by Ruth Kaufman
“Yes,” she said, “to Sir Adrian Bedford.”
Andrew jumped and hit his head on the stone. He couldn’t even gasp in pain, for complete shock took his breath away.
Adrian had married.
Because he knew his twin so well, he knew why. Adrian believed Andrew’s religious devotion invalidated his own twin as a suitable heir. Adrian would find excessive prayer dangerous, being a servant of the Devil as he was. Thinking his twin was off searching his soul, Adrian rushed to find himself a bride. And managed to find a true beauty. A bride who could bear him a child, despite the chance of it being afflicted with Adrian’s curse. How had he done all of that in such a short time?
How could Andrew let Adrian bring more of Satan’s spawn into the world? Perhaps he’d been planning to betray Andrew all along.
Adrian would pay. On the morrow, Andrew would tell the authorities about Adrian’s Sight. In vivid detail. Overhearing Joanna in his church must be the sign he’d been seeking. God had spoken.
He closed his eyes, imagining the scene. Adrian, humbled on his knees before him. Perhaps he’d be bound, or in chains. Mistress Joanna, standing at Andrew’s side, appalled by her husband’s sorcery, realizing he was the better twin as Adrian spouted more lies. The authorities, dragging Adrian away to burn.
His outlook brightened, as though the sun had come out from behind a cloud. Andrew knew what he had to do. Something far better than accusing his brother.
God had sent Andrew the perfect revenge.
Three days later, Andrew waited in the front pew of his small church, his hands clasped before him. He was grateful for the respite after his busy morning. Up before dawn, he’d hidden outside the rooms he and his brother once shared, waiting until both Joanna and Adrian departed. The sight of them smiling and exchanging a brief farewell kiss had stung. Using his key, he’d gone inside and taken what he needed. All was ready.
At last he heard footsteps. She’d returned.
There, at the back of the chapel, stood Mistress Joanna. She was alone. Good, now Friar Newton wouldn’t spoil his plans. God had heard his prayers.
Today she wore a blue gown that offset the little he could see of her red-gold hair to perfection. How he longed to run his hands over her softness, to hear her cry out beneath him.
All in good time.
“Joanna,” Andrew said, deepening his voice slightly.
She turned. “Adrian, what are you doing here? Did you follow me?”
Why didn’t she look happier?
“I wanted to talk to you. I missed you.” He endeavored to sound sincere.
She frowned. “Since this morning? Has something happened? This isn’t like you.”
Tension coiled inside her, despite the calm of the church. Why was Adrian here, saying he missed her? This was the most personal comment she was likely to get, yet it seemed off.
He wore a hat she hadn’t seen before. Though most men wore hats every day, Adrian disdained them whenever possible.
She didn’t resist when he brought her closer and kissed her. But she felt nothing. Not when he touched her, nor when his mouth closed over hers. Every other time they’d kissed, she’d wanted more. He didn’t taste the same, but she knew he’d cleaned his teeth mere hours ago. She pulled away abruptly, knowing her consternation showed on her face. Where was the desire, the melting sensation she’d come to expect?
Something wasn’t right.
He held her face in his hands and gently caressed her cheeks, the way she loved. But she felt empty. She took a deep breath, hoping the clean, fresh scent that was distinctly Adrian would ease her anxiety. He smelled too sweet, with a cloying tang that made her nose itch.
She had to figure out what was wrong. He bent toward her again, but she gripped his hands to stop him. She didn’t want him to kiss her. Not until she understood the changes in him. Her breath caught as she felt smooth skin on both of his wrists. She pulled his left hand closer and stared at it.
“What happened to your scar?” she whispered.
Adrian grabbed his wrist self-consciously, then jerked his sleeve down.
“It has healed,” he said.
“Scars like yours don’t heal so quickly, if ever.” Joanna took a step back. Her heart pounded. This man wasn’t her husband, yet looked so very like him.
She saw the handsome, chiseled features she expected to see, the same dark eyebrows. There was something eerie about his eyes, slightly shadowed by the hat.
Joanna snatched the hat off his head and recoiled. The man before her had shorter hair than Adrian. And the gleam his eyes scared her.
“Who are you?” she cried.
The hat dropped to the floor.
“What the hell is going on?”
Joanna gasped, frozen with shock. The Adrian she knew stood in the arched entryway, his blue eyes blazing, his hair as it should be. But the other man looked so like him….
Adrian strode toward the stranger and grabbed fistfuls of his clothing. He said in a flat tone, “Joanna, meet my brother, Andrew. Andrew, I see you’ve already met my wife.”
Joanna stared at the two men before her, so alike except for their hair. One looked furious, the other smug. Her mouth dropped open in surprise as her stomach roiled. Adrian had a twin, yet he hadn’t told her. Why?
Was his twin the missing piece of his puzzle, the reason for prohibiting personal conversations? Could she trust him at all?
Then it hit her. She’d kissed Adrian’s brother. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, but his cloying scent remained.
“What are you doing here? And with Joanna?” Adrian demanded.
She’d never seen him so angry, so formidable. His clenched muscles could barely contain his energy, which she feared might burst forth with the force of a fired cannonball.
Andrew choked. “Let me go.”
Adrian complied with obvious reluctance. He positioned himself in front of her as though shielding her from his twin. Though the brothers were of a height, Adrian’s aura of restrained power overshadowed Andrew.
“Joanna, I need to speak with my brother. Alone.” He turned to look at her. “I know you are beyond curious, but I ask you to do this for me.” His words were slow and measured.
Shock froze her in place. Could she forgive him for keeping this secret?
He took a deep breath. Then exhaled through his mouth, as if the stream of air helped him remain calm. He took her hands, then stroked her cheek. His eyes gave no clue as to his thoughts. “Please. I promise to discuss this. Later.”
She wanted to stay, but couldn’t refuse his sincere plea especially when coupled with a promise of a personal conversation. Fighting the temptation to linger outside the door and listen, she left the chapel. Later, despite their agreement, she’d learn about Adrian’s twin. Somehow she’d endure the wait.
The rage that besieged Adrian upon seeing Joanna in Andrew’s arms hadn’t faded. Scorching possessiveness consumed him, as surprising as it was fierce. She was his. Neither careful breaths nor the soothing quiet of the church could ease his fury.
“What in God’s name were you thinking?” he demanded.
Andrew held out his hands, palms up, looking for all the world like an innocent friar instead of the conniving zealot Adrian now knew him to be.
“We often pretended to be each other as children.” Andrew backed away, holding his hands out as if to ward off an attack. Adrian half-expected him to make the sign of the cross.
“Nice try. But you can do better.”
Adrian matched Andrew’s retreat with a steady advance, aware that his twin could sense his fury.
“She seemed upset,” Andrew said. “I thought if I could offer comfort….”
“By wearing my clothes and pretending to be me? Have you been following her, too? Again,” he growled. He backed Andrew against the wall. The stone gritted against Andrew’s back. “I want the truth.”
“She is beautiful,” Andrew whispered.
Adrian shook h
is head in disgust. He couldn’t talk about Joanna any longer or he’d strangle Andrew. He stepped back, needing to breathe something other than his twin’s oversweet scent.
“What are you doing here? What happened to your pilgrimage?”
Andrew slithered away from the wall and out of Adrian’s reach. He sat on a pew. “I did visit a shrine or two,” he said. “But I didn’t realize how draining such a journey could be. Rome is so far away. I’ve been staying with these good brothers.”
The panic Adrian felt before Andrew left returned in a flood. “Why?”
“My brother,” Andrew said, “I came here to seek guidance through prayer. You fight wars for England. I fight a war with myself. I don’t know which side of me will win.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I ask myself, can I allow you to live, tainted as you are, or should I commend your soul to God? I do love you. You’re my twin. The only family I have.”
Adrian clenched his teeth. Another lie. No male in his family, including him, knew how to love. He wanted to beat some sense into Andrew. Though releasing his anger would probably make him feel better, violence wouldn’t change anything.
A pair of brothers walked into the chapel. Adrian and his brother nodded, waiting for them to pass.
Andrew might turn him in to the authorities. No news could fill him with greater fear. Of utmost concern was how easily something could happen to Joanna. Something harmful, yet unforeseen and sudden, the minute his back was turned. His possessiveness increased. Joanna had married him for protection. How could he shield her from every danger? Could he anticipate Andrew’s next move?
And what of William and John, who’d been quiet for too long?
When the brothers had moved on, Adrian cursed himself for not accepting sooner what Andrew had become. He had a sudden urge to take Joanna and go somewhere, anywhere, away from his brother and hers. But he’d never been one to run from his troubles.
He couldn’t conceal his hostility as he walked to his brother, who slid along the polished wood pew until the carved end of the bench trapped him.
“Stop acting the hero.” Andrew laughed, a dry, hollow sound. “So much for earning back the family honor. You’ve gone and married a commoner, a woman who engages in trade at that. What would our precious father have had to say about that?”
For the first time, his brother’s harsh words didn’t affect him. “I’m still working to have our family titles restored. You know very well that no nobleman would give me his daughter until I do.”
“Then why marry now? If you’re so sure of your impending success, why not wait?” Andrew persisted.
Adrian wasn’t about to share his reasons for a hasty marriage. And he certainly wouldn’t tell him how he’d felt drawn to Joanna from the moment he saw her.
Behind Andrew, sunlight streamed through a small, round stained glass window set high in the wall. He thought of Joanna, of all that she represented: goodness and light. He had to go to her and explain that which could not be explained. The stunned look on her face, the near daze in which she left the church made him wonder what his reception would be.
This was precisely why he’d insisted upon such a strict agreement. He hadn’t wanted to reveal anything about Andrew. If he’d given her one drop of information about having a twin, unasked questions about Andrew’s whereabouts, his occupation and their relationship would constantly swirl around them. Far better that she know nothing.
Too late.
He held out his hand. “Give me your key.”
Thank God Andrew hadn’t shown up at their rooms while Joanna was there, and he, Adrian, was absent.
“What if I wish to leave here?” Andrew asked, palms up as if he were an innocent petitioner. “You’d keep me from our lodging?”
“I pay the rent. And I don’t want you sneaking around and bothering my wife. Or taking more of my belongings,” Adrian said. “Give me the key.”
Andrew pulled the key from a pocket in his robe and held it out.
As Adrian’s fingers closed over the cold metal, Andrew asked, “What happens now?”
Chapter 16
“Joanna!”
No answer.
Adrian hastily unlocked the door to her workshop and looked inside. She wasn’t there. She hadn’t been in their rooms, either.
“Joanna!” he shouted again.
He couldn’t keep panic from his voice or his heart. Had she left him? Had his secrets finally pushed her away?
The back door was ajar. He ran up the stairs, his blood pounding. No one in the small living area. The bedroom?
At last.
“I found you,” he whispered, relief rushing through him.
She sat crumpled on the bed, like an abandoned doll with her head down and her hair covering her face, her hands limp and resting in her lap. He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her.
Adrian dropped to his knees, placing his hands on the bed in front of her. He struggled for words. The easiest solution would be to blame everything on their agreement. Yet she deserved more. Worse, he wanted to give her more.
Their gazes met and held. Hers was replete with an odd mix of anguish and wariness. Like a battered puppy, wounded to the core, afraid more abuse was to come. He couldn’t bear it. Again she suffered because of him.
The longer he waited, the harder speaking became. Sentences formed in his head, but he couldn’t make them come out of his mouth.
“I have a twin.” Not a promising beginning.
“So I saw.”
He could barely hear her.
“I’m more than sorry that he bothered you. That he dared to touch you.”
Joanna shuddered. He took her hands. They were cold and pliant. She didn’t pull away. He folded her fingers over his.
“What troubled me most is that he is so like you, yet at the same time somehow not,” Joanna said. “At first I thought he was you. But the minute he touched me, I knew something was wrong. So strange, like living a bad dream. I couldn’t figure out what was different at first.”
She shivered again. He took off his cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?” she asked. “Never mind. I know why. The agreement. ’Tis no marriage when the wife can’t even ask her husband something simple as, ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’”
She bit her lip as if to keep from crying or saying something she might later regret.
Joanna looked so hurt he felt her distress. He’d never heard her voice sound so empty, not even after the miscarriage.
Theirs was a marriage based on a contract. Perhaps the terms were more specific than most marriages made solely for political or financial reasons. But they’d both signed it.
Willingly. She’d needed a husband, but hadn’t been forced to wed him. He had no obligation to tell her anything unrelated to her glass-painting or begetting an heir.
Then why did he care how she felt and what she thought of him? Why did he need to earn her trust?
There was only one solution. He had to show her he trusted her. The only way to do that was to reveal more of himself. But sharing his secrets, confiding in someone, was unfamiliar and frightening. That side of him had rusted like abandoned armor. He wished he could be restored as easily, with nothing but elbow grease and oil.
He took a deep breath, then released air slowly. “Do you remember when I told you how my father told the authorities about my grandmother?”
“Yes.”
“There is more.” He joined her on the bed.
They sat side by side, backs against the wall, facing straight ahead. He didn’t want to see sympathy or pity, if she had any, for it might break him. If she didn’t understand, if his explanation wasn’t enough, he didn’t want to see that either.
“My mother died shortly after my grandmother. Some said the cause was grief, though the physicians said she had a weak heart. My father blamed himself.”
“As you bl
amed yourself for the miscarriage,” she said softly.
A lump formed in Adrian’s throat. He hadn’t acknowledged the similarities until this moment, when his youth and recent past merged with agonizing misery. He could still see the flames, hear the wood crack and smell his grandmother burning. He ached with the loss of his and Joanna’s child and the anguish of her recovery. Would the pain ever cease to haunt him?
“I suppose so,” he said.
“Go on,” Joanna whispered, as though the sound of her voice would scare him away.
Adrian couldn’t resist the lure of her hair. He reached for a perfect spiral and wrapped it around his finger. He needed to be connected to her, even in this small way.
“I’ve never shared this with anyone, but I want you to know. Father began to gamble. He kept gambling until he lost everything except his title. But he wasted nary a thought as to how his foolish actions would affect his family, his children,” Adrian paused, determined not to let distressing memories overwhelm him. “Andrew and I begged him to stop before all of our money and possessions were lost to his gaming. He didn’t listen. After several years, we were impoverished. One day we returned from school to find Father dead on the floor, lying amidst several empty wine bottles.”
That image stayed with him. A once powerful and respected man, destroyed by the consequences of his own actions. Alone with his insurmountable sorrows.
What if he ended up the same way?
He shifted to escape the lumpy ropes poking him from beneath the thin straw mattress. How did Joanna sleep here? He’d find a way to get her a fine, freshly stuffed bed.
“Perhaps he regretted his choices,” she suggested.
“I think he regretted only what his choices cost him,” he said. “Just before he died, King Henry put him under a bill of attainder.”
“For what?” Joanna looked at him, clearly engrossed.
“The king had Parliament issue a bill saying my father was guilty of treason. Last July, the Duke of York, his sons and several others were attainted, too.”