After the Storm (16 page)

"Sleep doesn't help," she agreed. "When you sleep, you dream."

"Everyone dreams, or so Cynric tells me."

"How long have you been an outlaw?" she repeated.

He sighed, and capitulated. "Six months with Cynric's band. My band."

"How were you outlawed? Why?"

"It doesn't matter. Men hunted me. I ran. I didn't get caught."

Something he'd said was setting off warning alarms in her head. People had come to the gates just before the accident. Had Bastien—Bastien the cunning outlaw—come to rob Lilydrake and gotten robbed of his memory instead? No. It couldn't be, she thought. Could it? Could he have been involved—?

"Six months. Headaches. How long have you had the headaches? Where did Cynric find you? You said you're married? There was a woman at—? Do you remember the fire at Lilydrake?"

His head came up sharply, his breath coming out in an angry hiss. He moved swiftly, grabbing her by the shoulders, pulling her close. "What do you know of the fire? What do you know of the woman?" He shook her hard. "My woman."

Bastien's fury sent a shiver of fear through her, his anguish lashed her. She hurt for him, but she controlled her reaction to say calmly, "I wasn't there." She wasn't sure she should lie to him like this. But she wasn't
supposed
to have been there. But if he'd seen her—? If he had information—

"I don't believe you." His voice was calm, the kind of calm found in the eye of a hurricane.

"What do you know?" she demanded, as desperate as he was furious. "Tell me. I Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

need to know."

"You need to know. Always what
you
need."

"You don't even know me!"

"I know your kind,
Lady Isabeau
."

Lord, but the man knew how to turn a title into an insult. "You don't know me,"

she insisted. She wanted to tell him that she didn't know herself, either, but this was not the time. She needed to know what he knew about the accident. Perhaps it would help her get her memory back. "What were you doing there? You and your wife?"

He ignored her questions. "What happened to her? How did she die?" He shook her again. "Was it your doing?"

"What were you doing at Lilydrake?" she demanded in turn. "Would you have killed us when you broke into the castle?"

They were talking at cross-purposes, and the situation was definitely out of control. Libby knew that she should calm down, think logically. Most importantly, she should get away from the man before he drew a weapon and she was forced to do something drastic to escape. She should stay in persona, act like a frightened woman, and run away. The frightened part wouldn't be acting. Yet, even through the fear she was drawn to him.

He pulled her closer to him. With his lips close to her ear, his voice as soft as a caress, he said, "Tell me everything, and you may see another sunrise."

The velvet-voiced threat sent cold terror through her, and a hot rush of desire.

Her own reaction angered her more than his words. He was large, dangerous and lawless, but she refused to be intimidated, or seduced by power.

"Let go of me."

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Bastien laughed. The sound had an insane edge to it. He heard himself as though from a distance, through a haze of confused pain. Control was coming hard. If he let it go he didn't know what he would do to Isabeau, but he knew they would both regret it. He wanted to let her go, to deal with her when he was lucid, but his hands refused to release their grip. His soul screamed for revenge. His body was aware of every warm, inviting curve and hollow of hers, of her heat and vulnerable softness. And some demon of lust was whispering to him that the altar behind them was wide enough for him to lay her down and take her. That would be the beginning of sweet revenge, though he knew that was not the kind he truly wanted.

"I gave you a chance to leave, lady. You should have listened."

"I've decided to leave now. Let go of me."

"I'm not one of your serfs. I give the commands here."

The man's arrogance infuriated her, but not so much that she wasn't aware that he was technically correct in thinking he was in control of the situation. "What if I say please?" she asked.

The dogs had backed away when they'd started arguing. She heard them moving around them. One reacted to the tension with a low, warning growl. She didn't think the threat from the dog was the reason Bastien let her go and took a step back. Then another. He retreated as far as the altar and all she could make out was his darker outline in the heavy darkness of the room. His breathing was loud and ragged, her own echoed his as they both fought to master their emotions.

He didn't know why he'd responded to her sudden humility. It shouldn't have mattered that she asked instead of demanded. It had mattered. It had stopped him from hurting her, at least for the moment. It didn't stop him from wanting her.

She stood before him in a patch of moonlight filtered through a small side Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

window, tall, head lifted proudly as she faced him, hands clasped nervously together, giving the lie to her fearless stance. The stained glass painted her in a patchwork of muted, silver-tinged colors, confusing his perceptions. She looked different, not like the Lady Isabeau he'd held close, twice now, with threats of violence mixed with desire. She looked like someone else, but her name wasn't Isabeau. Pain stabbed through his head when he tried to remember hearing her called by another name.

Perhaps he'd never heard that other name. Perhaps it had been in one of his dreams. "I'm mad, you know," he said. Lights were beginning to burst behind his eyes. He would be blind in a moment.

"I know," she answered, and her voice seemed to come from very far away. "It's not your fault. It's mine."

He wanted to ask what she meant, but words would no longer come. All his senses were concentrated on the pain. Slowly, he sank to his knees. Humiliation burned through him at his weakness. If she touched him now, he would kill her.

Then the dogs started barking and the sound drove into his head like hot nails.

When the deerhounds headed noisily toward the door Libby realized someone was coming. "Damn," she muttered. This was no time for an interruption. She glanced to where Bastien huddled, barely visible by the altar. She understood exactly what the man was going through; she'd been there herself not so long ago. Only she'd had doctors and painkillers and therapists. Never mind what he'd done, he'd had six months of hell. Something had to be done about it.

"Lady Isabeau?" Reynard called from just outside the door.

But not now.

"Sheriff," she called back loudly, and rushed outside.

"Are you all right, my lady?" he asked as she came tumbling through the door, Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

barely managing not to trip over the dogs who insisted on going through the doorway first. "Blasted spoiled animals," he added as they sniffed at him and jumped up to be petted.

"Bless them," she said, thankful for the distraction Luke and Leia were providing. "What are you doing here?" she asked as she stood firmly in front of the church entrance.

"Looking for you, of course. Lady Marjorie is worried."

She doubted Marj had sent him looking for her. Marj Jones knew that she was armed to the teeth, though all of it was carefully camouflaged and only supposed to be used in emergency situations. Even the garnet-studded hairpins holding on her veil were designed to explode. She was just glad she hadn't been forced to use any of her disguised armory on Bastien of Bale. There'd been a few minutes there when she'd been very tempted.

"What were you doing in the church?"

"Praying."

Reynard moved to step around her. With the help of the dogs she blocked his way. "Alone?" His voice was a deep, suspicious rumble.

"Of course."

"You're sure? I thought I heard voices as I came across the square."

"1 pray loudly."

"In a man's voice as well as your own, lady?"

Damn. Reynard of Elansted was far too clever. She was not going to turn Bastien over to him. Maybe the outlaw deserved to be arrested. Not now. Not if she had anything to do with it.

She stepped determinedly forward and took Reynard by the hand. "I think we Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

ought to return to the castle now," she told him.

He chuckled. "I take it you don't want me to see who's in the church? Was it a lover's tryst I interrupted, then?"

"I'm not prepared to answer that," she replied, as prim and proper as she possibly could.

"What would your father say, lady?"

He would say she was a fool to mess with someone like Bastien of Bale, she said to herself. "My father trusts me, Sir Reynard," she said to the sheriff. "As should you. Come along," she said as she tugged on his hand.

Much to her relief all he did was chuckle again, and let her lead him away from the church.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

Chapter 9

The air was damp, not really cold, but uncomfortably chilling. She shivered and
pulled her cape close around her as she stepped outside the hall. Thin wisps of
mist curled in the courtyard. Her head ached. She'd probably drunk just a little
too much the day before, but she felt like she'd been drugged. Her memory of the
party was muzzy, unfocused. That wasn't like her. She shook her head, and
wished she hadn't. She'd come outside because she thought she'd heard
something, but the bailey was silent, and empty of everything but the ghost-like
mist
.

"Must have been my imagination."

"Must have," Ed answered.

She didn't know when she'd stopped being alone. The two of them were standing
by the gate, though she hadn't noticed moving.

"I better go check the holoprojector."

She nodded. Someone knocked on the heavy wooden door. A woman called out.

Outside the gate,

someone screamed. Then the screaming came from inside the gate.

The gate was open without anyone having unlocked it.

A woman ran across the courtyard, skirts and red mane flying. Men poured in.

Weapons were raised.

Sizemore, Susan - After the Storm

The next scream came from her own throat. Terror shook her. Nowhere was
safe. She ran for the tower.

Bastien was there before her. He was wild-eyed, frantic. He fought off a
swordsman with his quarter-staff then turned on her, angry-eyed. He pushed her
inside. "You'll be safe here."

"
No! There's no safety there! Don't you understand? It's going to
—"

He grabbed her, and kissed her hard. So hard she felt bruised and branded. He
stroked her cheek, ran a finger across her lips. He started to say something.

One of the invaders called out, "That's Bas! Get him!"

He ran away. He left her. Then the darkness came and swallowed her whole.

She woke up in darkness, curled up in a knot and sobbing her heart out. "It was just a dream," she whispered when she finally knew she was awake, but it was a long time before reality settled on her. She realized that she was in the tower room she shared with the other women, lying on the straw-mattress bed Ed had made for her. The room wasn't as grimly dark as she'd thought it was. Maybe the world wasn't either.