Heather Graham (47 page)

Simon gripped her arm in a painful vise, making sure she was visible to the men. “Englishmen, see! The Lady Danielle of Aville! She stands here of her own choice! I say you are a false knight, you who wear the MacLachlan’s colors. If the lady’s husband lives, he should come forward, and she will tell him that she has come here by choice, is my mistress, and will be my wife as we reclaim our land for ourselves!” He finished shouting and added softly to his archers on the wall, “Be ready!”

Danielle watched as Adrien moved his horse closer to the wall. He lifted his visor. She heard Simon inhale sharply as he realized that Adrien had survived.

“Talk to him!” Simon raged. “Bring him closer to the wall, tell him you betrayed him with me, that you want to be with me—if he goes away, he won’t die!”

She raised her voice. “Adrien! Come no closer—” she warned.

“Bitch!” Simon roared, and she felt the point of his knife cutting into her side. She wanted to live, Adrien was alive. And perhaps, there was even a way …

“Adrien! Leave this castle! How can you forget? Do you think that I can forget?”

She could see her husband’s eyes, giving away so little to anyone else. But she also saw that he didn’t believe she had betrayed him.

“Adrien MacLachlan! Don’t you remember?
You were the one responsible for the fall of Aville! You
were the one. Remember
how
you were the one?”

“Now!” Simon cried. He wrenched Danielle back while his archers tried for Adrien.

But Matthew was swift, and Adrien was quickly beyond their range of fire.

Swearing, Simon dragged her back to her tower room.

“I told him what you wanted!” she proclaimed, facing him. He stared at her, then struck her across the face with a blow that sent her flying down on the bed. He stood over her. “Pray he goes away,” he said. “Your time is coming.”

The door slammed in his wake. The bolt slid home.

Adrien stood before Edward in the command tent. “Tunnels!”

“What?” Edward demanded.

“We tunneled into Aville. She was telling me that there is some kind of underground passage from the castle, and that to breach the walls, we must get inside them.”

Edward, who’d been sitting on a camp chair, rose. “Send for that kitchen lad!” he commanded his men.

The lad came.

While arrows continued to fly and the battering ram was brought against the bridge, they began to plan. The boy knew about the dungeons and could point out what he knew of the maze beneath the castle. “They’ve tortured many a poor soul down there, aye, that they have, my liege prince!” the lad told Edward. “I’ve heard that they took corpses—noble corpses at times—straight to the sea so that they might disappear.”

“I’ll find the entrance. I’ll take twenty men with me, no light arms, no heavy armor. We’ll get inside and get the bridge down,” Adrien said.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t—you’ll be too hasty, Adrien, too involved—”

“I’ve done this before!” he told Edward softly. “At Aville. Keep up the appearance that our attack is purely frontal.”

“Aye, that I’ll do,” Edward said. “Take the castle in my father’s name, Adrien.”

“Aye!”

“And, bring your wife safely from these walls!”

Adrien nodded, turned, and called out to Sir George to arrange for the men who would attend him. Daylin was quickly at his side, and Michael, from Aville. Others joined behind them.

They rode a direct route from the castle to the sea and there split up, exploring the cliffs and caves that let out at the sea. Daylin found the entry. “Here, Adrien, here!” he cried. Adrien rushed to where Daylin stood. He studied the opening in the cliff and told his men, “When the tide rises, this opening must flood. We’ll move as quickly as possible through this area.”

They entered into the cliff by the sea and began walking into a stone tunnel of darkness. Torches led the way.

The water began to rise as they walked.

Higher and higher.

To their waists …

To their chests …

Not a single man voiced his fear of being drowned. And then, they came upon a sharp turn, and higher ground. In a large, damp cavern area, they saw the corpses of a dozen men, mostly bones, chained to the walls … left to starve or drown or expire from the elements.

The men looked around in silence. “There’s a tunnel,” Adrien said, and they moved through it.

They walked another thirty minutes before coming to more corridors. “Spread out,” Adrien ordered softly, and they did. He moved quickly himself, taking different paths that led to dead ends—rooms where others had been imprisoned. They came upon implements of torture—and more corpses. Each man looked grimly upon the death around him without flinching. They returned to the central point to report on what they had seen.

“I believe I have found the right way,” Michael told Adrien.

“Aye, and how are you certain?”

Michael, sodden and muddy, smiled, his teeth flashing white through the grime. “I can smell food. If we find the kitchens …”

“Aye, Michael, lad, lead the way.”

Danielle stood at the window, watching the battle with a sinking heart. King Edward was tenacious; his son was even more so. But the castle was strong. And if the siege waged on, day after day, week after week …

Her door suddenly burst open. Simon stood there. He was white, and still.

She heard a roar of shouting and a clash of arms from the courtyard below, and she looked down to see that a melee had broken out. Men battled men with swords, maces, hammers, whatever was at hand.

The gates were opening; the bridge had been lowered. Her heart leapt to her throat. Adrien had understood her message.

“You should go below and lead your men into battle, Simon,” she told him.

He shook his head. “You’re not going back to him.”

“Perhaps you should escape. Run, quickly, get away from here.”

He shook his head again, looking at her. “I’m sorry, Danielle. It could have been so different. If you’d have married me before he came …”

His voice trailed. He was just staring at her. Then she realized he was holding his knife. His thumb was sliding over the hilt.

He started walking toward her.

“No!” she cried, aware he meant to stab her in the heart. He came closer and closer. She leapt over the bed, picking up the washbowl, hurtling it at his head. He followed her around the bed, and she stumbled over it again, screaming as she tripped over Germaine’s corpse. She threw the sheet at Simon, and then a pillow, then a shoe, realizing that she was running out of missiles and was defenseless—and he was very, very good with a knife.

She tried to run past him, but he caught her arm. She struggled against him, spitting, clawing, trying to make him drop the knife.

He wrenched her around so that she tripped backwards and fell on the bed. He straddled her, pinning her with his weight. Then, with both hands, he raised his blade above her.

“Danielle …” he whispered.

She cast her arms before her, shrieking.

But when the knife would have fallen, he was suddenly wrenched away from her and thrown across the room. He crashed against a wall, then slid down it.

Adrien was staring down at her. He was muddy, hair askew, tunic torn. His eyes were fire. He reached for her, helping her up.

“Adrien …” she began softly, then she screamed anew, for she saw that Simon had rallied and was catapulting toward Adrien with the knife raised, aimed for the heart.

With a supple gesture, Adrien drew his blade.

And Simon impaled himself.

He fell slowly to the ground, staring at them both. Then his eyes glazed over and he was dead.

Danielle cast herself against her husband, sobbing with relief. He swept her up into his arms.

“Come, my love, let me take you from this place. Let me take you home … ah, lady, I meant—”

“Home, Laird MacLachlan, is France, England, Scotland—wherever you may be!” she told him. And she clung more tightly to him. “In your arms, sir, I am home.”

And shaking with relief, he carried her from her place of imprisonment.

P
RINCE EDWARD, BEING YOUNG
and a romantic himself—and also pleased that the castle had fallen so quickly—gave Adrien and Danielle immediate leave to go about their business. Adrien suggested that they go to Aville, but she was anxious to return to London.

“I can’t bear being away from the baby, Adrien, even if he is with the world’s most natural mother in the queen. I want to continue to nurse my own child, Adrien. It is very important to me.”

“I understand,” he told her, and he did. She didn’t mention her discomfort, but her breasts were heavily swollen, and he was glad that she wanted to nurse their child rather than bring in a woman as so many of the nobility did. Once, Aville had been everything to her, just as having his way had been so vastly important to him—serving the English king in all matters. The world around them wouldn’t change, but they had changed. The world being what it was, they still had many rocky roads ahead of them.

They headed immediately across the English Channel. With the sheer relief of being together, and sailing in one of Prince Edward’s own ships, they were able to take the captain’s cabin. And there, as Adrien tried to cradle Danielle, she pulled away, intent upon staring at his face, touching him. He caught her hands, and said, “What is it, my love?”

“I’m in awe, and so grateful. I still can’t believe that you’re alive. I wanted to die myself. I know that they threw you into the sea …”

“And you know that I can swim. The water was cold, and snapped me back to consciousness. And we’ve many good friends. Monteine came out of the apartments screaming for help and the men quickly began to light fires and organize a search. And Terese—aye, the little wench with whom you so rudely assumed I amused myself—went to the queen, hysterical because she had been forced to help provide Simon and Comte Langlois with horses.”

“If she helped save your life, I am eternally grateful to her.”

He grinned. “She and my squire, Luke, wish to marry. She will be a busy young woman.”

“And Monteine and Daylin are just waiting for a proper date to wed!” Danielle said, smiling. “But still, how were you able to—”

“Prince Edward departed London immediately following Terese’s story, and was with my men as they scoured the coastline in small boats, looking for me. Prince Edward himself found me, swimming toward the shore.”

“The Plantagenets are very involved in our lives, aren’t they?” she inquired.

He started to answer her, then decided that trying to tell her just how involved the Plantagenets were should wait. “Aye, lady,” was all he said.

She mused regretfully, “I can’t understand what happened to Simon. I swear, he was not such a monster when I knew him before. Men become obsessed with who and what they are. I think he believed that as a Valois he was owed greater riches than he had accrued, and perhaps that worked on his mind. I tell you, Adrien, he became so evil, but he is not like most of the people. My people are good talented, hard-working, charming—”

“Danielle, my love, this thing between King Edward and King Jean will not end, for Edward can be obsessed as well! I have many fine French allies. Your mother was one of the most beautiful, intelligent, and kind people anyone could know, and as you are French, my love, the likes of Simon could never convince me that the French are not among the world’s finest people.”

She smiled, dazzled by his words.

“I was so afraid that Simon—” he began.

“He never touched me!” she said quickly. “And I never betrayed you.”

He shook his head. “I was never afraid that you had, and if he had touched you, I’d have only prayed that you survived his cruelty. Nothing would change my love. But did you really scald him?”

“Yes.”

“Having fought you many times myself, I should have known just how good you were. You were clever—but foolish. He might have hurt you terribly in retribution, and I was powerless at the time.”

“I wasn’t incredibly clever—the water happened to be in my hand. And he was convinced that you were dead and that he would marry me—and find his retribution then. He didn’t want his wife to be an ugly, scarred creature.”

“It is over now. And you mustn’t feel sorrow. Danielle, believe me, Simon was plotting against Edward with Armagnac. He didn’t care what he did to his own people. You didn’t see his total disregard for life …”

“You have to understand, Adrien. I made a vow to my mother once, and it was sacred. But I believe that I fulfilled it, warning Jean when men meant to kill them.”

“Edward never gave anyone an order to attempt to kill King Jean.”

She nodded. “I was afraid that even if you could, you would never come for me!”

“I will always come for you. I hadn’t even thought of the prospect of tunneling. If you hadn’t said what you did about Aville, I might never have known about the structure. I was half mad, trying to reach you.”

“I knew there was something below because Simon kept telling me how I could be tortured in the tunnels, and how bodies had been dumped in the sea. Imagine! I hated you for so many years for what happened at Aville before I was born. And if it hadn’t been for Aville, my mother never would have met Robert, my father.”

It was the perfect time to tell her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. It was too dazzling just to be together, to know a love so deep and secure and unchanging. He couldn’t bring himself to spoil the tenderness between them at the moment.

He held her against him instead, thinking that the right time would come. They’d be home in Scotland, or even Gariston, perhaps, on a cold winter’s night before a roaring fire, and then …

Then he would tell her the truth. Not now. Now, he just meant to cherish her.

“It’s over, Danielle. Langlois will lose his head, I’m afraid, but Prince Edward has offered mercy to those who only followed the orders of the nobles. And Simon is dead.”

She shivered. “I don’t want to talk about him any more. I just want you to hold me.”

So he held her, and they made love, and it was more intimate than any time between them before, because they whispered words of their feelings along with their hunger.