The Beauty Bride (The Jewels of Kinfairlie) (43 page)

She
closed her fingers around the stone that her mother had worn and found strength
in its glorious heat. Madeline realized that she had misunderstood its earlier
portent.

The
stone had been dark at first, because she had already decided to flee Rhys. The
Tear must have predicted Kerr’s assault.

The
Tear had lit with a glimmer after Rhys had saved her from Kerr. She and Rhys
had been wed then, the first step in their sealing their fates together.

The
star had brightened within the gem when Rhys had confessed his errors to her.
Could it be that Rhys had realized then that he held her in some affection?

Was
the Tear’s current radiance a sign of the growth of Rhys’ regard for her? Or
did it indicate her own love for him?

Perhaps
the stone shone most brightly when a pair loved each other with uncommon vigor,
because that love would light their united path ahead.

Madeline
had to reach Rhys to know for certain.

Encouraged,
she found a grip on the stones overhead and pulled herself onward. Madeline
recounted the tale of the man with the fairy harp to herself, though she knew
she had forgotten some of it, though she knew that she could never tell it as
well as Rhys. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see all that floated
around her, and pulled herself onward despite the ache in her arms.

Suddenly,
Madeline bumped her head. She bit back a curse, tipped back her head to see the
offending stone, then gasped aloud.

The
tunnel turned straight up, stretching above her head to a circle of flickering
light. That aperture did not appear to be far away, perhaps a distance akin to
the height of two men. There were handholds carved in the stone on one side, as
if boys might have to climb down the drain to clear it on occasion.

And
there was no iron grill across the opening.

* * *

Heart
aflame with hope, Madeline pulled herself around the bend in the drain. Her
hands shook, but she forced herself to think clearly. There would be a
challenge ahead, of that she had no doubt. She took a deep breath, then climbed
with newfound purpose.

She
reached the top of the drain and peered over the lip.

The
drain opened into a stone chamber. The chamber was dark, the only light coming
from a lantern upon an unsteady table. Madeline guessed that the room was
beneath the earth, or beneath the tower of Caerwyn. The stones in the walls looked
large enough to be foundation stones.

Indeed,
a wooden ladder ascended to a patch of light at the far end of the chamber.
There was a solid wood door to her left, one with such a fearsome lock upon it
that she thought she knew what it was.

She
could see only one person. A plump bald man sat upon a bench beside the
flickering lantern, his mouth open as he snored softly.

Madeline
eased silently out of the drain, slops dripping from her sodden chemise. She
grasped her knife as soon as she stood free of the drain, her gaze fixed upon
the sleeping man. The air was cold here and she shivered, even as she moved
closer to the man. A ring of keys were cast upon the table, alongside a sword
that Madeline recognized as Rhys’ own.

The
man was of considerable size, Madeline saw, and she realized that she would
have only one chance against him. If he but raised one of those heavy hands
against her, he could fairly kill her.

Surprise,
and perhaps her wits, would be her only asset. Madeline took another step
closer, her knife shaking in her grip. The water dribbling from her chemise
seemed to make a fearful amount of noise as it fell upon the stone floor. A
thousand doubts plagued her.

What
if Rhys was not locked behind that portal?

What
if Rhys was asleep there?

What
if Rhys was dead?

What
if there was no one to aid her? What would this man do to her once he subdued
her? Madeline could guess that she would not enjoy whatever happened after she
failed. She took the last step and closed her hand over the keys.

They
were heavy, wrought of brass, and there were two of them upon the ring. She had
to choose the right one, as well! She pulled the ring off the table and it
jingled slightly. Madeline caught her breath and froze in place.

The
man frowned, then continued to snore. Madeline exhaled in relief, shivered
suddenly in the chill, and sneezed.

The
man was awake and on his feet in a heartbeat. He roared and reached for the
hilt of his blade. Madeline seized the only chance she had and jabbed her knife
into his eye.

He
bellowed in rage, then swore. He staggered backward, blood streaming from his
face, and Madeline nearly lost her grip upon the keys.

“Who
is there?” Rhys shouted from behind the locked portal. “What happens out
there?”

Madeline
heard him pound upon the portal in frustration. She snatched up Rhys’ sword and
threw herself across the chamber. “Which key?” she shouted.

“The
longer one,” a woman replied.

The
jailor lunged after Madeline, blood streaming down his face. She shoved the key
into the lock, turned it hard, and jumped out of the way as Rhys flung the door
back on its hinges.

“
Anwylaf
!” he said in evident amazement, then took one glance
across the chamber. He seized his blade from Madeline’s hand, and drove it into
the jailor’s chest just as that man leapt toward them.

The
jailor’s blade clattered to the floor.

Madeline
leaned against the wall in her relief, astonished to find her knees shaking.
Rhys grimly ensured that the other man was dead, then turned to face her. A
light danced briefly in his gaze, and Madeline stared at him, her heart
bursting.

If
only he would say something, if only he confessed himself glad to see her, then
she would know she had not done this deed in vain.

But
Rhys could not make sense of her presence. He even frowned when his gaze danced
over her. He pulled his tabard over his head, then cast it in Madeline’s
direction, his manner so dismissive that she flinched.

“You
had best cover yourself, Madeline, lest all think you offer more than is your
intent,” he said, then pivoted to study the chamber anew.

Madeline
realized then that her chemise clung to her flesh so wetly that she might as
well have stood naked. She sneezed again, then pulled his thick tabard over her
head. It hung to her knees and was warm with Rhys’ heat. She wrapped her arms
around herself and shivered, even as she watched Rhys pace the chamber. He
stood at the base of the ladder and listened.

“
Anwylaf
,” a woman mused. Madeline glanced up to find an
older woman in the portal to the cell. She looked amused, her one brow arched
and her lips curved in an affectionate smile as she surveyed Rhys.

He
ignored her.

“You
did not say that Madeline was your
anwylaf
,” the woman teased. The back of Rhys’ neck turned an unmistakably ruddy
hue.

“It
is scarce of import,” he said gruffly.

“He
always calls me as much,” Madeline said. “For I am his wife.”

The
woman chuckled and offered her hand with grace. “As I am his mother, Adele. I
am delighted to meet you, Madeline.” She drew closer to Madeline. “But you are
mistaken, my dear.
Anwylaf
does
not mean ‘wife’. How curious that Rhys did not make the distinction clear.” She
laughed lightly then, as if not finding the matter curious at all.

Rhys
pointedly ignored this discussion. Indeed, he seemed intent upon listening to
some noise from above that Madeline could not discern.

Madeline
was confused. “But what does
anwylaf
mean, then?”

“It
means ‘dearest one’.” Adele’s smile broadened. “In my family, we use it only
for our beloved. You must understand, my dear, that I am even more happy to
meet you, now that I know my son calls you his beloved.”

Madeline
could not halt the answering smile that curved her lips. She had desired a
sweet confession from Rhys, unaware that he had been making it all along.

* * *

There
had to be worse things than having his mother surrender the secrets of his
heart to his wife - who was determined to have their marriage annulled - but in
this moment Rhys could not think of what those things might be.

He
had no time to ponder such whimsy, and truly, there would be no need to ponder
it if they three did not survive.

Madeline
sneezed, drawing his gaze to her sorry state. She was soaked and she smelled,
but there was a stubborn gleam in her eyes that made him proud. She was a rare
treasure, this woman with a valor to match his own. They suited each other
well, to Rhys’ thinking, and he knew he had perceived as much when first he
glimpsed her at Ravensmuir.

She
watched him and he dared to hope that she had returned for more than duty. “I
pledged to open the gates for the others,” she said.

“How
many?”

“Only
five. Cradoc ap Gwilym, the sheriff, met Rosamunde on the road and kept her
from riding on to Caerwyn. He was trying to warn you, for he feared the intent
of Robert Herbert.”

Rhys
nodded. “Cradoc is a good man and a fair fighter. Then there is Rosamunde and
who else?”

“Alexander,
Vivienne and Elizabeth.” Madeline smiled at little at his disappointment.
“Unless you count the fairy that only Elizabeth can see, who she calls Darg.”

“It
is no small thing to have a fairy on our side,” Adele said with favor. Her tone
did not dispel the fact that odds were decidedly against them.

“What
of our own men? Were they captured, or killed?” Rhys asked.

“They
pledged to serve Robert,” Adele said, “for they declared their loyalty was to
Nelwyna.”

“Do
you think it true?”

Adele
smiled. “No one is truly loyal to Nelwyna, Rhys. They lied, the better that
they might be able to aid you. Robert guesses as much, for he has separated
them and scattered them amongst the ranks of his own company.”

“But
they might take your side, given the chance,” Madeline said, before she sneezed
again.

There
was nothing for it. They had to leave the chill of the dungeon, and do their
best. Rhys pulled Madeline’s blade from the jailor’s eye and wiped it on the
man’s tabard. He handed it back to her, then spoke quickly.

“I
will lead. Mother, you will follow close behind me. Madeline, you must guard my
back. We must endeavor to remain together, for if we are separated, I will not
be able to defend you both. We must capture Robert and Nelwyna, and hope that
will cool the ardor of the others for battle.”

“They
will be in the solar,” Adele said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Nelwyna
spoke bluntly of what she offered to Robert, and I have heard the men complaining
that he never leaves her bed.”

Rhys
nodded. One excellent thing about Caerwyn was the simplicity of its design.
There was one staircase which clung to the inside of the tower’s wall. The hall
was immediately above the dungeon and filled the ground floor. Above were two
chambers, one facing inland, which had been that of Nelwyna and his father, one
facing sun and sea which had always been his mother’s. Crowning that, was the
solar, Dafydd’s chamber, which filled the uppermost floor of the tower.

There
were few places to hide in Caerwyn’s tower, which would make it easy to find
Robert and Nelwyna.

It
might also work against Rhys, for there would be no refuge once they were
spied.

“What
about the gate?” Madeline asked.

Rhys
shook his head, unable to see how he could achieve this, as well. He did not
want to hurt her feelings, but he doubted the others would provide much aid
against the dozens of mercenaries. “We shall see what we can do.” He nodded
once to the women, then climbed the ladder with no small trepidation.

* * *

Rhys
had had no notion of how much time had passed in the dungeon, so he was
surprised to find the hall dark. Night had fallen and the smell of meat told
him that the men had eaten. They slumbered, stretched out on pallets that
nearly covered the hall floor, while half a dozen torches burned fitfully on
the wall.

He
had time to hear his mother exhale in surprise, then he spied a flicker of
movement. Adele strode away from him with purpose, lifting her skirts carefully
as she crossed the room. She winked before she opened the portal to the
courtyard, and slipped out of view.

Rhys
gaped after her. Surely there must be sentries afoot? But there was no sound,
no hue and cry, no alarm. He imagined his mother striding across the bailey,
lifting the key from the sleeping gatekeeper’s hand and opening the gate.

Madeline
seemed to be fighting a smile. Rhys shrugged, then turned for the stairs,
thinking this might prove more readily won than he had dared to hope.