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Authors: Dee Brice

BOOK: Passion's Twins
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Ignoring the patches that had slipped from her fake
birthmark and revealed her true one, ignoring the guilt that tore at his
innards, he said the cruel words that would take her from him forever. No
matter his true feelings. No matter what the consequences might be, he was
deviled into saying, “I know you love me. Rowena.”

* * * * *

Gareth’s Encampment

 

Staring morosely into a tankard of ale, Gerard groaned. “St.
Christopher on a crutch, I’m tired of these endless games. ‘Tis bad enough that
Edina and her sister play them. Now it feels as if I cannot stop playing them
myself.”

“How did Edina react when you called her Rowena?” Edgar
asked before drinking deeply from his own tankard.

“She didn’t stay long enough for me to see. Just shoved me
off, gathered her clothes and ran away. What about Rowena?”

“The same. I think she was crying.” Raking his hair with
both hands, Edgar swore. “I think we went too far.”

“Aye?” Gerard drawled sarcastically.

“’Tis only…I see no way to make them stop changing places.”

“Perhaps the game is so much a part of who they are—who they’ll
always be—they can’t stop.”

“Which leaves us where?”

“Leaving them or putting up with the games for the rest of
our lives.”

Edgar moaned. “I’d as soon cut out my heart as leave Rowena.
Moreover, if she’s carrying my babe… I’ll not desert her.”

“Moreover,” Gerard echoed, “despite the games, you love her.
As I love Edina. I cannot imagine my life without her.”

Brightening, Edgar said, “There’ll be no reason to switch
places when they live apart.”


If
they live apart.
If
we can win them back
and take one or the other to her new home.
If
…damn! Waging war is easier
than wooing women.”

“Aye. But wooing is more pleasant.”

Chuckling, Gerard nodded. “Definitely more pleasant. But we
still have all those damn
if
s.”

Chapter Eight

Yvonne’s Solar

 

“They are your brothers, Gareth,” Yvonne muttered. “You deal
with them.”

“You are ruler here, Yvonne. ‘Tis your duty to deal with the
four of them,” he said quietly.

“Pfft!”

Grinning, Gareth merely quirked a dark brow. But—hidden
beneath her full skirts—he gently squeezed her hand.

Sighing, she folded both hands in her lap, studying the two
couples standing before her. Gerard and Edgar she caught unawares. They looked
as if they wished to be in hell rather than here. At the same time they kept
darting apologetic glances at the twins.
As well they should!

But Yvonne noticed that—even though the twins wore identical
gowns of sky blue silk, had their hair coiled in flaxen braids atop their heads
and had never looked so much alike—each man looked at the woman of his heart
and ignored the other.

Despite their defiant posture, Yvonne noted the sadness in
the twins’ eyes, the downward curl of their lips, the occasional grazing of
their hands as if they sought solace in each other’s touch. Their red-rimmed
eyes bespoke of countless tears. Which had forced Yvonne to this damnable
confrontation.

She had tried to warn them of the consequences of their
games—heartbreak being the most painful of all. But how much had she
contributed to this dilemma when she warned them to expect more tricks from the
men? And how much had Gareth contributed? He must have lectured his brothers or
at least counseled them.

Now was not the time to fix blame.

“Ladies.
Gentlemen.
” The sarcasm in her voice brought
their startled gazes to her face. “Although I regret the decision I have
reached, I see no other course. You will marry a sennight hence.”

A chorus of “no” followed her proclamation. She noticed,
however, that all four miscreants looked relieved. Perhaps they would learn to
deal with each other after all. Given their pasts, it would take some hard work
on all their parts. But faint hearts never won the war between the sexes. As
she had good reason to know.

“I would prefer that you never see each other again. Since
the ladies may be carrying your babies, gentlemen, I see no other alternative. You
have made your beds, now you must lie in them.

“The delay in your marriage will allow Rowena and Edina’s
parents time to return to Marchonland.”

“How…?” Edina heeded Yvonne’s frown.

Rowena did not. “How can you reach them in time? Beaufort
lies two days’ hard ride from here and two days’ hard ride to return. And our
parents won’t travel without a full retinue. Which will make their journey far
longer.”

“It has to do with Marchon’s defenses, which I’ll not
discuss with you,” Yvonne said in her most queenly voice.

Gareth raised his voice, saying, “You’d better think of a
way to explain this hasty marriage. One that won’t force me to find allies
other than the twins’ parents.”

“Before you go,” Yvonne said, her voice cold, “you are not
to see each other until the wedding. Any communications between you will be
written and routed through Gaspar and Aida.” She dismissed them with a curt
nod.

“Gaspar has posted guards, so don’t even think about using
the tunnels. And don’t imagine you can sneak away to rendezvous at the
willows,” Gareth added.

“Prisoners,” the twins muttered.

“There is always the oubliette,” Yvonne said. Baring her
teeth in her warrior grin, she watched four faces pale under her feral look.

“I’ll see you back to camp.” Gareth clamped one hand around
each of his brother’s necks then shoved them toward the door.

“And, since you have earned my distrust, I shall see you
ladies to your quarters,” Yvonne added.

* * * * *

When Gareth and Yvonne returned to her solar, they found
Gaspar and Aida waiting for them.

“Do you think they will obey? That they won’t try to see
each other?” Aida demanded, her gray eyes concerned.

“Have you truly sent for the twins’ parents?” Gaspar added.

“No and yes,” Yvonne said.

Gareth took her hand. “The twins’ parents will arrive in a
sennight. Yvonne has already sent the pigeons. We hope a sense of urgency will
bring my brothers and the twins to their senses.”

“You should not have meddled,” Aida scolded, still looking
worried.

“Don’t wander down that path, dear Aunt. You and Gaspar bear
a portion of the blame for this debacle.”

“Aye,” Gareth agreed. “Had you not told Gerard and Edgar
about the twins—”

“Your brothers might think themselves in love with the same
woman. For a time at least,” Gaspar interrupted, protectively circling Aida’s
waist with one arm. His other hand went to the dagger at his waist. “They might
have tried to kill each other.”

Gareth snorted. “While now we may need to defend my brothers
against parents who—”

“Let their daughters continue to play their childish games
far too long.” Aida huffed a sigh as she plopped down on a chair.

“’Tis far too late to fix blame.” Yvonne perched on her
window seat and gazed down at the melee on her training fields. She would
rather be there, training with her men, than standing on this precipice. ‘Twas
easier to order action than to wait for four stubborn hearts to make up their
minds.

“It all comes down to choice,” Gareth said softly.

Yvonne looked up at her husband. “If I had chosen one of
your brothers over you, would you have stepped away?”

“Hell no!” His vehemence made them all laugh. Yvonne
blushed, pleased that Gareth loved her enough to give her the illusion of
choice.

“When Kerrie—may she rest in peace—and I were young, I
longed to look like her. So tall and slender. So graceful in her movements.”
Aida sighed, offering a small grin. “Now my heart aches for Rowena and Edina.
‘Tis truly awful to seem indistinguishable from another.”

“An illusion they fostered,” Yvonne reminded them.

Taking Aida’s hand, Gaspar said, “I believe I could have seen
the differences between you and Kerrie. Even if you had been identical.”

“Aye?”

“Aye. My heart would have told me.”

* * * * *

Alexandre glanced at Kerrie. Noting her frown, he rubbed his
thumb over her forehead and kissed her cheek.

“I suppose this debacle is all my doing,” she muttered.

“In part,
oui
. But all the players share
responsibility in one way or another.” He chuckled softly. “Aida had it
right—the twins’ parents should have stopped their games years ago. And you…”

“I only wanted to make them realize for themselves how silly
the games are. I want them all happy.”

“Then you, sweeting, must make them stop their games.”

Kerrie sighed. “I don’t know if I can.”

* * * * *

Marchon Castle Great Hall

 

A page mounted the dais then held out sealed parchments to
Gerard and Edgar.

“Put them down,” Gerard ordered, tapping the table with his
eating knife. He looked at the messages as if they were coiled rattlesnakes.

The lad shot him a puzzled look but did as bidden. He
flicked a glance at Edgar, bowed and fled.

Edgar, Gerard noted, looked as reluctant to touch the
parchments as Gerard felt.

“Are we mice or men?” Edgar muttered. He poked the messages,
picked up the one that bore his name. Gerard left his where it lay.

“Do you suppose these came through Gaspar and Aida?”

“I cannot imagine Rowena disobeying a direct order. Would
Edina?”

“Aye, I think she would. She seems most daring.” He risked a
sidelong glance at Gaspar and Aida, another at Gareth and Yvonne. As usual the
newlyweds were feeding each other from their shared trencher and seemed
oblivious of everything and everyone but each other. Even though that was their
customary behavior, Gerard knew his elder brother and Gareth’s warrior queen
missed little, even in the bustling, noisy great hall.

“They must know. Otherwise we’d be on our knees before them,
trying to explain why the twins contacted us directly when they were ordered
not to.”

“Trying to explain the unexplainable,” Edgar agreed, looking
morose.

“Then we must assume that this—whatever
this
is—has
Yvonne’s and Gareth’s blessing.” At last, Gerard picked up the parchment
bearing his name.

“Why now? We have neither seen nor heard from them in two
days.”

“Perhaps they want to discuss a plan to explain our hasty
marriages.” Gerard rubbed his chin and stared at the parchment in his other
hand. “That does seem reasonable at least.”

Grinning, Edgar said, “And very unlike them. Although Rowena
was cautious about swiving me, she is, I believe, by nature more impetuous.”

“While I sense that Edina is inherently more careful.”
Gerard tapped the message on the table’s edge. Sighing, he looked into Edgar’s
face. “On the count of three?”

“Aye. On the count of three.”

They opened their messages.

* * * * *

Somewhere Within Marchon Castle

 

Rowena gave the enormous bed a final pat. Meeting Edina’s
intense gaze, she said, “Are you certain you want to do this?”

“No, but I can envision no other way to solve the problem.
Can you?”

“No.” Sighing, Rowena perched on the bench at the foot of
the bed. “We owe them for the tricks we’ve played on them.”

“Aye. So long as we don’t actually say we’re sorry. After
all, they didn’t apologize to us.”

“We are behaving like children, Edina.”

“I know but…does it seem as if something or someone has cast
a spell on us?”

Rowena snorted. “Such as Queen Kerrie? Surely you don’t
believe in ghosts.”

“P-Perhaps I do. I know had Gerard and I met at Beaufort, I
would not have lay with him until…unless we married.”

Nibbling her lower lip, Rowena nodded. “I wish we’d never
sent those messages asking them to meet us here.”

“So do I. But ‘tis too late to run now.”

“Aye, but—if what we have told each other about them is
true—we shall have a night of exquisite bliss.” Edina sank beside her sister and
took her hand. “And we can take comfort from what Yvonne told us.”

Rowena snorted. “That even in the dark—even blindfolded—she
could tell which of the brothers was who? ‘Tis not
our
telling them
apart but—”

“Them telling us apart,” Edina finished on a sigh.

Hands touching, they lapsed into silence.

As if with one pair of eyes, they surveyed the room. Buckets
of sand stood beneath the few lighted torches. A single candle spread its
golden glow over a table laden with food and drink to last through the night.
They sat upon the lone bench, the only other resting place the wide bed. It was
strewn with soft furs and myriad gem-bright pillows. Rushes sweetened with
lavender and rosemary lent a tempting scent to the surroundings.

A muttered curse brought them to their feet.

Edina patted her breast to calm her racing heart. Rowena
chewed her lower lip.

“Remember, we will not undress,” Edina whispered.

“Until we have doused the torches,” Rowena whispered back.

After touching hands, they moved to opposite sides of the
bed.

Entering the room, Gerard stopped so suddenly Edgar ran into
him.

“What in hell—?” Pulling at his doublet, Edgar stepped
around his brother, halting as suddenly as Gerard had. “Either my eyes are
playing tricks or there really
are
two of you.”

“Which you knew,” said one twin.

“All along,” said the other.

Edina held out Ariel. She used both hands so the men could
not tell which hand she favored.

Gerard took the lute. Edgar merely stared at the women.

“Exquisite,” he muttered.

“Identical in every way,” Gerard said.

“On purpose, I believe.”

“On purpose, aye. Hair down on both. Each wearing a gown of
blue that matches her eyes. A test for us.”

“A punishment,” Edgar corrected. He gestured at Ariel, one
brow cocked upward. “You wish us to entertain you?”

“Yes,” the twins replied together.

“Entertain us,” Edina said.

“As you did Yvonne before Gareth and both of you…”

“Swived her.” Seeing the men blush, Edina added, “Wish we
did not know that, don’t you?”

Rowena sank gracefully to the bed. Patting it, she said,
“Come sit beside me, Edgar.”

“Whilst you, Gerard, sit beside me here, on this bench.” Edina
sat as she smiled up at him. “’Tis easier to play when seated on a firm
surface, I believe.”

“Aye.” His voice echoed the reluctance on his face, Edina
noted. He sat then cradled Ariel while he tuned her. ‘Twas a delaying tactic, she
realized. Ariel was, as usual, in perfect voice.

“Yvonne challenged us to undress her on that memorable
night,” Edgar said, eyeing the twins with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Tonight,” said Rowena from his side, “
we
shall undress
you
.”

“But,” warned Edina, “we shall undress ourselves. In fact—”

“You may not touch us until—”

“We give you permission to do so.”

“Kisses?” Gerard stared at Edina’s shoulders as if trying to
see through her clothing to find her birthmark.

“Names?” Edgar ventured.

In unison, the twins smiled.

“For now, you may—”

“Call us by whatever name you choose.”

“As you know—”

“We answer—”

“To either name,” they finished together.

Edgar’s soft groan brought his twin’s amused gaze to his
face. “You won’t be angry if we misname you?” he queried.

“As you did when last we tupped?” One eyebrow ached upward,
a mocking glance that made him look away in shame.

“May I suggest—for all our sakes,” Gerard offered as he
strummed Ariel’s strings, “we begin as if we had never met?” He stood, Ariel in
his left hand. His right swept across his body as he bowed to the woman on the
bench. “I am Gerard.”

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