Fairest Of Them All (33 page)

“Cease your prattling, woman!” Austyn thundered, raking a hand through his hair.

Winifred sidled toward the kitchen, as if his sudden spell of madness might be infectious.

His father was right about one thing, he thought wildly. He ought to be steeped in shame for all the dreadful things he’d believed about his mother. But at the edge of his remorse danced a frantic hope.

“The curse . . .” he whispered.

“Rubbish, lad!” his father barked. “ Twas never a curse, but a prophecy destined to fulfill itself by those superstitious enough to believe in it Beauty never brought ruin to the Gavenmore men. The Gavenmore men brought ruin upon themselves and the women fool enough to love them.”

/ would never willingly abandon you, Holly whispered, her breath warm and sweet in his ear.

Austyn braced his hands on the table, feeling curiously light-headed. Twas of little import if the others heard her, for the truth rang in his heart like the tolling of a cathedral bell. Twas not Holly who had betrayed him, but he who had betrayed her by having more faith in an ancient curse than in the power of their love. If she sought solace in the arms of another man, ‘twould be only because he had driven her to do so by his lack of trust

Holly’s ghost threw back its head and sang—a trilling hymn of joy and hope for the morrow.

With her song still chiming in his ears, Austyn snatched up a cloak and started across the hall.

Before he could reach the door, it flew open. He flinched as a gust of wind and rain struck him full in the face. A man staggered into the hall, but had it not been for Winifred’s agonized cry, Austyn might not have recognized him.

Carey’s eyes were feverish slits in puffs of bruised flesh. His right cheekbone was split, his left arm hanging at an impossibly awkward angle. His other arm clutched his ribs through the tattered strips of soaked wool that had once been his tunic.

Austyn caught him before he could fall. “My God, man, what happened?”

He struggled to speak through his swollen lips, but the words were garbled. Grunting his frustration, he fumbled at the waistband of his hose with his intact arm, withdrawing a folded scrap of paper. Austyn mastered his panic long enough to entrust Carey to his parents’ waiting arms, then tore open the battered parchment

Twas not the message or map outlined in the effeminate scrawl that made him want to howl with fear, nor even the ominous copper smudge staining the paper. Twas the solitary sable curl that coiled around Austyn’s finger in velvety reproach.

Holly paced her tower cell in crisp, restless strides.

Instead of a sumptuous four-poster with hangings of pleated silk, a moth-eaten blanket lay crumpled beneath the narrow window. In lieu of a cloth-lined tub, a basin of brackish water, intended for bathing and drinking, sat on the barren timber floor. On the crumbling hearth, a scrawny mouse nibbled at the chunk of stale brown bread that had served as Holly’s breakfast and lunch and was to have been her supper as well. Her captor had denied her even the solace of Elspeth’s company, whisking away the whimpering nurse immediately upon their arrival at his lair.

As a pale moon rose in the drab sky, her desperate gaze kept straying to the pair of rusty manacles affixed by iron plates to the wall opposite the window. She was thankful Eugene had not restrained her, but the expectant emptiness of those fetters drenched her in dread. She would have almost preferred they contain the skeletal remains of de Leggef s last unfortunate prisoner.

Weary of pacing, she knelt and scraped at a patch of loose mortar she’d discovered behind the right manacle, paying no heed to the damage she was doing to fingernails that had yet to recover from her original assault against them.

“I do so hope you’re enjoying your accommodations, my lady.”

Holly snapped to her feet at the elegant drawl. Eugene was leaning against the doorframe, an amiable smile softening his perpetual sneer.

“From the priesfs blithering,” he said, “I determined that your chamber at Gavenmore was similarly appointed.”

She dropped him a mocking curtsy. “Oh, no, sir. We only had moldy bread crusts twice a week and the rats were much larger there.”

He stepped into the chamber, closing the door behind him. “A pity.
Ill
have to comb the dungeons and see what I can arrange.”

Holly forced herself not to recoil from his approach. Twas the first visit he’d deigned to pay her since taking her hostage three days ago and she doubted his presence boded well for her future, bleak prospect though it was.

Twas doubly hard not to flinch when he cupped the vulnerable column of her throat in his hands, caressing the faint smudges that still marred her skin. “I must say your husband has exquisite taste in jewelry. But had you consented to be my bride, I’d have draped you in diamonds and pearls rather than bruises.”

Holly bit back her impassioned defense of Austyn, fearful such a show of devotion would only kindle Eugene’s hatred toward him. She chose instead to divert it toward herself. “I would never consent to be your bride. Not even if you murdered my husband and every other man on earth.”

He flexed his hands; ‘twas all Holly could do to keep from clawing at them. She didn’t think she could endure being strangled twice in one week.

They slowly eased their pressure, dropping to hang limp at his sides. “I hate to disappoint you, my dear, but my offer for your hand has been withdrawn. Surely you knew your charms would pale once you’d shared them so generously with that barbarian. You’re no longer fit to be my bride.”

“My, my, aren’t we the fickle one? Upon our first meeting, when I was only twelve, was it not you who dropped to your knees, kissed the hilt of your sword, and swore your undying devotion?”

He blinked. “I was striving to look up your gown.”

“An indulgence that still eludes you.”

The nasty edge of his smile sharpened even as his voice softened. “Only for a very brief time.”

Holly’s confidence faltered. “But you just said I was no longer worthy of your attentions.”

“I said I’d lost interest in wedding you. Bedding you is another matter entirely.”

She took an involuntary step backward.

“There’s no need to cringe, my dear. I can understand how that oafs clumsy fumblings might have made you dread the act, but I can promise you I possess skills that will soon have you begging for my touch.”

Holly resisted the urge to mock his arrogance as a misty image flashed in her mind: Austyn lowering his magnificent body to hers, making her his own with tender grace and irresistible mastery.

She drew herself up to her full height “The only boon I shall entreat from you, sir, is my freedom.”

Eugene’s smile vanished. “On the contrary, my lady. If you persist in defying me, you’ll be begging not for liberty, but for mercy.”

As the door slammed and locked behind him, Holly’s bravado dissipated. Betrayed by her wobbly knees, she sank to a sitting position and dragged the musty blanket around her shoulders. As the shadows of night came creeping over the unfamiliar window ledge, there were no lit tapers to hold them at bay and no Austyn to cradle her in his arms until her trembling ceased.

The knight drove his destrier through the ancient forest much as his ancestor had done over eight centuries before.

A treacherous net woven from moonlight and shadows dappled the mossy turf, but he nudged the horse’s lathered flanks with his golden spurs, refusing to slow his perilous pace. The loyal beast snorted, its nostrils flaring with exertion, then strained its massive chest forward to seek another inch of speed. Once the lord who bore the title of Gavenmore would have had a powerful army of knights beneath his command, but Austyn had only his haste and his honor. He prayed they would stand him in good stead against an opponent as crafty and lacking in integrity as Eugene de Legget, the baron of Montfort

Not once since he’d been handed Montforf s missive had he been tormented by visions of the woman he loved in another man’s arms. Instead he was consumed with fears for her welfare—Was she hurt? Was she cold? Was she hungry? Was she afraid? Twas Holly’s courage that frightened him the most He knew only too well how her reckless defiance could incite a man to rage.

The destrier surged through a deep brook. The spray of frigid water failed to dampen Austyn’s resolve, for unlike his hapless Gavenmore forebear, he was forging ahead to seek not his doom, but the woman who was both his destiny and his salvation.

As Holly sought to detach her stiff limbs from the chilly timber planks, she halfway wished she’d never succumbed to the temptation of sleep. Rubbing the cobwebs of slumber from her eyes, she rose and trundled to the window. For one wistful moment, she dared to believe she might see the sinuous thread of the river Wye unraveling between black mountain peaks.’

Instead, a lush emerald carpet of treetops stretched toward every horizon. Summer had returned to England with a perverse vengeance and the brilliance of the morning sun stung Holly’s eyes to near blindness. She was further tortured by the edge that just beyond the eastern ridge lay Tewksbury and her father.

Shaking off her lethargy, she leaned over the window ledge and gave one of the thick garlands of ivy that clung to the tower wall an experimental tug. It snapped off in her hand. Sighing with disappointment, she tossed it to the cobblestones below, earning a nasty look from one of Eugene’s henchmen. Five of the brutes patrolled the boundaries of the isolated glade, clutching sharpened iron pikes in their beefy fists.

The creak of the door swinging open warned her she had company. The gleeful bounce in Eugene’s step as he joined her made her more wary than before. “Languishing at the window, my dear? Pining away with hands clasped in supplication while you wait for your noble knight to come charging to your rescue?”

Holly burst into merry peals of laughter.

A flicker of unease marred her captor’s smile. Holly felt a surge of triumph at having disarmed him, however briefly.

She favored him with a pitying look. “Forgive my mirth, sir, but after having spent a summer wed to that boorish clod of a Welshman, I find your romantic notions to be hopelessly naive. I can assure you that Gav-enmore is as delighted to be rid of me as I am of him. Hell not waste a penny of his precious dowry to ransom me from your clutches.”

“Ah, but I did not demand a penny of ransom. I simply requested an ... audience.” De Leggef s sensual lips shaped the innocent word into an abomination.

“Then I fear youTl be equally disappointed,” Holly forced herself to say lightly. “My husband is as stingy with his time as he is with his coin—especially where I’m concerned. Surely Nathanael told you of the impasse we reached when Gavenmore discovered my charade.”

Eugene rested one hip against the sill and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I seem to remember something about a minor confrontation. Lots of shouting and threats of violence. The peasants demanding you be burned at the stake. Gavenmore dragging you through the streets half-naked. What an enchanting spectacle! I am sorry I missed it”

Holly bowed her head, feigning a sulky pout “He pronounced me a shrewish, deceitful witch and said I was unfit to bear his children.” The barb of truth in those words still had the power to wound.

“Why those are the very qualities every mother should aspire to! You can’t expect me to believe you couldn’t flutter your lashes and charm your way back into his good graces.” He cradled her chin between two fingers with chilling tenderness and turned her face to the light “According to your doting priest the Gavenmore men are known to possess a potentially mortal weakness for beautiful women.”

Holly kept her lashes lowered, horrified to learn that Nathanael may have unwittingly laid in Eugene’s fiendish hands the one weapon that could destroy both she and Austyn. The knowledge stripped her of all defenses save the truth. Or something near enough to it to mislead a mind as shrewd as Eugene’s.

Shaking off his mocking caress, she paced across the tower, then whirled to face him, giving her bitterness free rein for the first time since Austyn had bid her farewell. “Aye, the Gavenmore men have a weakness for beauty. They consume it as other men consume bread or ale. Their appetites are insatiable. I’m sure Nathanael also told you that I was forced to trade my virtue for his freedom. My husband was only too eager to partake of my beauty night after night so long as it pleased him to do so.”

“Lucky fellow,” Eugene murmured, his insinuating glance lingering at her breasts.

“Yet now that he’s grown bored of me, what does he do? He publicly repudiates me. He humiliates me by sending me to live in my father’s household. Why he’s probably seducing some comely serving wench even as we speak!” Holly felt a tear tremble from her lashes and chart a burning course down her cheek. “I swear to you the man cares naught for me!”

Her performance was so wrenching that even Holly might have come to believe it were it not for the jarring thunder of hoofbeats, shouts of alarm, and the bellow of pure rage that drifted up through the tower window.

“Montfort! What the hell have you done with my woman?”

Holly swallowed a despairing groan as Eugene snaked an arm around her waist and dragged her back to the window. The sight below was both better and far worse than any she might have imagined. Two of de Leggefs henchmen lay crumpled on the cobblestones. The giant hunched over to the side in the grass, rubbing his lolling head.

Austyn sat his prancing destrier between the two remaining guards with nary a visible scratch. Nor did he look the least bit concerned that one of the ruffians had seized his reins and sword while the other held an iron pike poised at his back.

Holly’s throat tightened with a helpless surge of love. Twas so like Austyn to charge into peril for her sake without counting the consequences. She remembered how he had swaggered into Tewksbury with naught but a single man-at-arms and his irreproachable honor and walked away with the most extravagant prize of his jousting career—a bride.

His expression was stormy, from jealousy or concern she could not say. Perhaps he believed she had provoked Eugene’s attack in a vindictive attempt to punish him, she thought wildly. Perhaps he would see this as yet another damning proof of the faithlessness of women.