Her Rebel Heart (24 page)

A light breeze fluttered the Felton pennant at the top of Hawk Tower, and Deliverance leaned against the doorway catching her breath while Luke crossed to the wall. He laid a hand on one of the weathered hawks and gazed out across the besieging forces.

Deliverance took up a place beside him. She considered going down on her knees like a true supplicant but that thought galled her and she decided to leave that measure to the last.

“Luke, please. I am asking you to show clemency for Truscott.”

“Tell me again why I should do that?” he said, his gaze not moving from the enemy encampment.

“What he did was wrong but you have to understand he has known Penitence since she was born. He...any of my men...would do anything for her.”

“Just because a pretty woman asks you to do something you know is wrong is no excuse, Deliverance.”

“I know this is a war and I know Jack Farrington is our enemy but before that he was our friend and betrothed to Penitence. This is a
civil
war, Luke. It's not as if the Farringtons are foreign enemy. Jack has been coming to Kinton Lacey since he was a boy.”

“Someone within this castle is prepared to sell all our lives to the enemy, Deliverance. I know it's not Truscott but an example has to be set.”

“Surely some lesser punishment?” She swallowed. “A flogging?”

Luke straightened.

“Luke—”

“This is not the time for discussion. Get down!” Luke turned, leaping at Deliverance and taking her to the ground as the Thunderer let off a mighty roar. The world exploded around them.

Deliverance hit the stonework with such force it knocked the breath from her. Instinctively she put her arms over her head as showers of dust and pieces of stone rained down around her. She knew what had happened. Hawk Tower had taken a direct hit from the Thunderer.

She lay for a long time, her eyes tightly closed, fighting for breath, incapable of moving. She drew a shaky breath and tentatively moved her fingers and toes. She felt no pain but there appeared to be a heavy weight lying across body and she couldn’t move her arms or legs. She opened her eyes blinking at the brightness of the sky. Luke lay sprawled across her, pinning her to the ground.

He lay quite still with his face turned away from her and she realised he must have thrown himself across her as the cannon ball hit.

“Luke?”

When he didn’t respond, she freed her pinioned arms and pushed at him but he didn't move. Dear God, he couldn’t be dead…could he?

“Luke?” She touched his head and hastily removed her hand when she felt something warm and wet. She looked at her fingers, sticky with Luke's blood. The breath stopped in her throat.

No, he can’t be dead…

With difficulty, she wriggled out from underneath him. Her heart hammering she knelt beside his senseless body, her hands fluttering uselessly over him. Blood matted his dark hair just above his right ear, dripping down his face and transforming the familiar features into a bloody mask.

A musket ball zinged past her ear and she looked up, seeing the place where she and Luke had been standing arguing about Truscott only moments before, was now a gaping hole as if some giant had taken a bite out of the tower. Bits of rock and dust lay scattered across the full width of the remaining platform of the tower. Nothing stood between her and a long fall to the ground and she was completely exposed to the enemy lines. Musketeers lined the nearest earthwork, intent on only one thing.

Her death.

She stood up and seizing Luke by the collar, dragged him towards the stairwell. She had no idea an unconscious man could weigh so much and without help she’d never get him down to safety. Another musket ball whistled over her head, crashing into the wall behind her.

In the shelter of the doorway, she crouched down. At least they were now out of sight of the musketeers and she could see to Luke.

She gathered herself together and forced herself to look down at his slack, blood spattered face.

“You’re not dead,” she told him. “You can’t be dead.”

She tugged at his collar and her shaking fingers searched for and found the pulse in his neck, beating slow and steady. She realised she had been holding her breath and let out a sigh of relief. Having established he was still alive she turned her attention to the wound in his hairline. It had bled profusely but on close inspection did not look like much more than a deep cut.

“Luke, wake up!” She patted his cheek with some force.

He stirred and moaned but did not open his eyes.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs she looked up as Ned and two men appeared around the corner. Ned's eyes travelled from the gaping hole in the tower to Luke's unconscious face.

“He's alive,” Deliverance said in answer to the unspoken question on Ned's face.

Relief flooded Ned’s face. “And you? Are you all right?”

Deliverance nodded concealing her shaking hands in the folds of her skirt. Now she started to think about it, her legs had begun to feel most peculiar too. She sat back against the wall.

“Just a little wobbly.”

Luke...she wanted to say Luke had saved her life but couldn't find the words.

Ned knelt down beside his friend and slapped his face with considerably more force than Deliverance had used. The action provoked a groan from Luke and his eyes flickered open.

“What...? Ouch.” He closed his eyes again with a grimace.

“You've had a knock on the head, Collyer. Lots of blood but I doubt there's any real damage. You were always blessed with a thick skull.”

“Go away… my head hurts,” Luke mumbled.

Ned stood up dusting his breeches and gestured to the two soldiers waiting in the stairwell. “Get him to his chamber. I'll see to Mistress Felton.”

After the two soldiers had none-too-gently hefted Luke by his shoulders and legs and begun the tortuous descent down the narrow winding stairs, Ned put his hand out for Deliverance. She rose up on shaking legs and did not demur at the strong male arm that circled her shoulders, helping her down the stairs and across the courtyard to the sanctuary of her own bedchamber and the care of her women.

Deliverance sat on the stool in her bed chamber looking down at the blood on her hands. Luke's blood. At the thought of how close they had both come to death and how he had saved her life, she began to cry. What if he had died? What would she do without him?

Meg put an arm around her mistress. “There, there, ma'am,” she said. “You've had a nasty fright. I'll go and fetch a nice posset for ye.”

“I'd prefer brandy,” Deliverance said. She fumbled at her belt and handed her keys to the maid. “It's in the locked cupboard in my father's library and” she looked up at Meg, “can you release my sister and send her to me.”

“Aye, mistress. Right away,” Meg said.

As her maid reached the door, Deliverance added, “and give Lieutenant Barrett an order from me. I am reprieving Truscott's sentence of death.”

Meg's eyes widened slightly but she bobbed a neat curtsey and left without comment.

Alone, Deliverance wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth as the tears poured down her dusty cheeks. She didn't even hear the door open, or her sister enter the room until she felt Penitence's arms around her.

“Oh, Liv, thank the Lord you are safe,” Penitence said. “I heard the explosion. Meg says you and Collyer were on Hawk Tower when the round hit.”

Deliverance sobbed into her sister's shoulder. “He saved my life, Pen.”

“Who?”

“Luke and now he's hurt. What if he dies?”

Penitence hushed her as if she were a child as Meg reappeared with the brandy and water. Together the two women washed the worst of the dust and dirt from Deliverance’s face and hands but when they suggested she take to her bed to rest, she refused. Instead she took a hefty gulp of brandy and rose unsteadily to her feet.

“I'm fine. Don’t fuss,” she lied.

“Liv, you've had a nasty shock. I really think you should rest.”

“I need to see if Luke is all right.”

“I'll go,” Penitence offered.

Deliverance shook her head. “No. I must see for myself.”

At the door she stopped. “Pen, you must give me your word, you won't try and see Jack?”

Penitence's mouth drooped and she nodded. “You have my parole. Just please don't lock me up again.”

With Toby still incarcerated, Deliverance found his sister in attendance in Luke's bed chamber. Lovedie looked up from winding clean bandages as Deliverance entered. She stood and dropped a curtsey.

Deliverance waved a hand at the door.

“You can leave.”

Lovedie didn't move.

“You should rest, Mistress Felton,” Lovedie said. “You've had a bad fright today.”

“I'm fine. I'll sit with Captain Collyer for a little while. Please fetch me a little broth.”

Lovedie's mouth compressed in a tight line and she gave Deliverance another small bob curtsey before leaving the room.

Deliverance waited until the door shut behind the girl before moving across to the bed. She stood for a moment looking down into Luke's ashen face, made paler by the neat bandage tied around his head. A slight starring of crimson on the white linen marked where the wound had bled but it did not seem to be spreading

Deliverance sat down on the end of Luke's bed, pulling her feet up beneath her. She wrapped her arms around her knees, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest as she remembered the argument that had preceded the missile thrown up by the Thunderer. If those had been the last words they had exchanged…

He stirred and grimaced, life flooding back into his face. His eyes opened and he looked up at the panelled ceiling of Sir John Felton's best bed.

“How do you feel?” Deliverance asked.

He raised his head slightly to see where the voice had come from and fell back on the pillows with a curse. “I've got a headache to rival the worst excesses of drink,” he said closing his eyes. He beckoned her with his right hand, patting the bed next to him. “Move closer...can't see you down there.”

Deliverance obliged, perching on the side of the bed next to him. He looked up at her and smiled.

“How are you?”

“I'm fine...thanks to you. You saved my life,” Deliverance said, her fingers closing over his hand that lay on the outside of the covers.

“Anything to silence you.” He closed his eyes and grimaced. “What were we arguing about?”

“Nothing of importance,” Deliverance said.

Not now she had taken command and rescinded the execution order
. Luke didn’t need to be bothered with such things right now.

“That bloody gun,” Luke muttered. “It will beat us into submission.”

“I know,” Deliverance said and instinctively shut her eyes as another shot from the Thunderer crashed into the Hawk Tower, rattling her teeth. The gunners had their aim now. The tower would be gone by nightfall.

When she opened her eyes she saw Luke looking at her. He raised a hand and his finger lightly brushed her cheek.

“I do love you, you know,” he said.

She stared at him. “Don't be silly. You are feverish,” she said, as her heart cried out ‘
Tell him you love him too. Now before it is too late.
’

“Could never…Didn’t mean…” His eyelids flickered and closed, his hand falling to the bedcovers.

For a horrible moment, Deliverance thought he had died but the gentle rise and fall of his chest assured her he had only fallen asleep.

She sat looking at him, her heart swelling with his words. He had said he loved her.

Why couldn't she have brought herself to repeat the words back to him?

She put out her hand and with the back of her forefinger stroked his cheek, feeling the rough bristle beneath her skin. His eyelids fluttered before he muttered something and sank back into sleep.

“I love you, Luke Collyer,” Deliverance whispered, voicing the words at last.

She bent down and kissed him gently on the mouth. His lips were soft and unresponsive beneath her touch. She picked up his hand and pressed it to her cheek as cold fingers clawed at her heart. She had come so close to losing him and she couldn't bear the thought of living without him.

If he died
...

She gave a strangled sob, biting it back as the door opened and Lovedie re-entered the room, carrying a tray with a bowl of the weak broth that would be their main meal for the day. Deliverance restored Luke's hand and hastily stood up making a show of straightening the bed clothes.

“Mistress Felton?” Lovedie asked. “Are you alright?

“I’m fine,” Deliverance said. “Just a little tired.”

Lovedie bent over the man in the bed and smoothed his pillow, fiery curls falling around her face from beneath her cap.

“You’ve had a bad shock today. I’d go and get some rest,” Lovedie said without looking up.

The green demon of jealousy gripped Deliverance as Lovedie stroked Luke’s cheek. Had she missed something? Was Lovedie the reason Luke had pulled away from her? She had no doubt in normal times Lovedie Brown would be exactly the sort of girl, Luke Collyer would have pursued.

She hated leaving Luke with the girl but being around Luke Collyer seemed to turn her reasoning power to gruel and she needed to think.