Wild and Wicked (32 page)

Apryll crossed the room, dragging the fur coverlet and the damning dress with her. She stopped when her bare toes were nearly touching the girl’s boots. “Am I to be locked in here all day? Is that what the baron ordered?”

Annie blushed to the roots of her black hair. “I . . . I only know that I am to bring food, water and a pail in case you needs to relieve yourself.” She cowered as if she actually feared Apryll might strike her, the look on her face evidence she would rather do anything than withstand Apryll’s ire.

“Fine . . . then tell the baron that I wish to see him.”

“Oh, I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because he is the baron,” she replied, aghast. Obviously Apryll’s suggestion that she speak with Devlynn was unthinkable.

“Well, then, can you talk to the steward, or the priest?”

“Aye.” She nodded emphatically, her braids bobbing around her ears.

“Then,” Apryll said, her patience stretched so thin she thought it might break, “Tell either one or both of them that they are to tell the baron that I wish to speak with him at once.”

Anne nodded.

“At once,” Apryll repeated as the girl backed to the door, pushed hard and, as soon as there was a crack of light from the sconces in the hall slid hurriedly out. Apryll’s fists clenched in frustration. Oh, this was insanity! Why would Devlynn make love to her all night only to keep her prisoner in his room the next day? She stalked from one door to the next, testing them, lifting the latch and pushing against the heavy oaken planks with her shoulder. All to no avail. The door to the hallway and the one leading to the chapel, as well as the door off Yale’s chamber, were all locked, held fast. No doubt they had sentries posted on the other side.

Curse and rot the black-heart’s soul!
How could she have imagined she was in love with him? Oh, she felt every bit the fool she was. How silly she’d been to think that she could possibly be the beast’s wife!

Blowing out her breath, she tried to form a plan. She had to get out of this prison of a chamber. She had to locate Payton. She had to return to Serennog.

And what then? Have the black-heart follow you?
Oh, she would love to lock him away in
her
chamber. See how he liked that! She slid a glance at the bed and bit her lip. She
had
enjoyed the lovemaking.

Love
making? Hah! There was no love involved in what they’d shared. ’Twas just the sex act between a man and a woman.

Her heart twisted at the thought and she called herself every kind of romantic ninny she could think of as she threw on the hated dress and everything it represented. But she’d wear it proudly. When she saw Devlynn again, she wouldn’t so much as comment about the clothes.

When
she saw him.

If
he returned.

With a sigh, she flung herself into a chair and ignored the food. She wasn’t hungry and her mind was racing with thoughts of escape. Again. Ever since she’d met the Lord of Black Thorn, she’d been on a mission to get away from him. Her fingers drummed against the arm of the chair. Where the devil was Devlynn? Why had he left her without a word? Was he looking for Payton? Or the rest of his army? How long was she to wait here? And for what?

Through the window she saw a sizzling fork of lightning split the dark heavens. A clap of thunder shook the walls of the castle.

Apryll shivered. Mayhap someone would take pity upon her as they had when Devlynn had locked her in the hermit’s cell in the tower and release her. Or her brother would storm the castle and free her.

Disgusted, she remembered again Devlynn promising her that he would hand down his own kind of punishment. So this was it. He intended to mortify her, to make her squirm, as she would be the object of ridicule within Black Thorn. Her cheeks flushed at the thought, but she held her head high and tossed her hair over her shoulders.

Damn him to the very depths of hell, she would not break.

There was a light rap on the door. “Lady Apryll?”

“Come in.” She was on her feet in an instant.

She heard the sound of muddled voices as Yale spoke with the guard. A moment later the door opened and he was inside.

“Why are you in here?” he demanded. His eyes, so like his damnable father’s, were worried.

“I’m being held prisoner.”

“By Father?” Lines of concentration marred his smooth brow. His jaw thrust forward.

“Aye.”

“But why? He likes you.”

“It has nothing to do with liking,” she said, though she doubted Devlynn cared a whit about her. Last night he seemed to care for her, but ’twas only lust, a moment’s mistake; she was silly to think otherwise.

She took a seat near the fire and motioned Yale toward the other chair. “Eat some, if you like,” she added, pointing at the tray of food Anne had left on the table.

Yale snatched up a piece of dried eel, plopped it into his open mouth and chewed thoughtfully, suddenly seeming more man than boy. “You did not answer my question. Why are you a prisoner?”

“Because your father blames me for some of the bad things that happened here.”

“The fire.”

“Yes . . . and kidnapping you.”

“But it wasn’t your idea. You didn’t know about it,” he protested.

“That’s right, but how would you know?”

“The night I was taken. I was sleepy, aye, but I heard parts of conversations between Payton and the others. The conversations are . . .” He frowned, his small face scrunching as he tried to come up with the right word. “They are . . . like a fog, or a dream . . . I don’t remember all of them, just bits and pieces that come and go.”

“Because of the potion.”

He lifted a shoulder. “It is all . . . fuzzy, but I am sure I heard Payton tell someone he knew you would not go along with a kidnapping so he did it himself. When I asked him about it later, he said it was part of the game.”

“There was no game.”

“Yes, I know.” Yale swallowed the bite of eel and reached for another. “So, now, I will tell my father and he will release you. You will be free.”

“It’s not that simple, I’m afraid,” she said, not daring to think of freedom.

“It should be.” He stared at her as if he thought all adults made life much more difficult than was necessary. “You saved my life, didn’t you?”

She cringed. “I think not. My brother would not have harmed you.”

His eyebrows drew into a knot. “Payton cares not for anyone but himself. Including you. He is evil, you know.” With that, Yale popped the morsel into his mouth and sprang to his feet. All traces of his adult side disappeared. “If my father does not release you,” he said with a naughty lift of one eyebrow, “then I shall do it.”

“Nay!” She wouldn’t let the boy risk his father’s wrath. “’Tis something I will work out with the baron.”

Yale’s grin was that of a brash, wayward youth who considered himself invincible. “We shall see.”

“Yale, do not!” she ordered as thunder rolled over the distant hills.

Feigning as if he held a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other, he spun on his heel, leaped over a small bench and rapped on the door in one swift motion. With a creak, the door opened. Offering Apryll a conspiratorial wink, Yale whispered, “I shall return.”

 

“I have a confession.” Miranda’s voice was soft, her lips compressed, guilt shadowing her eyes as she ducked beneath the overhang of the armorer’s hut, where Devlynn had been checking the stores of weapons.

His gut tightened. Was she going to admit that it was she who had betrayed him? “I’m not a priest.”

“My sins are not against God,” she said, the fingers holding the hood of her cloak in place white-knuckled as a drip of icy rain fell from the roof and splattered on the ground. Lightning flashed over the hills.

“What is it?” he braced himself.

She bit her lip. Closed her eyes for a second. Devlynn’s heart pounded. “It was I who helped Lady Apryll escape from the tower. I betrayed you.”

“And why did you do this?” he asked, but she didn’t answer until a dung cart rolled toward the main gate. Devlynn watched as the cart-pusher called to the gatekeeper to open the portcullis. The sentry, who had a list of those who had been allowed in, started the winch.

“’Twas not that my loyalties weren’t with you,” Miranda said as a stray drop of rain slid down her nose. “But I could not stand to see a lady, a woman who reigned, be treated as a common prisoner.”

“Should she be treated differently than a man should he have breached the castle walls? Remember, I did not throw her into the dungeon.”

“I know. I have regretted my deed ever since . . . I . . . was misguided.”

“By whom?” His eyes narrowed on his sister because never before had he known her to lie.

“By my own sense of pride and . . . what I wanted.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you have plotted against me?” he hissed, his voice low. He grabbed her upper arm, fingers digging past the fine wool to her flesh.

“Nay!” She tried to yank her arm free as thunder smacked loudly.

“Listen,
sister,
I have sensed the unrest here at Black Thorn. There are traitors within the castle walls who helped Payton of Serennog. Are you one of them?”

“Devlynn, no! I . . . I only let the lady escape because . . . because . . .” She closed her eyes a second, gathered herself and shook her head. “. . . because she is all that I wished to be. Aye, Devlynn, I have envied you your station, have wished that I’d been born a man, that I would have been groomed to rule this keep, but I would not betray you.”

“Other than to let my prisoner go free.”

“Have I not confessed?” she said with a haughty toss of her head. Her cowl slipped to her neck.

“Confessed, yes. Atoned, no.”

“Then lock me in the tower, brother, do what you will—”

“Mayhap I’ll ship you back to your husband.”

She blanched. Swallowed hard. “You would not,” she whispered, and the sound was desperate; it grated upon his heart, for he had a soft spot for his sister. “Please, Devlynn. Anything else.”

“Lord Devlynn!” The sentry’s voice called over the drip of rain and the creak of wheels. “Sir Collin has returned . . . with prisoners!”

“What—?” Miranda was already flying across the bailey, mindless of the icy rain spitting from the sky.

“Wait—do not let them in—!” Devlynn yelled, but it was too late. The portcullis had already been raised, allowing the cart through, and twenty or more horses with riders clamored into the bailey. Some of the men upon the muddy steeds were bound. Others walked on leads. Collin, triumphant, was at the head upon his bay, his smile wide, his eyes bright. Blood stained one part of his tunic.

“Brother!” he cried victoriously, his eyes sweeping the crowd that had gathered. “I’ve captured the traitors. No more will those within the walls of the castle have fear! Black Thorn has been saved!”

Devlynn felt a tension in the air, more to do with those within the keep’s wide walls than the lightning crackling in the air. He glanced at the faces of those Collin had taken prisoner. Some strangers, some men he’d trusted. The captain of the guard, Rudyard, sat stone-faced upon a brown horse. He stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Devlynn, his arms tied to his body with a long length of rope.

“Oh!” Miranda cried when she spied Spencer, dirty and straight-backed upon a dun stallion streaked with mud. She mouthed his name as Collin dropped lithely to the ground.

“Where is Payton of Serennog?” Devlynn asked and felt the hairs on the back of his nape raise. Something was wrong here. None of his soldiers would meet his gaze. Devlynn’s right hand curled instinctively over the hilt of his knife.

“Dead. Killed by his own men. We came upon his body in an old inn, the very one where he had kept Yale prisoner.” With a wave to those who were with him, he clapped Devlynn on the shoulder, his hand gripping hard. “Come, let us go inside out of this weather. ’Tis time to celebrate with a mazer of wine.”

From the corner of his eye, Devlynn saw the blade, a wicked little dagger that flashed bright in the gloomy day. “Now, brother,” Collin whispered into his ear, “die.”

Alarm bells sounded.

Thunder clapped.

Footsteps pounded.

People screamed.

Apryll threw herself at the door, her fists pounding on the hard oaken planks. “Let me out! Please. Someone!” Good Lord, what was happening?

Lightning sizzled, flashing through the window.

The door to the chapel was flung open. “Come!” Yale cried. “Lady Apryll, hurry!” He vanished into the closet and Apryll followed down the curved staircase and through the priest’s alcove to the empty chapel. Through the open doorway she heard the sound of clanging, horses shrieking and men yelling.

Oh, God,
she thought as she flew into the bailey and saw the melee of men in battle. ’Twas as if she’d stepped through the gates of hell.

 

Devlynn jabbed his elbow into his brother’s side and swung ’round with his sword. Collin fell back, but his knife found its mark. Hot pain erupted in Devlynn’s shoulder as his own sword found Collin’s side.

His brother fell to his knees and pain tore through Devlynn’s soul.
Collin! Why?

“Get this man help,” he yelled, but as Collin collapsed, his knife falling from his hands, Devlynn spied Rudyard break free of the fraudulent bonds restraining him, lift his sword high and kick his horse forward. The steed sprang. Rudyard swung hard, his deadly blade reflecting a blinding flash of lightning.

Devlynn ducked, his own weapon held high. Swords clashed loudly, the hilt of Devlynn’s weapon reverberating in his hands. “Go to hell, you bastard!” Rudyard crowed, turning his horse so quickly it reared.