Her Rebel Heart (27 page)

Deliverance's heart beat faster. She wanted to scream at him to go back but the words stuck in her throat.

Farrington gave a snort of satisfaction as Luke stopped within twenty feet of Farrington. Farrington gestured to two of his men. “Secure him.”

Luke didn't move as the two men stepped forward, one on each side, holding his arms in a secure vice. They brought him forward until Luke stood within a few feet of Farrington. He kept his eyes fixed on Farrington's face, not even glancing at Deliverance.

A choked sob escaped her and for the first time, his gaze slid towards her.

Charles Farrington seized Deliverance's arm, jerking her away from Jack and thrust her at Luke.

“Say your goodbyes, Deliverance. By sundown your precious Captain will be dead.”

Deliverance fell against Luke's chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, not caring who saw or what they thought. His body felt hard and reassuring, the beat of his heart steady. If Charles Farrington were to have his way, by nightfall that good heart would be still.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled. “This is all my fault.”

Luke, too securely held to touch her, bent his head and lips brushed her hair.

“No it’s not. Just trust me, Deliverance,” he whispered too softly for the two thugs who held him to hear properly.

She looked up at him and he smiled.

“Jack, secure the Felton woman.”

Jack pulled her away from Luke as Charles turned once again to address the woman on the wall.

“Now the garrison, Mistress Felton.”

Deliverance looked up. All the men had gone from the castle walls. Only Penitence, resplendent in her red dress, her fair curls tossed lightly in the breeze remained a sole sentinel by the Gatehouse tower. She looked magnificent.

From within the castle came the slow beat of a drum. Behind Farrington, the besiegers gathered to watch the humiliation of this stubborn little castle and Deliverance heard the murmuring, as if they held their collective breath.

Thrmm...thrmm...

A solitary figure appeared at the castle gate, holding the Felton standard and behind him the drummer. They walked forward slowly until they reached the end of the bridge.

“Toby,” Deliverance said in a quiet voice.

As if on cue, the beat of the drum suddenly changed. Deliverance had lived with soldiers long enough now to recognise the call to arms. Above the standard and the drummer, the wall bristled with the gleam of weapons and from the ditch came a bloodcurdling battle cry.

“For Felton!”

At that command, a line of men sprang from the ditch in front of the castle and charged toward the onlookers. Ned Barrett led the charge, bareheaded, looking like a wild warrior from stories of the Celts.

Farrington's men had left their posts and their weapons to watch the tableau of the surrender and were not prepared for any attack, by however pathetic a force. Now shouted orders and the sound of general confusion enveloped her as the royalists scattered to their positions.

A smattering of musket fire came from the royalist lines but the Kinton Lacey men came onwards unhindered. As they approached a nauseating stench of human and animal excrement wafted towards the royalist lines and Deliverance saw that the men were mired to the waist. She gagged.

Farrington's eyes widened and he gestured to Deliverance. “Jack, kill her, kill her now...”

Deliverance closed her eyes, steeling herself for the pistol ball. Instead the grip on her arm relaxed.

“I don't think so, Charles,” Jack Farrington said in a quiet voice.

Deliverance caught her breath and opened her eyes as Jack Farrington caught his brother’s neck in his arm and pressed the pistol that had been pressed to Deliverance's neck against his brother's temple.

“What are you doing?” Farrington's eyes bulged with surprise and rage.

“I think I'm turning my cloak,” Jack replied calmly. “Get your men to lay down their weapons. Make no mistake, Charles, I will kill you for what you did at Byton.”

The Kinton Lacey assault came to a halt and a line of muskets faced the royalist troops. A pathetically small number against the hundreds of men they faced.

“Do what he says!” Farrington screamed. “Lay down your weapons.”

A mutter ran through the lines of his men and one by one they complied.

“Good. Now release Collyer,” Jack gestured to the two men holding Luke.

They let him go, and Luke brushed his sleeve as if removing an annoying piece of lint.

“Thank you, Jack,” he said and swept Deliverance a bow.

“Mistress Felton, shall we return to Kinton Lacey? Captain Farrington, your prisoner will accompany us.”

Holding Charles securely by one arm with his pistol still pressed to his brother's neck, Jack moved forward, Luke and Deliverance fell into line beside him and they walked abreast back towards the line of Kinton Lacey men who parted to allow them through and then turned and followed, making a dignified, if smelly, procession back inside the castle.

Toby and the drummer, once again beating a slow march, followed and the gate shut on Kinton Lacey with all the defenders and their hostage safely within its walls.

A cheer went up as the gate swung shut with a resounding thud. Relief flooded through Luke as the portcullis chain rattled. For a brief moment he thought his legs would give way, had it not been for Deliverance.

She nestled beneath the curve of his arm, her own arm around his waist. She looked up at him. Dark rings of exhaustion circled her eyes. He bent his head and kissed her forehead as a whooping crowd of the delighted, and unharmed, garrison celebrated around them.

Charles Farrington, his face purple with rage pushed himself free of his brother and turned to face him.

“You bloody traitor. You'll hang for this,” he screamed at Jack, his eyes bulging with rage.

Jack looked down at the pistol in his hand.

“Not a decision made lightly, Charles,” he responded. “But I couldn't in all conscience go on serving under you. Not after what you did at Byton.”

“They were rebels. We needed to set an example.” He swept his hand around the assembled garrison. “So these bastards knew what to expect.”

“There are some rules to war, Farrington,” Luke said. “And what you did will see you hanged. You are my prisoner and I intend to see you stand trial for the coldblooded murder of the Byton garrison.”

He gestured to Sergeant Hale and another of his men. “Lock him up.”

“I'll see you all hang first,” Farrington shouted over his shoulder as he was led away, spittle flying from his mouth. “Wait till my father gets word of this impudence.”

“Jack!” Penitence emerged from the door of the gatehouse and ran through the crowd to reach her lover. He swung her into his arms and another roar of approval went up from the garrison.

Luke shook his head. Young lovers were more trouble than they were worth. Love was more trouble… but perhaps it was worth it.

He held Deliverance closer. “You need to get some rest,” he whispered.

She nodded. “Later but first tell me how did the men get into the ditch without being seen?”

Ned grinned. “Can't you guess?”

Deliverance put a hand to her nose. “You came through the south ditch?”

Ned nodded. “Oddly Farrington didn't seem to pay the south ditch much attention, but I think we would all be grateful if the water and soap could be spared to allow us the dignity of a good wash.”

Deliverance nodded. “Immediately,” she said.

“Capn' Sir!” One of the men on the curtain called down. “Come and see.”

Luke released Deliverance and bounded up the stairs to join the man on the wall.

“Look!”

“What's happening?” Deliverance stood at his side.

“They're pulling out,” Luke said as he scanned the distant movement of men and wagons.

“Is it over?” Deliverance asked, her voice cracked with emotion.

“It will be by tonight.”

She looked up at him, all exhaustion banished. “We did it! Oh, Luke, we did it!”

Her arms circled his neck and all modesty and decorum abandoned, they kissed to an accompaniment of whoops and catcalls.

Luke looked down at the courtyard. “That's enough cheek from you lot. They've not gone yet, so to your posts all of you and you, my lady, need to go and get some rest before you fall over. Go!”

He watched as she descended back into the courtyard and crossed over to the residence, a small, defiant figure. She had caused him to take the biggest risk of his life and he would do it again, and gladly.

A clean and perfumed Ned found Luke in the library where Toby had brought him a tray of something unidentifiable that the cook had described as ‘dinner’.

Ned sat down with a heartfelt sigh. “I think you owe me an explanation.”

“I do,” Luke agreed. “What do you suppose this is?” He held up a piece of unidentifiable matter.

“A turnip?” Ned suggested.

Luke wrinkled his nose and pushed the plate to one side. Tonight they would eat properly. “What do you want to know?”

“Jack Farrington?”

“That night we took Jack Farrington prisoner I had a long talk to him. He was wavering in his loyalty to his brother so I just let him talk. By the end he had convinced himself to turn his cloak. I didn’t do anything.”

“And you didn't think to tell me?” Ned looked aggrieved.

“In fairness, Ned, events rather got ahead of us.”

Ned sat back with his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Not an easy decision for Jack. It wasn't just about Penitence then?”

Luke shook his head. “A man can be ruled by the contents of his breeches but I think he was genuinely appalled by his brother's handiwork at Byton. Jack Farrington is a man of conscience and honor, and while it is not an easy matter to turn against your own family, Charles' own actions forced him to it.”

“I suppose you would know,” Ned observed.

The old pain turned like a knife in Luke’s heart as he thought about his own brother, Nick, but Nick was no Charles Farrington. In that talk with Jack, he deemed it prudent to confide his own family story as a way of drawing Jack to the decision to turncoat. He had no doubt that Jack would be incapable of keeping the story from Penitence and Penitence in her turn would tell Deliverance.

The time had come. He needed to get to Deliverance first.

“Mercifully my brother is an honourable man,” Luke said. “He would never do what Charles did at Byton.”

“But how did you know Jack would turn the pistol on his brother?” Ned enquired.

“I didn't. I just had to trust him to rise to the occasion.”

“If he hadn't?”

“Then you would have had to carry through the attack and hope they were startled enough, or repelled by your smell, to let us get away without too many casualties.”

Ned shook his head. “You took a gamble.”

“A huge gamble,” Luke agreed. He gestured at the window with its broken glass, beyond which they could hear the sound of the departing royalists. “But it paid off. My guess is they are heading back to Ludlow to report to Sir Richard and lick their wounds.”

“The older Farrington will be back though.”

Luke shook his head. “Not while I'm holding his son.” He drew a deep breath. “We need to get Charles Farrington to Gloucester for trial.”

“A problem for the morning.” Ned rose to his feet and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “But for the time being, I think a celebration is called for.”

Luke nodded. “We'll kill some of the cattle and send out a patrol to see what our besiegers have left. I think there is still a cask of Sir John's wine that is unbroached.”

“Leave it to me.” Ned saluted and left the room.

Luke, suddenly exhausted, leaned back in Sir John's chair and studied the severe face that glared down at him from the wall.

“Well, Sir John,” he said aloud. “I think you can be proud of your daughter.”

Chapter 21

D
eliverance woke to someone shaking her shoulder. She buried her face deeper into the bolster.

“Wake up,” Luke's voice whispered in her ear. “I think you might want to see this.”

“Go away,” she mumbled.

A finger lightly traced a line down the back of her neck. Lips followed lightly touching the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.