Susan Spencer Paul (5 page)

“Few,” he admitted honestly. “But I never would have taken your maidenhead, Rosaleen, I swear it. I wanted to
share pleasure with you, sweeting, but I’d never do aught to hurt you.”

“You don’t think that what you were just doing hurt me?” she asked incredulously. “You were ravishing me!”

“That’s foolish,” Hugh replied, rolling away. “You’re too innocent to know what you speak of. If I’d been ravishing you, I wouldn’t have stopped, and I’d even now be mounted on your lovely body, taking my pleasure of you.” He stretched and yawned, then scratched his chest and settled beside her. “It’s over. Forget about it and get some sleep. We’ve a long day ahead of us on the morrow.”

“You can’t mean to sleep here!” she cried with disbelief, tossing off the arm that tried to crawl around her waist.

Hugh yawned again before answering. “Of course I do. Where else is there?”

She sat up. “God’s bones, man! You’ve the nerve of a devil!”

“Be quiet and go to sleep, Rosaleen.”

“Sleep! If you think that I’ll sleep in the same bed as you, Hugh Caldwell, then I pray you will think again!” Rosaleen started to get out of the bed but was stopped when a muscular arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto the mattress and up against the hard body she had only minutes before been touching with her hands.

She opened her mouth to scream, but Hugh’s other hand came up and firmly, though gently, closed over it.

“Rosaleen, my sweet,” he said patiently, “we are only going to sleep. You have made yourself clear about not wanting to share any pleasures with me. I’d be a fool to force myself on such an unwilling shrew, especially when England is filled with warm and willing females who would be more than happy to lie with me. Now be quiet and go
to sleep, else I’ll tie you to the bed and place a gag in your mouth.”

“You’re naught but a brute!” she huffed when he released her. “And I wish you would stop touching me!”

Hugh was reminded of how he had intimidated her earlier and felt instant remorse. Pulling his hands away, he rolled to his back and heard Rosaleen shuffle over to the far edge of the bed.

“Yes, I am,” he admitted, pushing away the desire to apologize to her yet again. He’d only known the wretched creature a few days and he’d already apologized to her more than he could remember apologizing to any other person. “And I hope you’ll keep that in mind until I’ve got you safely lodged with my brother. I warned you before we set out that I’m no gentle knight, or any kind of gentleman. I dare what I please, Rosaleen, and I take what I want. Remember that.”

A loud silence prevailed, until Rosaleen said, “I hope whoever you fought with earlier was able to match you. Mayhap you’ll have some bruises to make you miserable for a while.”

Hugh closed his eyes and smiled widely in the darkness. It would have been impossible for her not to have heard the fighting that had gone on downstairs two hours before, when he had taken on more than half the patrons in the tavern. They had pretty well destroyed the place, as usual, but Hugh had paid the innkeeper more than the trouble was worth. When it had all been over and he’d felt thoroughly relaxed, Hugh had bought drinks all around and had gotten pleasantly drunk with his newly found mates before finally coming upstairs to Rosaleen. He hadn’t meant to touch her when he had first crawled into the bed, but she had looked so sweet lying there, like an angel, that he hadn’t been able to resist.

“He was,” Hugh admitted with easy contentment, “and I will.”

“You are crazed, my lord,” she said, yawning, “and I wish you the joy of your wounds.”

“Good night, Rosaleen.”

“Good night, you beast.”

I
t was late the next day before Hugh finally turned their horses off the main road. They rambled along a side road for a few minutes and then stopped. In front of them, still some distance away, stood an imposing, venerable monastery, that Rosaleen knew by reputation. In fact, though she had seldom been through this area of England before, she was well aware of where they were. It would have been impossible not to know, for this land belonged to Sir Alexander Baldwin, the Lord of Gyer, who was widely known as one of King Henry’s richest and most powerful barons.

“Is this where we’ll be spending the night, then, Hugh Caldwell?” she asked, turning to look at him.

He didn’t answer, but sat stiffly atop his steed, staring at the monastery.

“Yes,” he replied at last, his voice taut.

Rosaleen wondered at the change that had come over him during the past few hours. He had wakened in a good mood that morn; had, in truth, enjoyed himself greatly with teasing her over the fact that she had curled against him for warmth during the night. But during the last several miles he had grown quiet, and even short-tempered, answering her questions with sharp replies plainly meant
to tell her that he wanted to be left alone, until Rosaleen had actually wished he would start teasing her again.

Earlier, when they had passed by the small barony of Wallewyn, he had become increasingly grim, and when Rosaleen had begged that they stop at that place and rest for a short time, he had practically growled at her.

“I’ll not step foot in that damned place again,” he’d said tightly. “Ever. We’ll keep on.”

Those had been the last words he’d spoken to her until this moment.

“It is early to stop yet. Should we not press on and spend the night in Gyer?”

He shook his head. “We’ll spend the night here.”

He looked so strange that Rosaleen felt a little afraid.

“Very well, Hugh Caldwell. We’ll stay here.”

He was silent again, gazing hauntedly ahead.

Rosaleen cleared her throat. “Will we be spending the night in the middle of the road, then? Or shall we go down?”

Hugh turned to look at her, and the fire in his eyes nearly burned her to a cinder. His hands were clenched so tightly around the reins of his steed that his knuckles showed white.

“We will go, my lady, but I want you to know that the only reason I even came within a day’s ride of this place is because of you.”

He spurred his horse forward and galloped toward the monastery, leaving a stunned Rosaleen to follow. Above them, Amazon, having been loosed to feed herself an hour earlier, circled and gave her fierce cry.

Hugh rode like a demon through the monastery’s gates, causing the monks working in the surrounding fields to look at him wonderingly. Rosaleen followed more sedately, smiling and nodding politely at the bewildered men,
hoping that they wouldn’t turn them away because of Hugh Caldwell’s rude behavior. When she made the gates herself she saw that he had gone straight through the courtyard and into the stables. She rode in after him and was grabbed and yanked out of her saddle before her eyes could adjust to the building’s darkness.

Hugh set her firmly on her feet.

“Go and wait for me in the gardens. I’ll take care of the horses and meet you there.”

Well! thought Rosaleen. He treated her as though she were naught but baggage!

“I’ll not be ordered about like a servant, Hugh Caldwell! And I’ll not be tossed about like a sack of grain!”

Ignoring her, he took hold of the little mare and led her toward a stall. “Go wait in the gardens for me,” he repeated. “They’re just across the courtyard and through the half gate. You’ll find them easily enough.”

Rosaleen stood her ground, glaring at him. Hugh turned, saw her there and raised his eyebrows.

“Have you gone deaf, Rosaleen? I told you to go and wait for me in the gardens.”

“I heard you!”

“Then get out of my sight, woman, and do as I say. Go on, now.” He turned his attention back to the horses.

Rosaleen huffed loudly, then stormed out of the stables with as much dignity as she possessed. Ignoring the stares of the monks in the courtyard, she strode across it to the half gate, flung it open and slammed it behind her after she walked into the gardens.

“If he thinks that I came to the gardens because he bade me do so,” she announced aloud, “then he’s an even greater idiot than I first supposed!”

Making her way down one of several paths to a bench, she angrily plopped down upon it.

“I don’t care if he
is
the handsomest man I’ve ever seen,” she muttered. “He’s rude and ill-mannered, and he probably thinks he’s one of God’s blessings to women!”

A cool breeze brushed her face, but Rosaleen’s fury wasn’t tempered by it.

“He’ll be sorry when he discovers who I am.” An angry, feline smile lit her face. “And I only hope I’m there to see it! By my troth, I’ll make him grovel if it’s the last thing I do. When he realizes who it is he’s insulted, he’ll be on his knees, begging my forgiveness!”

So caught up was she in her vengeful fantasies that she didn’t hear the garden gate open again, or the sound of the careful footsteps that approached her.

“Wretched beast! Brother of a pig farmer! Thinking he can treat me, the daughter of an earl, without the least bit of common decency, as though I were naught but the lowliest whore! But he’ll come to rue his behavior, I vow. He’ll…”

“Careful, daughter, lest you say words you’ll one day regret.”

Hugh! Rosaleen thought, paralyzing with mortification. He had finished with the horses more quickly than she had imagined he would. Embarrassed beyond words to have been discovered talking to herself, Rosaleen flushed and slowly raised her eyes to look at him.

What she saw stole the breath from her.

“Hugh Caldwell!” she shrieked, shooting up off the bench.

He shook his head with confusion. “My lady?”

“How could you! Oh, how
could
you!” Rosaleen’s hands flew up to press against her hot cheeks. “Merciful God in heaven! Are you insane?”

For one horrible moment Rosaleen thought she would be sick, so great was her shock. She was only grateful that she didn’t faint.

He took a step toward her, holding out one hand.

“My good lady, whatever is the matter?” His voice was filled with concern. “Are you ill?”

She backed away from him in horror, as though he were diseased.

“Don’t touch me, you…you infidel! You godless pervert! Stay away from me!”

He stopped and held his hands palm up. “Of course I’ll not touch you, my dear,” he said very soothingly. “You mustn’t be afraid. I only wish to help you. All of us here—” he motioned back toward the courtyard “—only want to help you, good daughter.”

She truly thought she would swoon. “Sick. Dear God, you are sick! Oh, Hugh, how can this be? What can I do to help you?”

His expression changed slightly, and he raised his eyebrows in the manner that was now so familiar to her.

“What
did you call me?”

“And your hair!” she wailed. “Your beautiful hair! How could you cut it so dreadfully? Oh, Hugh!”

He frowned deeply. “I think perhaps you’ve made a mistake.”

A sudden realization struck Rosaleen, and she stared at him anew, dumbfounded. “But it isn’t possible! I left you in the stables only a few moments ago. You couldn’t have cut your hair and changed your clothing so quickly. It’s not possible!” Another idea occurred to her, and she felt sick all over again. “Oh my God, Hugh Caldwell!
I’m
the one who’s gone mad! This is what’s happened to me after spending time in company such as yours. I’ve lost my mind!”

His gentleness vanished and Rosaleen found herself grabbed up by his strong hands.

“You’ve called me that twice now!” he said angrily, shaking her. “Hugh Caldwell! What do you know of Hugh Caldwell? Tell me!”

Stunned, Rosaleen peered into his face, searching in vain for some difference. There was none, save his hair and clothes. He was Hugh Caldwell, or Hugh Caldwell’s exact reflection.

“If you’re not him,” she squeaked beneath his stern gaze, “then I left him only a few moments ago in the stables.”

He dropped her so fast she actually fell on her posterior, but Rosaleen scrambled up and raced after him as he strode out of the gardens and toward the stables. He flung the stable doors open so violently that they banged off the walls, startling every living creature in the building, including Hugh Caldwell, who quickly looked up from where he crouched, brushing Rosaleen’s little mare.

His gaze locked with that of the man who stood in the doorway, and the brush fell out of his hand. He took one hesitant step, then two, toward Rosaleen and the man, and a tentative smile grew on his lips.

“Hugo,” he said very softly. He took two more steps and held out his arms.

“You,” the monk whispered, and with an animal sound launched himself at his brother. Hugh never even knew what hit him, Hugo’s attack was so violent and sudden. A blow to his left cheek sent him sprawling into a nearby stall, and as soon as he landed Hugo leapt upon him, his fists pummeling him again and again.

Rosaleen was thoroughly stunned. She had never seen such a sight or imagined anything like it. A
monk,
of all people, brawling like a common knave! She didn’t know
what she should do, or what the precedent was for handling the situation. If it had been Hugh and some other common man, she would have dumped a bucketful of the horses’ water on them, but she didn’t know if throwing water on a monk was allowed by the Church, and she had too much consideration for her soul to endanger it by committing a sin in ignorance. Unable to think of anything more helpful, she simply ran around the fighting men, begging them to stop.

“No, no, Hugh!” she cried when he slugged the priest in the stomach, doubling him over before hitting him again to send him flying into a pile of hay. “He’s a monk! A
monk,
Hugh! You mustn’t hit him!”

“I know damned well what he is!” Hugh roared. “Stay out of the way, Rosaleen!”

He barely got the words out before Hugo slammed into him, sending the both of them sliding across the stable floor. This time Hugo ended up on top and quickly straddled his struggling brother, pinning him down.

“You rotten bastard!” he shouted. “I’ve been waiting ten years to do this to you, and I’ll not be denied my pleasure!”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Rosaleen wailed. “Father, your language!”

“Be quiet!” both brothers shouted at her.

“Well!” Rosaleen stamped her foot.

“Do you have any idea how I felt that morn when I woke and found you gone?” Hugo demanded angrily. “Do you?” He shook him. “Sixteen years we were together, never apart, sharing everything, and yet you snuck off in the middle of the night without so much as a word to met Not one damned word!” He lifted a fist and furiously slammed it into Hugh’s face. “You’ll never be able to imagine what that did to me!
Never!”

“I’m sorry,” Hugh mumbled, groaning, shaking his head to clear it. “I’m sorry, Hugo.”

“Sorry!” Hugo repeated. “Ten years later and you say you’re sorry!”

“I never meant to hurt you. I never meant that, Hugo, you know that’s true. But I had to go.”

“You didn’t have to go,” Hugo told him. “You could have stayed and worked through the pain, as I had to do all alone once you deserted me. We could have worked it out together. But instead you chose to run, and you’re running still. Hugh
Caldwell!”
He spat the word out with disgust. “In all of ten years you never once came home.”

“No, I didn’t,” Hugh agreed miserably. “But I did write, Hugo, so that no one would ever worry about me.”

Hugo nodded grimly, shoving at Hugh’s shoulders. “That’s right. You wrote on occasion. And Lillis cried over every single missive, just as she cried her heart out for weeks after you ran away. She blamed herself, and nothing Alex or I or anyone else did or said could make her think otherwise. That’s what you did to her with your selfishness, brother.”

“Oh God,” Hugh whispered, his voice filled with pain. “I didn’t mean to hurt Lillis.”

Hugo laughed bitterly. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, and you didn’t mean to hurt Lillis, and I’ll assume you didn’t mean to hurt Alex or Aunt Leta or anyone else, but you did, Hugh. You did.” He moved off his brother at last and slowly stood. “Now, what are you doing here?” he asked coldly. “Why did you bother to come home?”

“Because of me,” Rosaleen murmured, horrified at what she had made Hugh Caldwell return to.

Hugo turned to look at her as Hugh lifted himself from the ground.

“And who, my lady, are you?”
“Hugo,” Hugh said, gingerly rubbing his bruised jaw, “please meet Rosaleen. I don’t know her last name, so you’ll have to live without that. Rosaleen, meet my brother, Father Hugo Baldwin. Rosaleen’s in need of help, so I’m taking her to Alex. But I…wanted to see you first…so I thought we might spend the night here. If you want us to go, we will.” When Hugo glanced at him sharply, Hugh added, “I understand, Hugo. It hasn’t been so long that I don’t know your thoughts anymore.”

Hugo made no reply but turned his gaze once more to Rosaleen, surveying her first with the same anger he had directed at his brother, then with growing curiosity.

Rosaleen examined him in much the same way, just as angrily and curiously.

“Why, of course,” she said. “You’re twins. That’s why I mistook you for Hugh.” Unconsciously she inched toward Hugh until she stood beside him. Only then did she make a tiny bow. “Father Hugo,” she greeted dutifully, and stiffly.

“My lady.” He nodded at her. “If we have you to thank for bringing my brother home, then not only I, but my entire family, will be most grateful.”

“You don’t seem grateful to see your brother, my lord. Indeed, from your manner and speech I should think you’d rather string me up than thank me.” The words came out of her with surprising tartness.

Instead of being angry, as he had every right to be, Rosaleen knew, the monk surprised her by lowering his eyes. Slipping his hands into the sleeves of his plain tunic, he looked suddenly meek and defenseless. “I think, then, my lady, that you know nothing about twins. You are wrong when you say that I am not glad to see my brother. His return is the answer to a prayer I have prayed every night since the night I saw him last.”