My Rebellious Heart (44 page)

She nearly choked. "What! You would have me at your side, while the king delivers Castle Langley into your hands—your battle prize for conquering Wales? Nay!" she cried. "Do not ask this

of me—"

She was hauled from her perch so swiftly her head spun dizzily. She gasped as he dragged her so close his hot breath mingled with her own. The heated fury or his eyes imprisoned her as surely as his iron grip around her wrists.

"Do not ask, she says! Princess, you have been my wife these many months and I have asked you for nothing—nothing! Indeed, I should not have to ask, nay, or demand or command or even beg that

you be at my side on such an occasion! Oh, I know that you do not consider it a privilege, for nothing is ever good enough for you, as you must ever remind me! But now I would remind you, you wil be the mistress of Castle Langley—"

"I'd sooner be mistress of a dunghill!"

"Consider it a duty then. An unpleasant one, mayhap, but one that must be borne nonetheless."

"I cannot do it ... I wil not do it!"

"Before God, you wil ! Always I have thought myself unworthy of you, princess, for I was the bastard! But I begin to think you the unworthy one, to think always of yourself and never of your husband!" Her eyes widened. Never had she heard him speak with such cold, contemptuous rage. 'If I have to chain you to me hand and foot, you wil be at my side before the king and the citizens of Langley. You may not respect me, princess, but I refuse to let you shame me!"

She sensed his ruthlessness. The very air around them pulsed with thunder and lightning.

Her heart twisted. She did not doubt he would do exactly as he promised!

She despised herself for her weakness, but the fol owing noonday found her at her husband's side before the wide arched entrance to the great hal . She was warmly dressed in rich crimson velvet and soft fur, for the fields beyond the walls were bound with frost. But the chil in the air was as nothing compared to the chil in Shana's heart.

The bailey was crammed with an endless sea of bodies. Shana scanned the crowd and spied Sir Geoffrey, Lord Newbury, and Sir Quentin just below the stairs. An awesome hush fel as King Edward stepped forward. He spoke first of the great victory scored by the English over Wales, the glory of triumph achieved by his troops.

"But the fruits of victory could not have been gained without the efforts of many—and of one in

particular," he cal ed out. "I have always chosen my advisors with great care, for I truly believe loyalty breeds honor. Tis for that very reason 1 chose Thorne de Wilde, Earl of Weston, to command my forces here at Castle Langley But such loyalty as I demand deserves to be rewarded ... thus Thorne de Wilde shall henceforth be known as the Earl of Langley, the lord of Castle Langley and al its holdings ."

The crowd erupted. A raucous cheer went up. Shana stood wooden and stiff as Thorne raised a hand and pul ed her close, her face as frozen as the land. He turned her to face the crowd. Feeling numb and listless, she al owed herself to be swept into the hal .

She determined to escape as soon as she was able. The opportunity presented itself almost at once. First one knight and then another clustered around Thorne, clapping him heartily on the back. She turned to flee only to find herself face to face with King Edward. To her shock he tucked her hand into his elbow and pulled her into a corner where the din was less thunderous.

He shook his head, his tone surprisingly mild. "I see time has not blunted your disapproval of me, milady, nor of England."

Shana reddened. She had not realized she was so transparent.

He studied her for a moment, a faint smile on his lips. "Lady Shana, your people have put aside their arms. So have mine. Is that not cause to rejoice?"

"Sire." She spoke with difficulty. "I do not think the people of Wales are ready to bow to English rule. Both you and my husband claim this war has ended. But is there peace in the land—is there peace between England and Wales?" Her eyes darkened. "Sire, I think not."

His smile ebbed. "1 pray you are wrong," he

said very quietly. "For England and Wales are far stronger together than apart. I do not choose to hold by sword and shield what could be held by the Crown alone. But I wil if I must, for in the end, I truly seek only peace—and prosperity for England." He shocked her by leaning forward and kissing her forehead. "I wish you well, Shana, you and Thorne and your child." He turned and left her alone.

Was he truly so wise? Or merely a fool? she wondered bitterly. She had little chance to speculate for Thorne had spied her. He kept her close, a possessive hand heavy on her waist while they took their place as lord and lady of Langley, seeing the king and his retinue on their way.

Shana had no stomach for the gay feast that followed. She longed to escape to her room, but whenever she turned, she discovered Thorne's eyes upon her, dark and piercing. The fierceness of his countenance robbed her of the courage to slip away as she longed to do.

He was still angry, she realized. But his fury . with her disturbed her far less than knowing she had wounded him—and wounded him deeply. Oh, it was wel hidden beneath a facade of icy control, and the pangs of regret bit deep and sharp in her soul. She wondered bleakly if he would ever forgive her.

The chance to slip away soon presented itself, but she was scarcely in her chamber than a knock on the door sounded. Shana opened it to find a heavy-set soldier there.

"Milady," the man said urgently. "Your presence is required in the stables. The boy Wil has been

gravely injured. He asks for you, milady." "Oh, no!" Panic gripped her as she whirled and grabbed her cloak, flinging it about her shoulders. She followed the soldier down the stairs and across the bailey, her mind beset with worry. Dear

God, Wil was just a boy! Oh, surely fate could deal with her no more cruelly! She could not lose him, too ,..

A torchlight lit the stables. The soldier was at her heels as she stepped within. She spotted Wil immediately. The boy lay sprawled in the far corner, limp and unconscious His skin was pale as snow. A horrible gash had split his temple. Blood matted his hair and trickled down his forehead. Shana rushed forward with a strangled cry.

"Not so quickly, milady."

A hand seized her. She was spun around, her arm nearly wrenched from its socket. A face Hashed before her, gloating and leering—she cried out in shock and horror at that twisted grin, a grin she scarcely recognized as Sir Quentin's ...

A stunning blow at the back of her head pitched her sideways. She felt herself fal ing, tumbling headlong into a black void of darkness.

That was the last thing she remembered.

horne prowled the hall restlessly. Jovial shouts and laughter fil ed every crack and crevice of the great hal of Castle Langley. Soldiers and servants mingled, eager to share in such a joyous occasion.

But while Thorne was present in the flesh, he was absent in spirit, distant and apart from the lively celebration, though he hid it wel , joking and raising his goblet high when toasted.

Once he would have been elated, drunk with a heady pride and power, for with this earldom came land and riches aplenty. The land, the title, the glory of owning this sprawling castle symbolized a lifelong ambition. He, the boy who had once possessed nothing, not even a name, would soon be one of the wealthiest men of the kingdom!

And yet it was but a hol ow victory. He felt curiously untouched and he need not ask himself why, for he was bitterly aware that this night—this day—would have meant everything to him ...

If not for Shana.

He had felt the brooding in her. Yet Thorne knew not how to fight it, or overcome it, or indeed if he should ever try!

She would never love him—never.

With his mind so engaged, he did not notice the slight figure that staggered into the hall from the

bailey. Not until he heard a gasp from several ladies nearby was his attention diverted. He glanced up just as Wil crumpled to the floor. Blood flowed profusely from a gash at his temple.

"Milord!" came the weak, bleating cry.

Four long strides took him to the boy's side. He sank to his haunches beside him. "Wil !" he exclaimed. "Son, what happened?" Gently he eased the boy against his chest so he could speak, his expression reflecting his worry.

Sir Geoffrey knelt down, and several other knights as wel - Geoffrey held a clean cloth in one hand, the fingers of the other lightly gauging the severity of the gash. " 'Tis not so deep as it looks. I think he'll be fine given a few days' rest," he muttered with a grimace. "The hooves of someone's horse must have glanced off his temple—"

"Nay!" Wil clutched at Thorne. "Milord, 1 was hit from behind. 1 blacked out, but then I heard them ... one of them said what a grand joke it was that they plundered and raided in your name, and al the time beneath your very nose ..."

Thorne leaped to his feet with a savage curse. He grabbed Lord Newbury by the throat of his runic and yanked him clear from the floor.

"By God, I knew it was you though 1 could prove nothing!" he spat. "I shal kil you for this!"

Newbury's eyes bulged. "I have done nothing! Man, I fought by your side countless times these past months. By the Holy Virgin, I swear I have done nothing!"

"Nothing! You made it wel known you were furious that Edward chose me, not you, to command his forces here!"

Newbury gasped as Thorne's grip tightened. "1 was jealous, aye, 1 made no secret of it! But it was naught but talk! I swear I did nothing to disgrace your name—"

"Milord!" Wil 's thin voice reached him. "I saw

the man ... 'twas Sir Quentin, milord, Sir Quentin ... then later Lady Shana was there ... he said he wanted Castle Langley but he'd settle for her ... Milord, I heard him ride out. He has milady with him!" The boy began to cry. "Milord, I tried to reach you as quickly as I could ..."

Thorne's head turned slowly. He went white as bleached linen. "Dear God," he said numbly.

"He has Shana ..." Newbury stumbled back.

Thorne's mind was churning. He'd been so convinced Newbury was the rogue who had blackened his name—he'd only been waiting for the chance to spring, to gain proof of the vileness that had been done, but al along it had been Quentin! He was awash in a crimson sea of rage, but even as he damned Quentin, he damned himself for the blind, stupid fool he had been!

But far surpassing his rage was fear for Shana, a fear that reached beyond any he had ever known.

He shouted for his horse, his face a terrible sight to behold. Sir Geoffrey leaped to his feet as well. The women of the castle now hovered over Wil ; the boy was in safe hands. He caught Thorne's arm.

"Thorne! You don't mean to go after Quentin alone! His men departed yesterday along with him—we have no way of guessing how many may stil be with him. You could be outnumbered fifty to one!"

Thorne grabbed his friend as roughly as he had grabbed Newbury. "Geoff! He has Shana!"

"Aye, but surely he'll not hurt her—"

"I'l not take that chance! Geoif, Quentin must despise me to have done what he has. God, man, he wanted Langley! But now that Langley is mine mayhap he took Shana simply to get back at me. Who knows what he'll do to her." Thorne squeezed his eyes shut. The thought of her in danger was like a lance turning over and over in his

gut. He drew a deep racking breath, unable to hide his anguish, not-caring that any and al were there to witness it. "Christ, I can't lose her, not now!"

Geoffrey's face was just as grim. "He can't be far ahead. I'll ready my men and meet you at the gates."

Another figure had appeared before him. Sir Gryffen made no effort to disguise the tears swimming in his eyes. "Milord, I beg of you. Do not make me remain here and wait, knowing my lady is in danger." He stood straight and proud as any warrior half his age. "I would be honored if you would al ow me to serve you, to ride with you as my leader."

Thorne did not consider—there was no need to. He pul ed a dagger of beaten gold bejeweled with three small rubies from the sheath at his waist, the dagger Shana had informed him had been given to the knight by her father. He seized Gryffen's hand and laid it in his palm, closing his fingers around it.

"Sir Gryffen, I believe this has been out of your possession for far too long. And I would be honored, sir, if you were to ride with me—" he did not flinch from the older knight's startled gaze—"not as my servant, but as my equal."

Moments later the pair sped through the gates. Behind them was a smal body of mounted knights.

A brilliant moon spil ed through the cold black sky, lighting the heavens so that they blazed with a milky glow.

Shana sat the horse she'd been given in bone-stiff misery. She had roused herself in the saddle in front of the burly knight who had fetched her from her chamber. She'd been given a mount of her own once they saw that she was awake. She

knew it was so she would not impede their progress, for they rode as if the devil himself nipped at their heels. But they made certain her hands were tied to the saddle. If she tried to slide from the horse she would be dragged. Instinct alone prompted her to scream as they passed through a slumbering vil age. Her mount was jerked to a halt so that she nearly pitched forward over its head. A filthy gag was brutal y thrust between her teeth.

She uttered a silent moan. How much longer would they go on? Her head throbbed where she'd been struck. Thankful y, her dizziness and nausea had passed, but she was so cold she could no longer feel her fingers and toes. Every muscle in her body ached. But it was concern for her unborn babe that outweighed her discomfort by far; would this grueling pace harm her unborn child? She directed a fervent prayer high aloft.