Follow Your Heart

by Ruth Kaufman

  He’d allowed Adrian to make many important decisions in their lives, including the means by which they would regain their family’s estates. After all, Adrian was the elder, which would’ve made him the next baron. Andrew was merely the second son, forced by ancient laws of primogeniture to fend for himself or rely on his brother’s charity. His faith helped him conceal resentment over happenstance, the way a few minutes regulated his entire existence.

  God must have a plan for him. He must, or what was all of his suffering for?

  Look where his misplaced reliance on Adrian had gotten them. Did they live in Bedford Castle? No. “Because I will make it so,” Adrian said. But he hadn’t. All they had to show for themselves were three tiny, sparsely furnished rooms in an inconsequential area of York.

  Andrew had been patient. Now he had to think about himself. Years had passed, but Adrian’s affliction hadn’t lessened. Andrew owed it to his soul to make certain Adrian didn’t drag him down any further.

  As their father had done with their grandmother. He’d done the right thing by turning in the witch to save the rest.

  Now it was his turn.

  “Adrian. Do you remember the tale of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester?”

  “How could I forget? What happened to her and her cohorts is what led Father to accuse Grandmother,” Adrian replied, patting one of his dogs.

  “Precisely. Eleanor was accused of consulting with sorcerers and trying to communicate with the dead in order to predict the future. She wanted to know when King Henry would die, because her husband was in line to become king.”

  “Her accusers wanted to discredit her husband through her. So he’d lose political power,” Adrian countered.

  “But Eleanor admitted to several of the charges. Her compatriot Margery Jourdemain was known to be a witch. Both were found guilty,” Andrew recalled.

  “What does that matter now?” Adrian asked.

  “What matters is that those close to Eleanor were tainted by her evil and sentenced along with her. Four others were accused, and one a clergyman! Margery was burned for high treason and witchcraft. A scholar in Eleanor’s employ was hanged, beheaded and quartered. She was sentenced to public penance and imprisonment for the rest of her life. What matters—”

  Adrian cut him off with a wave that infuriated Andrew. “Those in power wanted to be rid of Eleanor because she was ambitious and could’ve become queen. Which they didn’t want.”

  “What matters is that the time comes when the righteous must point out and destroy evil in their midst lest they be consumed by it. Whatever the consequences. You’ve tried to convince me you aren’t evil, are not from the Devil. Yet evidence to the contrary is clear. You see the future. You have visions just as Grandmother did. And what did the authorities do to her when they found out? They burned her. As they should have done.” He held up his hands to stop Adrian from offering excuses. “Don’t tell me you have a gift. Nor remind me of the time you saved Old Randall because you knew his horses would bolt and run him over. Or times you helped others without letting them know you knew about their impending peril. Because if you told them, they’d question how you knew what would happen. They’d come after you. All of that was the Devil trying to trick me, to make me less sure of my path.”

  He stood and paced their confining quarters with slow, methodical steps. Adrian continued to stroke one of his dogs. Perhaps the dog was Adrian’s assistant from the Devil. Hadn’t the rebel Jack Cade been accused of harboring the Devil in the form of a black dog?

  “My soul is heavy with untold truths. I’ve struggled for some time and prayed for the answer. For my salvation and yours.” Andrew met his brother’s gaze. “Adrian, with God’s help I have made the most difficult decision of my life. I must turn you in.”

  Adrian felt as though he had been stabbed in the gut. The walls of their dark rooms closed in, making it as hard to breathe as if he were about to have another vision.

  With those damning sentences, his life’s work transfigured from an admirable plan into a mockery. His twin, ready to betray him. Just as his father had done to his grandmother. Did loyalty exist in his cursed family?

  “Andrew, I’ve spent years trying to regain our family’s properties, for you,” he said. “You are my heir.”

  Adrian’s stomach rebelled. The relationship with Lady Anne that still tormented his conscience…all for nothing. His entire life, all thirty-one years of it, was a waste.

  He dropped onto a stool because his legs would no longer support him. The blow Andrew had dealt was worse than any he’d experienced in battle. It was a blow to the heart.

  Andrew sighed. “Adrian, you never asked me what I wanted. You simply assumed we shared goals. The only honor that matters to me is my own.” He folded his hands. “I plan to sell Bedford Castle when it becomes mine. Despite your Sight, you’ve never been able to see that all I want is to get as far away as possible from any reminders of the past.”

  Adrian gasped for breath as pain washed over him anew, wave after wave battering a sinking ship. Restoring his brother to the life they should’ve had was his only goal. Because he was like their grandmother, Adrian knew a normal life wasn’t possible for him. He’d hoped to accomplish something by enabling Andrew to marry well and continue their line.

  What did he have to live for now?

  Adrian forced himself to look at his brother. “What makes you think they won’t arrest you as well?” His voice was hoarse. He swallowed to ease his constricted throat. “As you just reminded us they did with Eleanor Cobham’s cohorts? You’re not merely an associate. You are my brother. My twin. They’ll assume you are like me. What proof do you have to the contrary?”

  “I admit that very issue has troubled me for some time. But they didn’t arrest Eleanor’s husband, did they? Prayer has shown me I must have faith. Whatever the Lord wills, I must accept. Even if I go down with you, at least my soul will be at peace. I’ll not burn in Hell, like you.” Andrew bowed his head. “To ensure that I’m making the right decision, I plan to travel to Rome, to pray at shrines far holier than those in England. The power of the relics there will guide me toward the right path.”

  “Why don’t you just apply for an indulgence?”

  Andrew’s head snapped up. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you. I’d do anything to shorten my time in Purgatory. But indulgences are expensive. And you know how little coin I have. Why is it, I wonder, that your gift didn’t alert you to my plans?”

  Adrian gripped his knees to keep himself from wringing his brother’s neck. “You know I can’t control what I see, or when. I can’t ask questions and have them answered. I’ve never had a vision about you or myself. They come and go as they will.”

  “As the Devil sends them, you mean.”

  Adrian crossed the short distance to his brother. “Why now? How could you let me work so hard, come so close, just to destroy me?”

  He stared at his brother, at the face so like his own. Were his own eyes as troubled, as full of indecision as his twin’s?

  “My recently-discovered calling compels me to act, not the desire for worldly goods. You must believe it pains me to take such action. We’ve only had each other for years.” A tear dropped onto Andrew’s cheek. He wiped his face with the edge of his sleeve. “Don’t you see? I don’t want to, yet I must. I’ve grappled with my obligation just as you have toiled to earn gold. I cannot bear it any longer. The conflict is tearing me apart. God will show me the true way on my pilgrimage. When I return, your time as a free man will very likely be up. I suggest you use it wisely.”

  Adrian couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Why are you telling me this? To give me time to run?”

  “Ah, Adrian, where could you go?” Andrew placed a hand on Adrian’s shoulder.

  Adrian pulled away, sickened by his brother’s behavior. By Andrew’s use of religious devotion to destroy the little that was left of their family and any chance to continue the line.

  “Redeem
ing our family home and status means everything to you,” Andrew said with a shake of his head. “If you ran, the Lord would lead me to you. There’s nowhere you can hide.”

  Andrew pursued Adrian and grabbed his hands. Andrew’s were cold and clammy.

  “My brother, I do this, to give you one last chance to free yourself from the Devil and walk in the way of God. The only way to restore our family’s name is by rejecting the evil burning within you.”

  Adrian snatched his hands away. “What make you so certain it’s God, not the Devil, who shows you the way? What makes my visions evil and your gleanings from prayer holy? Because scenes of what will be come to me, without my asking to know…without hours of praying on my knees for guidance? Because priests have decreed that praying to an unseen God is acceptable, yet knowing the future from an unseen source is not?”

  Andrew crossed himself. “You speak heresy.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be revered as wise, considered fortunate? People are so afraid of what they can’t understand.” Adrian sighed. “Instead, I must bear the guilt of knowing what will happen, often unable to aid those in danger. Why? For fear of discovery. For fear the power of rumor will discredit me, then lead to my death. Yet others will die or suffer grave injury if I don’t speak of what I see, while I remain safe. That weighs on my conscience.” He turned away, not wanting Andrew to see his pain. “I avoid people if I suspect a vision is coming. I hate being reminded of all I must do without…a wife, a family of my own. I’m as much a prisoner to the sights and sounds in my mind as a man lashed to the wall in Newgate is to the guard’s flogging. Why am I destined to live my life longing to be normal?” Adrian stalked to Andrew. “Is that what God wants?”

  Andrew backed away as he again made the sign of the cross, his face pale as if he’d seen a ghost. “Your seemingly logical arguments are more deceiving blasphemy from Satan. You haven’t tried hard enough to free yourself of your curse. For that is what it is, a curse on our family. You’re lucky Father never knew you were like Grandmother, or you too might have burned that day. The guilt I feel for helping you keep your secret torments me now.”

  He fell to his knees and began to pray aloud in Latin, raising his face and hands to the heavens.

  Adrian recoiled in horror at the strange glow in Andrew’s eyes. Was his brother a fanatic? Lunatic?

  Many people went on pilgrimages to pray for cures or to try to save souls. Even kings and nobility participated in such journeys. Adrian himself had been in the Duke of Norfolk’s party when he visited the shrine of the Blessed Virgin in Walsingham several years ago. But a pilgrimage to validate a decision, when the decision dealt with sending one’s brother and possibly one’s self to an almost certain death…. How long would Andrew’s pilgrimage take?

  Adrian’s heart began to race. He had to do something, fast.

  Chapter 6

  Sonorous church bells informed Joanna that another hour had passed. Three in the morning. Time moved too swiftly. She hadn’t succeeded in finding a witness or someone to vouch for her, despite spending most of the day searching. Hours of work remained on this small window of the Holy Trinity promised for delivery later in the week. She had to believe she’d be readmitted into the guild and so needed to complete her work. Setting her brush down, she flexed her fingers, then straightened and rubbed her back.

  Her thoughts wandered to Sir Adrian as they often had since she’d met him. She wished she had their next session to look forward to, but with the pressures of her commissions and securing proof for the guild, she’d have to cancel. She didn’t know where he lived, so when he arrived, she’d tell him she had no time to spare. At least she’d see him again, however briefly.

  The ease with which he handled John and his determination to achieve his own goals convinced her that he could solve her problems too. His handsome face and powerful build only enhanced his suitability. That she had confided so much to him surprised her. That Adrian had seemed interested surprised her even more.

  She’d thank him again for coming to her rescue. If not for Adrian’s fortuitous arrival, John might have beaten her or kept to his lunatic threat not to let her out of his sight until she agreed to marry him. The fear, the helplessness she’d felt lying beneath John still haunted her. She couldn’t imagine how terrible being his wife would be. Much less having to share his bed.

  But who would be there for her if John tried to manipulate her again?

  The moment Adrian raised her from the floor glowed in her memory. The touch of his warm, strong hand on hers had sent a frisson through her arm, so unexpected that she’d pulled away when she really wanted was to prolong the contact. How could a simple touch elicit so much feeling? His grip had been solid and reassuring, making her feel as though nothing could harm her while he was near.

  She’d experienced something else, too, undefinable yet urgent. She wouldn’t admit to herself it might be the beginnings of desire. And the pleasure of the quiet, uniquely intimate moments spent drawing him—

  Joanna Peyntor, stop thinking about him and get back to work. Stop letting him distract you.

  She was putting the final touches on the face of the Holy Ghost when furious pounding on her door sent her squirrel-hair brush slipping off of the glass, leaving a thin black streak on her drawing.

  Joanna set down the brush to blot the mistake but made the mess worse in her hasty frustration. Who’d be out at this hour? Her heart thudded. Not John trying to force her to marry him….

  “Who’s there?”

  “Adrian. I need to talk to you.”

  Joanna’s fear became anticipation. What was he doing at her door in the middle of the night? She didn’t care. He was here, nothing else mattered. The smeared face on her window forgotten, Joanna hurried to let him in.

  He rushed past her, then turned to face her. The fresh scent and chill of a winter night followed him into the room. His eyes held anger and a strange emptiness; a man seeking somewhere to hide from a reality he didn’t want to face. She waited, breathless, appreciating the way intense emotion heightened his attractiveness.

  Adrian paced restlessly. His heavy steps made her sheets of glass rattle in their bins. His mood was a fog swirling about her studio. Joanna wasn’t afraid, only concerned. She sensed he’d never hurt her like John Twygge, no matter how upset or angry he became.

  Adrian’s circuitous pacing brought him to face her. He stopped by her table and scowled down, his sapphire-blue eyes glinting in the candlelight, his hair draping over his shoulders. The shadow of a beard made him look a bit wild. His body heat encompassed her.

  “Sir Adrian, what is it? Why are you here?”

  “Circumstances have changed. I must marry.”

  Joanna gasped.

  “Does your offer still stand?” He pinned her in place with his unwavering gaze.

  She stared back. He must marry? What changed his mind? “Does your offer still stand” wasn’t the most romantic offer of marriage, but could suffice. Part of her hoped romance would come later. He interested her more than any other man, and she believed he felt something for her, too.

  Yet she knew how dangerous love could be, had watched it destroy her father. She needed a protector and supporter, not a lover. Adrian already offered more than John ever could. The comfort she felt in his presence alone was a gift.

  With his five words, her life became uncertain yet secure. Her workshop could be saved, but what would happen to her heart? Yes hovered on her lips even as a shred of doubt held her answer back. As much as she needed a man’s backing, marriage was a huge step. Could she make such a decision so quickly? She turned away. She couldn’t think clearly while looking at him looking at her.

  “Well?” he demanded.

  “I need a moment to decide.”

  Adrian couldn’t stand still. The walls of Joanna’s studio confined him. What was she thinking? He felt trapped. Yet he knew this was what he had to do. Andrew was no longer a suitable heir. Adrian didn’t have time to seek
another bride willing to accept him without his estate or title, much less one with as many wonderful qualities as Joanna possessed.

  She busied herself with a jar of brushes, her back to him, making him feel oddly abandoned. Her glorious hair flowed down her back in myriad ringlets. He clasped his hands to keep himself from burying them in her curls.

  Her silence and his need to touch her frustrated him. “Changed your mind so fast?”

  “What happened to change your mind so fast?” she asked, turning to face him.

  “I need an heir. As soon as possible.” He wanted to tell her the rest, but couldn’t reveal so much. Soon, if he completed his assignment, his overlord would restore his family’s fortune and petition the king to award his father’s former title.

  In either case, he needed another heir before Andrew returned from his pilgrimage. Adrian was so close to regaining all his father had lost. He couldn’t give up his quest. If he married Joanna, he’d change his will so that any land, property or other wealth went to her and any children they should have. And I shall pray fervently that my children don’t share my affliction. That if I’m found out and turned over to the authorities, my family will be spared. A family that might soon include Joanna and their child.

  How could he tell Joanna about the risks he took? The dangers she and their child might face? Was it hubris or some greater sin to imperil those closest to him?

  She needed him, he needed her.

  “Is your answer yes or no?” Adrian demanded.

  He winced as Joanna did at his harsh tone, but he couldn’t be courteous at the moment. His conversation with Andrew still troubled him. Too much was at stake.

  Joanna remained silent.

  He couldn’t bear the waiting. He had to have her answer.

  Adrian walked to Joanna, meeting her gaze. Her green eyes flecked with gold revealed fear of the unknown, uncertainty, determination, and underlying all, the beginnings of desire. He didn’t want to know her so intimately, but he couldn’t look away.