Castle of the Wolf (8 page)

“The bandage isn’t soaked through, and that’s a good sign,” he said as he moved her skirt and shift back into place. “I’m going to fetch more wood, if I can find any that’s dry. Stay where you are and don’t move about.”

She glared at him with all the majesty of an outraged monarch before he shoved open the door and went outside. So what if he was half-naked and the rain was pouring down and the air was cold? If he caught a chill, it would be small recompense for the pain and trouble he’d caused her.

Later, when he fell asleep, she would get away. It might be dark and raining, but she could take the horse and surely she could find some sign of the way to the road.

If he didn’t fall asleep, or woke up before she could get to his horse, she must be prepared to fight.

Looking around, she spotted a loose bit of wood at the base of the wall within reach. She had to lean to get it, but with a little effort, it came away. She shoved her makeshift weapon under the straw just before Rheged returned. He’d found a few more sticks, and he shoved them into the dwindling flames before sitting back on his haunches. In that position, with the water dripping down his broad shoulders and naked chest, and his long damp hair brushing his shoulders, he looked not so much like a demon as a warrior king from the days of the Celts and Picts.

A handsome, savage warrior king, with corded muscles and scars of battle, the wet cloth clinging to his powerful thighs. But a savage nonetheless.

She reached for his tunic, ignoring the twinge of pain. “Put this on,” she said, tossing it at him.

It nearly landed in the fire and he had to lunge to save it. “You need it more than I,” he said, throwing it back at her.

“You are in a state of undress that I find offensive,” she retorted. “Isn’t it enough that you stole me away without forcing me to look at your nakedness?”

“If my
state of undress
offends you, my lady, don’t look.”

“Very well, stay that way, and catch your death of cold.”

“I’ve been plenty colder in my life, and I never get sick.”

“Not even if you’re soaked through?”

“Not even then.”

“How miraculous,” she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm as the water dripped from him.

“I suppose,” he said with a shrug before he shook his hair back from his forehead. “But I don’t get sick. I’ve never had a fever in my life.” He stirred the fire so the flames shot higher. “I don’t think you’re the sickly sort, either. Although you swooned, you seem very robust otherwise.”

Robust? Hardly a compliment for a lady, but this was hardly the time for compliments.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to eat. I left Cwm Bron in a hurry.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Rest, then.”

She lay down and feigned sleep as best she could, occasionally opening one eye to see what he was doing. For a long time, he simply sat and stared at the flames. Eventually he drew up his knees, wrapped his arms about his legs and laid his head down.

If he wasn’t asleep, he would be soon, for he was clearly exhausted. So was she. If she didn’t move, she might fall sleep herself, so Tamsin very slowly, carefully and quietly pulled the stout stick from under her makeshift bed. Very slowly, carefully and quietly she sat up and inched her way forward, ignoring the pain in her leg. When she was near Rheged, she raised the stick, ready to clout him.

He sat up with a jerk and grabbed her upraised arm, forcing it—and her—down, until his body pinned her to the ground.

“Are you mad?” he demanded, his face barely an inch from hers, his dark eyes full of anger and his lips a thin and angry line.

Chapter Six

“N
o, I’m not, but you may be,” Tamsin retorted as she tried to shove him away. Unfortunately she could no more move a boulder than Rheged of Cwm Bron. “Taking me from Castle DeLac was the act of a madman. Or perhaps you took a severe blow to the head during the melee.”

“A person would have to be mad to think she could get back to Castle DeLac alone in the rain and the dark and with a wounded leg,” he charged. “Are you truly so determined to marry Blane that you’ll risk your life for it? Or perhaps you’re seeking death rather than marriage.”

“I have no wish to die,” she answered just as forcefully, “but you have no right to keep me here—or do you intend to prove that you don’t, after all, possess a shred of chivalry?”

“I would never take a woman against her will,” he repeated as he finally moved away from her.

She began to breathe easier and levered herself up on her elbows. Meanwhile, he grabbed her makeshift weapon and shoved it in the fire. The flames leapt higher, lighting his stern visage and bronzing his naked chest.

“I may be humbly born, but I possess more honor than the man you’re so keen to marry,” he growled, glaring at her with his grim brown eyes. “Let me enlighten you a little more, my lady. No serving woman or village wench is safe from his lust. They hide when they see him coming—and from his oldest son, too. A woman Blane and Broderick can’t take by seduction, they take by force. If he weren’t a lord and Broderick his heir, they’d have been hanged—or worse—long ago, by outraged fathers, husbands and brothers.”

“Many noblemen are the same,” Tamsin said. She hated that it was so, but it was the truth.

“Aye, it is, and some say King John is of that ilk, but if that isn’t bad enough, that isn’t all Blane does. He punishes any infraction, however slight, to the utmost, and isn’t above bending the law for his own end. John’s as greedy as Blane, so as long as Blane pays him off, he’s free to do what he will.”

“He’s not alone in that, either.”

“So you would make excuses for him?”

She simply couldn’t let Rheged think she condoned such behavior or immorality. “No. But perhaps when I’m Blane’s wife, I can persuade him to be more just and merciful.”

If she could do that, it would make her sacrifice even more worthwhile, and might bring her some peace.

“That would be as difficult as convincing John to give up the throne.”

“I can try,” she replied, even though she suspected Rheged was right about her chances of persuading her future husband to be more merciful. Nevertheless she clung to the desperate hope that she could help the people of Dunborough, as well as save Mavis. “I’ve spent years trying to please and appease an uncle forced to take me in. Surely I can have some influence on my husband, especially if I give him children.”

Although thinking about what she had to endure to make that happen made her feel sick again.

“Bearing Blane children will more likely only bring you more pain, to say nothing of what they might suffer with such a father. Blane delights in setting one child against the other, lest they conspire against him. He’s so determined to keep them at each other’s throats that he won’t even tell his twin sons who is the elder.”

That had to be a lie, or idle gossip. “Surely someone else would know.”

“The twins’ mother died giving them birth. Shortly after, the midwife slipped and fell on some stairs. Her neck was broken and she died before she could tell anyone what she knew of the birth. So now only Blane knows for certain who is the eldest, and his sons are constantly at war. Nor should you think a daughter will be any safer. Blane will use her as your uncle’s using you, selling her to the highest bidder or the man with the most influence at court, regardless of his reputation.”

The more terrible a picture Rheged drew of Blane and his sons, the more Tamsin knew she had to prevent Mavis from taking her place as the bride. “I have given my word that I’ll marry Blane and so I will, if he’ll still have me. You
must
take me home in the morning. If you don’t, I’ll see that you’re arrested and charged with abduction as soon as I’m able.”

Rheged’s eyebrows lowered and his frown deepened. “Have you heard
nothing
of what I’ve said?”

“Nothing you’ve said—or will ever say—will make me break my word.”

“Then I hope your stubborn pride and sense of honor will give you comfort in the long years to come, for your husband certainly won’t.”

“Nor shall I expect it of him. So will you take me back to Castle DeLac, or will you prove yourself an outlaw?”

“I’ll return you to Castle DeLac when it’s light.”

* * *

As dawn broke in the eastern sky, Mavis stared at her father slumped in his large chair on the dais, a goblet in his hand and a wineskin on the table at his elbow. The fire in the hearth was nearly out. The candles and torches, too. All of the remaining guests and most of the servants were still abed, and even the hounds slumbered.

Mavis hadn’t slept at all, and neither, apparently, had her father. Yet while she had spent the night restlessly pacing, fearing the worst for Tamsin, all he had done, it seemed, was drink.

“Father, you must send your men to rescue her!” Mavis insisted, her voice rough with exhaustion. Although she hadn’t been able to hear the argument, the distraught servants had quickly told her the reason for Rheged’s return and how enraged he’d been. “It may already be too late to save her. She might even be dead!”

“That Welshman may be a peasant and uncivilized, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill the niece of Lord Simon DeLac,” her father replied, lifting the goblet for another gulp of wine.

His declaration brought Mavis a little relief, but only a little. It was too easy to imagine what other terrible things might be happening to her beloved cousin.

“It’ll be a ransom he wants,” her father muttered more to himself than to her. “Not the wench. Some sum he thinks he deserves. Fool!”

Mavis knelt before her father, trying to get him to look at her. “But you’ll pay whatever he asks, won’t you, Father?” she pleaded.

Lord DeLac sniffed. “I won’t pay a ha’penny for her. She’s ruined. Worthless. No good to me now.”

“Father, you
must
pay or try to rescue her!” Mavis cried. “You’re her uncle, her guardian. Even if she’s been...” Mavis blinked back tears as she thought of what Tamsin might have been forced to endure. “
Especially
if she’s no longer a virgin, it’s your duty to—”

“Duty!” her father snarled as he pushed her away. “I’ve done my duty! I took the brat in! I got her a husband. And for what? Nothing! She was worthless then and she’s more than worthless now!” His eyes bloodshot, he glared at his daughter as she got to her feet. “What are you so worried about? Can’t you guess what’s really happened? She didn’t want to marry Blane, so she got that Welshman to take her away. Probably seduced him first, or paid him. For all I know, the little whore’s been sleeping with half the servants and most of the garrison, too.”

“Father!” Mavis gasped. “Tamsin is the most honorable, virtuous—”

DeLac sat up abruptly and glared at his daughter. “More virtuous than you? Are you a whore, too?”

“No, of course not, Father, and neither is Tamsin!”

Lord DeLac threw himself back in his chair and reached for the wineskin at his elbow. He lifted it to his lips and drank, ignoring the wine spilling down his already stained tunic. “Well, whatever she is, she’s gone and now you have to marry Blane.” His mouth slid into a terrible smile when he saw the look on Mavis’s face. “Yes, my daughter, an agreement has been made, a contract signed. One of you has to marry the man, and since Tamsin has found a way to avoid it, you must take her place. Not so loving toward her now, are you?”

“You have no proof she wanted to go with Rheged, and I’m sure she didn’t.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s gone and her reputation is ruined, and I must have the alliance with Blane, so you’ll have to marry the man—and don’t even think of trying to run. I’ll lock you in your room. Maybe I should anyway, just to be sure. Who knows what that little slut’s put into your head?”

He was right to think Tamsin had influenced Mavis, but not in the way he imagined.

She straightened her shoulders and regarded him with calm dignity and resolve, just as Tamsin would. “If I agree to marry Sir Blane, will you pay a ransom for her?”

“I don’t need your agreement. And I told you, she’s worthless to me.”

“But I’m not, and although the betrothal contract has already been signed, surely you can seek better terms if I am the bride, especially if I make myself pleasing to the groom. I give you my word that I shall do my utmost to do that if you bring Tamsin home before Sir Blane arrives. If you don’t agree, I may have to marry the man, but I don’t have to pretend to like him. What do you think he’ll do if I refuse to speak to him? Or bar the nuptial chamber door?”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“There is more I could do, too,” she continued, desperate and determined to save her cousin. “It’s not difficult for a pretty girl to make herself ugly—and I will. I can feign a squint, or lisp. Or forget to wash.”

Simon DeLac stared at this daughter he didn’t really know and who had always meant far less to him than a son would have. It was like discovering a puppy had the fangs of a wolf, and every intention of biting. And if she chose to make trouble with Blane... “I’ll pay whatever the Welshman demands for Tamsin’s safe return. Within reason.”

“
Whatever
he asks,” Mavis insisted.

Her father scowled, until he realized that with Mavis for the bride, he should be able to lower the dowry, or perhaps even forgo it entirely. “Very well, but if you refuse to marry Blane, or make any difficulties about the marriage, I’ll leave Tamsin with the Welshman, or any other man who wants her.”

Mavis nodded. “Then, Father, we are agreed.”

“Good. Now get back to your sewing or whatever it is you do all day.”

“Yes, Father,” Mavis replied humbly.

As whatever love she bore him began to slip away.

* * *

In the faint light of early dawn, Tamsin gingerly unwound what was left of Rheged’s shirt from her throbbing calf. She had spent a restless, nearly sleepless night watching the half-naked Rheged as he sat on the far side of the hut. He was equally awake but still as a statue, and mercifully silent. She didn’t want to hear more words of warning or descriptions of her future husband and his family. She didn’t want to think about the future at all, or Rheged, either.