Secret Heart (38 page)

“
True,”
Roarke agreed. “What do you think happened?”

“
I
believe I was taken eastward, through the nearest mountain pass, to
the Nalo River.”

“
Of
course,” Roarke exclaimed. “That’s the most direct route to the
sea. It would be easy to sail far out to sea and drop your body
where it wouldn’t wash ashore in Sapaudia. I’ll wager that was the
plan, only your courage foiled it.”

“
Now,
then,” Jenia said, “think of all the lands and castles that Uncle
Walderon presently controls, either in his own right or by
guardianship. First, in northern Sapaudia is his original estate of
Catherstone and the castle there, which was built to as a defense
against incursions from the Dominion.” She saw Roarke’s eyebrows go
up, but he said nothing.

“
Next,”
she continued, “as my official guardian, he controls Gildeley, my
ancestral home, which lies two days’ ride south of Catherstone, and
is also close to the Nalo Mountains. Then, there is
Thury.”

“
Walderon
no longer controls Thury,” Roarke reminded her.

“
Until
yesterday, he did control it, as Chantal’s guardian. From what I’ve
learned from the castle folk, he has recently tightened his hold
over both castle and lands. Walderon has been cruel here, which is
why we were able to take the castle so easily. Roarke, just
consider Thury’s location. It lies south of Gildeley and close to
the mountains.”

“
Go on,”
Roarke ordered when she paused. Jenia could see by his expression
that he was taking her words very seriously.

“
Think
next of the lands Walderon expected to acquire when Chantal married
Lord Malin. First, the apparently unimportant parcel of land north
of Catherstone that was to become his by the terms of Chantal’s
marriage contract, land that borders another property held by an
elderly lord with a marriageable daughter. Walderon all but
admitted he planned to rid himself of Sanal so he could marry the
daughter and gain her father’s lands. He
did
openly admit his plan to kill
Chantal and Lord Malin and take Malin’s estate and castle which,
like all the other properties we are discussing, is close to the
Nalo Mountains.”

“
But he
has no more hope of controlling those last three estates,” Roarke
noted, “so they no longer matter.”

“
Yes,
they do matter,” Jenia insisted. “Walderon has no way of knowing
anyone has discerned his overall plan. I feel quite certain he’s
sitting in his cell right now, plotting a way to seize all three
estates for his own. I doubt if he believes he’ll be imprisoned for
long. He’ll most likely pay advocates in Calean to plead his case
before King Henryk in hope of convincing the king to free
him.

“
He’ll
have to kill Aunt Sanal before he can marry the girl who is heiress
to the estate not far from Catherstone,” Jenia went on, “but he’s
already had Chantal murdered and he tried to have me killed, too,
so what difference can Sanal’s death make to him? Walderon will
consider his ultimate goal to be well worth the risk.”

“
His
ultimate goal.” Roarke stared at her and Jenia saw horrified
comprehension flood his expression. “Together, all of those lands
you’ve described create a strip of territory bordering the Nalo
Mountains from north of Lake Nalo almost to the Sea of Alboran in
the south..”

“
I’m sure
if anyone asked him about it,” Jenia said, “Walderon would declare
that, as a loyal nobleman to King Henryk, he is keeping those
borderlands safe from invasion.”

“
While at
the same time increasing his own importance,” Roarke added, “which
in itself is no crime. Other nobles have done as much. Still,
Walderon has, by his own admission, commanded murder, and he has
contemplated having his wife killed. I think we can disregard any
statement he makes about loyalty to King Henryk Such a man is
incapable of loyalty.”

“
You said
you’d reveal your conclusions,” Jenia reminded him.

“
I must
admit, I didn’t put together the clever scheme of controlling an
important strip of borderland. That is your brilliant insight,”
Roarke said. “Otherwise, my conclusions are much the same as yours,
though I’ll go further in my distrust of Walderon’s intentions. I
keep thinking about the report Sir Durand made at Calean City,
about Dominion armies massing on the border. I’m glad we have
Walderon in custody, because I begin to fear he has been
communicating with Domini Gundiac.”

“
We are
talking about treason.” Jenia’s voice sank to a whisper. “Would
Uncle Walderon go so far? Would he be content to be guardian of the
borderlands? Such a position would make him the greatest nobleman
in the realm, second only to King Henryk, himself.”

“
I
consider it far more likely he’d expect to become king,” Roarke
said.

They stared at each other, each working out
the ramifications of an ambition that could reach so high. After a
long moment Jenia spoke again.

“
We have
another serious matter to consider, which is Walderon’s corrupt
Power. I’m not sure exactly how strong he is. He can’t be a full
mage, or he’d have destroyed Chantal and me outright and hidden any
trace of what he’d done. Whatever he is, for his own secret
reasons, Walderon conceals his Power well. He always
has.”

“
The
Power is inherited,” Roarke said and paused, his gaze intent on
her.

“
I have
only a slight degree of Power,” Jenia confessed. “my grandfather
possessed more, and he taught me how to control and conceal my
abilities.”

“
Thank
you for telling me,” Roarke said. “Will you agree that we ought to
inform Lord Giles and Garit about this, and of our conclusions
about Walderon’s intentions?

“
We’ll do
it first thing in the morning,” she decided.

“
Fine.
Now, to a more important subject,” he said. “I should tell you that
I really came here to ask you to marry me.” He caught her hips,
forcing her against his large, very hard arousal.

“
Marry?”
Between burning kisses and flaring passion she tried to make sense
of his words. “You can’t ask me. Roarke, you know perfectly well
you have to ask my nearest male relative – make the arrangements –
a dowry – the marriage contract – oh!” She gasped when his mouth
fastened on the hollow between her throat and her shoulder.
Suddenly she was drowning in liquid heat.

“
I
wouldn’t ask your nearest male relative for a dry crust,” Roarke
growled, raising his head. “I’ll ask King Henryk, instead. But only
if you want it, Jenia. I’ll never force you to do anything you
don’t want to do. Will you marry me?”

He hadn’t
said he loved her and she could never accept him without the
assurance of his love. Sanal’s unhappy example prevented her. But
she did want him with every aching, yearning fiber of her
being.

“
Please,
Roarke,” she whispered, pressing against him, “we’ve talked enough
for now. Take me to bed. We can talk more later.”

With a shout of laughter he scooped her up
and carried her to the bed. Along the way her shawl dropped onto
the floor, but she no longer needed it. Roarke and his passion
provided warmth enough.

He laid her gently on the bed. A moment or
two later he had removed his clothing and hers, and he came down
beside her, gathering her into his arms for a long, intimate kiss
that claimed her as his own.

Then he
was inside her, kissing her again as he moved in her, and Jenia
knew her heart’s secret truth. She’d never want anyone but Roarke.
Not ever, whether he loved her, or not.

Drenched
in a cold sweat, Jenia wakened from the nightmare she’d had too
many times, a dream of Chantal lying on the dungeon cell floor with
the life seeping from the wounds in her side as Jenia tried
frantically to reach her and could not.

As her
heartbeat slowed she realized she wasn’t in the cell. She drew a
long breath of relief to know she was in a comfortable bed with
Roarke slumbering peacefully beside her. Her sudden start and the
trembling she couldn’t control had not wakened him.

Though
the bedchamber shutters were closed and latched, she could tell it
was the middle of the night by the absence of light around the
edges of the wooden panels. From her previous experiences with the
same dream, she knew she wasn’t going to fall asleep again for some
time, if at all.

She
turned over carefully, so she wouldn’t wake Roarke, then cautiously
slid one foot to the cold floor. When Roarke didn’t move, she put
her other foot out and rose from the bed in a smooth motion. If his
eyes had opened and he’d pulled her back into his arms she would
have ventured no farther. But Roarke slept on while Jenia groped
for and found her woolen gown and her shoes. She dressed quickly
and silently, then let herself out of the room.

The great
hall was quiet. Only one or two of the squires and servants who
slept near the fireplace stirred when she crept past them. No one
spoke to her, so she continued on to the entry hall. A sentry
standing there turned to stare at her as she went by. He wore the
blue and red tunic of Garit’s men-at-arms and she knew she ought to
recognize him, but the poor illumination prevented her from seeing
him clearly.

“
My
lady?” the sentry asked in a harsh whisper. “Do you need
something?”

“
No,
thank you,” Jenia said. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m just going to the
chapel for a short time.”

The
sentry didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his back to her, pulled
the door to the bailey open, and stepped out onto the
landing.

Jenia
shrugged and entered the chapel. She realized that in her haste she
had neglected to bring along a candle or an oil lamp to light her
way. Shadows filled the chapel, only a single vigil lamp on the
altar providing any light. Jenia remembered where to find the
basket of burned-down stubs the chaplain kept available for those
who wished to light a candle and say a prayer. The making of good
wax candles was an arduous task, so they were always burned as low
as possible before the last bits of wax were returned to the
chandler’s cauldron to be melted down and reused in the next
batch.

Jenia
took the longest remnant she could find in the basket and lit it
from the vigil lamp. She paused for a moment to whisper a plea for
the peaceful repose of Chantal’s soul before she left the chapel
and headed to her true destination.

The
sentry was no longer in the entry hall. The door to the bailey
stood ajar, so perhaps he was still out on the landing. Which,
Jenia reflected with a frown, was where he should have been
standing in the first place. Perhaps he had come inside for a short
time to warm himself. Relieved that she wouldn’t have to think of a
further explanation for her midnight presence in the entry, or for
her excursion to the lower levels, she cautiously opened the door
that led to the dungeon.

She
paused, listening. Reassured by the silence and by the knowledge
that Walderon could not harm her so long as he was bound by Lord
Giles’ magic, she began to descend the stairs. She tried to be as
quiet as possible so as not to alert the sentry who stood watch
above. As she proceeded, it seemed to her she could hear Chantal
calling to her. By the time she passed the cell where Walderon was
confined Jenia realized that what she heard was weeping, coming
from the cell where she and Chantal had been held. The door of the
cell stood open and a faint light shone from within.

“
Garit?”
she whispered and took the last few steps even more quietly so as
not to disturb his grief. She’d go away at once, but first she
wanted to be certain it really was Garit in the cell.

What she beheld was not Garit, but Sanal,
kneeling on the floor. An oil lamp beside her revealed her bent
shoulders and the tears that trickled through her fingers. Around
the weeping woman the cold shadows flowed as if to enfold her.

“
Aunt
Sanal, what are you doing here?” Jenia began to advance into the
cell.

“
Go
back!” Sanal cried, awkwardly jerking around to face her. “Flee
while you can!”

Only then
did Jenia see her aunt’s hands were tightly bound in front of her
so that when she raised them to her face to wipe away her tears,
she appeared to be praying.

“
Why she
came here scarcely matters,” said a familiar voice from the
doorway.

“
Walderon!” Jenia whirled to face him. “Who released
you?”

“
Did you
think all of my faithful retainers had fled the castle?” Walderon
asked. He gestured toward the man Jenia had seen in the entrance
and had taken for a sentry. “Not so, niece. I believe you and Mott
have met before.”

“
Dear
heaven!” Jenia gaped as the burly man’s face and his cold eyes were
clearly revealed by the candle she still held. The last time she’d
seen him, he had been ramming his eating knife into Chantal’s side.
Jenia fought against a sudden lightheadedness as the terrible
recognition dawned.

“
Ah,
Mott,” Walderon drawled, his mouth twisting with deadly humor, “I
do believe the lady recalls you from your earlier encounter. You do
understand, niece, that if you misbehave Mott will kill you as he
killed your cousin? Good. Now hold out your hands.”