Forbidden Magic (14 page)

"But Lady Jewel, I do understand," he broke in softly. "Twas not a question I spoke but a statement wrongly put. I do not judge thee but merely hoped to rid your thoughts of any guilt."

"Then you know well my need to shed my silks for the simpler garb of nuns?"

Father Dunn shook his head. "Nay, I do not."

A tear stole from the corner of her eye and Jewel quickly wiped it away. "Then I will explain and put your musings to rest. My betrothed is Sir Amery of Wellington. Do you know of him?" Jewel saw the strange look on the priest's face and wondered if he had heard the name when others had talked of who they blamed for the evil brought down upon Harcourt.

"Yea, my child," he replied, his gaze shifting to the second priest. "A knight who is said to shield his heart with steel as well as his body. The untouchable one."

The smooth line of Jewel's brow wrinkled when she heard the other friar laugh softly and a prickling of suspicion surfaced in her mind as she curiously watched the figure cloaked in brown stride across the room to gaze out the window, his broad back turned to them. With great difficulty, she pulled her attention from him and concentrated on the priest sitting beside her, dismissing the queer feeling that fluttered in the pit of her stomach.

"Then mayhap you will conceive my double need to escape the pledge of wedlock, good father. 'Tis said my betrothed hates all women. If he learns of my sin, he will surely cast me out and call me harlot though I am guiltless. No man would look upon me with favor. 'Tis why I am destined to live out my life serving God."

Hie priest remained thoughtfully quiet a moment, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, fingertips pressed together in church steeple fashion and tapping against his chin. Jewel watched him with aroused interest, wondering what thoughts raced through his mind, and frowned befuddled when he smiled happily at her.

"Mayhap you misjudge Sir Amery, my child," he said. "When told the events of your journey home, that you became separated from your escort—"

"Father," Jewel interrupted, "I did not tell you time and place. How do you come to know this?"

Father Dunn's face grew flushed and he quickly glanced at his silent companion as if seeking his help. But when all he received for the effort was a wide back turned his way, he began to squirm uncomfortably in his chair.

"And now that I put my mind upon it," Jewel continued, slowly coming to her feet, "I have not heard of Father Dunn or Father Renshaw. From which monastery do you hail?"

Any explanation the priest might have had seemed to lodge in his throat, for the words never reached his lips. Instead he was beset with a seizure of strangled coughs as if hard-pressed to recite a truth. His gaze darted from the one who continued his vigilance at the window to the angry, questioning glare of Lady Jewel, and he saw no sympathy in the amber-hued eyes trained on him.

"I repeat, good father, from where do you hail?"

"Twould seem, Lady Jewel, that you are wise beyond your years and enjoy a wit few women can claim, to have so easily recognized a game well played," the second friar admitted and Jewel spun around to stare at him.

His compliment was lost to her, for although she had heard his declaration, the familiar sound of his deep voice exploded in her mind and clouded all else. She had thought to force the vision of him from, her dreams, her every waking hour, to forget the color of his hair, his eyes, the scent of him, and the strength he had possessed. She had prayed that in time his image would fade as did the last golden rays of sunset, that she could fill her hours with other things and never think of him again. Yet even as she stood in the privacy of her chambers, upon the lands of her father, he had invaded her life once more. Jewel's knees trembled and her heart lurched as she watched the huge figure of the man slowly pull the hood from his head and turn to look upon her, his handsomeness, his magnitude, stealing her breath away.

"And I find it an honor to have been the first, little one," Amery spoke softly with a nod, "to have sampled that which you had saved so faithfully for your betrothed."

Jewel stumbled backward when he took a step toward her. "Methinks you should be warned," she said bravely. "Sir Radolf, brother to my betrothed, awaits me in the great hall. Advance further and I—" '

His gentle laughter cut through her as deeply as the edge of a finely honed blade. "And what wilt thou tell him? The secrets you sought to share only with a priest?" He shook his head. "Nay, yo» will not."

"Why have you come? What do you want of me? And why dost thou parade around in a monk's robe?" Her gaze quickly took in his companion and she retreated even further when the man stood up. "If you seek revenge against my betrothed, 'twould be of little use to take me. Because of you, he'll no longer care what fate awaits me." Her eyes sparked with a flame of hatred. "And because of what he's done, I too seek revenge."

"But Lady Jewel . . ." Gunther began, cut off when Amery
raised a hand.

"Hold, friend," he cautioned. "M'lady's thoughts have been poisoned and nothing we can say will change her mind."

"Who are you?" Jewel demanded, her pulse quickening when Amery smiled warmly at her.

"Curious travelers," he explained with a grin.

"Who must hide their identities to move about freely?" she challenged. "Name yourselves or I will send Leta for Sir Radolf."

"Nay, 'twould not be wise just now. You would send the man to his death if you did, and there are many questions left unanswered, which only he can explain. I have need of him a while longer." Jewel watched him cross to the bed and lift her mantle from the floor, adding, "In time I will tell you all you wish to know, but this is not the place. You are surrounded by those who do your bidding blindly." He held out the garment for her.

"I will not go anywhere with you," she protested, turning to Leta, who had remained near the door fearfully observing the entire scene. "Find Sir Radolf and bring him here. And tell him to arm himself well." She whirled back to glare at the men. "We have vipers in the hall."

But when the young serving girl turned to do as she had been bidden, Amery nodded at Gunther and the knight swiftly crossed the room, his strong hand slamming the door shut again before Leta could make her exit. Frightened of him, she backed away without a word, her blue eyes trained on him.

"M . .. M'lady?" she stuttered, hands clasped and drawn up to her chin.

Jewel's angry glare moved from one man to the other and settled on the one who held her mantle. "When last we met," she began, her voice low and filled with hatred, "you thought me nothing more than a harlot playing for your attention. And now you have learned that I am the lady of Harcourt, a titled dame with many who will eagerly defend me. Tis your life that will end should you harm me."

The handsome face staring back brightened with his smile. "Ah, yes," he mocked. "An army of serfs while your knights lay buried on the hill." He raised tawny brows derisively. "Must I fend off their hoes and shovels?"

"Sir Radolf's men are here," she challenged.

"And count in number less than five."

" 'Twould take but one to slit you open from navel to chin," she spat.

Amery nodded, acknowledging the fact. "And what story would you tell to convince his men to kill a priest? They would think you mad if you spilled a tale of intimate hours spent together the past night, for I am not beyond denying the truth. And who would believe, knowing your grief to be so great that it would surely muddle your reasoning?" He raised the cloak again. "Night will be upon us soon. You will need this for warmth."

Jewel stared, unmoving, then asked, "What is it you want of me?"

"Only the guarantee of safe passage from this place." "I will give it with no need of me by your side." A lopsided grin lifted one corner of his mouth. "A woman scorned is not one on whom to turn a back."

"Then I will accompany you to the gates. No further," she offered obstinately. He shook his light brown head. "Not far enough." "The cemetery. And Leta will go with me." Green eyes looked past her and fell upon his friend. He nodded and Gunther silently took the young maiden's arm, grabbed her cloak lying on a nearby chair, and ushered her from the room.

Jewel's heart fluttered as she watched the knight approach. She wanted desperately to run but felt the trap he had woven about hen He had spoken the truth, for in ordering his death she would be forced to reveal her reason for seeing it done, and she would not make public the shame he had brought down upon her. There were many who would stand in judgment without all the facts and ridicule the name of the late lord of Harcourt if her need for justice swayed her good sense. And how could she think only of herself when the killing of her family cried out for vengeance? She would escort this knight to the burial ground, see him on his way, and forget destiny had ever brought them together, for on the morrow she would join with Radolf to bring Sir Amery of Wellington down on his knees before them.

Her decision clear, her mind set, Jewel had sighed inwardly at finally having found peace, when suddenly the knight's broad frame crossed the light of the hearth and placed her in his shadow. Trembling slightly, she refused to look at him, certain the humor he felt at this small victory would show upon his lips. But when he did not move or voice a sound, she felt compelled to lift her gaze upon him. She longed to hate him, to find the mere sight of him repulsive, yet she marveled at the strange stirring in her blood when her eyes met his. His close regard all but consumed her and though she wished it, she could not turn away.

"My eyes have feasted on the beauty of many, Lady Jewel of Harcourt," he spoke softly, "and I had thought I had seen the fairest until the night just past when I found you before the fire, its golden light shining in your hair."

A wide hand rose to stroke the coppery curls, then paused, and Jewel could not still the desire to have him touch her, nor could she explain why. They had talked of sorcery and though he had refuted the possibility, laughed at her suggestion, she could find no other cause for her behavior but the influence of magical powers. A tiny line appeared in the smoothness of her brow and disappeared. Could it be she yearned to have a man, any man, hold her, comfort her, when all the world seemed set against her? But had Radolf not done just that and left her wanting? Then why, how, could a stranger affect her so? Especially this one, a man who had forced himself upon her. A mixture of anger and pain flowed through her.

"If thou hast seen so many and all so eager to spread their skirts for you as you have said, why, pray tell, can you not see how much this maiden prefers to be left alone?" she charged coolly with a lift of fine brows and reached for her mantle held in his huge hand. But when he would not release it, she looked up at him again in surprise.

"Ah, but I do, little one, and 'tis why I could not dismiss the thought of you from my mind. You are different and I see you as a challenge." He grinned, green eyes sparkling.

"And one in which you will never engage," she announced firmly. "I will walk with you to the cemetery and there leave you. We shall not meet again, for if you have half the wisdom you claim with women, you will take yourself from here and never return. I will join a convent and our paths will not cross another time."

"Perhaps." He shrugged, unfolding the mantle to slip it about her shoulders.

Jewel steeled herself against the sensation that trickled through her when his hand lingered on her arm, then moved possessively to the small of her back as he guided her toward the door, his hint of future encounters going unheard by her. When they had crossed the room, he paused, one hand on the latch, while the other quickly pulled the hood of his robe over his head to shadow his face. Jewel wondered fleetingly why he felt the need to continue hiding his identity since his effort at pretense had already been discovered, but she mentally shrugged it off as unimportant and something she truly had no interest in learning. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he opened the door and followed her from the room.

Dusk had settled over Harcourt, embracing the land with an eerie stillness and chilling Jewel's heart with a feeling of loneliness as she walked through the gates and down the drawbridge toward the cemetery. Her thoughts centered on the five freshly sealed graves set apart from the rest and she had nearly forgotten the presence of the man at her side until, passing a group of serfs, one addressed the man cloaked in the garments of a priest. One corner of her mouth lifted sardonically. A priest indeed!

Leta and the second man waited for them near the edge of the graveyard under a tall oak tree, its huge branches fanning out to virtually encase them within its leafy arms, and once Jewel and her companion reached them, she moved away to stand beside the young maiden, sensing the fear the serving girl experienced. In silent understanding, Jewel gently took the frightened woman's hand in hers, easing some of her own anxiety as well, then turned to face the men. But when she opened her mouth to voice her wish to see them gone, never to return, the idle chatter of a group of nearby peasant women returning to then: huts quieted her words. They had paused in the shadows some feet away and Jewel soon realized they did not know of her presence by the conversation they held.

"Hast thou seen him?" a younger one asked excitedly. "Is he truly as handsome as they say?"

"Hold thy tongue, foolish one," an older woman scolded. "He is not for the likes of you."