wcEND.rtf (43 page)

A week later, Isabel woke up at dawn to a terrible storm raging outside. Hunter hadn't returned yet and Isabel was getting anxious. Obviously it would take him more than a week to find the traitor, but the wait was killing her, especially when she was so afraid Détra might return at any time. The combined anxieties were driving her to the edge of sanity.

She jerked to her feet, trembling with the uncertainty of Hunter's fate and her own doubts about their future together. She had tried everything with the chalice, but it refused to work. Maybe this day, with the weather raging outside, it might come to life.

Isabel donned the same shift she'd been wearing when she first woke up in
Détra
's body, found her mark by the fireplace, and staring at the chalice, waited for it to give her some clue of what would happen.

She stood there for what seemed an eternity. Dawn turned into morning and found Isabel still in the same spot, fingers grasping the chalice, eyes bleary from staring at its unchanging blue stones for what seemed hours.

The chalice wouldn't work.

Isabel stumbled back to her bed, not knowing what to think. She lay down and stared up at the canopy of her bed. What had she done wrong? Was the same thing happening to Détra in the future? And then an insidious thought took hold of her. If neither she nor Détra could undo the exchange, they would be stuck wherever they were.

Dare she believe it? Should she believe it? She needed to be sure, for she wouldn't be able to live with the uncertainty.

Maybe she hadn't done everything she could to make the chalice work. What was she missing? She rose again, her gaze scanning the room, looking for a clue, anything that could point her to the right direction. A lightning bolt streaked the room with a flashing light, illuminating Hunter's garment chest.

Hunter!
Of course, Isabel suddenly realized, the three of them had been involved in the incident with the chalic
e
—
H
unter and Détra here, Isabel in the future. Their wishes had interlaced and connected, and thus the transfer had occurred. It could only be reversed when the three of them connected again.

The knowledge did little to calm Isabel's nerves. Again she was the only one aware of al
l
the facts. Détra'
s
fate was in her hands.

Isabel's shoulders slumped with the weight of the responsibility.

She couldn't rationalize stealing Détra'
s
life because she was the one who loved Hunter and therefore should remain with him. She must give Détra a choice in the matter.

What Isabel had feared all along was true. Her
l
ove with Hunter was doomed. And now she had to not on
l
y
convince him she was not his wife but also that they must give Détra the choice of returning or not.

******************

I
T TOOK H
U
NTE
R
THREE DAYS TO FINALLY LOCATE Bruce and a brief conversation with him to have his suspicions of Rupert confirmed. It took a little longer to decide what to do with that information. He needed proo
f
, and there was none to be had. Without that, it would be Hunter's words against Rupert's.

The solution was brilliant in its simplicity, so simple Hunter almost overlooked it.

He would have to catch Rupert red-handed.

By now, however, Rupert would have realized his connection to Bruce was severed, and his position with King Edward uncertain. Being a man who liked to ally himself to powerful lords of opposing forces, Rupert would be on the prowl for a new association.

And less than a month later, Hunter's patience, probing efforts, and a little exchange of favors with knights with whom he had served under Edward, finally paid off.

A secret rendezvous had been arranged at dawn the next day between Rupert and one of Lancaster's men on the outskirts of Berwick Castle where Edward was temporarily residing. Lancaster was one of the most powerful lords of the realm and had Edward under his power. He was also responsible for Edward's lover's imprisonment and, some say, his death. Edward would never overlook Rupert's association with the man.

The time between the end of night and the dawning of a new day drew near. Wisps of fog swirled in patches like floating ghosts. Hunter and four of the king's men hid in the forest nearby the meeting place.

A call of an owl resonated in the air. Another immediately followed, and then silence. Hunter knew the
sounds had naught to do with nature. The meeting was about to begin.

If eve
r
yth
i
ng went well Hunter would be cleared of any suspicions of disloyalty to the king and would be on his way back to
Détra
this very day.

A horse rode down the path into a small clearing in the forest. The rider dismounted and waited. From where "Hunter was he could not make out the man's face, for it was covered with a hooded cloak, but he had no doubt of his identity. Hunter recognized the man's mount.

Odd how men rarely remembered to disguise their horses.

Another rider came from the opposite direction. He too dismounted. They conversed in hushed tones, then a parchment exchanged hands.

At that moment, Hunter and the king's men rushed out and surrounded them.

"Hunter," Rupert spat. "What do you here? I shall have your head for interfering with his majesty's affairs. I am delivering a message from King Edward to the earl of Lancaster."

Rupert's feigned outrage might convince those who knew him not. Hunter would not believe Rupert's innocence were he swearing it with his hand on the Holy Grail.

Hunter jerked the parchment from Rupert's accomplice's hands, and to his surprise and shock the parchment held the king's seal. A trickle of co
l
d sweat pooled at the back of his neck.
Deus!
Had Rupert duped him?

He steeled his features. He had come this far; he could not retreat now. "And yet you meet in the dead of the night, outside the castle's walls, instead of just riding to Lancaster's holding and delivering the king's message yourself."

"It is not your duty to decide how I perform my tasks for the king."

"But it is ray duty to protect my king from betrayal."

Rupert snorted. "This from a man whose loyalty is still in dispute."

"And yet, here I am. at the king's service," Hunter said.

"And so am I."

"We shall let the king confirm that," Hunter said, holding the parchment in the air. "Take these two men into custody," Hunter ordered the king's men.

"Bastard," Rupert spat, struggling against their hold.

Hunter did not flinch. For the first time in his life the word held no power over him. It slid off him like a du
l
l knife against his hauberk.

Unfettered, he realized it mattered not that his father would never claim him and no one would ever know. He knew it and the knowledge gave him strength. That and his lady wife's acceptance even before he had told her the truth.

He stared at Rupert, the man's hatred for him no longer important, but for a moment the thought of him with Détra twisted his innards. Remembering her assurance that she did not even remember Rupert, that they had not been together at least since the morning of the chalice, Hunter realized that that too would no longer hold power over him.

Whatever had happened between Rupert and Détra had occurred before they had consummated their marriage, before she had pledged her love to him, before her utter and complete change into this new Détra he so loved. As Détra had told him, it had been a different woman who had betrayed him, not the woman she was now, the woman he loved beyond words, the woman of his heart wish.

"My lady wife once told me," Hunter said, "that being born a bastard was a matter of circumstance and had naught to do with honor, but everything to do with character and choice. I only now understand the true meaning
of her words. Obviously, King Edward understands the difference well. But, you, Rupert, never shall."

"Think you I am at your mercy now? A cuckold bastard with a damn savage for a father?" Rupert spat on him.

Hunter stepped back, adroitly avoiding the spittle. "Nay, not at my mercy but at Edward’s. And you know well he shall have none for you. A traitor'
s
death is what awaits you, Rupert. What you deserve."

Lunging back against the two guards who held him, Rupert broke one arm free and grabbed a dagger from beneath his cloak. With a swift move he thrust it in his own heart.

"I shall not give you the satisfaction of seeing me tortured, hanged, and quartered as a traitor," he rasped as he fell to his knees, then crashed to the ground.

Hunter's shock lasted only a moment. He leapt to Rupert, but those were to be the man's last words. Clearly the evidence in the missive Rupert wrote to Lancaster was strong enough to warrant Rupert's desperate gesture. Whichever way Rupert died mattered naught to Hunter. Like the coward that he was, Rupert had chosen to die by his own hand rather than defending his convictions.

“Take the letter, Rupert's body, and his accomplice to King Edward and inform our lord I am returning to Windermere."

He had been gone too long. It was time to go home.

******************

NAUGHT COULD MAR HUNTER'S JOY, NOT THE FOUL rain that pelted against his face with the force of a tempest. Not the mud sinking underneath his palfrey's hooves and making his progress slow. Not the delay of his men to recognize him and open the gates of Windermere to their lord.

He had come home, and
Détra
was inside waiting for him.

There would be no more accusations, no more confessions or need for forgiveness. All was in the past and there it would remain. Both he and
Détra
had made mistakes. There would be no more rehashing of old sorrows.

Their lives would begin anew this day. Détra was everything he ever wanted in a wife, and more. He could not begin to comprehend the depth of her change, but he would not dwell on that. Much of what had happened to Détra would probably remain inexplicable and he cared not. In fact, he could not even remember the
Détra
of old, apart from her hatred of him. Those memories were buried beneath the onslaught of joy and happiness she had given him.

Hunter bid everyone in the bailey and great hall not to announce his arrival. It was still early in the morning and he wanted to surprise his lady wife in bed. With Jeremy's help Hunter got rid of his hauberk in the great hall, dried up some, then took the steps two at the time.

The thought of holding her in his arms, the smell of the sweet scent of her hair, the feel of the silky texture of her skin put an added sprint to his step as he floated up the narrow staircase.

Deus!
But he had missed her and had dreamed of naught else but to return to her.

Hunter reached the top of the landing and stopped, his waterlogged garments forming a pool at his feet. His heart beat so fast he thought it would come out of his mourn with his first words of greeting to Détra. He composed himself, took a deep breath, ran his hands through his wet hair, wiped his face, and then took a step forward.

"My lady, if I may be so bold," he heard Maude saying as he approached the door. "Mayhap you should cease taking this potion. To deny Lord Hunter's seed to grow
in your womb now is not something he would forgive."

"I know," Détra replied. "And I wish I could stop, but I cannot, Maude. Not now, not yet, not until I know for certain what the future holds for us."

Hunter's heart stopped its beating. Détra was preventing the conception of their child? The ultimate betrayal sunk deep into his heart. He could feel the blood draining from his face, the strength from his body. Anger, swift and furious, took hold of him, and he embraced it, for if he dwelt on the pain instead, he would fall on his knees and mayhap never get up.

He slammed the door open with such force it almost completely unhinged it as it hit the opposite wall. Détra and Maude jumped to their feet as Hunter marched inside.

"Hunter, you are back, you are safe," she cried, moving to embrace him, but he stopped her cold.

Without a word he slapped the cup from her hands and watched her follow, with a stunned gaze, its trajectory to
the
floor.