Debra Kay Leland (33 page)

She turned her face away. 
“It has nothing to do with—with what ye have against them!”

“I need to know why?!”

She closed her eyes and refused to look at him as he took her to her room.  The guard opened the door and he stroke in easily and set her down on a chair with care despite his temper that night, then he knelt before her and grabbed her arms tightly in his strong hands. 
“If—ye want to see him on the morrow, ye shall tell me now!”

“Ye would keep me from him?!”

“Aye, if ye tell me not.”

She considered it all in a moment of time and then said with a soft sob,
“They—they came to take me home...”

His face grew dark and hard as he stared at her before
he answered in a low even tone, “Never.”  It was all he said, all he had to say, and then he was gone.

She slept fitfully that night knowing that Turin was in the dungeons below. 
She had to get him out, but how?! 
Her mind whirled with possibilities, trying to think of a plan that all hinged on the promise Garrick had made to let her see her brother that next day…  And yet in her mind it seemed so impossible to do…

Garrick watched his men whip the lad again. 
“Tell us where the others are and we shall stop!”

The boy glared at them through bloodshot eyes, but didn’t utter a word.  His back
was welted but not bloodied, yet. 
“Enough!  He is the lady Miranda’s brother.  I shall not see him beaten to death.”

“Beat me to death if ye like, but I shall tell ye nothing, English dogs!”

The guard cuffed him again making his head fling to the side. 
“Ye would do well to remember to whom ye speak to boy!”

Turin spat the blood in his mouth at the man’s feet, only making him raise his hand to him again.

“Enough!  Put him in a cell!”

They dragged the boy with them to the cell down the long corridor and threw him in roughly, slamming the door shut behind him.  Garrick stood there for a few minutes then went to the door.  His voice low and even as he spoke to the young boy who knelt weakly in the dirt,
“Turin… if ye care at all for thy sister, ye would tell us what we need to know, and then go home in peace.”

“Nay!  I have come to take her with me and I shall!”

“She is with child.”

“We
shall take care of our own!  She is Welsh, and she belongs with her own people, not to be passed around to English dogs for she is fair to the eye!  A husband waits for her, a man who has sworn to protect her.  Ye cannot have her!  Do ye hear me!  Ye cannot have her!”

He turned from the door then and headed up the steep steps that lead outside.  Walking purposefully to the well and washed the smell of the dungeon from himself as he pondered the boy’s words.  He had hoped that the boy could have been released but now he was not so sure.  He glanced at the darkened windows beyond wondering if she was truly slept.  And wondering if he could somehow convince her to make her brother go home, knowing she was the only one who could save his life now.  For truly, if she could not, Garrick knew that the boy would be condemned to live it out the rest of his life here hidden away from her in the dungeons or in death…

Chapter Fourteen

T
he long night turned into an even longer day as she waited for Garrick to let her see her brother again.  She worried for him in the dark, dank place, as if he were in the very caverns of hell, and yet he did not come.  All she could think was that he was already dead—and if he was, she’d never forgive any of them for it!  But if he was not, then she had to do something, but short of plotting his release she had nothing but herself to barter with.  She paced the room, followed by her maid’s accusing eyes. 
When would they come get her?!  What if something already happened to Turin…?!  
Her mind whirled enough to make her dizzy.  She sank down onto the bed and covered her eyes with her thin arm.

“Are ye well?”

She shook her head in reply and tried to hold back the nauseating fear that took hold of her.

“Do ye want me to go get the healer or Lord
Farrington?”

“Nay…”  But even as she said it she was on her knees on the floor with the chamber pot before her, her stomach revolting of its own accord.  She rested her head against the edge of chair weakly as the woman pressed a cup into her hand.

“Here drink this, it shall settle thy stomach.”

She took but a sip then set it down on the floor next to her.  She heard the maid knock on the door and murmur to the guards, but she was too ill to
even care…  She closed her eyes against the weak nauseated feeling, her head on her arms, giving way to the tears that shook her thin frame…

She felt his hand before she heard his voice.  “
Miranda?” 
For a moment reality mixed and swirled with her dreams as she whispered his name. 
“…William…” 
All was quiet except for the warm hand on her shoulder and images of her dream before her. 
“…Don’t leave me again…” 
But yet the pressure from the large warm hand remained upon her even as the dream slowly departed.  She turned her head slowly and looked at him with dazed confused eyes
,
as she whispered still not fully awake. 
“Are—are ye here?”

“Aye, I am, lass.”

“Don’t leave me again… please, William… I love ye so…”

Garrick clenched his teeth at the sound of her heart wrenching pleas, unable to make himself force her from her dream.  He leaned closer and whispered against her cheek as his lips left a soft kiss against the skin he found there. 
“I love thee too…” 
It was true, he did; though she was not ready to hear such things from him yet.

She smiled weakly and tilted her head towards his silken kisses, a soft smile on her young face.   Caught in the moment and without allowing himself to think
further he kissed her back gently.
“William…”

The words were faint, but the reaction within his heart was earth shattering.  He wanted her to whisper
his name,
to welcome
his kisses
, to tell him she loved him too… 

She smiled then turned towards him, but the smile on her face faded away at what she saw then.  She up sat shakily staring at him numbly, her lower lip trembled and he feared she would cry.  She dropped her head then moved away unsteadily from where she sat on the floor. 
“I—I did not know…  I—I thought—”

He reached out to touch her cheek but she moved still farther back from him without a second thought.

“Please go.”
  She covered her face with her hands to hide her shame.

He hesitated, wanting to comfort her
, but knowing she would reject him even now.  “Emma said ye were ill.”

She dropped her hands slowly, yet refused to look at him as she sat on the floor, her back to the chair.  “I’m fine now.  I only wish to see Turin.”

He hesitated watching her, knowing how hard all this had been on her for he could see it written on her pale features.

She lifted teary eyes to his face as she held herself tightly somehow trying to brace herself against words she wasn’t sure she could bear hear
!
  “Dear God!  Tell me ye have not beaten the boy to death…!”

“Nay…  I shall make sure ye see him before the day is done.”

“Do not—do not kill him…!” 
Her voice broke at her words.

He stood then and walked to the window, his back to her stiffly. 
“Miranda, we both know why he has come here—but what he came to do is nigh impossible now.  Ye cannot leave with him, not with William’s child within ye and with others out there who would do thee harm.  Ye must convince Turin to go home without thee.  I asked him to go last night, I promised him his freedom, but he said he shall not return without thee.  I—I fear for the boy’s life if he does not leave.”

“
Nay!  He is not a threat!  I swear it!”

“He is… as long as he shall not go back to his home in peace.”

“He—he loves me…”

He sighed.  “If he loves ye, he would leave here.”  He turned and held her with his dark eyes.  “Miranda, if ye cannot convince him to leave… I fear no amount of torture shall change the boys mind short of death…”

She stood unsteadily at his words and watched him with wary eyes. 
“Ye—ye can’t mean that…  Garrick, please he is but a boy
!”

“If he shall not be reasoned with, he has already doomed himself.”

“Nay!  P—please!” 
She came forward and took his hands and knelt down before him. 
“Nay… please… I—I shall convince him to go home… I swear it!”

He looked at her pale pleading face and clenched his teeth trying not to
succumb
to the emotions it incited.  “Very well.  Convince him to return home, for if ye do not it is out of my hands, Miranda.”

She dropped her head weakly and let her hands fall to her lap as her sobs shook her thin frame where she still knelt before him.  He reached down to take her arm, but she moved away. 
“…J—just leave me…”

He bit back a curse and took her arm anyway, lifting her to her feet with care. 
“Nay, I shall not leave thee on the floor like a peasant.” 
But even as the harsh words left his mouth he knew the damage they had already been done.

He released her and she turned on him with fire in her teary eyes. 
“Ye would do well to remember what I am, English!  I am a common Welsh peasant, the daughter of a farmer, and an enemy to ye…!”

He took her arm rougher than he had wanted. 
“And ye shall do well to hold thy tongue!”
  Then released her and turned towards the door more angry with himself than with her.

“Threaten me as ye will, English, but yet my blood remains that of the Welsh and nothing ye nor I shall do can ever
change that fact!”

He didn’t answer her as he walked out knowing he’d just managed to give he
r more reasons to push him away!

But all her bravery was for not, for she trembled so badly that she slowly slid into the chair beside her once the door was once again closed…

Her maid slipped in the room and looked at her with a frown.  “Ye still are not well?”

She shook her head.  “I only need a cold cloth for my head.”

The maid brought it to her without a reply as she went to her bed on trembling legs and covered her eyes with it, then let herself drift off again.

Garrick’s steps were angry as he walked to the dungeon again.  The lad was held in shackles as he had been since his last beating.  He stopped not far from the boy and stared at him a long mom
ent before he spoke.  “Turin?”

The lad did not even try to open his swollen eyes.  “
…English dog.”

He clenched his teeth to keep his composure in check.  “Thy sister is on her sick bed with worry for thee.  I cannot allow thee to take the girl from here, surely ye must know that.  The Earl did not just take the girl, he is William’s father and he brought her here to protect her and her child…  Miranda, herself chose her destiny willingly when she married William and gave him an heir.  She is content here, Turin, and she and the child shall be well provided for; I promise thee that.  I would that ye be released and go home and be at peace with the matter for her sake if for nothing else.”

“I cannot.”

“Even if ye die in this place?”

“Then I die saving her.”

He looked at the mere boy in front of him, whose brave heart
matched that of any man.  “Do not do this to her, do not make her live knowing that she has cost thee, thy life.”

“I—I cannot go.”

He dropped his head and turned from the place again.

“He shall not be reasoned with?”

“Nay.”

“Foolish boy.”

“Or a brave one.”

Edmund shot the younger man a concerned look. 
“I shall not let her go.”

“I agree.  But the boy does no
t see it that same way we do.”

“Garrick, I am not strong enough to take care of such things…  I leave it in thy hands, but know that I shall not lose
the girl, not now, not ever!”

He nodded and stood up, the weight of it all heavy on his mind.  “I have told Miranda that she must convince the boy to
go home, I believe she shall.”

“And if he shall not go.”

“Then he shall be taken to Claymore and shall live out the rest of his life there hidden from her in the dungeons.”