Prisoner of My Desire (22 page)

“Are you trying to annoy me?”

“Certainly. Think you I have forgotten what you forced me to do?”

“Be quiet!” he hissed, dragging her away from the others’ hearing to hiss again, “If you remember so much, remember also that I hold your mother still.”

’Twas unnecessary to say more. Rowena nodded, feeling a depression settle on her shoulders. What had made her think she could do aught to prevent the disaster Gilbert was set on creating? With her he always won in the end, always knew just what to say to take the fight out of her, leaving her utterly defeated.

The sun made only a brief appearance that morn ere it was swallowed up by the bank of gray clouds that had been threatening rain since yesterday. Rowena wished it would rain in torrents. Why not? She was already feeling so miserable she was sick to her stomach with it. Why should the men guarding her not feel some of that misery in discomfort?

Only six sat around her, appearing relaxed and unconcerned. Gilbert had gone with two others to a vantage point where he could watch the comings and goings of the castle. He had not actually ordered those men remaining to guard her. They saw her now as
their
lady, so ’twas now their
duty
to protect her, which excluded letting her just leave on her own. But leaving now would not suit her new purpose,
which was to prevent Gilbert from capturing Fulkhurst.

He had left her so few options with his threat. Unless Gilbert died himself, her mother would pay for whatever Rowena could accomplish to thwart Gilbert’s plan—unless she could do something without his suspecting her of the doing. But what could be done so indirectly?

Of course, she could cut off the head of the snake herself and hope the body would then slither away. But if she
could
manage to kill Gilbert, one of his own men was likely to cut her down for it, and she could not see herself as being
that
self-sacrificing, not for a man who wanted only revenge against her.

She could tell Gilbert that Warrick was the man he had held at Kirkburough. That might make him so enraged he would do something foolish, mayhap even want to challenge Warrick in truth, mayhap even ride after him to do so…She was dreaming. Gilbert would never put himself at risk, not knowing the size of the army Warrick had taken with him, not certain his own was bigger. She wished
she
knew how big was his army. There had been many men at Kirkburough, but she knew Gilbert had counted on hiring many more with Lyons’ wealth. Had he had a chance yet to do so?

There was one hope that she held fast to, that Gilbert would begin to worry about the predictions she had cast about what would happen when he tried to enter the castle. If only a few doubts would arise, there was the rest
of this day for them to magnify. He could, in fact, end up convincing himself that his original plan was doomed to fail. Then he would remember the gibe he had made at her, and think seriously about using her after all to gain entrance. She would then have time to give warning, for in his telling her when his army would approach, she knew he did not mean to take the gate as soon as he entered the castle. She would likely be taken straightaway to the dungeon, but that would benefit her in separating herself from Gilbert, so she could confess who he was without his knowing ’twas she who betrayed him.

Aye, he would use her if he began to be plagued with doubts, and he would do so without suspecting that she would want to help the man who had imprisoned her. He knew she hated him, but he would think she hated Warrick more.

She began to feel better—until she remembered what awaited her in Fulkhurst’s dungeon. Had Beatrix enacted her farce ere she knew Rowena had escaped? If not, then she might not have made her accusations, might have decided ’twould serve no purpose with Rowena gone. And the capture of Warrick’s worst enemy might stay her hand as well, especially if Rowena was ultimately responsible for his capture. She might not even be put in the dungeon. They might even be grateful to her—nay, she was dreaming again. But at the very least, it might make that damn jailer think twice about abusing her—until after Warrick
returned and passed judgment for her escape. But if she was going to be greeted with that charge of theft…

There was not a thing she could do about that, she realized. Whatever awaited her inside the castle she would have to face,
if
Gilbert decided to use her. But she was now not so eager to be used. And she began to look at the men around her again, wondering once more if there was not something she was overlooking, something that she could say to turn them away from Gilbert’s command, without their confronting him about it and thereby exposing her to his rage—and his retaliation.

Of the six men left behind with her, only two she was certain were from Kirkburough, though all could be. But surely not all. Surely Gilbert would want more men he knew to be loyal to him at his back when he took the gate, than not. If she could just talk to one of the Kirkburough knights, without Gilbert’s men hearing…

When one of them made mention of a meal, Rowena realized she was starving. But she ignored the food in her own sack and got up casually to move away from the group. She assumed they would share what they had with her, and hoped one of the two she wanted to speak to would bring it. But as usual, her luck would have it otherwise. The man who offered her some cold venison and stale bread she did not know, and the simple expedient of asking his name got her the additional information that he was from Ambray.

She thanked him but refused his offering, claiming she was not hungry, though her belly raged at her for the lie. Then she waited until they had finished eating and were relaxed again, then waited a while more, praying Gilbert would not return for a meal himself. He did not. And finally she looked directly at one of the Kirkburough men and confessed that she was hungry after all.

He jumped up to fetch her food from his own stores, and after she thanked him, she quickly remarked, “I am surprised that you have involved yourself in this cause that is not your own and is doomed to fail.” Then she hazarded a guess. “And you do it without pay.”

He did not deny it, saying, “I am sworn to Kirkburough, and Lord Gilbert—”

“Has no claim there, nor do I,” she got out ere she lost her nerve. She then feigned surprise. “But surely you knew that. Without issue from my union with Lord Godwine, his brother inherits all.
He
is now Lord of Kirkburough and is no doubt there now and wondering what has become of his brother’s retainers, men he will certainly have need of for the rebuilding of his keep. Verily, I do not understand why men prefer war and death to building, but obviously you must, or you would not be here instead of there.”

He said naught for a moment. In truth, he seemed incapable of speech. Then he gave her a frown that was worthy of Warrick himself.

“Why do you tell me this, lady?”

That she had been reminded of Warrick gave her an answer. “I do not want to die, but my stepbrother will not listen to me. He is obsessed with killing Fulkhurst, and no wonder, for Fulkhurst has sworn to destroy him. But Gilbert does not know the man as I have come to know him as his prisoner. You will take his castle easily, aye, but you will never leave it alive, nor will I, for Gilbert will drag me back in there as well.”

“You make no sense, lady. We will have hostages, the man’s own daughters.”

“Think you that will matter to such a ruthless warlord? That is what I cannot make Gilbert understand, why he will not listen to me. His plan would work—against any other lord. But this lord has no care for his daughters or anyone else. He will sacrifice them, as well as his people, without any regrets. He will besiege his own castle, but no terms will be offered, no surrender accepted. All that man cares about is getting revenge against anyone who dares trespass against him.”

“What if you are wrong?”

“What if I am right, sirrah?” ’Twas not easy keeping exasperation from her tone. “Have you been promised so much that you will take the risk?”

“You expect
me
to turn your brother from his goal?” he asked, aghast.

She was getting nowhere, and the others were starting to look their way, wondering what they were speaking of. Why did the man have to be
so stalwart and dense? A coward was what she needed.

“Gilbert will not listen to you either, when all you can tell him is that
I
warned you. Like as not he will clout you for your trouble.” Then she sighed, as if in resignation. “I am sorry. I should not have spoken my fears to you, but I thought mayhap you might save yourself and any friends you might have at the other camp, since this is not your war, nor do you even belong here. I thought to ask you to take me with you if you are smart enough to leave, but now I realize you cannot help me. Gilbert’s men would stop you. Mayhap I can still convince him to send me to Ambray ere he enters the castle. Aye, I will do that.”

She turned her back on him, praying he would say naught to the others, at least not to Gilbert’s men. When she dared to glance around again, she saw him talking only to the other Kirkburough knight—in earnest.

Had she finally earned one small piece of luck? If those two would make excuse to return to the other camp, warn the Kirkburough men there, mayhap the army might actually disperse. If it happened soon enough, Gilbert would have warning of it and might give up his plan. He would rant and rave, and call the deserters cowards who knew only how to bully town merchants, but what could he do about it? He
knew
he had no right to use Lyons’ army. She would remind him of that if necessary—nay, she could not do that, or he would look to her for the reason they had departed.

She would confess instead that she had innocently referred to Fulkhurst as the dragon of the north, and that the man she spoke to had turned white as a shroud. She would then demand to know if Gilbert had not warned his men that Fulkhurst was the renowned dragon, that they had obviously heard of him as far south as Kirkburough, but had not made the connection ere then. She
would
be at fault, but innocently, so Gilbert would not blame her
too
much—she hoped.

At any rate, he would not chase after those men if he were convinced they were cowards and would not now fight for him. He would have to come up with some other scheme to gain another army, and unfortunately, he had her again to do it. As soon as he realized that, he would not be so mad. But as soon as he realized it, she would be more heavily guarded. God’s mercy, was there no way out of this dilemma for herself?

But the man she had spoken to did not try to leave any time soon. She began to think he was too brave for his own good when one of the men who had gone with Gilbert returned to warn that several patrols had been sent out from the castle, likely to search for Rowena. She was inclined to agree. Whether she was runaway serf or escaped prisoner, the castle guards were obligated to find her or face Warrick’s wrath. But their search was not to Gilbert’s liking, for it put his plan in danger.

A man was to go and warn the other camp just in case the searchers went that deeply into
the woods. If the army was sighted, they were to capture the men, for at no cost were tales of their presence to return to the castle. Both the Kirkburough men volunteered to go, then suggested they ride together in case they came upon one of the patrols.

’Twas all Rowena could do to keep from smiling.

The afternoon dragged by with nerve-racking slowness. Rowena went through countless imaginings of what was going to happen, but the fact remained that unless the other camp was in the next shire, one of Gilbert’s men should have returned ere now to report that the Kirkburough men were departing—unless they were not departing.

That was, of course, possible. The two men who left here might not have bothered to stop to save their comrades from “certain death,” but merely decided to save themselves. Or she could have misconstrued their eagerness to leave with wishful thinking. For that matter, the man she spoke to might not have said aught of her tale to his friend. Their earnest talk could have been about something else entirely, her tale discounted since it came from a frightened woman.

She must have been mad to think a few words from her would panic a large army of men—nay, she had not hoped to panic them, merely to point out that they did not belong in this war, would not get paid for participating, and would be better served by returning to their rightful lord. Fat lot of good it had done her.

With rain still threatening, it had been impossible to tell when dusk was approaching. Suddenly ’twas just there, and so was Gilbert, riding pell-mell through the trees in his excitement, bringing his poor horse to a painful stop. He did not seem to notice that the number of men he had left behind had decreased, but mayhap he did not intend to use them all anyway. After all, the more men who rode with him, the less chance he would have of gaining entrance to a closed castle no matter his reasons.

He did not dismount, merely did he locate Rowena and hold out his hand to her. “I have decided to say I found you on the road, without escort, and as you would not tell me whence you came, I was forced to bring you with me. ’Tis my hope they will take you off my hands, as my business for the king is urgent and cannot be delayed even for so comely a lady.” Then he grinned widely to ask her, “Think you they will relieve me of the burden of you?”

“Since they were liable to be dismissed or severely whipped for letting me escape to begin with, aye, I do not doubt the drawbridge will be lowered.”

She made her voice as surly as possible, as if
she despised the idea. It must have worked, for he laughed.

“Fret not, Rowena. You need endure that dungeon for only a few hours more, then never again. Is that not worth Fulkhurst’s downfall, after what he has done to you?”

She would not answer that. What Warrick had done to her was get even for what Gilbert had done to her. The one man she had not blamed
too
much. He felt himself justified. The other she would blame forever.

“
If
you succeed in your plan, Gilbert, will be soon enough to see what my imprisonment is worth.”

Since he had expected just such a response from her, he was not displeased. There was naught much that
could
displease him right now, with the taste of victory so close. But Rowena’s surliness was not all feigned. She was glad that the doubts she had planted had borne fruit. She would be able to foil Gilbert’s scheme and get him captured in the process, which
was
worth whatever it cost her. But she would have preferred her other strategy to have worked instead, so she would not end up back in Warrick’s hands as she would now. The other would have left her with Gilbert, but before he could find a new use for her, she
would
have found a way to be rid of him and his threats.

But ’twas not to be. She looked once toward the deeper woods ere they rode off, but there was still no sign of his men coming to warn that he had lost his army. Thrice more she looked
back. There was still time. But all was quiet behind them.

Then they were before the gates of Fulkhurst, and Gilbert was calling out his false name, his status as Stephen’s messenger, his contrived tale of finding Rowena on the roadside. She did not listen to the story a second time, nor did she look up from her perch behind Gilbert so she might be recognized by the guards in the gatehouse. She did not feel like being any more helpful. She was there. She would do what she had to do. But more and more she was resenting that she had to.

She looked behind them one last time, and there…was that one of Gilbert’s men racing toward them down the road? And slowing when he saw them before the castle? Had those Kirkburough knights waited until near dark, then, to pass on her tale? Smart men after all. In the dark, Gilbert would
not
give chase. He would be inside the castle, waiting for an army to appear that would not, and thanks to her embellishment on Warrick’s ruthlessness, that army expected
that
to be the last they would ever see of Gilbert. But their strategy, fine for them, was too late to help her.

The man was already turning around, drawing the same conclusion. He was too late to give Gilbert warning. But mayhap he felt it mattered not. Mayhap Gilbert still had enough men left to serve his purpose…but that would not serve hers.

Rowena started to tell Gilbert what she suspected when the guard called down, “Wait
there. My lord himself will take the girl from you.”

Rowena frowned, wondering what ruse they were perpetrating. But Gilbert looked off to the side and cursed. Then she heard it, the unmistakable sound of a great many horses approaching, and looked for herself. ’Twas indeed the dragon returned. In the last light of the day, his army was just barely discerned, but she had no doubt ’twas him. Neither did Gilbert.

He was still cursing, though not loud enough for the guards to hear. “Damn the man, he could not have reached Gilly Field and returned this soon. ’Tis impossible!”

“So he changed his mind.”

Her voice recalled her to him, and some of his composure as well. “Worry not,” he told her. “This merely alters my plan to a siege. Aye, my army is still larger than his, and I will return with it this very night. ’Tis fortunate I did not ask yet to spend the night, for now I will insist I must travel on.”

He could not mean what that sounded like. “You intend to stay here and greet him?” she asked incredulously.

“Why not? He has never seen me close enough or without armor to know me.” Gilbert was just short of laughing. “’Tis a fine joke on him, which I will be sure to point out when I return.”

’Twas more than Rowena could resist. It served her absolutely no purpose, except the pleasure of being the one to burst his confidence.

“I hate to mention this at such a time, Gilbert, but he
will
recognize you. He knows you only
as my stepbrother, not as d’Ambray. But still you are another man he wants to kill, for you are the man who had him chained to a bed at Kirkburough. The joke, brother, was on you both.”

“Damn you, you lie!” he exploded. “I could not have had him and not known! And he could not have come with an army if he was chained to a bed.”

For her own sake, Rowena twisted the truth somewhat. “’Twas his army, but he did not lead it. They came not for you, Gilbert, but for him. And the moment they released him, he sent me here to his dungeon. He intends to make me suffer for the rest of my days for what I did to him. You he simply wants dead. But take not my word for it. You will recognize him yourself do you stay and greet him, so by all means—”

“Enough!” he growled as he grabbed her arm and swung her off his mount.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, furious, because she knew.

“They know inside the castle ’tis you. Do I take you with me, they will give chase, which does not suit me. So tell them my business was too urgent to wait. And fear not. My first demand when I return will be your release.”

He did not give her a chance to reply. He rode off, his men following, and ’twas dark enough now that they were gone from sight in moments. The approaching army could no longer be seen either, though the sound of it had grown louder.

It occurred to Rowena to wonder why she just stood there and waited. She could have easily slipped into the moat instead, with no one to see
her do it. She could even hide under the drawbridge once it was lowered, then make her escape later, after all was quiet. ’Twould be assumed she had been carried off by Gilbert’s party. But that would lead to a chase, with Warrick in the lead. And Gilbert was heading straight for his army—or what was left of it. And Warrick would not take his with him, not to track seven men. And she was a fool, because she was still standing there when the first horse appeared out of the blackness and was halted next to her.

Torches were thrust into the outer walls, casting not much light—except into the moat. So she would have been seen in the water after all. For some reason that made her want to laugh. She did not, for ’twas Warrick himself who sat there on his great destrier looking down at her.