The first faint fingerlings of dawn streaked the eastern sky when at last Merwen came into view. Tears stung Shana's eyes, but they were scarcely tears of gladness, for there would be no hearty welcome from her father. Instead she was fil ed with a despairing bleakness that yawned ever further.
A youth huddled beneath a blanket near the entrance to the keep, no doubt keeping watch.
His eyes opened blearily when he heard their approach; they widened when he spied Shana.
He bolted upright. Within minutes, the entire household—what was left of it, she reflected bitterly—was up and about.
The hours on horseback and the chil night air had left her muscles cramped. Her knees nearly
gave way beneath her when she slipped to the ground. The earl, she noted darkly, had no such problem. Despite the bonds at his wrists, his stance was as boldly defiant as ever.
She motioned for Gryffen to remove the cloth from his eyes. He blinked, protesting the sudden light. Then his gaze slid slowly, inevitably, to where she stood in the center of the bailey.
"Princess." He greeted her with a mocking smile. "You've fed my curiosity these many hours.
How do you come to be a princess? I know for a fact Llywelyn's daughter is scarce more than a babe."
"Llywelyn is my uncle," she informed him coldly. "My father was Kendal, Llywelyn's younger brother."
"I see," he said smoothly. "Wel , princess, you needn't have kidnapped me. Had you but issued the invitation, I'd have come with you ever so willingly."
Shana's temper soared stark and furious. "My lord earl, you strike me as a man who does what he pleases and goes where he pleases. And I know for a fact that you make war as you please, for not two nights past you and your men bloodied the very ground on which we stand!"
His eyes narrowed, dark as agates. "Milady," he stated flatly. "I made no war on this place, nor did any of my men. Indeed, I've never set foot on these lands in al my days."
Ah, but he was a cool one! He gazed at her head-on and spoke the lie as if it were the most divine of truths. "What! You do not recognize the place where you struck down so many of our own? How conveniently you forget, milord." Shana was suddenly so angry she trembled from head to foot. She turned to Gryffen. "You may take him to the blue chamber on the second floor. See
that the door is bolted and two guards are posted outside."
She spun to face the earl. It gave her no smal amount of pleasure to see that his anger blazed as keenly as her own. "I truly regret that we have no dungeon here at Merwen. I'd gladly see you spend the rest of your days there."
She whirled and ascended the stairs into the keep. Not once did she deign to look back.
Thorne was indeed furious—furious with himself for foolishly playing into the lady's hands, and furious with Shana for daring to make him her victim. Lord, and to think that he'd actual y compared her to a queen—and her a princess yet, a Welsh princess at that! He couldn't have known for her English was faultless. Yet it might have crossed his mind, for only now did he realize her fair coloring bespoke her Celtic heritage.
If there was a twinge of admiration for a plan so boldly carried out, it was ruthlessly suppressed. He paced the chamber in which he'd been imprisoned like a caged animal, back and forth, incessantly. And he swore over and over again, cursing her, cursing himself, until at last the red mist of rage left his mind and he was able to think more clearly.
Only then did he take note of his surroundings. A smile of little mirth creased his features.
"You provide a prison cell unlike any other, princess," he murmured aloud. The chamber was not overly large, but elegantly furnished. The bed was draped in rich blue velvet. The only window was long and narrow, set high in the wall—not even a child could manage to wiggle through.
He raked a hand through the tumbled darkness of his hair. He dimly recalled that someone had cut his bonds—the old knight, Gryffen.
Stretching out on the bed, he thought about
what little he knew. Apparently they thought he was to blame for whatever battle had ensued here. He did not doubt that the loss of life had been staggering; he'd seen only a handful of servants and men-at-arms other than those who had brought him here from Langley. A melancholy sorrow shadowed those he passed; there was bitter hatred reflected when they looked at him.
But their suffering was not of his doing.
He could not dwel on their problems for long, however. He had his own to confront ... such as how to escape.
With a grimace he moved to stare out the narrow window. And it was there, a long time later, that he spied the she devil who no doubt plotted even now to see an end to him.
She stood on the last of the steps that led into the hall. There was no concealing cloak to hide the slender lines of her body. Her flowing white gown rippled sinuously about her legs as she strode across the courtyard, al fluid grace and lithe beauty. Her hair was caught in a ribbon at her nape, a rich, lustrous gold streaked through with living fire. Despite the hatred simmering in his veins, Thorne stared as if spel bound. But he did not fal prey to her spell, nay, not this time, for such delicate beauty defied al that he knew her to be.
Beware, princess, he whispered silently. You wil soon rue the day you dared to cross my path.
His face settled into a cold, hard mask. He was about to turn away when a white stal ion raced across the courtyard, straight toward Shana. She showed no fear, but stayed her ground with her head held high, facing the intruder unafraid. The stallion stopped in a flurry of dust; a dark-haired man leaped from the saddle. She was caught up against his chest, clearly a wil ing captive of his arms. Thorne's lip curled as their mouths clung together in an unbroken kiss that spoke of long— and intimate—acquaintance.
Shana clung to Barris long after he released her lips. She was very much afraid she was making a brazen spectacle of herself, but she couldn't bring herself to care right now. It felt so good to be held again, to cling to someone near and dear and comfortably familiar.
Even as a child, Shana had loved and admired Barris. He was keen of wit, clever, and passionate, yet Shana was certain no man was ever more sensitive and tender. But it was only when she'd grown to womanhood that Barris had truly begun to notice her. Kendal had been reluctant to wed his daughter out of expedience and not for love, for he and her mother had loved each other deeply. He could not bear to see her marry a man she did not love, and so he had held off. Shana, too, had been determined to settle for no less than the happiness her parents had shared. Springtime had seen the culmination of al her secret yearnings ...
Barris had asked for her hand in marriage. They were to wed after the fal harvest.
Now her beloved caught her in his arms, availing himself of a long, sweet kiss that sent her heart spinning. "I've only just returned from Gywnedd and learned Merwen was stormed a few days past." He searched her features anxiously. "You are all right, love? You were not harmed?"
Pain burned like fire in her chest. "I am unharmed," she said unevenly. "But my father ..." A hot ache closed her throat.
Barris was stunned. "Nay, it cannot be! Your father is dead?"
Her eyes fil ed with tears. It was all the answer Barris needed.
He wrapped her close once more. "You need not worry, love. I wil care for you, this I swear.
And
I wil find the fiend responsible for your father's death," he vowed. "I will search him out and ..."
Shana pul ed back, shaking her head. "There is no need," she said quietly. "I have already seen to it."
His hands tightened on her shoulders. He stared at her, convinced his hearing had failed him.
A ghost of a smile grazed her lips. " "Tis true, Barris. My father yet lived when I reached him.
He did not recognize our attackers, but he—and others—saw the pennon they carried."
Barris's face was like a thundercloud. "Englishmen?"
She nodded. "They gather at Castle Langley," she said bitterly. "It appears Merwen was one of their targets." She told him how they had gone to Langley to seek out and identify their quarry.
Barris was both furious and aghast. "Are you mad?" he cried. "You marched straight into the hornet's nest with no fear of being stung? Why didn't you wait until I returned?"
"The duty was mine and mine alone." She withdrew from the binding of his arms, her eyes flashing silver fire. "My plan was simple but effective. I was able to find the man behind the attack on Merwen. I merely told him I knew someone who might lead him to the Dragon, then lured him outside the castle where we were able to capture him."
"Sweet Mother Mary," he muttered. "I pray you didn't tel him who you are!"
Shana bristled. "I was careful to speak to as few as possible. I had no wish to attract attention to myself."
"But you must have been seen leaving with him!"
She bit her lip. This was one detail she had overlooked; it seemed she hadn't been so clever, after al . "We've kept to ourselves here at Merwen,
Barris." She sought to assure both him and herself. "I know not a soul in England, so how could anyone at Langley possibly suspect who I am? They may comb the area around Langley, but they will never search this far into Wales. The earl told no one of his plans, and I sent a man back to release his horse in the border lands. If perchance they find his horse wandering, they wil think he's been thrown—or has met with some other foul play."
Barris had gone as pale as a mountain snow. "I pray you are right, for al our sakes."
Shana felt a hand at her sleeve. One of the kitchen boys stood at her elbow. "Begging your pardon, milady, but the prisoner demands to speak with you."
She glanced inquiringly at Barris. "By al means," he muttered. "I've an urge to meet this butcher."
Shana nodded to the boy. "Please ask Sir Gryffen to bring him into the hal ." The boy ran off.
She and Barris fol owed more slowly. They had been waiting in the great hal for several minutes when they heard footsteps on the stairs. Gryffen descended the last steps, slightly behind the earl, whose hands were still tied behind his back. The grizzled knight guided him to a low-backed chair in the center of the room.
Shana and Barris had been standing in the shadows at the edge of the hal . Once seated, the earl tilted his head to stare at them. In so doing, the light fel ful upon his face.
An unearthly quiet prevailed.
Beside her, Barris drew a harsh breath. She felt him go rigid as stone and glanced at him in surprise.
His gaze was riveted to the earl. "Jesu," he whispered. "Shana, do you know who this man is?"
Her reply was a bit indignant. "This is the man who saw my father and al the others kil ed— the Earl of Weston!"
"Aye," Barris said grimly. "The Bastard Earl."
he world seemed to pitch and rol . It could not be, Shana thought numbly. The Earl of Weston ... the Bastard Earl ... were they truly one and the same? Her heart rebel ed; her mind recoiled. She turned to Barris, crying out in fervent denial.
"Barris, how can you be sure? Mayhap you are mistaken. Mayhap there is but a fleeting resemblance ..."
Barris shook his head. "I make no mistake, Shana. I saw him at the king's court a few years past, and his is not a face one soon forgets. Aye," he vowed again. "He's the Bastard Earl, al right. You've only to look at him to know it's true."
She did look; there was no help for it. He drew her gaze with a force more powerful than she.
His presence fil ed the hall like a chilling wind from the sea—the man known as the Bastard Earl. Even Shana, who knew little of England, had heard of him. Bastard or no, he'd inched his way into the king's pocket. Over the years he'd been raised to a position of considerable consequence and independence. He was known far and wide for his prowess on the battlefield; his exploits with women, so it was said, were legendary ... and legion Three steps brought her before him. "The boy at
Langley—Wil , he was called. Why, he sang your praises to the heavens and beyond," she stated clearly. "Children gape, he said, when you chance to pass by. And women strain to catch a glimpse of you. Ah, and now I know why. Because one so ignoble—a bastard yet!— pretends to be their better!" Had she been herself, she never would have been so thoughtlessly cruel. But she was so angry she was shaking with it, for now that she was back at Merwen, the horrors brought to bear here flooded her like a tide from the sea.
A mocking smile curled that harshly carved mouth. There was black venom in the eyes that so boldly challenged hers. Had she known him better, she'd have been wary of the glint in his eye. "Unlike you, milady, I made no attempt to conceal my identity. I am who I am and wil ever be so."
Her reply was heated and instantaneous. "Aye, on that we are agreed! Bastard Earl, Earl of Weston, I care not what name you cal yourself. Either way you are still the man who laid siege to Merwen without cause. You massacred my people, my father among them! And yet you vow no knowledge of your battle here. Mayhap you'd like us to dig up the dead and show you the proof!"
So it was her father, not her husband ... Thorne was beginning to understand. Another time, mayhap, and he might have had some glimmer of compassion for her. But not now—not with his own life in jeopardy.
His stare was coldly aloof. "I tel you again, princess. I sent no troops to ravage this place or any other."
An icy frost settled around Shana's heart. "Do you deny your presence at Langley—your reason for traveling there? Your king seeks to crush the spine of Wales once and for all. I saw the soldiers myself!"
"I do not deny it," he said evenly. He met her
challenge with one of his own. "But you claim this battle was fought two nights past, and so I would tel you this. My men and I, princess, were indeed occupied that night. But there was naught of battle in our hearts. Indeed, we spent most of the night dal ying in a vil age near Radnor." That familiar, mocking smile reappeared. "I am as guilty as any of my men, for I fear a blond, buxom maid proved too tempting to ignore. I wielded my blade the night through, though not in the fashion of which you accuse."