize that I'm not Elyn." Kiera curled her fingers in Hildy's tunic. "I will not let this go on much longer, I swear, and I cannot risk drugging Kelan again, but I might need the potion to give to a guard or a stableboy if I am to leave his castle at will. Bring me more of the sleeping elixir, as many vials as you can hide in a small pouch."