The Willows (27 page)

Too late, he wished he hadn’t gotten so
angry. He’d meant to tell her that she had no intention of holding
her to the vows she hadn’t realized she was making, but she’d
gotten him so riled, it was all he could do to leave with this
temper intact. How could such a beautiful woman have so uncanny a
knack for getting under a man’s skin? Instead of striking a deal
like the mature, responsible adult he should be, Michael had barely
made it out there without bringing her neck.

Because of it, he would now lie awake
for hours, worrying, when he desperately needed sleep. He knew
those children, and he knew Gwen, and they did not make a
comfortable combination.

Damn. Despite his tight schedule, he’d
have to squeeze in a visit sometime tomorrow, just to make certain
that cabin still stood and everyone remained alive in one piece. Or
he would not to be sleeping tomorrow night, either.

***

Inside there fortress, Patrick listen
to Jude, and making plans on what they would do with that woman.
Everyone wanted her gone, but no one knew how they could drive her
away, without the blame coming back to themselves. They had hoped
Jeffrey would help, but he had not appeared anxious to help get rid
of her. As Jude insisted, it was clear they were on their
own.

At the least, they had to make certain
he stay out of their way that she never ventured anywhere near
there fortress, besides you could tell just by looking at her that
woman like that could never keep a secret.

Jude talked, dismissing one plan after
another. Watching his brother’s listen quietly, Patrick had to
concede that what Jeffrey said was true. Patrick might be the
oldest, but it was always Jude who took charge. Wherever Jude lead,
the rest were about to follow.

Not that Patrick resented it. Judah
generally had the best ideas, and certainly the greater enthusiasm.
And Patrick had to agree that the woman was the worst possible
thing that could have happened.

They had been in getting by fine
enough, with Jeffrey dropping in from time to time. At the little
ones still had nightmares sometimes, what would the woman be able
to do about it? Anyone who could raise such a fuss about one tiny
spider, sure what it be much help in a crisis. Her idea of hardship
was not having the right gown for a ball.

No, whatever it took, even if it made
Michael angry at them, they had to get rid of her. They had to make
sure she did not get to liking life here in the swamps.

“
Snakes,” he heard Jude say
to his brothers. “Want to bet she’s scared to death of
snakes?”

Chapter 12

Gwen was dreaming. Deep down, she knew
this, even as she leaned forward in her seat. The scene was too
romantic, too perfect.

Amid the roar of the delighted crowd,
her brave, bold Lancelot turned toward her. She held her breath in
excitement anticipating, as she waited for him to come charging
forward on his beautiful silver horse. Having captured the day –
and her heart – it was time for Lance to come and claim her. The
crowd buzzed like bees, knowing it would soon participate in the
wedding of the sensory, complete with music and dancing and
beautiful, flowing dresses. Everyone was happy. Even her father was
smiling.

Beside her, like the serpent tempting
Eve, a voice hissed in her ear. Gwen went stiff with confusion;
voice seem to belong to Lance.

“
Don’t trust him,” whispered
darkly, and a hand appeared out of nowhere point at the approaching
horseman. “Can you see he is evil, beyond redemption? Remember, his
wife had to name her boys after Saints to protect them from his
wrath.”

The word of wrath echoed in the murmurs
rippling through the crowd. Looking up, Gwen saw that the silver
horse had become a fiercely magnificent stallion, its new master
bedecked in the same unrelieved black.

Tall and arrogance in the saddle, the
man loomed over the tournament like some of avenging god. All
around when, the rumor circulated. This phantom in black had once
killed a man in a duel, and now had to hide in the
swamp.

With a shiver of trepidation, she saw
him flick his reins, then everything dissolved–the crowd, her
father, even Lance’s voice–as both man and beast came thundering
toward her. The world had been reduced to Gwen and this black
angel, and she waited breathlessly see what he would do
next.

To her amazement, he smiled in open
invitation.

He was there, scooping her up as he
thundered past, settling her chest to chest before him in the
saddle. Gwen had to cling to his neck to keep from
falling.

As they rode off, she could feel his
heart, pounding in rhythm with her own. It was as if they spoke to
each other, those thunderous hearts, calling out any language their
brains could not understand. Looking up into his dark, yet familiar
eyes, Gwen had never felt so exhilarated, so deliriously
happy.

“
If you were mine,” he said
hoarsely, “I would make certain your nights were filled with
magic.”

Suddenly, she cannot get close enough,
cannot bear to have even clothes come between them. As he leaned
down to take her lips, she wrapped her legs around him, the
throbbing between her thighs keeping time with the horse’s
acceleration gait.

“
Mine,” he moaned into her
mouth. “At last, you are mine.”

“
It is to mine,” came a
younger, more strident voice. “Not everything belongs to you,
Jude.”

Opening her eyes, Gwen took some
moments to realize that she was not trotting into some sensual
Eden, but rather it’s stuck in this cabin in the swamp. Recognizing
Patrick’s voice, she might have been overwhelmed by disappointment,
had embarrassments not been there to immediately take its place.
“Stop fighting,” she heard Michael interrupt them. “I have brought
a knife for each of you.”

She thought intensely of the dream,
reliving every intense detail, she wondered how she could ever
again look the man in the face.

“
Where is, my lady?” She
heard them ask the children. “I have brought something for her,
too.”

“
Still sleeping.” Hard to
tell which child that was; they all use the same disdain when they
spoke about her.

“
At this hour? It’s almost
noon?”

In the ensuing silence, she pictured
them all shaking their heads in anger. Bolting out of the bed, she
muttered an oath. She had never meant to sleep so late, and would
not have, if the children had not kept her up, worrying half the
night. They’d left when it Jeffrey had-without doing the dishes–and
they had not returned until well after dark.

Not that she worried about them, of
course; her concern was more about what the planned to do to
her.

Standing in the middle of the room, she
pushed her hands through her hair, knowing it must be a mess like
her clothes. If the man thought of her as a drowned rat yesterday,
what would he call her today?

Wiggling into her destroyed clothes,
she caught herself up short. What did she care what he thought?
Michael meant nothing to her. Less than nothing. It was just a
silly dream.

Nonetheless, she continue to fuss with
her appearance. Determined to where her locket, she groped through
the cupboard, certain she had said it on that shelf last night, but
searched though she might, she cannot find the locket nowhere in
the room. Confused growing desperately, she heard Jude speak to
Michael and her mind made the connection. After all it wasn’t the
first time those children had made off with her locket.

As she stormed into the main room,
Michael looked up from the sack as he was unpacking. If he had any
idea that he’d play role in her dream, she’d never know it from his
wary gaze. “I see you survived the night,” he said, handing
Christopher a less lethal version of Patrick’s gleaming new knife.
“Jude tells me you six managed to avoid all major
calamities.”

The children looked up from their new
weapons with a collective scowl, but otherwise ignored her.
“Indeed?” Gwen said, bristling. “Perhaps you can ask Jude what they
have done with my mother’s locket.”

Michael turned instantly to the boys.
“Again? Boys, we discussed this that day at the docks. I thought we
agreed that the locket doesn’t belong to you. That you can’t be
taking it.”

Jude stepped forward, removing the
chain from his pocket. “We did not. We found it on the floor. I
just meant to look at it. I was going to give the back when she
woke up.”

“
She is up now,” Michael
said gently. “Give it back.”

Glancing down at the picture, Jude side
heavily, obviously reluctant to let go of the locket. The child
must miss his mother too, Gwen thought, feeling suddenly churlish.
She didn’t like to think that she’d made a hasty, undeserved
accusation.

But Jude’s hostile glare as he handed
over the locket eased whenever tender feelings might have bloomed.
Jude might be innocent now, but there were plenty enough other
crimes. He was a horrid child, Gwen reminded herself – they all
are.

“
Let’s hope that’s the last
I have to hear about that locket,” Michael said, eyeing each child
before turning to Gwen. “In the meantime, however, we have another
problem. “He held up her leather boots. “You let them outside and
I’m afraid that the leather has shrunk a good three
sizes.”

Tensing, Gwen waited for the children
to tell about her escape, but they merely continued scowling. “It
wasn’t the rain that got my boots wet,” she told Michael, holding
her chin up defiantly. “If you must know, I went through quite an
ordeal yesterday.”

Grimacing, he looked away. “I’m sorry
for that, I will do what I can’t find you some other footwear.”
Lifting the sack, he carried it to the kitchen.

Self-consciously, Gwen wiggled her bare
toes as she battled bewilderment. Where was the scolding, the
laughter at her suspence? Michael acted as if he did not know she
had tried to escape, yet she’d have thought it the first thing the
children would tell him. Of course, they might have been distracted
by their new knives, but what kept them silent now?

Eyeing them, she found each child busy
inspecting his gift, but their stiff postures made it clear they
were hanging onto every word. “Just tell him and get it over with,”
she snapped, unable to bear the suspense any longer. “Go ahead,
give him every sorry detail of my running away.”

Jude looked up, facing her squarely.
“We don’t snitch.”

“
I thought you wanted to get
rid of me? Here’s your chance you won’t want such an irresponsible
person watching over you.”

Jude looked tempted for a moment, but
with a proud shake of his head, the child stood firm. “We have our
code. Code of honor. We don’t go carrying tales, no matter
what.”

Gwen could not help but be impressed.
Looking down at the locket, she realized she’d started snitching
the moment she’d entered the room.

“
What is this about running
away?”

She cringed at the sound of Michael’s
voice. Noticing his frown, she remembered her dream. In it, he’d
been so fierce, so passionate. Her body betrayed her with a swift,
heated flush.

“
After I warned you?” He
went on, puzzled. “Knowing the hazards you would face in the swamp,
you still tried to leave?”

“
I don’t want to be here.
You know that”

He set the sack on the table with a
loud thud. “Have you any idea what could happen to you out there?
Of all the foolish, idiotic-“

“
What did you expect?” Gwen
lashed out. “Did you think I would stay in this shack
willingly?”

“
It’s not a shack. It’s a
cabin.”

“
For pity’s sake, even you
must see this situation is intolerable. I can’t stay here. I just
can’t.”

“
Let her go,” Jude said it,
looking at Gwen with a scowl. “Things were a whole lot better
before she came.”

“
That will be enough.” The
words were stern, but his tone betrayed his weariness. Setting the
sack on the table, Michael reached up to rub the back of his neck.
Why, the poor man’s tired, Gwen thought, surprised, then annoyed by
her sudden passion.

“
But-“

“
Enough, Jude. Please, go
outside for a moment and take your brothers with you. I need to
talk to Gwen.”

Jude looked ready to argue, but Patrick
grabbed him by the arm. Though the twins and Christopher followed
them out, Gwen knew all five standing on the porch, ears glued to
the door.

She cared little if they listened. He
was her chance to plead her case, and she meant to take full
advantage. Turning to Michael, was now taking supplies out of the
sack, she squared her shoulders.

“
If you let me go,” she
said, trying to add a smile to her words, “I will drop all criminal
charges against you.”

A dark eyebrow raised. He watched her,
saying nothing.

“
Well, perhaps not all,” she
went on an easily. “I suppose we really must punish you for
cheating, if Lance is to win the tournament and claim my
hand.”