Rowena Through the Wall: Expanded Edition (15 page)

"There is that," I said quietly.

So the die was cast.

My heart was heavy. Surely there was some way I could get out of this?

"I should tell you right now that we are being married tomorrow," he said. "That's where I went just now. To see the priest."

I almost swore.

He frowned. "Do not think you can wiggle out of this, Rowena. I fought hard for you. And I plan to keep you." He lifted my chin with one finger. "Mark my words. Woe betides the man who tries to come between us. I'll show no mercy."

I quivered with fear.

"I'm not a bad man, Lady. I am a hard man, though."

"Really?" God, what was I doing?

Sargon threw his tunic on the floor. "Come and see, fair maiden."

He led me to the bed and I allowed him to unfasten my dress. He raised the fabric over my head and tossed it on the chair. Standing behind me, he wrapped his arms around me and cradled my breasts in his hands.

"These," he whispered, "drive me insane. You are so very beautiful."

He kissed my neck and rested his head on my shoulder. His hands continued to play with my breasts.

He released a deep sigh. "I want to take you, but I'm so tired I can't stay upright."

The relief I felt was palpable.

"Lay down," I ordered. "Let me see your wound. Is it hurting?"

He had ridden hard all day with a wound in his side.

"Like the fires of hell," he admitted, lying down on the bed.

I retrieved my bag, took out two pill containers and grabbed a tankard. "Here. Swallow these. One is a painkiller and the other is an antibiotic. It fights infection."

He did as he was told―probably the first time ever―and then settled back, exhausted. Closing his eyes, he said, "I'm sorry."

I crawled onto the other side of the bed and lifted the bandage. The wound looked raw, but not infected.

"Tell me something," I sai
d. "This land is Sargonia. The river is the River Sargon and this is Castle Sargon, so it occurs to me that Sargon must be your family name. Am I right?"

"Yes. So?"

"So you must have another name―a first name. What did your mother call you when she was ali
ve?"

"Wolf," he said in a faint voice. "My name is Wolf."

I nearly rolled off the bed. Before I could think of a fitting response, soft snoring filled the room. After a while, I fell asleep too.

Hours later, I awoke.

Sargon was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Where's Kendra?" I asked.

"She's fine. I've put her in your old room. Logan is guarding her door."

I shot out of bed. "You
what
?"

"He's completely loyal and very skilled with a sword. He won't let anyone harass her."

"Oh my God." I was pulling on clothes faster than a Florida matron at a designer sale. "Have you no sense?"

"There's nothing to worry about."

"You might as well have put a fox in charge of the hen house."

And I didn't mean Logan.

I was out of the room before Sargon was dressed. Racing down the corridor, I took the stairs up to my old room. Sargon was hot on my tail.

Sure enough, no Logan guarding the door.

Laughter came from the room.

I pounded on the door until my fist hurt. "Kendra Perkins! If you have been corrupting that poor young man, so help me God, I will fry you like a chicken."

The giggles stopped.

"I'm fine," Logan said from behind the door.

"We're both fine," Kendra called out.

"You're both toast," I yelled.

I turned to Sargon, who was looking rather pale. "Crap."

About mid-morning, Kendra skipped into my bedroom.

I hugged her. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, her eyes widening at my physical affection.

I studied her face. It was clean of makeup and she looked like a cute little pixie.

"In fact, I'm terrific," she said, smi
ling.

I drew back and fought for control. "You little idiot. Have you any idea―?" I started to pace. "You can't mess around with guys here. These men are dangerous. They have antiquated rules about honor and stuff. They
kill
people, for Pete's sake."

"I'm
not messing around with Logan."

"Look," I said. "Gareth―that's my second husband―was going to burn Castle Huel to the ground if I didn't go back with him. And Ivan would have slaughtered Gareth―and I do mean
slaughtered
―if I hadn't intervened. And Sargon? Don't even get me started on him. You missed the whole moronic duel thing. And believe me, it wasn't pretty."

Kendra shrugged. "Logan told me."

"And about Logan," I was on a roll, "that poor young man is going to consider you
his
, and there's nothing you are going to be able to do about that."

"That's okay. I don't mind."

I glared at her as if she had suddenly sprouted elf ears.

"That's nuts," I said, outraged. "I can't believe this. I'm responsible for you. How old are you anyway?"

"Nineteen next month." Kendra raised her head with pride.

"Well, at least you're of age," I muttered.

She sat on my bed with her knees up and her arms around them.

"Kendra, I'm being serious here. You so much as flirt with another man and Logan will have to challenge him. And that will end badly, I can assure you."

"I won't do anything stupid." Her eyes looked dreamy.

"And another thing…" I was starting to sound like her mother. "That boy is smitten. Have you thought of how it will tear Logan apart when you go?"

A pause. "Go where?"

"Back to Scottsdale, of course."

Another pause.

"But I'm not going b
ack, Rowena. We talked about it last night. Logan says that since the king is his cousin, there won't be any problem. I can be pledged to him―whatever
that
means. I can stay here and help you with the animals."

"The animals..." I must be going insane.

"Yea
h. Logan has gone down to speak to Sargon right now, to get it all arranged."

My mouth was dry. "You're going to help me with the animals."

"Sure." Kendra grinned. "And when you have children, I can help with that too. I love kids."

Something in my face must have given me away.

"Oh my God," she said, her gray eyes large. "I get it now. You aren't planning to stay yourself."

I hesitated. "I haven't made up my mind."

"Does Sargon know?"

"Of course not. I'm not a complete idiot. He'd chain me to the bloody wall."

"That's not fair. This whole war thing is all about you. And you're just going to leave?"

I stood with my mouth open. I didn't know what to say, but that was okay because apparently Kendra hadn't finished yet.

"And you accuse
me
of leading Logan on?"

Damn. I hate it when my own words are thrown back at me.

I sucked in air. "Look, Kendra, I don't know what I'm going to do. This place scares the crap out of me." I plunked down on the bed beside her. "You know about the curse?"

She nodded.

"Then you know what I'm up against. My mother was the Earl's daughter and that makes me a bloody heir factory."

"A what?"

"A vessel for producing royal babies."

"Sounds gross when you put it that way." She wrinkled her nose.

This was better. She was getting it.

"My mother left here because she didn't want that sort of life. I don't want it either. I'm a practicing vet, for Pete's sake. I don't want to have a baby here in this primitive place. Did you know fifty percent of women died in childbirth before 1920?"

"But how can you leave? Don't you love him?"

She meant Sargon, of course.

Did I love him? I almost laughed out loud. No, I didn't. I was sure of that.

Sargon intrigued me, it's true. The scientist in me wanted to explore what I was seeing when we were in the throes of passion. He scared the dickens out of me in other ways though.

I didn't like that he had power over my body and restricted my movements. The rational side of me said I needed to do his bidding in order to survive. But I was used to complete freedom―or at least the freedom to choose my own actions. This loss of control
was terrifying. I feared the way he so often leapt to violence and seemed to relish it.

"Look at this pragmatically," I said. "If I loved him, I wouldn't be able to leave him. Since I'm thinking of leaving him, that ought to mean something."

"But you didn't leave the guy yesterday when you had the chance," Kendra countered. "You could have stayed in Scottsdale and not gone back through the wall. I think you care a lot more than you admit."

Poor Kendra. I hated to burst her dream of romantic love.

"The thing is, I love Grandfather and I know it would break his heart if I left like my mom did. Especially now that Ivan and Jon have gone. For now, I guess I'm staying for Grandfather. But I don't know what I'm going to do in the long run. Honest. I'll tell you when I figure it out so you can make a choice too." I eyed her with frustration. "But what about you? Don't you have family that will miss you or something?"

Kendra shook her head. "Mom and Dad split years ago. They each have new families and live in Memphis. I hardly ever see them."

I wondered if the Goth phase was a bid to fit in somewhere, anywhere.

"Why were you in the classroom yesterday when I went through the wall?"

"To get my final mark. You were going to hand them out."

"Of course!" I'd forgotten all about end of term. "Ninety-two."

She clapped her hands. "Awesome!"

"Yes, it was top mark." I smiled.

Kendra had such promise, if only she would go back and finish school. Ah well, I didn't want to make her sad.

"Let's talk about something else for a while," I said.

"Okay. How about the feast tonight? What are you wearing?"

Now
that
was a happier subject.

"I've got a choice. Let me show you." I headed for the closet. "Oh, before I do that, I've got something for you. Four things, actually. Two day dresses and two gowns. They're too small for me, but they should fit you fine."

When I pulled the two gowns from the closet, Kendra squealed. One was deep red velvet with black trim. The other was copper brown.

"The red one!" She held it against her. "I've always
wanted to dress like they do at those medieval festivals. This is perfect."

"Try it on."

She whipped off her Goth garb―no modesty there―flung the dress over her head and smoothed it down.

What a transformation.

"Kendra, you look amazing."

Her smile was rad
iant. "It's pretty, isn't it? Do you think Logan will like it?"

I snorted. "He'll have to fight the other men off. It fits you perfectly. You don't even need a bra."

"I'm not stacked like you," she said with good-natured envy.

"Well, there are disadvantages to that, let me tell you."

She raised a brow.

"They get in the way a lot," I said.

"What are you going to wear?"

"This."

I showed her the blue gown with fox trim. I held up a second dress. It was burgundy-cherry silk, with off-the-shoulder sleeves, high gathered waist, a low-cut sweetheart neckline, and an underskirt of silver satin. "Or this. Which do you think?"

"That one." She pointed to the cherry silk. "That's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

"I don't usually wear these colors because of my hair. But this one is probably dark enough."

"It'll be awesome with your hair. Honest. I wouldn't lie." She twirled, playing with her skirt.

I put both gowns away in the wardrobe.

Kendra stopped twirling. "Where are we, Row? What is this place? It seems
like ancient Britain, but it's not."

"Why do you say that?"

"I would put the culture here as early Saxon. After the Romans. But the clothes are all wrong and so are the fabrics. These dresses are more neoclassical. Or even Renaissance―from centuries later.
And these lavender colors? Mauve dye wasn't even available until around 1830." She glanced out the window. "It's more than that, though. The sun isn't right. The colors here are wrong for England."