Knight of Her Heart (Conquering the Heart) (33 page)

She loves you, but she doesn’t really know you,
a malicious voice taunted in his head.
She thinks you’re a completely noble knight. She doesn’t know what you have done.

If she knew the crime he had committed, the crime her own father had helped him cover-up, could Lisette still love him? Moreover, was he really worthy of her love?

With a resolute shake of his head Rowan banished his misgivings. There was no point wondering. Rowan would write a missive to the king and Richard could complete the journey without him. Rowan had wasted two days. He needed to return to Romsey and to beg his wife’s forgiveness for judging her so harshly. He had to tell her what he had done years ago and pray that she could still love him. Only then would he know whether they could hope for a happy future together.

His decision made, Rowan got up from his camp bed. ’Twas almost daybreak and the rest of the party would soon rise. He would wait only until he could inform Richard of his decision to return to Romsey, then he and Stormbringer would be away.

***

The herald’s signal rang loud and long as Rowan approached Romsey a little over a day later. How would Lisette feel upon hearing the trumpet’s announcement that he had returned?

He’d ridden hard, as though pursued by the hounds of Hell, and had made good time. Travelling alone, and leaving the main road several times to cut through the forest in areas he knew well from previous journeys, had made for a speedier journey. He’d stopped only to rest Stormbringer. Now, although weary, the Earl of Romsey was apprehensive, wondering how he would be received by his wife.

The heavy portcullis took an inordinately long time to be raised. On the other side, Sir Dwaine waited to greet him. Rowan was disconcerted. There was an urgency and air of angst about his knight that was unsettling.

Sir Dwaine rushed into speech as soon as Rowan rode forward. “My lord, ’tis a relief that you are here. We have been anxiously awaiting your return.”

Rowan dismounted and handed Stormbringer’s reins to a stable boy.

“Where are Sir Bradford and the rest of the men, my lord?” the knight continued.

Sir Dwaine’s demeanour begged attention but Rowan looked about him to see whether or not Lisette would come to greet him. He could hardly blame her for not rushing forth. His parting words to her had been brutal and now he must seek her out.

“They rode on to the king with Sir Richard. Is aught amiss, Sir Dwaine?”

“Did you not receive my missive?”

“Nay. I know naught of a missive,” Rowan said abruptly. All he wanted was to be reunited with his wife. He had no patience to deal now with other matters, yet he knew duty required him to listen. “Walk inside with me and explain yourself.”

“’Twas just yesterday that it happened, my lord. Lady Lisette went into the forest to collect some herbs for the kitchen. She did not return.”

Rowan stopped dead in his tracks as the bottom fell out of his world. The blood left his extremities as he tried to make sense of what his knight told him. Turning toward Sir Dwaine and seeing his concern, Rowan’s heart shuddered to a halt for several seconds.

“Her guards were murdered, my lord.”

Rowan was paralysed—incapable of thought or action. The shocking news ripped his heart and rendered him useless as he merely stood like a shell of a man, staring at his knight.

“We sent out a search party when they did not return. The bodies of the men were found.”

“And...Lisette?” Rowan rasped, incapable of hiding his anguish. He hardly dared to listen to Sir Dwaine’s response.

“We found only the basket of herbs she’d collected. It had been dropped on the forest floor. There were tracks which suggested a party of at least six travelled away from the scene on horseback.”

She’d been taken captive! Rowan uttered a savage curse and rage galvanised him back to life. “Bring Stormbringer back!” he yelled toward the stables.

“We sent for you at once, my lord, and began searching the forest,” Sir Dwaine rushed on. “Early that eve we received a message from Baddesley.”

“Malin.” The name emerged as a snarl as hatred filled him.

Sir Dwaine’s next words confirmed Rowan’s immediate suspicion. “He has captured the countess, my lord, and demands you travel immediately to Baddesley else her life be forfeit.”

“By the Holy Grail he shall pay for this.” Blood pounded in his temples. The beast that had resided within him since the murder of his parents, the one Rowan had struggled to slay, raised its ugly head once again. It urged him to destroy Malin—the one who had already taken those most precious from him and who now threatened to do so again.

“I should have killed him long ago,” Rowan growled to himself.

Sir Dwaine regarded him a little hesitantly. “My lord, what would you have us do?”

Rowan forced himself to breathe deeply and to think. “Have a small party of men saddle up to travel with me. There is naught to do but travel to Baddesley and play Malin’s game.”

“His game, my lord? Pray tell me, what is his objective?”

“My life for my lady’s.” ’Twas simple. Rowan knew exactly what Malin would demand. If necessary Rowan would willingly lay down his life for his lady wife and their unborn child for his life meant nothing without her. The difficulty would be in securing Lisette’s release. Malin was not to be trusted and would wish both Rowan and Lisette dead—especially if he realised Lisette was expecting Rowan’s child.

This new ally of Malin’s, Lord Blake, did he feature in all of this?

“I don’t understand why the messenger did not reach you,” Sir Dwaine pondered aloud.

“I did not ride by the main road the entire way.”

“Then the men travelling with Sir Richard will get the message and Sir Bradford will soon return with the knights from Romsey. ’Twill then be possible to mount an attack on Baddesley Keep, Lord Rowan.”

“Nay. Malin would not hesitate to kill my wife if we attack. He may harm her anyway, but his purpose is to kill me. The only way to ensure the safe release of Lady Lisette is to perform a trade. He sends Lisette out of the keep as I go in.” At least then Rowan would know she and their child were safe. If ’twas at all possible he would find a way to mete out his own form of justice to Malin.

“But, Lord Rowan—”

Rowan put up a hand to silence his knight’s protest. “There is no time to waste. Order the horses saddled.  Assemble the party of knights immediately for they will accompany me and return Lady Lisette to safety.” The words he uttered sounded confident but knew the fate of his wife and their child rested in God’s hands. Never had he prayed so fervently.

Chapter 19

Darkness.

Lisette strained to see and to make sense of her whereabouts, but there was not even a glimmer of light. Confusion made her frown. The dull throb in her right temple was all-too real. This was no dream. Where was she? The air was cool, damp and stale. Whatever she was seated on...stone floor?...was hard and uncomfortable.

A shiver ran up her spine. ’Twas partly from the cold and partly, she acknowledged, from fear. The second she shifted a little she discovered every muscle was stiff and cramped.

Slowly, hazy memories of her ordeal returned. Men in the forest surrounded her. No sign of her guards. Robbed of sight, hands quickly bound behind her back, there’d been nothing she could do to save herself. All she’d been able to come up with to stall them was a plan to injure herself just enough to delay their journey. It had been a plan which could have gone horribly wrong.

Mercifully her gamble had paid off. Later that day when she’d finally regained consciousness from her fall from the horse, she’d been untied and rested on a make-shift bed. The men had made camp and she gathered from their conversation that they waited nervously to see whether or not she would survive her fall without any lasting injuries.

Unbound, her hands had gone immediately to her abdomen. Relief had made her exhale a long, thankful breath. Her womb was still slightly swollen. There was no sticky wetness between her legs and she had not suffered any cramping pain—the only symptoms she knew of which would indicate a miscarriage. She’d sent up fervent prayers of thanksgiving, praising God that her babe was unharmed from her fall.

“She’s coming ’round!” a rough voice had announced.

Lisette had kept her eyelids tightly closed.

“Wake up, wench!”

Ooh!
Cold water had splashed over Lisette, causing her to gasp and her eyelids to fly open.

“Yer a stupid woman!” She had been given a rough shake by a man who appeared to be completely without principles. “The baron’s goin’ ter be mad as hell we’ve been delayed. Get on yer feet!”

“Do yer think she’s suffered any permanent damage?” The question had come from behind her.

“I don’t care. As long as she’s still pokable the baron’s friend will be happy.”

Lisette had moaned dramatically.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” another had chipped in. “We were s’posed to deliver her unharmed.”

Moaning again, slightly louder this time, Lisette had clutched at her side and gasped as though she was in agony. She’d let her eyes roll back in her head, her head loll forward and her limbs flop.

A man cursed. “We can’t take her to the baron like this!”

“She could be damaged in the head,” another said.

A lewd laugh from another before he said, “I don’t think the baron’s friend is worried about her head.”

“Still, what if we get her there and she dies? He won’t want to poke a corpse.”

The man who’d shaken her paced back and forward, his agitation palpable. “Alright,” he told the men at last. “We’ll stay here until we know she’s goin’ to survive.”

“By the Lord, what if she doesn’t?” demanded another.

“Then we’ll have to ride like the wind as far away from Baddesley as we can and hope the baron never catches up with us.”

She’d held them up for another day before the leader of the group had insisted they be on their way. When she’d thought she was unobserved, her hand had gone to her pockets. The dagger she always carried—the one that she had used successfully against her guardian once before—had not been there. She had been guarded closely and had grown increasingly frustrated that no opportunity presented to escape her enemy. At least she had forestalled her arrival to the men who’d ordered her capture.

After a day Lisette had been so hungry she’d needed to admit that she was roused enough to eat. ’Twould do her baby no good if she did not take the nutrition she needed and lost her energy to think and to fight. Despite her protests that she was too weak to travel, the leader of the men had declared they would continue on their way at daybreak. He’d refused to say just where they were headed but, given that he’d mentioned riding as far away from Baddesley as possible if she was harmed, she’d reasoned Baddesley was their intended destination.

All day she’d been tossed about on the horse as the men had pushed on at almost breakneck pace. At some stage she must have fallen asleep for she had no recollection of being lifted from the mount nor of reaching this place. This room was like a dungeon set deep in the bowels of the earth. Her captors had spoken of taking her to the baron. There were no dungeons at Bridlemere Keep and Baddesley was closer to Romsey. It made sense that they would take her there.

A little sob escaped from her lips as she realised she must now meet the evil men who had orchestrated her abduction. The next sob turned into a shrill, uncontrollable shriek as a rodent ran across her outstretched leg.

Oh, dear Lord. Be calm,
she instructed herself. As much as she loathed rats, her hands were no longer bound and she was not defenceless. A rat was surely the least of her problems.

Getting to her feet gingerly, she braced herself against the cold stone wall. The world of darkness spun around her. Each movement brought a fresh, piercing pain to add to the constant ache of her head.

Her stomach rumbled from hunger. The sound was inordinately loud in the silence then echoed through the darkness.

How long had she been here?

Malin and her former guardian would not leave her here forever. Knowing her father’s distant cousin, he would want to gloat and to demean her in any way he could. He would want to make sure she knew that he was behind her predicament. Mayhap he would want her to beg for mercy. The thought made her spine stiffen. Never would she give him that pleasure. ’Twas imperative she find another weapon.

Running one hand along the wall she took a few steps into the inky darkness. She searched for an exit or for something which may prove useful to defend herself when someone finally came to release her or feed her. A rock? A plank of wood? A candlestick? ’Twas unfortunate that the dagger she normally carried with her had been removed from the pocket of her clothing.

Lord, be merciful and give me some way of defending myself
, she prayed.

One of the men who had captured her mentioned she had a purpose. She imagined that purpose was to lure Rowan to Baddesley. That was surely the plan and she was the bait. Hopefully the soldiers from Romsey who had guarded her in the forest would have been allowed to return to Romsey Castle to inform Sir Dwaine that the baron had her and Rowan would know of her plight by now.

Her good husband would come to her rescue. Even despising her as he did, he would do his duty. He had taken a vow before God to protect her and she knew he was an honourable man of his word. Once again he would suffer because of her, for his brother and her guardian could only mean to murder him—mayhap promising her life in exchange for his.

The creak of a door opening made her turn her head toward the source. A shaft of light from the flame of a torch pierced the pitch black, signalling that she was no longer alone. She shielded her eyes against the sudden brightness which assaulted them.