Knight of Her Heart (Conquering the Heart) (35 page)

Only once did he have to hide in a recess as two guards moved through the corridors of the keep. As he neared his mother’s former chamber, he saw a guard posted. Further along there was another guard posted right outside the door that led into the chamber he sought.

Slipping out of the shadows, Rowan walked casually along the corridor. The guard closest to him did not appear to register anything untoward as Rowan sauntered toward him.

Rowan adopted a rough accent as he told the guard, “I’m ter relieve ye.”

“That was quick. I only just got ’ere.”

Rowan shrugged. “Just followin’ orders. If yer happy ter stay at yer post, I can find much better ways ter amuse meself tonight.” He gave the guard a broad wink and started to turn around. Bethia and her niece had told him that Malin had turned Baddesley into a veritable whorehouse. Rowan was relying on the presumption that the keep had become a regular den of iniquity and that wenches would be readily available to service all the men-at-arms.

The guard had second thoughts before Rowan had taken more than a couple of paces back in the direction from which he had come. “’ang about! I’m not going ter argue with ye. I could use a bit of that meself.”

Pulling a face of resigned dissatisfaction, Rowan said, “Fair enough.”

’Twas only when he’d taken a couple of steps away from his post that suspicion crossed the guard’s features. “Yer new ’ere?”

“Aye.”

“What be yer name, then?” The man’s voice held a hint of challenge.

Dangerous.

Rowan was saved from answering as both he and the guard were distracted by a disturbance. Rowan’s head drew back in surprise as he saw the guard in front of his mother’s former chamber slumping to the ground. Lisette stood over him like a fierce, avenging angel. She held a piece of plank...from the base of a bed?...in her hand. Fierce determination was stamped on each of her beautiful features.

“Oi!” the guard next to Rowan cried.

“Rowan?” Lisette cried out in a tone of shocked disbelief.

Before the man beside him could utter any sound of warning, Rowan grabbed him from behind with one arm and used his free hand to press the blade of his dagger against the man’s throat.

“One sound and you’re a dead man.”

The man nodded, surrendering immediately.

Lisette ran toward them, her face lit with relief. “Rowan!” she cried. Her voice was the sweetest music to his ears, but there was no time for the reunion he craved. Scanning her for any sign of physical damage, he saw a dark bruise at her right temple.

“You’re injured.”

A few steps away from him, her footsteps slowed as she hesitated. Her slender hand lifted awkwardly and self-consciously to her temple. “I’m fine,” she reassured him. Her voice trembled. In her eyes, he saw the contrast of her relief and then her uncertainty. Instantly he recalled their parting and how cold and condemning he’d been. He guessed that her lack of confidence in running to him stemmed from her insecurity, for she did not yet realise that her love for him was returned.

Love for him.

Rowan felt his chest swell. The knowledge of her love pumped through him as surely as the blood flowed through his veins. It made him feel strong and unconquerable, capable of answering any challenge thrown his way. By God, he swore he would get her to safety. This time he would be exultant when she voiced her love for him. ’Twould be the most wonderful moment he had ever known when he could wrap her in his arms knowing that they were locked in deep and mutual love.

Rowan used the hilt of his dagger and hit the guard on the head hard enough to render him insensible. As the man slumped against him, Rowan lowered him to the floor.

“Come, my wife.” He reached out his arms to Lisette.

She needed no second invitation. Pure sunshine shone from her features and she hurled herself into his arms.

“Forgive me, Lisette. I should never have said the things I did.” The words tumbled out despite the fact that his first priority should be getting them back to safety. ’Twas all too easy to forget where they were and simply revel in the feel of her in his arms, yielding herself to him physically and emotionally. He searched her face and saw that she granted him forgiveness easily. His wife was truly more precious than all the jewels in the king’s crown and he vowed that he would treasure her from this day forth and leave no doubt that he loved her.

“I didn’t think you’d come so soon.”

Gathering her closer, he pressed quick kisses along her hair line. “I gave you cause to doubt me. I judged you unfairly and harshly. If I could but take the words back—”

“You were so angry with me, but I understand why.” Her eyes were awash with tears. “I’m so sorry...I deserved—”

“Hush. I was a fool.” He put a little distance between them so he could look her up and down. “Apart from your head injury, are you and our child unharmed?”

She sent him a tremulous smile. “Aye.”

Mentally he gave a quick prayer of thanks.

“But...how did you find me so quickly?” There was confusion in her expression. “You were on your way to King Henry.”

“I realised that my marriage to you means everything.” He smiled down at her. “The happiness of my wife came before my duty to the king.”

“Rowan!” There was both admonishment and pleasure in her tone.

“Fear not, my lady. Richard will tell the king all that is afoot.” He hugged her tighter.

The guard that Lisette had hit over the head gave a slight moan and jolted Rowan back to reality.

“We tarry too long. Now ’tis time to get you away to safety.” Rowan grabbed her by the hand and led her down the corridor toward the direction of the secret tunnel.

They had only made it a few steps down the corridor when Rowan cursed. Malin stood in front of him flanked by archers whose bows were drawn. Their arrows were trained directly at Rowan and Lisette. Rowan had opted not to wear his body armour as he’d wanted to move as quietly as possible through the keep, but he was still protected by his chain mail. The mail would deflect arrows from his torso and arms, but Lisette was vulnerable. There was no way he could draw his sword and fight off the men before the deadly arrows were released and found her as their mark.

Nothing would induce him to place Lisette and their unborn child at risk.

His plan had failed. Of all the foes he’d fought, Malin would be the weakest, yet Rowan had underestimated him. ’Twould have been better had he ridden into Baddesley while Lisette was released.

“Well, well,” Malin drawled in amusement. “The bastard of Baddesley returns just as I knew he would. But you disappoint me, Rowan. How easily you have walked straight into my trap.”

“Get behind me, Lisette,” Rowan ordered as he took a step backward. He would not give up yet.

“No safety there.” The amused voice of Lord Blake came from behind them, the words chilling Rowan to the bone.

Malin sneered at him. “Sneaking through the secret tunnel in the dead of night just like the coward you’ve always been, Rowan?”

“We both know who the coward is, Malin,” he replied slowly as his brain worked furiously to try to work out a way to escape.

“Brawn on the battlefield doesn’t make you the better man,” Malin growled. “You and your stupid, misplaced sense of honour! You, who turned yourself inside out to do the right thing to impress the man your mother married. You tried to outshine me in everything because you coveted the noble title that always rightfully belonged to me.” Malin grew red with rage and he puffed up with his own self-importance. “A bastard born should never have been allowed into the ranks of nobility.”

“A title doesn’t make a man noble, Malin, ’tis his actions that do so.” Rowan advanced toward his half-brother with his sword drawn.

“Lay down your sword and the dagger you carry,” Malin commanded. “You’ll never leave here alive but, if you put your weapon down, her life will be spared.”

Rowan had no choice. Had he been by himself he would have charged the archers in front of him and hoped his reflexes would allow him to deflect their arrows along the way. That was not an option with Lisette’s life to protect.

Jaw clenched, he dropped his sword slowly. He reached for his dagger and dropped that onto the floor as well. The clang of steel echoed through the corridor. The sounds underlined the hopelessness of their situation.

“Much better.” Malin smiled. “I’d have hated for an arrow to end your miserable existence when I have so much more agony planned for you.” He waved a hand at the guards. “Seize him!”

“I want the girl unharmed,” Lord Blake declared.

The archers stood aside, bows still drawn, to allow two burly guards past.

“I haven’t forgotten our bargain, Blake,” Malin told him cuttingly. “Lady Lisette will be yours.”

Rowan was grabbed roughly by the guards. Malin’s words made Rowan’s heart thump erratically. Just what bargain had his half-brother and Blake struck? What fate awaited Lisette?

“Stay calm, Lisette,” Rowan told her quietly before he was hauled forward. A quick look at his wife told him that his warning words had been unnecessary. The woman who had knocked out a guard with a plank of wood from the base of her bed was not about to give in to hysteria. Her gaze darted from one spot to another, assessing the situation, judging her chances. Rowan saw the helplessness of their situation—knew her chances were nil at this moment—but admired that she had not given up. There was a firm jut to her jaw that told him she would strive to aid him if she could. He was proud at having his warrior wife so determined to fight with him—to fight for him.

This woman was not only worth fighting for and dying for if necessary, she was worth living for. By God, he would defeat Malin and claim his future with Lisette and their child. He would find a way to claim their happiness.

Malin did not utter another word as they walked through the upper floor of Baddesley Keep. The silence was only broken when they reached the doorway of the chamber which had once belonged to Rowan. “Welcome home, dear
brother
. I have been so anticipating this day of your homecoming that I had your chamber especially prepared for you.”

Revulsion churned in Rowan’s gut. Lisette gasped as she was pushed into the room behind him and saw how the room had been prepared. Rowan turned his head and saw her eyes widen with horror as she glanced around the room. The chamber had been stripped bare of all its furniture. In its place were instruments of torture.

“Where are your manners, oh-so-chivalrous-a knight?” Malin jeered. “Are you not going to thank me for all the trouble I have gone to on your behalf?”

“I assure you the pleasure is all yours,” Rowan replied drily.

“Well, that’s the point really, is it not?” Malin’s laugh was demented. “Pleasure for me and pain for you. Aye, I have played out this moment in my mind time and time again. For years now, ever since I heard you’d escaped my hounds and had arrived safely at the home of Devereux, I have collected an extraordinary variety of instruments with which to punish you. I’ve pondered long and carefully on all forms of suffering I can inflict on you, compared different methods and even combined a few devices for maximum effect, and a little personal touch.” He gave a half-skip of pleasure.

“Should I be honoured that you have pursued this so passionately?” Rowan returned with sarcasm.

Malin gestured to a set of iron manacles which hung suspended from a rafter on thick metal chains. “Strip him of his chain mail. Strip him naked to the waist and secure him there.”

“You have me, Malin. Let Lisette go.” Rowan began to struggle against the guards and succeeded in wrestling himself free and punching one to the floor before Blake spoke.

“Temper. Temper. Your temper will get her killed.” Blake held a dagger to Lisette’s throat and Rowan immediately stilled. His efforts in freeing himself merely earned him a few solid kicks in the legs from the soldiers who grabbed him.

Aware of the sharp point of the blade against Lisette’s neck, Rowan allowed his chainmail, gambeson and undergarments to be stripped from his torso. The fangs of frustration bit deep as his hands were cuffed by the chains and he was rendered completely useless. Now it may well be a matter of surviving for a few days until the troops of Romsey and Winchester arrived. Escape from his current position seemed impossible, but at least Blake lowered the blade and Lisette was not under such immediate threat.

“Set Lisette free,” Rowan demanded again. “You have no quarrel with her.”

“Oh nay, I won’t be letting your wife go,” Malin told him. “That would spoil the fun. But then you always were so serious, Rowan, never into fun. Always out to impress. You were too busy trying to please the man you called ‘father’ to ever become involved in my childhood pranks. Instead you kept delivering your sermons to me about how I should behave. You. A bastard’s son lording it over
me
, the rightful heir to this seat.”

“You may have been rightful heir by blood, Malin, but you are a disgrace to your title and your rank.”

“Ha! You are truly amazing. You are here at my mercy yet you still have the arrogance and the audacity, to insult me. Soon,
brother
, you’ll be crying like a baby and begging me for a quick death.” He pointed to Rowan’s feet. “Secure his legs as well.” Malin turned to Lord Blake.

Two great balls of iron were rolled forward and Rowan’s legs were manacled to them.

“Don’t do this,” Lisette pleaded, her anguish evident in every word. “If you let Rowan go now, King Henry will surely go easier on you than if you seriously harm his first knight.”

Malin merely sent her a contemptuous sneer before he turned to Lord Blake. “Forgive me if I bore you while I explain the features of my collection to my prisoner and his wife.” He turned back to Rowan. “Lord Blake has already had a tour.”

“I’m sure he was fascinated,” Rowan drawled.

“Riveted.” Blake smiled maliciously.

Malin moved to the first device—a hollow brass statue which resembled a bull. “This is the brazen bull. ’Twas invented by a Greek by the name of Perillus. The victim is placed inside after having his or her tongue cut out. The door is shut,” he closed the door and rubbed his hands together in an excited manner. He gestured to a tray around the statue. “Fires are lit in these trays. Can you imagine? The searing heat makes the person thrash about and scream in agony and without a tongue the victim sounds like a real bull, creating extra amusement for spectators.” The enthusiasm left his features. “The only problem is that I’ll have to time it well so you don’t die. That would spoil all the fun. And, I don’t want to cut out your tongue just yet, because I want to hear you begging me for mercy!”