The Defiant Bride (19 page)

She fought with herself to quell the doubts as they assailed her. What if William could not follow them? What if Richard had been killed? Poor Leah. Did no one else in the castle notice that the two were in love? If Richard was dead, would William know what had transpired? Would he think she ran away and be disgusted with her? Her mind screamed in protest.
Richard is not dead. He is
not. William will rescue me
. Then they would return together and celebrate Leah and Richard’s wedding and the birth of William’s son. Or daughter. The thought made Dariana smile. Yes, she told herself, I will concentrate on the joys to come. It will make bearing this easier.

Soon, a holding loomed ahead of them, its age and lack of repair obvious. The walls, once tall and offering protection, were now crumbled. Gaping holes suggested many sieges with few victories. The gatehouse, or what remained of it, was no longer an enclosed structure, but a group of stones piled up to reach above the height of the walls. The moat surrounding the castle reeked of decay and waste. The bloated body of what once could have been a horse floated on the surface of its murky depths. Dariana’s stomach once again threatened to rebel. The portcullis had long ago decayed. Cedric and his men carefully walked their horses single-file across the ancient planks that served as a bridge.

The outer bailey was no better in appearance than the walls. The cottages that had once nestled along the inside perimeter were now toppled in piles or huddled in blackened, burned heaps. The courtyard was deserted. Ahead, the main structure stood vulnerable, although no one in his right mind would care to possess what was left of it.

A heavy oak door swung wide at their approach. A woman appeared in the opening, her raiment immaculate in stark contrast to the structures around her. The woman’s thick, dark brown hair fell in waves to her waist and her gown was of a rich brocade, dark green woven with gold threads. A huge emerald graced her throat and her hands were dazzling with heavy rings. But what Dariana noticed most were the woman’s eyes as her gaze fell on her. Dariana had never seen such hatred. The force of it took her breath away.

“Melissa,” Cedric called.

Dariana recognized the name. She understood the reason for the woman’s rage.

“I have brought you a gift.” His voice was tinged with humor.

“You have brought in the fillings of the chamber pot,” Melissa replied. “When you spill it, I shall not clean up the mess.”

“This, my sweet, it is the mess that shall clean your house. Remember that,” Cedric responded.

“The bitch stole what was mine and left me with this,” Melissa spat, indicating her keep. “Tell me she shall pay, then I will be content.” This last was a whine.

Cedric laughed. “My love, you would not be content if I were to lay the wealth of all England at your feet.”

“I merely want what is rightfully mine. Is that so unfair?” Melissa stamped her foot for emphasis.

Cedric leaned in close to Dariana’s ear. His touch was like that of a snake and she swallowed hard and shivered.

“Ah, so my touch excites you? I knew you would forget my weakling brother, but I did not dream it would be so soon.”

“That is not excitement, Cedric,” she hissed, facing him. “It is the response to something sickening. The touch of a spider would gain the same reaction.”

“You should be kinder to me, Dariana. You see how warm and loving Melissa promises to be during your stay. You would be wise to cultivate my goodwill.”

“I would sooner cultivate a rat who feeds on waste. As for the weakness of your brother, I pray only to be allowed to see him exact his revenge.”

“The fight will soon be wrung from your heart and you shall welcome my company.” Cedric smiled at this, but it never reached his eyes.

“Then, pray, my lord, hold your breath until that time comes. You shall save us all some trouble.”

With that, Cedric shoved Dariana. She toppled from the horse, landing on her hip. Melissa and Cedric’s men laughed with pleasure. Unwilling to give them the satisfaction of seeing her in pain, Dariana rose from the dust and smoothed her skirts as though nothing untoward had occurred. Cedric dismounted, tossing his reins to one of the men, then he was beside her, guiding her toward Melissa. Cedric pushed Dariana up the stairs and into the main hall. A dampness settled into her bones from the dark, filthy room. The floors were foul, covered in roting food and the bones of many meals. Several dogs, their ribs standing out in bold relief, cowered in a corner, snapping and snarling over bits of decayed treasures that would not begin to fill their empty bellies.

A table and six chairs were positioned by the hearth, the only furniture in sight, which made the hall appear gaping and empty. Melissa shoved Dariana in the back and nearly knocked her of
her feet as they reached the center of the room. Then she moved in front of Dariana and swung her arm in a wide arc, taking in the whole of the hall.

“This is why I hate you, you surly harpy,” Melissa sneered. “This is what is left of my dowry. This and some land. But William cared not over the state of my house. It was the land he coveted. His wealth would have seen this decay washed away and rebuilt. I would have been the mistress of Dansworth and seen my ancestral home rise again to strength and beauty. Do you think I like living like this?” This last was a screech and Dariana winced at the sound. Melissa swung a fist, but Dariana was quicker and sidestepped. This caused great mirth for Cedric and he did not attempt to conceal his laughter. Furious, Melissa thrust her hand toward his face. He grabbed her wrist and applied pressure until she sank to her knees, whimpering.

“Never touch me in your anger, woman! Why don’t you expend your energies into making this place bearable?”

Melissa backed down. “Forgive me, my lord. I forgot myself. It will not happen again. You know why I cannot afford to repair my home. As soon as we are done here, we can go to more suitable lodging. Forget not that the dungeon is strong and that William will never think to come here.”

Cedric whirled away from her, putting himself face-to-face with Dariana. Melissa pushed between them, drawing his attention back to her. “Am I not more appealing than the strumpet?” Melissa simpered.

“Hardly,” Cedric sneered.

“Ah, yes, but when we have finished with her, there will be little left to arouse your interest. I can be patient.” Melissa narrowed her eyes at Dariana, the taste of victory evident. Dariana smiled back sweetly, imparting that her confidence had not diminished.

“Put her in the dungeon and I shall reward your efforts.” Melissa angled her head seductively toward Cedric.

Cedric looked at her askance. Melissa pouted and reached for Cedric’s arm, her determination undiminished. Cedric breathed his exasperation, but called to two of his soldiers. “Bayard, Quentin, see our guest to the room we prepared for her.” Cedric shoved Dariana in their direction. “Dariana, enjoy your stay. You and William’s heir.”

“Heir?” Melissa screamed. “The bitch carries his child?”

“What care you, Melissa? It will all be over soon enough. You shall be well compensated for your trouble.”

“I care because she has taken all from me. My wealth, my husband-to-be, a child, my very life. I want her to die, Cedric. Now! Kill her now.” This last was a sickening, pleading whine.

Dariana heard no more as she was dragged from the hall and shoved toward the steps. The stones that formed the stairs were broken and Dariana feared they might give way with each downward step. The walls, also of ancient stone, were damp and smelled of years of neglect. The stairs ended in what was little more than a cave beneath the hall and Dariana was heaved into the dark room, the door swinging shut behind her. Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed her gorge, trying to maintain her composure. Suddenly, it was all too much. She sank to her knees and the tears flowed, deep racking sobs tearing at her as her misery sought release.

“William,” she whispered into the darkness. “Please, William, I am here. Please, come for me.”

The mere thought of her husband suffused her with warmth and the sobs eased. She remembered the manly smell of him, the touch of his hard muscled flesh against her, the taste of him. She recalled how her body sparked alive when he touched her and how he drank the honey from her mouth. She put her hands over her flat belly as if to cradle the child within. She took a deep breath and the essence of her husband was with her. She knew in her heart and soul that he would appear. They would be together—and soon.

William had traveled a mere mile when it occurred to him he had taken this route before. It had been years ago when he had looked over the property; this land had been part of Melissa’s dowry. Her home, or what was left of it after years of neglect, was only a few miles ahead.

Melissa. But what was her connection to his half-brother? Of course. Hadn’t they met at court? She seemed delighted by his charm. He had gone out of his way to flatter her. The two who hated him most of all. It made sense that they would form an alliance against him. What more terrible revenge could they exact
than to take his beloved wife? He would take back what was his and if they had harmed one hair of her head, they would know misery the likes of which had never been felt.

He had to be sure his assessment was correct. He dared not waste time if he was mistaken in his judgment. William sent John ahead, then paced restlessly, considering any alternatives should he be wrong. The man reappeared an hour later.

“There is much activity, my lord,” John reported. “I caught sight of your half-brother inside the walls.”

“Did he see you?” William asked.

“Oh, no, my lord. The walls have mostly fallen and it was a simple task to see inside. I listened for a long enough time to be sure. Lady Melissa appeared and she was—”

William raised an eyebrow in question.

“She was touching him, if you know what I mean, and her voice carried. She was complaining about the captive they held.”

William had no doubts as to the identity of their prisoner.

It was near dark when William and his men approached Melissa’s keep. He was once more stunned at the look and the stench of the place. It had grown worse with the years. Too many sieges, too little care. Melissa had the means to put the place to rights, but she instead chose to wear jewels at her throat and about her wrists. Now, however, William was grateful for the condition of the walls and the decided lack of protection they afforded. Still, he and his men dared not attack openly without some knowledge of the number of men or defenses within. His beloved Dariana’s life hung in the balance.

They camped in the nearby woods, concealed from the structure.

Morle and several of the other men approached William. “Have you a strategy, my lord?”

“I have been thinking. Did you know that the keep was built prior to the Norman Conquest?”

The men looked to each other, their expressions confused. “We do not understand the significance of the castle’s history, my lord,” Morle responded.

“The Saxons were crafty. They always sought to build secret passages in case escape was the only choice. The passages would lead into the keep at the lowest point—”

“—where certainly the dungeon would be,” Morle finished.

“Where else would they hold someone? It would be the only secure place.”

“Yes, my lord, but will your brother think as you do and anticipate our entry through one of the passages?”

“My half-brother is a cunning man, but I am hoping he believes my arrogance to be a match for his own.”

“I do not understand, my lord.”

“Only a truly arrogant man would march in through the front gate. It is, I believe, what Cedric would do if he felt himself safe, surrounded by his men. But that is not the strategy of a knight or warrior. No, Morle, it is the planning of one who puts his arrogance above his sense. So, firstly, we must find the passages. Tell the men to move in close to the walls so as not to attract attention. Look for anything that might appear to cover an entry. Watch that the light of the moon does not betray their presence.”

Morle nodded and went to the soldiers to convey William’s bidding. For a moment, William stood in front of the crumbling castle. In the diffuse light, the broken walls looked more like the stuff of nightmares, a ghostly monster that was keeping him from his heart’s desire. His hand went to the hilt of his sword and his years of training washed power into his veins. He gripped the sword tightly. He was the conqueror, set on his goal.

“Dariana,” he whispered through clenched teeth, “I am here. I have come for you.”

After hours of searching, two passages were uncovered. The men lifted the dried brush, twigs, and fallen rocks that masked the openings.

The first entry was blocked, filled with stones and looking as if the supports had given way one hundred years past. The men moved to the second tunnel. It curved around several times before leading into what appeared to be the heart of the keep. But then, this way, too, was blocked by fallen stone and appeared impassable.

“Dig through,” William ordered. “We will pass.”

The men fell to the task of moving the obstacles before them.