Susan Spencer Paul (19 page)

Jumping through the wall opening, Hugh ran all the way to where Rosaleen was wearily stumbling through the fields. When he came on her she looked up, her face stained with tears, full of misery.

“You little idiot!” he swore, seeing her exhaustion. “What were you thinking to do such a thing?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and fell right into Hugh’s arms.

When Rosaleen next opened her eyes it was to find herself lying on her bed, being tended gently by Hugh Caldwell.

“What…?” She tried to sit, but he lightly pushed her back down.

“Don’t move, sweeting. All is well. Go back to sleep.”

His voice was low and soothing. Too weary to argue, Rosaleen obediently closed her eyes and relaxed upon the soft bed. A touch of wet warmth against one of her legs brought her eyes open again, and she realized, with some surprise, that Hugh was bathing her.

“Go away,” she murmured. “I don’t want you touching me.”

“Do you not?” he asked, sounding slightly amused. “But you’ve not the strength to stop me, so you shall have to suffer it. Besides, sweet, this isn’t the first time I’ve cared for you in such a way.”

Turning her head away, she made no reply, and Hugh continued bathing her legs and feet in silence. When he lifted one of her arms and ran the cloth over it, he said quietly, “Rosaleen, we must speak of what happened this morn…about what you saw in my chamber and about what took place in the hall. I know what it must have looked like when you saw Erda in my bed, but I assure you it was not what you think. And as for the other, in the hall, I couldn’t go back on my promise as the master of Briarstone, and I certainly couldn’t let you gainsay me before all my—”

She groaned loudly. “Not
now,
Hugh Caldwell. Do you possess no mercy at all?”

With a frown, he began to bathe her face and said, “Aye, you are full weary and must rest. I know you were angry, but I wish you would have given me a chance to explain before you ran away in such a rage. Perhaps you meant to punish me, but you hurt only yourself. Do you not think it foolish to spite yourself so? To no good purpose?”

Yawning, she replied, “You would know the answer to that better than I, Hugh Caldwell, for you have spent the last ten years spiting yourself.” She yawned once more and closed her eyes, drifting into slumber and leaving Hugh staring at her with a thoroughly confused expression.

“R
osaleen, sweet. Sweet Rosaleen.”

The husky words were breathed against the tender skin just beneath her ear, followed by the moist, gentle pressure of a mouth, the light, hot lick of a tongue.

“You’ve been asleep all day, dearling, and I’ve come to the end of my patience. Come, my beautiful Rosaleen. Wake now. Can you not feel how much I need you?”

The fingers of Rosaleen’s left hand were molded gently around a familiar length of rigid flesh, and with a sleepy moan she tightened her grasp.

“Mmm.” She moved her hand slowly up and down the length of him, drawing out the stiff shudders her caresses always wrought from him. She turned on her side, toward him, seeking his heat, and was rewarded with the gentle warmth of Hugh’s mouth closing over hers. His hands moved beneath her chemise, tickling her bare skin.

“Hugh,” she murmured when his mouth moved to her throat. “Hugh.” Her hand upon him slowed. “Hugh.” Her hand stopped altogether, and her eyes opened.

Hugh found himself suddenly being shoved away, and in the next moment he was entirely bereft, Rosaleen having leapt out of his bed.

“What in the—”

“I do
not
believe you!”

Blinking, Hugh looked first at his empty hands, which had only seconds earlier been filled with sweet, warm flesh, then up at Rosaleen, who was standing beside the bed, hands on hips, glaring down at him.

“Is aught amiss, sweeting?” he asked.

“Your
mind
is amiss, you wretched beast! Or what little you possess that might be mistaken for a mind!”

She turned to go, but before Rosaleen could take one step she was caught by the wrist and dragged back onto the bed.

“Release me!” she screeched furiously, struggling in vain against Hugh’s superior strength. “You cannot force me to share your bed!”

“Why are you behaving in such a manner?” he asked with honest confusion. “You’re not still angry about this morn, are you? I explained about that earlier. Do you not remember? Or do you fear sleeping in this bed after Erda had her filthy person in it? In truth, she did leave some few fleas behind, but I bade Elizabeth change the bedclothes this afternoon, so all is well again.”

“I would rather sleep with the fleas than with you!” Rosaleen shouted. “Release me, Hugh Caldwell. I want no explanations. Indeed, I want naught from you at all! If you need a woman so much, go slake yourself with your new whore!”

“With my
what!”
he returned, much offended. “You think I’d make a foul-smelling creature like that a whore of mine? God’s mercy, Rosaleen, you should know me better than that after the time we’ve spent together.”

She laughed, bitterly, and kept trying to gain freedom. As much as she tugged and fought, however, he only held her that much more tightly.

“Calm yourself, sweeting. You cannot truly think I have replaced you with any other.” But the look on her face told him that she thought just that. “Rosaleen, you little fool…”

“If you do not take your filthy hands off me, I swear by all that is holy I shall scream the bricks from the walls!”

Oblivious to the precarious state of her emotions, Hugh grinned. “Why, Rosaleen, you’re jealous. I never expected such an open declaration of your feelings, but I’m pleased. Most pleased, dearling.” With an infuriating chuckle, he released her and sat up. “But there is no need to be so distraught. If you will only let me explain what happened last night, I vow you will find the tale most entertaining.”

With a look of disgust, Rosaleen stood and headed once more for the chamber door.

“Stop, Rosaleen.”

“Go rot in hell.” She flung the words back at him, continuing her course.

“You vowed to obey me in all things,” he reminded her. “Will you go back on your word now? Like one with no honor, Rosaleen?”

She stopped, her back rigid.

“My vow to obey you had nothing to do with sharing your bed,” she stated furiously. “I have done so freely and of my own accord, but I choose to do so no longer, and I will not.”

The sound of him getting out of the bed sent a shiver of fright through her. In another moment his hands gripped her shoulders, spinning her around. In the dim light their eyes met and held.

“You are mine, Rosaleen.
Mine.
What’s between us has naught to do with vows or promises or any other damned
thing. If you ever say such a foolish thing again I’ll wring your neck!”

“I’m not yours!” she cried, torn between anger and hurt. “No longer. You brought that whore home and took her into your bed. You chose her above me!”

Amazed, Hugh shook his head. “Women are the most senseless creatures on God’s earth, and you, my darling, are worse than most. Tell me why, please, I should want that wretched little girl when I already possess such a beautiful creature to warm my bed?”

“You seemed content with her this morn,” Rosaleen replied tartly. “Indeed, you seemed more than content.”

“If I did, it is because I thought she was you. That is God’s truth, Rosaleen, I swear it. Last night in Stenwick, Pete and Stew and I got so soused that not a one of us could have told you our names. Pete and Stew took a liking to the tavern whores and decided to bring the wenches back to Briarstone, and somewhere along the way I must have offered them a home. I can’t be sure of it, for I don’t remember a moment of the ride, or even much of what took place at the tavern, for that matter.” His voice filled with remorse. “I tell you true, dearling, I never meant to get so drunk, though I don’t expect you to forgive me, for there is no excuse for letting myself get so far gone that I took another female into our bed.”

“I don’t know why it should bother you,” she returned. “Indeed, after hearing of your many adventures last eve, I should think that servicing more than one or two or even three females at a time wouldn’t turn a hair upon your head.”

It took a moment, but Hugh managed to control the almost overwhelming urge to laugh out loud. Clearing his throat, he tried to speak as normally as possible.

“Rosaleen, darling, I cannot deny any of what my friends spoke last eve.” Lightly, his fingers squeezed her arms and drew her closer. “I am not like my brother Hugo, more saint than sinner. You know that better than anyone, having been at my mercy from the very day we met. But those days are in the past, Rosaleen. I promise you they are. Now I want only one woman.” He smiled and added teasingly, “At a time, of course.”

Rosaleen knew he was only trying to make light of what was, for him, a most serious speech. She knew it, but the knowledge didn’t soothe her. She had wanted her time with him at Briarstone, true, but the sight of him with Erda had forced her to face the truth. There was only one month remaining of her service to him, and after that she would leave. She loved him; for her the parting would be unbearably painful, for him it would be a small inconvenience. Perhaps Erda had been only a brief substitution, but she had been a substitution all the same, and the fact that Hugh Caldwell had taken the girl to his bed at all only proved how quickly and easily he would find someone to take her place once she was gone.

Not looking at him, ignoring the warm caresses of his hands on her arms, Rosaleen said in a small voice, “I am weary. I wish to return to my chamber.”

Hugh raised his eyebrows. “Do you not believe me, Rosaleen? I tell you in all truth that I thought it was you who lay beside me this morn.”

“I believe you.”

“But you are not satisfied,” he said, frowning at the sad sound of her.

“It matters not, Hugh—”

He was suddenly angry. “You are the only woman I want. The only one, I swear it. What more would you have from me?”

“To be let go,” she begged. “To be left alone for the next month until I’m free to leave this wretched place.”

“No,” he said tightly. “No.”

“Hypocrite!” she cried, hurt beyond reason. “You say you want me, only me, but you lie! Can you swear by all that is holy that you didn’t join your body with hers last night? Can you?”

Meeting her pained gaze, Hugh replied, “No.”

Rosaleen’s head drooped forward. “Oh, God’s mercy…”

His arms went around her trembling body, hugging her. “Rosaleen, what would you have of me? I cannot lie to you. I was so damned drunk…my memories are so few. I wish I could tell you that naught happened between Erda and myself, but I can’t. It’s been so long since I’ve joined myself to a woman’s body, and lying with you night after night…wanting you so badly…it’s possible…very possible that I joined myself to her, thinking she was you. And I think…Merciful God, Rosaleen, I think I did.”

The sobs that came from her broke his heart, and he wanted to fall on his knees and beg her forgiveness. But he couldn’t. It wasn’t in him to do so…like so many other qualities he didn’t possess. He could only do what he had always done—try to fight his way out.

“Damn!” he muttered, his anger directed all at himself but his words striking her. “I should have known to expect such as this from a virgin! If you didn’t prize that maidenhead of yours like some kind of holy relic, I never would have done it! You’re the one to blame for what happened, so don’t think I’ll keep pleading your forgiveness like some noble knight of the realm! I’m not noble and I’m not a knight and you damned well know it!”

When she made no reply but only continued to sob against him, he went on, heedlessly, thoughtlessly. “Damn
all wellborn ladies! Give me a good whore any day and I’ll be a happier man!”

Shoving free, she slapped him with a force that stunned them both.

In silence, they stared at each other.

“You gave me your vow…” he warned.

“You’ll never know what I gave you!” she cried wrathfully, wiping her wet eyes with the back of her hand. “But for all that, I honor my vows. I’ll be your servant for the next eight and twenty days, my Lord Caldwell, but I’ll no longer be your whore. If you want a woman, find one among the females from Stenwick, but leave my ladies and myself alone.”

Hugh gave her no reply, and Rosaleen turned and left the room.

A
lthough he already knew what the answer would be, Christian Rowsenly looked down upon the bent head of his master and asked the question anyway.

“Will you be returning to the keep with us for the midday meal?”

Not looking up from the dark earth out of which he was pulling ripe beans, Hugh replied, “Not today. Have food sent back for me.”

And that was that. The same as every day for the past two weeks. Not that Christian could blame his master…mealtimes at Briarstone had, of late, been unpleasant events. Gone were the relaxed chattering and easy comfort of the meals the people had enjoyed after the arrival of their new master and the lady Rosaleen, and in their place were stiff, quiet minutes during which everyone finished their meals as quickly as they could. Since the day that Lady Rosaleen had put the girl Erda in her chair, it had been thus, though Erda now sat with the other women of Briarstone while the lady Rosaleen rigidly took her place beside Hugh Caldwell.

They did not speak with each other any longer, Hugh Caldwell and Lady Rosaleen, or at least they didn’t if they could avoid it, and when they couldn’t avoid it, the words
they exchanged were short and few. They no longer played chess after the evening meal or sat by the fire talking and teasing and laughing. They no longer sent secret smiles to each other or went for long walks in the cool of the summer evenings. They avoided one another, and their previously pleasant natures had become so unpleasant that the people of Briarstone did their best to avoid their master and lady, too.

This was the worst of it, Christian thought. Hugh Caldwell’s insistent and daily desire to work himself to death. Perhaps, thought Christian as he considered his master’s sweat-drenched back, this was Hugh Caldwell’s way of keeping his surly temper under rein. He had snapped and growled at so many of the people lately that Christian fully expected him to lash out at the
very
next man to cross his path, including himself. The constant tension of Hugh Caldwell’s body, the tautness of the muscles beneath his flesh, reminded Christian of an arrow set upon a hard-pulled bow, wanting only to spring wildly free at the moment of release.

“If that is what you wish,” Christian said at last.

“It is,” Hugh said, still not lifting his head. In another moment he heard a sigh, and then Christian turned and walked away. When he was certain the boy was far enough away, Hugh stopped his work, rested his forehead upon one knee and gave way to his misery.

Nothing he did soothed the ache inside him. Nothing. He could work himself into the grave or fight a hundred men or drink until he could no longer stand…none of it was going to help. He had run out of ways to escape his pain, and living with it day by day was worse than slow death.

There were so many thoughts whirling in his mind that he could no longer separate the pain of one from the other.
Rosaleen, the truth of his birth, memories of the man he’d called father and, worst of all, his dreams…dreams that had so blissfully disappeared during the months he had held Rosaleen in his arms but which now plagued him night after night after night until Hugh wondered if he would go mad from them.

Sometimes he thought he should release Rosaleen of her debt to him and send her away…to London, where she wanted to be and where he would no longer look upon her every day, wanting and aching for her and not being able to touch or even speak to her kindly. She hated and despised him. She’d made that clear on that night two weeks ago when she’d walked out of his chamber. If she’d been any other woman, Hugh never would have let her get away with it. He would have pursued her and forced her back into his bed where she belonged, but for once in his sorry life, he’d been unable to take what he wanted and had simply stood there and felt all the dreams he’d harbored of a future with Rosaleen drain out of his heart like sand pouring through his fingers.

Because he loved her.

He hadn’t been able to pursue her because he loved her and because he’d hurt her. And if by some miracle she did stay with him, he would hurt her again and again. His soul was empty of good yet so full of bad. No matter how hard he might try not to, and in spite of the fact that he loved Rosaleen more than he had known it possible for a man to love a woman, he would hurt her. As sure as the sun rose in the sky each morn, he knew this was the truth.

And so he had let her go, and in two weeks’ time he would let her go again. Forever.

Hugh shut his eyes and let the pain wash over him. A few deep breaths helped him through the worst, and when
it had passed he told himself that a broken heart wasn’t so unbearable once you began to get used to it.

“Hugh! Hugh Caldwell! Come quickly! Alec Berry is being beaten to death!”

Hearing Christian’s panicked cry, Hugh reacted out of instinct, uncoiling like a snake from his crouched position and leaping through the tall stalks of wheat toward the sound of Christian’s voice. Running fiercely, he briefly took in the sight of a giant man on horseback whipping Alec Berry. Not slowing, an animal cry tearing from his throat, he threw himself at the man full force, and the momentum and impact bore both men down to the ground, where they landed with a thud, Hugh on top, straddling the big man’s body. The next moment Hugh raised both fists and smashed them into the man’s face, cursing him roundly all the while, until the giant managed to free one of his own hands to start swinging.

The fight lasted only a few, wild moments before Hugh was dragged away from his opponent by several armed men who, using their combined strengths, overpowered and held him. Hugh’s own men, he saw at once, were held at sword point by what looked like the rest of a small army.

“By God’s holy bones, I swear I will kill you!” Hugh raged at the giant he’d left lying in the dirt, who with visible effort was trying to sit. “These are
my
lands and my people! You’ve no right to trespass and lay a hand to any of them! I’ll go to the king and have your head!”

“God’s teeth! It’s Hugh Caldwell!”

In an instant Hugh found himself freed, the arms around him melting away like snow on a fire, and then, suddenly, he was surrounded by a sea of familiar faces.

Breathing hard, shaking his head to clear it, he gaped at the men.

“Stephan…Stephan Ayrell,” he managed to say.

“Hello, Hugh Caldwell,” that man replied with a grin. “It’s been a long while.”

Hugh kept looking around. “Roger Wade…Alan of Tyneham…Rob…Rob Barstett.”

“Good to see you, Hugh,” Alan of Tyneham said, laughing and extending an arm in greeting. “Leave it to Hugh Caldwell to attack his old friends like some wild beast come out of the woods! He’s the only man who could do it and not be thought crazed.”

Stiffening, Hugh pushed his friends aside and strode toward the man he’d left in the road. “Then who by the Fiend is this?” he demanded, stopping short as the giant, rubbing tentatively at his temple, turned his head to offer Hugh a wry smile.

“Damn you, Hugh! I think you broke my head. Must you ever be seeking a fight every moment of the day?”

Hugh lowered a hand and helped the giant to his feet.

“Simon of Denning! By the rood, I had no idea ‘twas you!”

Laughing, still rubbing his sore head, Simon of Denning said, “I hope not, Hugh Caldwell, else I’d think our friendship over. Can you not simply greet a man with a hand grasp?”

Hugh frowned, remembering the sight of Simon beating Alec Berry. With renewed anger he grasped the bigger man’s tunic and dragged him closer. “What do you mean by beating one of my men?”

“Calm yourself, Hugh,” Simon advised, placing his own hairy hands over Hugh’s and squeezing with a force meant to break bones. “I asked the man a question he refused to answer, and I paid him his due for showing his betters such a lack of respect.” He crushed Hugh’s hands more tightly, but to no avail. “A breach of simple law that I might remind you of, Hugh Caldwell. I could have killed
him for it, if I’d wished, just as I could kill you for laying hands on one of your betters, if I wished.”

With a strength born out of years of rage and bitterness, Hugh gritted his teeth against the pain of Simon of Denning’s punishing hands and replied, “I may be bastard born,
Sir
Simon, and I may not be a grand knight of the realm, but at least I’m not ugly.”

The fury that colored Simon’s face gave Hugh all the edge he needed, and yanking his hands free, he delivered a blow to Simon of Denning’s face, so powerful that it landed the giant on his back again.

Towering over him, Hugh met Simon’s dark, outraged eyes. “Lay a hand to a man of mine again, Simon of Denning, and I’ll not give a thought to all the times we fought side by side. I’ll kill you outright and take the consequences. On that you have my solemn vow. Now, what are you doing here?” Reaching down, he helped the man to his feet once more.

“I think,” Simon stated, dusting himself, “that you are the only man I’d let fell me twice and allow to live, Hugh Caldwell. You have saved my life on the field of battle too many times for me to slay you easily, but I, too, will make a vow. If you dare to lay another of your commoner’s hands on me again, bastard of Wellewyn, I will kill you, regardless that you are the brother of the Lord of Gyer, and I’ll not think of the consequences, either.”

Hugh nodded. “Fair enough, Simon. Now tell me what you’re doing on my land, then leave.”

Simon scowled. “Come, Hugh, cry friends and walk with me, that I may speak to you in peace and see this new land of yours. I must say, I am impressed. I never expected you to make anything of yourself.”

He started in the direction of the keep, but Hugh stood where he was, watching him distrustfully. He had been one
of few men to call Simon of Denning his friend, but it was an uncertain honor. He liked Simon well enough as a soldier and as a fellow gambler, but there was no denying that the man was an animal in every sense of the word, and Hugh didn’t trust him any farther than he could throw him.

Looking back, seeing Hugh standing in his place, Simon prodded impatiently, “Come along, Hugh. I’ll only take a few minutes of your precious time, and then my men and I shall leave. I swear it by God.”

First casting a meaningful glance at the men, his friends, whom Simon of Denning had bought with his money, just as Hugh himself had been bought so many times before, Hugh moved to follow.

“As good as it is to see you again, Simon,” Hugh said, keeping a careful distance between Simon and him, “it is harvest time and my men and I are very busy.”

“I understand,” Simon replied easily, “but as I made a special trip to Briarstone simply to see you, Hugh, the least you can do is spare me a little of your time.”

One of Hugh’s eyebrows slanted upward. “What is it, then? I suppose Peter Brenten and Stewart of Byrne told you I was here. They stopped here two weeks past on their way to London. They decided not to join you?”

Simon shook his head. “They have, but I’ve sent them off with a separate army led by Gerry Walson.”

“Ah, in search of your betrothed. Pete and Stew told me she’d been taken captive, and I was sorry to hear of it. That’s a bad turn for you, Simon.”

“More than you know, Hugh, more than you know.”

The sadness in his tone surprised Hugh.

“God’s teeth, never tell me you love the woman! I’d not believe it! Not after all the years we’ve known one another.”

Simon chuckled. “You think I’ve no heart, then, Hugh? Well, that may be true, but if I could love a woman it would be this one. She is beautiful, so perfect, so…” He thought for a moment, clearly trying to find the right words. “She’s the kind of woman,” he said at last, “who makes a man feel lost the moment he sets eyes on her. Do you know what I mean, Hugh?”

Grimly, Hugh nodded. “Aye, I know just what you mean.” Then he tilted his head, regarding his companion. “She’s a duchess, or so Peter told me. I must admit, I never thought of you as a duke, Simon. A damned weighty title, if you ask me.”

“No, no, she’s a countess,” Simon corrected, waving a hand as if to wave away the misconception. “Or a future countess, I should say, though once we’re wed she’ll give away her right to that title forever. She’ll be my baroness and no more. I’ve no use for haughty females who think they’re better than I or any other man.”

Without even knowing her, Hugh felt sorry for the girl and wondered anew if she’d run away rather than been taken captive.

“Her uncle,” Simon went on, “who will inherit the title once we’ve wed, has his own army searching for her, and the king has his men out, as well, but none of us has found even a trace of her.”

“There must have been something, surely,” Hugh stated, “else how would you know whether she’d been taken rather than simply run off? Has there not been a ransom demand?”

“No, only the fact that she is gone. ‘Tis her uncle, Sir Anselm, who insists the girl has been taken, and I believe it, for she knows full well what her recompense would be if she dared to run from me of her own free will. I would
kill her if she did such a thing. I would put my hands around her soft neck and squeeze the life from her.”

“Come, come, Simon,” Hugh said, amazed at his companion’s quick fury, “no woman on earth is worth getting that angered over.”

“This one is, Hugh. By the rood, she is. There is no other woman like my beautiful heiress of Siere. I wanted her the moment I saw her, as I’ve never wanted another. Everything about her is lovely beyond belief, as though she were made from heaven and not earth.”

Staring at his friend’s lovesick expression, Hugh almost felt like laughing. Simon would change his mind about his heiress right quick if he could ever see Rosaleen, Hugh thought. No woman existed who could be more lovely than she.

“She’s a stubborn wench,” Simon admitted, “and needs a firm hand. I’ve not yet found the way to draw her tears, though God alone knows how I’ve tried, but that will be a small matter when we’ve wed. I will be master in my home, and she will bend her knee. On our wedding night she’ll learn it, I vow, and ‘twill be sweet indeed to see her lowered before me, a proper and obedient wife to be used for her husband’s pleasure.”