Passion's Twins

by Dee Brice

  “Aye. But wooing is more pleasant.”

  Chuckling, Gerard nodded. “Definitely more pleasant. But we still have all those damn ifs.”

  Chapter Eight

  Yvonne’s Solar

  “They are your brothers, Gareth,” Yvonne muttered. “You deal with them.”

  “You are ruler here, Yvonne. ‘Tis your duty to deal with the four of them,” he said quietly.

  “Pfft!”

  Grinning, Gareth merely quirked a dark brow. But—hidden beneath her full skirts—he gently squeezed her hand.

  Sighing, she folded both hands in her lap, studying the two couples standing before her. Gerard and Edgar she caught unawares. They looked as if they wished to be in hell rather than here. At the same time they kept darting apologetic glances at the twins. As well they should!

  But Yvonne noticed that—even though the twins wore identical gowns of sky blue silk, had their hair coiled in flaxen braids atop their heads and had never looked so much alike—each man looked at the woman of his heart and ignored the other.

  Despite their defiant posture, Yvonne noted the sadness in the twins’ eyes, the downward curl of their lips, the occasional grazing of their hands as if they sought solace in each other’s touch. Their red-rimmed eyes bespoke of countless tears. Which had forced Yvonne to this damnable confrontation.

  She had tried to warn them of the consequences of their games—heartbreak being the most painful of all. But how much had she contributed to this dilemma when she warned them to expect more tricks from the men? And how much had Gareth contributed? He must have lectured his brothers or at least counseled them.

  Now was not the time to fix blame.

  “Ladies. Gentlemen.” The sarcasm in her voice brought their startled gazes to her face. “Although I regret the decision I have reached, I see no other course. You will marry a sennight hence.”

  A chorus of “no” followed her proclamation. She noticed, however, that all four miscreants looked relieved. Perhaps they would learn to deal with each other after all. Given their pasts, it would take some hard work on all their parts. But faint hearts never won the war between the sexes. As she had good reason to know.

  “I would prefer that you never see each other again. Since the ladies may be carrying your babies, gentlemen, I see no other alternative. You have made your beds, now you must lie in them.

  “The delay in your marriage will allow Rowena and Edina’s parents time to return to Marchonland.”

  “How…?” Edina heeded Yvonne’s frown.

  Rowena did not. “How can you reach them in time? Beaufort lies two days’ hard ride from here and two days’ hard ride to return. And our parents won’t travel without a full retinue. Which will make their journey far longer.”

  “It has to do with Marchon’s defenses, which I’ll not discuss with you,” Yvonne said in her most queenly voice.

  Gareth raised his voice, saying, “You’d better think of a way to explain this hasty marriage. One that won’t force me to find allies other than the twins’ parents.”

  “Before you go,” Yvonne said, her voice cold, “you are not to see each other until the wedding. Any communications between you will be written and routed through Gaspar and Aida.” She dismissed them with a curt nod.

  “Gaspar has posted guards, so don’t even think about using the tunnels. And don’t imagine you can sneak away to rendezvous at the willows,” Gareth added.

  “Prisoners,” the twins muttered.

  “There is always the oubliette,” Yvonne said. Baring her teeth in her warrior grin, she watched four faces pale under her feral look.

  “I’ll see you back to camp.” Gareth clamped one hand around each of his brother’s necks then shoved them toward the door.

  “And, since you have earned my distrust, I shall see you ladies to your quarters,” Yvonne added.

  * * * * *

  When Gareth and Yvonne returned to her solar, they found Gaspar and Aida waiting for them.

  “Do you think they will obey? That they won’t try to see each other?” Aida demanded, her gray eyes concerned.

  “Have you truly sent for the twins’ parents?” Gaspar added.

  “No and yes,” Yvonne said.

  Gareth took her hand. “The twins’ parents will arrive in a sennight. Yvonne has already sent the pigeons. We hope a sense of urgency will bring my brothers and the twins to their senses.”

  “You should not have meddled,” Aida scolded, still looking worried.

  “Don’t wander down that path, dear Aunt. You and Gaspar bear a portion of the blame for this debacle.”

  “Aye,” Gareth agreed. “Had you not told Gerard and Edgar about the twins—”

  “Your brothers might think themselves in love with the same woman. For a time at least,” Gaspar interrupted, protectively circling Aida’s waist with one arm. His other hand went to the dagger at his waist. “They might have tried to kill each other.”

  Gareth snorted. “While now we may need to defend my brothers against parents who—”

  “Let their daughters continue to play their childish games far too long.” Aida huffed a sigh as she plopped down on a chair.

  “’Tis far too late to fix blame.” Yvonne perched on her window seat and gazed down at the melee on her training fields. She would rather be there, training with her men, than standing on this precipice. ‘Twas easier to order action than to wait for four stubborn hearts to make up their minds.

  “It all comes down to choice,” Gareth said softly.

  Yvonne looked up at her husband. “If I had chosen one of your brothers over you, would you have stepped away?”

  “Hell no!” His vehemence made them all laugh. Yvonne blushed, pleased that Gareth loved her enough to give her the illusion of choice.

  “When Kerrie—may she rest in peace—and I were young, I longed to look like her. So tall and slender. So graceful in her movements.” Aida sighed, offering a small grin. “Now my heart aches for Rowena and Edina. ‘Tis truly awful to seem indistinguishable from another.”

  “An illusion they fostered,” Yvonne reminded them.

  Taking Aida’s hand, Gaspar said, “I believe I could have seen the differences between you and Kerrie. Even if you had been identical.”

  “Aye?”

  “Aye. My heart would have told me.”

  * * * * *

  Alexandre glanced at Kerrie. Noting her frown, he rubbed his thumb over her forehead and kissed her cheek.

  “I suppose this debacle is all my doing,” she muttered.

  “In part, oui. But all the players share responsibility in one way or another.” He chuckled softly. “Aida had it right—the twins’ parents should have stopped their games years ago. And you…”

  “I only wanted to make them realize for themselves how silly the games are. I want them all happy.”

  “Then you, sweeting, must make them stop their games.”

  Kerrie sighed. “I don’t know if I can.”

  * * * * *

  Marchon Castle Great Hall

  A page mounted the dais then held out sealed parchments to Gerard and Edgar.

  “Put them down,” Gerard ordered, tapping the table with his eating knife. He looked at the messages as if they were coiled rattlesnakes.

  The lad shot him a puzzled look but did as bidden. He flicked a glance at Edgar, bowed and fled.

  Edgar, Gerard noted, looked as reluctant to touch the parchments as Gerard felt.

  “Are we mice or men?” Edgar muttered. He poked the messages, picked up the one that bore his name. Gerard left his where it lay.

  “Do you suppose these came through Gaspar and Aida?”

  “I cannot imagine Rowena disobeying a direct order. Would Edina?”

  “Aye, I think she would. She seems most daring.” He risked a sidelong glance at Gaspar and Aida, another at Gareth and Yvonne. As usual the newlyweds were feeding each other from their shared trencher and seemed oblivious of everything and everyone b
ut each other. Even though that was their customary behavior, Gerard knew his elder brother and Gareth’s warrior queen missed little, even in the bustling, noisy great hall.

  “They must know. Otherwise we’d be on our knees before them, trying to explain why the twins contacted us directly when they were ordered not to.”

  “Trying to explain the unexplainable,” Edgar agreed, looking morose.

  “Then we must assume that this—whatever this is—has Yvonne’s and Gareth’s blessing.” At last, Gerard picked up the parchment bearing his name.

  “Why now? We have neither seen nor heard from them in two days.”

  “Perhaps they want to discuss a plan to explain our hasty marriages.” Gerard rubbed his chin and stared at the parchment in his other hand. “That does seem reasonable at least.”

  Grinning, Edgar said, “And very unlike them. Although Rowena was cautious about swiving me, she is, I believe, by nature more impetuous.”

  “While I sense that Edina is inherently more careful.” Gerard tapped the message on the table’s edge. Sighing, he looked into Edgar’s face. “On the count of three?”

  “Aye. On the count of three.”

  They opened their messages.

  * * * * *

  Somewhere Within Marchon Castle

  Rowena gave the enormous bed a final pat. Meeting Edina’s intense gaze, she said, “Are you certain you want to do this?”

  “No, but I can envision no other way to solve the problem. Can you?”

  “No.” Sighing, Rowena perched on the bench at the foot of the bed. “We owe them for the tricks we’ve played on them.”

  “Aye. So long as we don’t actually say we’re sorry. After all, they didn’t apologize to us.”

  “We are behaving like children, Edina.”

  “I know but…does it seem as if something or someone has cast a spell on us?”

  Rowena snorted. “Such as Queen Kerrie? Surely you don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “P-Perhaps I do. I know had Gerard and I met at Beaufort, I would not have lay with him until…unless we married.”

  Nibbling her lower lip, Rowena nodded. “I wish we’d never sent those messages asking them to meet us here.”

  “So do I. But ‘tis too late to run now.”

  “Aye, but—if what we have told each other about them is true—we shall have a night of exquisite bliss.” Edina sank beside her sister and took her hand. “And we can take comfort from what Yvonne told us.”

  Rowena snorted. “That even in the dark—even blindfolded—she could tell which of the brothers was who? ‘Tis not our telling them apart but—”

  “Them telling us apart,” Edina finished on a sigh.

  Hands touching, they lapsed into silence.

  As if with one pair of eyes, they surveyed the room. Buckets of sand stood beneath the few lighted torches. A single candle spread its golden glow over a table laden with food and drink to last through the night. They sat upon the lone bench, the only other resting place the wide bed. It was strewn with soft furs and myriad gem-bright pillows. Rushes sweetened with lavender and rosemary lent a tempting scent to the surroundings.

  A muttered curse brought them to their feet.

  Edina patted her breast to calm her racing heart. Rowena chewed her lower lip.

  “Remember, we will not undress,” Edina whispered.

  “Until we have doused the torches,” Rowena whispered back.

  After touching hands, they moved to opposite sides of the bed.

  Entering the room, Gerard stopped so suddenly Edgar ran into him.

  “What in hell—?” Pulling at his doublet, Edgar stepped around his brother, halting as suddenly as Gerard had. “Either my eyes are playing tricks or there really are two of you.”

  “Which you knew,” said one twin.

  “All along,” said the other.

  Edina held out Ariel. She used both hands so the men could not tell which hand she favored.

  Gerard took the lute. Edgar merely stared at the women.

  “Exquisite,” he muttered.

  “Identical in every way,” Gerard said.

  “On purpose, I believe.”

  “On purpose, aye. Hair down on both. Each wearing a gown of blue that matches her eyes. A test for us.”

  “A punishment,” Edgar corrected. He gestured at Ariel, one brow cocked upward. “You wish us to entertain you?”

  “Yes,” the twins replied together.

  “Entertain us,” Edina said.

  “As you did Yvonne before Gareth and both of you…”

  “Swived her.” Seeing the men blush, Edina added, “Wish we did not know that, don’t you?”

  Rowena sank gracefully to the bed. Patting it, she said, “Come sit beside me, Edgar.”

  “Whilst you, Gerard, sit beside me here, on this bench.” Edina sat as she smiled up at him. “’Tis easier to play when seated on a firm surface, I believe.”

  “Aye.” His voice echoed the reluctance on his face, Edina noted. He sat then cradled Ariel while he tuned her. ‘Twas a delaying tactic, she realized. Ariel was, as usual, in perfect voice.

  “Yvonne challenged us to undress her on that memorable night,” Edgar said, eyeing the twins with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  “Tonight,” said Rowena from his side, “we shall undress you.”

  “But,” warned Edina, “we shall undress ourselves. In fact—”

  “You may not touch us until—”

  “We give you permission to do so.”

  “Kisses?” Gerard stared at Edina’s shoulders as if trying to see through her clothing to find her birthmark.

  “Names?” Edgar ventured.

  In unison, the twins smiled.

  “For now, you may—”

  “Call us by whatever name you choose.”

  “As you know—”

  “We answer—”

  “To either name,” they finished together.

  Edgar’s soft groan brought his twin’s amused gaze to his face. “You won’t be angry if we misname you?” he queried.

  “As you did when last we tupped?” One eyebrow ached upward, a mocking glance that made him look away in shame.

  “May I suggest—for all our sakes,” Gerard offered as he strummed Ariel’s strings, “we begin as if we had never met?” He stood, Ariel in his left hand. His right swept across his body as he bowed to the woman on the bench. “I am Gerard.”

  “Highness.”

  “Gerard. For tonight, just Gerard.”

  “Gerard,” she repeated, gazing up at him.

  The look in her eyes—the longing in them—almost made him forget that the twins were consummate actresses. He bit back the name on his lips, saying instead, “Your name, m’lady?”

  “For now, you may call me Eleanor.”

  Edgar’s twin giggled. “And you, Edgar, may call me Elizabeth.”

  Edgar shifted as his cock responded to the desire in her eyes. “You’ll not blame me, Elizabeth, if in the throes of passion, I call you El? And in a similar condition, Gerard calls your sister El also?”

  “In the throes of passion, m’lord, will it matter?”

  She sounded flippant but her eyes told a different story. “I think it would matter very much,” Edgar muttered.

  “To all of us,” Gerard added, his voice soft, his gaze fastened on Eleanor’s blue, blue eyes.

  “For now,” she said.

  “’Twill have to do,” her twin finished. “Shall we begin?”

  Gerard sat then positioned Ariel to play. “Lively or sad, ladies?”

  The twins glanced at each other. “Both,” they said together.

  “The song you wrote,” Elizabeth clarified for Gerard.

  “Then sang,” Eleanor added to Edgar.

  “To me.” Again they finished together.

  “Edgar may sing as he did before.”

  “When he taught me to play the tune.”

  Edgar surged to his feet. Scowling fiercely,
he said, “This has gone on long enough! Haven’t you—we all—evened the score? Will you continue this nonsense even after we marry?”

  The women stood as one.

  “If—”

  “When this night is done—”

  “You still cannot tell us apart—”

  “There will be no marriages.”

  Gerard rose. “Even if you—either or both—are carrying our babes?”

  They nodded.

  “Your parents may have something to say about that,” Edgar said sternly. “Or Yvonne. So long as you remain at Marchonland.”

  “Neither our parents—”

  “Nor Yvonne will have a say—”

  “If we are no longer on their lands.”

  Together, obviously shocked, the men sat. All fell silent.

  Gerard spoke first. “We know how important it is to you both that we recognize you for yourselves. Believe me, we want the same thing.”

  “Aye,” Edgar agreed. “What we did to you the other day—”

  “Was cruel,” said Elizabeth.

  “But,” Eleanor sighed, “we may have carried the ruse too far.”

  “Aye,” the men said together.

  “Among us we should be able to come up with a solution,” Gerard mused aloud.

  “One that is fair to us all,” Edgar said.

  Again all four lapsed into silence.

  “Hoodman blind,” the women said as one.

  “Only with all of us blindfolded,” Eleanor clarified.

  “And in fairness to Edgar—” Elizabeth began.

  “Both you men should retain your shirts.”

  The men grinned but Edgar said, “Since Gerard’s and my bodies differ in other ways, wearing our shirts would help little if at all.”

  “Then we’re back where we began,” Gerard muttered.

  Edgar merely nodded. The twins sighed.

  “We could talk,” Elizabeth suggested in a small voice, as if she expected everyone to disagree.

  “Oh!” Eleanor sounded delighted.

  “What shall we talk about?” Gerard groused as Edgar nodded.

  “Art?”

  “Music?”

  “Queen Kerrie and her husbands?”

  “Sex while clothed?”

  They all laughed, but their laughter sounded nervous and embarrassed.