Sword of Forgiveness (Winds of Change Book 1)

by Debbie Lynne Costello

  She tensed her leg to drive her knee upward.

  Chapter 6

  Royce gazed down at his beautiful wife, trapped between his arms and the bed. Brown hair swirled in a chestnut-colored halo around her head. He longed to run his hand through the silky curls. His gaze wandered to her lips. Lips as soft as flower petals. They were like a siren, beckoning him to taste their perfection.

  As if to weaken his resolve, she tenderly touched the wound on his head. Red, slick blood stained her fingers. Her gaze darted to her bloodied hand and back to him. If only she were innocent… He lowered his head, giving in to the desire to feel her lips touch his.

  The yearning he experienced quickly fled at the threat of her next action. Royce brought his lower leg down on hers, preventing her from jabbing her knee into his groin. One glimpse of her eyes and his heart softened. Wild, rounded in fear, they reminded him of a cornered animal’s.

  He eased the pressure of his leg over hers slightly, still keeping her confined so she couldn’t unman him. He had to stay in control and resist her beguiling ways. A knight could never let his guard down or turn his back on his adversary, and right now he had to remember that his wife very well may be his enemy.

  Yet he could not help but admire her spirit and so much more.

  “Remove yourself from me and from this bed.” Brithwin ground out her words and tried to roll out of his grip.

  Royce leaned down and increased the pressure across her shins. “You mean, remove yourself from me and this bed, my lord. Moreover, why would I want to do that? You near knocked me out cold with the board.”

  “’Twas an accident, and well you know it.” She hesitated until his eyebrows rose. A shiver sliced through her body. She’d not give into fear. “My lord.”

  Brithwin lifted her hands to push him off her, but he grabbed her arms again. “Accident or no, I think I will stay here.”

  She scowled. “What do you want?” She waited defiantly. “My lord.”

  He gazed down at the amazing woman he held. Any man would be proud to call her his wife—she had so many fine qualities. What did he want? He wanted her to be innocent of his family’s blood. He wanted a bond with her like his parents had. He wanted to feel worthy of a fine woman and the blood washed from his hands. But none of that was to be his.

  And none of that was for her ears to hear. He shook his head. “You were told not to leave without my permission.”

  Brithwin pulled, trying to free her hands. “You had gotten up, so how was I to ask?”

  Royce kept his grip firm. “You took advantage of my leaving. You should have waited until I returned.”

  “How was I to know how long you would be?”

  He knew what she was about but wanted to hear it from her lips. “Why did you not come look for me?”

  She slanted her head. “Now, that is the crux of the matter, isn’t it?”

  His head ached as he imagined the torture of spending the rest of his life married to this devious beauty. “It is that. Now, tell me why you were in a hurry to get here.”

  Brithwin lifted her chin, sinking her head farther into the bed. “If you will let me go.”

  “If I do, will I have to dodge flying objects, guard the door and window, or protect myself from being unmanned?”

  Brithwin’s lips twitched. “On my honor, I will behave.”

  “What say you if I tell you I do not believe you have any honor? You have given me no reason to believe you have any. Only reasons to believe you don’t.” Even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t true. She’d showed nothing but honor since he’d been at Hawkwood. His only grievance was an unsubstantiated accusation.

  Her face clouded. “If I had no honor, I never would have married you!”

  Aye, a man like him, who’d shed so much blood. He steeled himself against the rolling waves of guilt. “Explain yourself.”

  “I married you because of my people.” Her words came out short and terse. “I could not leave them to your wrath should you have come here and discovered you were short a bride.”

  “I am supposed to believe you would have left—you didn’t want this marriage?” He scoffed. “I think you were too greedy and did not expect me to find out about your little plan.” Royce bent over and spoke in her ear. “So, now that things are not going as you had planned, I imagine you would like to escape.”

  As he pushed himself away, fury flashed across Brithwin’s face. “Are you going to let me up or not?”

  Royce cut a hard look at her and a long pause ensued.

  Brithwin’s eyes narrowed until they were near shut. “My lord.”

  Royce lightened his hold on her arms. “I will release you, but you are only to sit on the bed and not to move. I am faster and stronger, and next time you defy me, I will punish you. Remember that.”

  As he stood and stepped back, Brithwin swung her legs over the side of the bed. He readied himself to capture her again should she bolt.

  She glowered at him. “You are wrong when you say I wanted this marriage. I wanted no man in my life. Relief was what I felt when my father died. All men are the same. You care for none but yourselves and your pleasures. A woman is naught more than chattel in a man’s eyes, easily discarded. I know, for I have lived it. I was quite content here these past months, running Hawkwood without a husband to interfere.”

  “You ran this castle on your own?” Royce let out a snort. “Are you not forgetting your steward?”

  Brithwin sat straight and folded her arms in front of her. “I dismissed him, for he was not honest with his dealings.”

  Royce leaned his shoulder against the large wooden post on the bed. “Is honesty that important to you?”

  Brithwin tipped her chin up. “Aye, it is, along with trust.”

  Royce read the truth of it in her eyes. “Who keeps your accounts?”

  Brithwin started to push herself up and appeared to think better of it. “I do. Pater taught me how to read and work with numbers.”

  Royce choked. She could read and write? What other surprises did she hold? Royce ran his fingers over the cool metal on the hilt of his sword. “If you did not want this marriage, why did you have my family murdered? You did not deny it when I asked you.”

  Brithwin sprang from the bed and faced him. “I said I had nothing to deny, and if you think I am capable of such a thing, you are a fool!”

  Royce pushed away from the post before answering. “Do not ever call me a fool again, my lady,” he whispered. “Or you will find your fears justified.”

  †††

  Brithwin squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. So he had noticed her fear. Well, he never would see it again. Showing fear made her weak—lessons from her father left an impression she did not forget. He’d fed off the terror he enjoyed inflicting on her. She had overcome it—all of it. Even the one horror he found extreme pleasure in. It had taken her a long time to hide the panic that went through her when he sent her to her own personal prison. But once he no longer saw her fear, he lost interest in her.

  “Your threats mean nothing to me. I am sure I have lived through worse.” She squelched a shudder threatening her body. She could not let him see her tremble or give him any hint of the way her stomach convulsed.

  Royce’s hand dropped from his sword and he stepped forward. “What do you mean?”

  Brithwin fought the urge to step back. “Only that you do not know me nor do you understand what my life has been.”

  He studied her face. Apparently, her answers were not to his liking. Perhaps she was a bit too vague. She stifled a smirk.

  His gaze remained riveted on her. “What was your father like?”

  She tapped her foot. “It matters not what he was like, for he is dead.”

  “Then what of your mother? I have never heard mention of her.”

  Brithwin sighed and looked away. “I never knew my mother, for she died giving birth to me.”

  With the lightest of touches, his hand cupped her ch
in, drawing her gaze back to him. Royce’s brown eyes glittered with curiosity. “So your father raised you alone?”

  As if he’d realized he’d given too much away with that touch of tenderness, Royce swept away invisible lint from his shirt. But she saw through his pretense. The questioning had gone on too long for her liking, anyway. She needed to gain control of the conversation before she became vulnerable.

  “You said you came up here because I left without saying anything. I will return with you, if that is what you wish.”

  An uncomfortable silence followed as he scrutinized her. “You may remain in here.” He dropped into a chair and leaned his head back.

  She folded her arms in front of her. “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t bother to move. “Waiting.”

  She tapped her fingers on her arm. “For what?”

  This time he raised his head and glared at her. “For time to pass. Now go to bed.”

  Brithwin raised her chin. “I will not! Not until you leave.”

  “’Tis fine with me. Sit there, but do not speak.”

  She stomped to the bed and perched on the side while he glowered at her from the chair. Brithwin refused to squirm under his fierce perusal.

  After what seemed like forever, he unfolded himself from the chair and walked out of the room, his boots tapping on the floor. She darted over and locked the door behind him. She’d had enough surprises for one night.

  No sooner had Royce left and she’d taken a few steps away, than a knock sounded on the door.

  “Milady?”

  Brithwin hurried over and let her maid in.

  “Help me out of this gown, Elspeth.” Her maid loosened the ties binding the dress together and held the garment while she stepped out. With the gown neatly folded, Elspeth laid it on a chair with her belt and circlet.

  “Was he mean to you, milady?” Elspeth dropped her gaze to the floor. “I do not wish to be too forward.”

  “You are more than my maid. I know you ask because you worry.” Brithwin sighed. “No, he has not been cruel. Although he tests my patience.” A clipped bitter laugh escaped. “But no more than I test his, I assure you.”

  Elspeth’s hand went to her chest. “The servants all say he is a fair and just lord, unlike your father. They are all pleased he has come.”

  The words hurt. Even though she wanted fair treatment for her people, a part of her felt loyalty had swayed.

  Remaining in her chemise, Brithwin excused Elspeth and stretched out on the bed. She never should have let Royce know he could frighten her, but he’d caught her unawares, and once the fear had gotten a foothold, it was difficult to overcome. Yet he’d done nothing but talk. Her father would have devoured her had he seen that kind of weakness in her. Could she be so lucky that Royce was different, or did he play a game to leave her wondering…worrying? The unknown could be far more terrifying.

  But even though he’d done nothing more than talk, how could he be as honorable as Thomas said when he got angry with her for such a minor infraction?

  Brithwin opened her eyes to the night’s darkness. Bolting out of the bed, she caught sight of the smoldering fire with its hot coals. The orange embers pulsed from bright to dull, and she hurried to stir them. When a flame burst forth, she placed a piece of wood on the small flicker and blew lightly.

  A shiver ran through her body. It wasn’t the cold that bothered her, it was worse—a black, moonless night. She hated being alone in a dark room. How many times in the warmer months when a fire was not feasible had Elspeth lit a torch and placed it on the wall in her room? Heaven knows what her father would have done if he had found out. This time, she couldn’t stop the shudder rippling through her body.

  She stared at the log as it took on the flames. Elspeth must have believed she would sleep in the master chamber this evening—otherwise there would have been a fire.

  Royce would expect her, it being their wedding night. She should go. But it was not as though he liked her. He barely tolerated her. The heat from the rising flames warmed her face. Had he not told her to remain on the bed? If he became angry and came to retrieve her, she would remind him of his words.

  She put a second log on the fire, sending up tiny sparks. Light now in the room, she climbed into bed and lifted up a silent prayer.

  God, it seems I come to You most when I am in need, and here I am again. Please be with me. Give me the strength and wisdom to see things as I should and to know what to do.

  †††

  Royce raised himself from his chair. He hadn’t returned to the wedding festivities but instead had gone to his new solar to think. His gut still roiled from the evening. He should be thankful for his wife’s innocence in some areas—her confusion as to why he remained with her in their bedroom was not an act. He’d met more than his share of ladies playing innocent. But her bewilderment, as he allowed an appropriate span of time to pass to give an impression to the servants of their consummation, had been genuine. Knew the lass nothing of the ways of a husband and wife?

  It may be his wedding, but he didn’t feel like celebrating. As he stepped inside his room, the weight of a suit of armor settled on his shoulders—the burden that always assailed him once alone with his thoughts.

  To go along with the burden, it was as if a blacksmith hammered in his head. He picked up a clean white cloth from the table and dipped it in the water bowl beside it. The cloth nettled the bloody cut on his temple. He winced, removing the dried blood. He rinsed the cloth and folded it, pressing the cool fabric against his pounding forehead.

  He dropped down on the chair next to the fireplace, stretching his legs. The unnecessary fire crackled, and flames licked high into the air. The heat encompassed him like the warm arms of a loving father. Royce closed his eyes, forgetting—until those arms became bloody and he peered into the empty sockets of a man he loved. Grief tormented his soul. If he had not been delayed from returning to Rosen Craig, he could have saved them all! He wanted their murders vindicated. Could his new wife be an accomplice to this heinous crime? He needed the truth but he didn’t want that to be the truth.

  He shook away the vision of his father, and Bryce pushed his way in. He missed his brother. Bryce would never have the chance to marry his betrothed—but at least she’d not be a widow.

  ‘Twas strange that Lyndle hadn’t mentioned Clarice when he was there. He would have to make a point of asking about his brother’s betrothed next time he and Lyndle met.

  And here he sat, wondering if he’d married his brother’s murderer. Royce tossed the warmed cloth to the hearth. He raked his hand through his hair, no longer convinced Lady Brithwin had done it. The evidence said guilty, however his gut said innocent. He’d always trusted his inner voice, but with the tragedy at the uprising, he could no longer trust himself.

  Brithwin needed to be watched clandestinely. He’d have to find someone for that job whom he could trust to be loyal to him. Moving her to the adjoining room would help him keep an eye on her—although he may want to sleep with his sword.

  She would be hard pressed to leave her chamber without his knowing, for he slept lightly. Royce grinned. And he would add a little something to insure he heard her should she attempt to sneak out in the night.

  If Brithwin had blood on her hands, she would have to suffer the consequences. Perhaps he shouldn’t have married her until he’d discovered the truth. He could have gone to the king, but Richard would not have been sympathetic to him. He’d wanted to insure peace between his lords, and marriage was one way of securing it. His gut knotted. Vows or no, he would not take her as his wife in the biblical sense until he found her innocent. He didn’t want to think what he’d have to do should he find her guilty.

  And how could he reconcile the possibility of her innocence with Lyndle’s information of seeing Hawkwood men leaving Rosen Craig? He’d expected to find a chit with expensive jewels and fine clothes, yelling at servants that things were not done to her liking. But what he’d seen
was quite the contrary. Until today, he’d never seen Brithwin in fine clothing—and he had to admit, she worked as hard as any of her servants.

  He had even gone as far as going through her effects in her chamber. She had few belongings, and what she did own was of no great quality or value.

  Being a good judge of someone’s character was something he’d always prided himself in. He needed to find a way to prove her innocence. Otherwise, the heir that the king wanted to see would never be.

  He also needed to maintain the illusion of this marriage. Should word get out that it was only a marriage in name and not been consummated, it would leave both Brithwin and him in a very vulnerable position.

  Chapter 7

  The kitchen echoed with talk and laughter as Royce entered. On the far wall, two large stone hearths blazed, filling the air with the savory scent of spices and herbs. Loaves of fresh bread sitting on the table bid him over with their hearty aroma. Brithwin sat at a long plank table, chattering and holding a piece of bread in her hand. A slow silence infused the room as each servant realized he’d entered. All except for Brithwin, who was explaining medicinal plants to the other ladies.

  She opened her mouth but promptly shut it when Marjory stood and curtseyed. “Can I help you with something, milord?”

  “Thank you, but no. I have come in search of my lady and it appears my quest is now ended.” He smiled and arched one brow.

  Marjory giggled. Brithwin rolled her eyes.

  Royce’s gaze returned to her. “Are you ready to go riding, my lady?”

  “Alone?” Brithwin nibbled her bottom lip. Her body shuddered beneath his gaze.

  “It will be you and me.” He looked over his clothing to make sure naught was soiled or disagreeable. Was he really that repulsive to her?

  She hesitated.

  “The horses are saddled and the men are waiting. I have yet to meet a woman who could be punctual. Do you think you could bring your bread with you?”

  “The men?” She let out a whoosh of air.

  “Aye, you do not think I would take you out without guards?”