by Jody Hedlund
Aldric nodded. “It’s bad, then?”
“At night I can hear them digging a tunnel under the west wall. In spite of what we drop on them—hot oil, boiling water, fireballs—we can’t stop the work.”
“How many days before the wall collapses?”
“Four days, maybe five at most.”
“Then what?”
“We retreat to the inner curtain and see how long we can hold them off there.”
My heart sank at the news. I hadn’t realized, perhaps hadn’t wanted to acknowledge, the truth. This was war. And Grandmother and I were caught in the middle of it.
“Should we surrender first?” Aldric asked through a shaky breath.
“If we do, we risk losing everything.” I could hear what Bennet didn’t say. Not only would they lose Maidstone, but they’d lose all of the treasures housed within. “But if we hold out and fight,” Bennet continued, “then at least we have a chance of keeping what’s ours.”
Again silence settled over the brothers. I leaned against the wall, my mind spinning. I might not be able to take up arms and fight, but certainly my money could help.
Yes. Resolution ran up my spine, stiffening it. Without thinking further, I pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Both of the men turned startled midnight eyes upon me—eyes that were so similar, it was uncanny.
Bennet had discarded his helmet, and his face was grimy with the sweat and grit of battle. He had several days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks and chin. And his eyes were hollow and ringed underneath with dark circles. He’d obviously not slept much in recent days. But still, he’d never looked more appealing than at that moment. He was alive and unharmed. More than anything, I wanted to keep it that way.
I lifted my chin and directed my words to Bennet. “You must marry me today.”
Chapter
13
I COULDN’T STOP STARING AT SABINE. I HADN’T SEEN HER since that morning we’d been caught in the pantry together. I’d thought of her during lulls in the fighting, during those rare times I’d tried to sleep. I’d savored the memories of our times together: the intelligent conversations, the laughs and smiles, and all of our shared interests. She was the most stimulating woman I’d ever met.
And now, as she stood in the doorframe, she was a cool drink for my parched soul. Everything about her—her angled cheekbones, her delicate chin, her determined mouth, and her flecked eyes—appealed to me. I had a sudden overpowering urge to stride across the room, grab her, and crush her in my arms.
“You need to marry me,” she said again. “Today. Now.”
Her words began to penetrate the haze in my mind. After I’d compromised her reputation, her grandmother had insisted upon our union. Not that her assertion was necessary, as I’d already decided that I’d do whatever it took to protect Sabine and keep her from ruination. I wouldn’t marry her for her wealth no matter the cost to Maidstone. But I would marry her to save her reputation. I could do no less.
However, I’d expected a battle with Sabine. I’d hurt her with my plans to marry her for her wealth. And I sensed she wouldn’t acquiesce easily to the new agreement I’d made with her grandmother. She was the type of young woman who knew her mind, who thought for herself, and made her own decisions. Even if she loved and respected her grandmother—which she clearly did—she wasn’t about to let the woman dictate her future.
So why was she here now, demanding that I marry her?
“My lady,” I said, bowing slightly to her. “I’ve missed you these past days, and I’ve longed to see you more than anyone or anything.” I meant my voice to be light, but somehow the truth of my longing tinged each word.
Her eyes widened as though my declaration threw her off guard. But she quickly responded with tender honesty. “I’ve missed you too, and have been praying nonstop for your safety.”
Aldric’s bloodshot eyes moved from Sabine to me and back.
“How do you fare?” she asked, ignoring Aldric completely.
“I’m tired in body, but the sight of you refreshes me entirely.” Again, I was overwhelmed by the need to cross to her and hold her and draw strength from her unwavering spirit.
“Then you’ll not be opposed to marrying me at this moment?” she asked, returning to the purpose of her visit.
“Marrying?” Aldric asked, finally speaking up. “At a time like this?”
Sabine shot Aldric a narrowed gaze that was meant to silence him. The severity reminded me so much of her grandmother, I couldn’t contain a smile. My smile widened when Aldric dropped his gaze and shifted awkwardly in his seat.
“What do you say to my proposal, sir?” she asked me again briskly, as if she were making a business deal rather than a transaction that would change the course of her life.
My smile faded. Her proposal didn’t feel right. I should be the one on my knee before her, asking for her hand in marriage, offering her my life and my devotion. I should be the one sweeping her off her feet, doting on her, giving her all of the affection that I could lavish.
I wavered, until I saw doubt begin to creep into her expression. “Of course I’m open to your proposal,” I said. I didn’t want her to think I was hesitating because of any fault on her part. “But I thought you were opposed . . .”
“Not when I have the power to put an end to the siege.”
“And how’s that, my lady?” But even before she answered, a heavy weight settled upon me.
“If you marry me, you’ll have enough silver to repay Lord Pitt—”
“I told you I won’t accept a single piece of silver from your coffers. That was my condition.”
“It was noble of you to make the condition. But circumstances have changed.”
“But it’s my vow, nonetheless, and one I cannot break.”
“If you have the option of preventing any further injury or loss of life to your men and Lord Pitt’s, then why wouldn’t you take advantage of such an opportunity?”
“Because I promised I wouldn’t use your wealth. And I never make a promise I don’t intend to keep.”
Again Aldric glanced back and forth between us, understanding slowly beginning to dawn on his face. Although Mother and I hadn’t told him our plans for me to make an advantageous match in order to save Maidstone, I’m sure it wasn’t hard to figure out.
Sabine’s eyes took on a spark. “This means you’re willing to let more people die so that you can keep a foolish promise?” She didn’t give me the chance to answer before rushing on. “I’m offering you exactly what you’ve wanted from the day I arrived—my fortune. I’m giving it all to you of my own free will. I want you to have it. How can you refuse that?”
I shook my head. “I have to do the honorable thing.”
“And possibly die in the process?”
“Yes, if need be.”
Her face blanched, and the stiff posture of her shoulders fell.
I swiped a hand across my eyes, the grit and dust of battle having settled into every crack of skin. As much as I wanted to appease her, I’d rather die than live with the guilt of knowing I’d not only broken my promise, I’d used Sabine for her money. I couldn’t do it.
I’d continue to find another way to save Maidstone. Or die trying.
I pressed a tin cup against the soldier’s cracked lips. He took a sip, then fell back onto the bloodstained straw mat with a moan. I pulled the wool blanket over his chest, covering the sword wounds he’d suffered. Although we had no physician to help treat the injured, the head maidservant was particularly skilled in herbs and medicine and so had stitched wounds and provided poultices.
I pivoted on my knees and moved to the next man, tugging along my most serviceable gown, which had become filthy during the past several days of tending the wounded. Not only was it stained with blood, the hem was caked in moist earth.
As I bent over the victim, I glanced out the door of the soldier’s garrison to the downpour that had formed pools of mud everywhere. Although the ground w
as messy and the damp air cold, the steady rainfall during the past week had provided a welcome relief from the constant barrage from Lord Pitt’s troops. The tunnel they’d been digging under the wall had become flooded, forcing the men to retreat. The siege engines had ceased their battering as Lord Pitt pulled his troops back for the duration of the dismally wet onslaught.
Lord Pitt was clearly in no hurry to conquer Maidstone. If he couldn’t break his way in, then all he needed to do was wait for us to come out—for eventually we would have little choice.
I pressed a hand against the rumble in my stomach to stifle the growing ache of hunger. Our food supply was dwindling more every day. I’d overheard the cook disparaging Bennet’s order of one meal a day for everyone except the women and children. Even though I’d questioned why he would sacrifice food for the women at the expense of keeping his troops strong, I hadn’t refused. Instead, I’d taken to saving one of my meals for Grandmother, who was finally recovering, albeit slowly. She needed the nourishment more than I did.
“My lady,” croaked the grandfatherly soldier lying in the dark shadows of the room. “You’re a beautiful angel.”
The air was rank with the stench of putrid flesh, unwashed clothing, and blood. The dankness and gloom settled everywhere, even into the fibers of hay beneath me.
I offered the man the tin cup at the same time I lifted his head. He was burning with fever, and I wondered how much longer he would last. Surely not long. “I do think this fever has addled your brain,” I said gently while forcing a smile. “I’m certainly not beautiful, nor am I an angel.” Especially now, with strands of hair plastered to my cheeks and my face streaked with both blood and dirt.
He took a long sip before losing his strength.
The rumble of thunder outside the open door reminded me I wasn’t supposed to be out of the keep. Even after I’d asked for permission to help with the wounded, Bennet had returned my message with a resounding no and instructions to remain inside where I’d be safe. However, once I knew Grandmother was recovering, I’d decided that I couldn’t sit around and do nothing, that I must help in some way, however small.
So I’d begun sneaking out of the keep during the mid-part of the day, when I knew Bennet was resting. I’d helped relieve some of the maidservants and other soldiers who were tending the wounded, allowing them a much-needed break.
“Shall I tell you another funny story about Stephan?” I asked the feverish old soldier.
He opened his eyes briefly again, the glow in them all the answer I needed. I might not be able to provide much physical relief to the suffering. But for just a few minutes, I could distract them with humorous stories and chatter about insignificant matters.
I launched into a dramatic retelling of the time Stephan had escaped from his cage, when we had searched the castle high and low for him to no avail. I’d been bitterly disappointed and had gone to bed believing that Stephan was lost to me forever. I was awakened in the middle of the night, however, by my grandmother’s screams coming from the garderobe. She’d gone in to relieve herself, and as she got comfortable on the cold stone seat, she was attacked by a bat.
“I bet you can’t guess who the bat was,” I teased the old soldier.
“Stephan?” he croaked.
“Yes.” I laughed. “He certainly has a twisted sense of humor, staying hidden like that, just until Grandmother was taking care of private matters. Then he literally scared the matters right out of her.”
At a nearby chuckle, I glanced up to see Bennet leaning against the doorframe, watching me. Although his face was still gritty and unshaven, with dark circles forming permanent shadows under his eyes, I drank in his presence, his strength, and his valor. His eyes crinkled at the corner with his mirth, and his grin was a welcome sight amidst the seriousness that had permeated the fortress during the past weeks.
I tucked a damp, loose strand of hair behind my ear and started to smile in return.
“I was told I could find you here.” His grin faded, replaced with disapproval.
I pushed up from the floor, standing to my full height, preparing to do battle with Bennet. I’d known that eventually he’d discover my disobedience to his ruling. And I’d prepared myself to fight for my right to be there and help.
“I thought I told you to stay inside the keep.” He dropped his voice to a harsh whisper, and he glanced around at the pale, gaunt faces that stared up at us.
“It seems you don’t know me very well,” I said, “if you really believed I’d follow that order.”
“You’re safer inside.”
“So are you. But I don’t see you cowering away.”
He exhaled a long, exasperated breath.
I couldn’t resist smiling. “I guess you’re worried about me?”
His expression remained steely. “Of course I am.”
I was tempted to tell him that if he was really worried about me and everyone else, he should have accepted my offer of marriage and my money instead of being stubborn and proud. If he cared a little less about being so honorable, then perhaps we’d all be eating venison stew and warm bread instead of watery soup without a crumb. But I bit back my sarcasm and instead responded as sweetly as I could manage. “I’m flattered you’re thinking about me when you have much more important issues to concern you.”
He didn’t crack even the slightest smile. “One of the maids informed me that your grandmother is enjoying three meals a day.”
“Yes, of course she is.” I turned away from him and retrieved the tin cup that was still half full. I had the feeling he was about to confront me again, and I didn’t want to face any further reproof. “You certainly can’t begrudge a sick woman an extra meal, can you?”
“Of course not,” he said almost angrily. “But I don’t want you giving up your portion.”
I started away from him, toward the basket of supplies that I’d brought with me from the kitchen—clean linen for bandages and fresh salve for poultices. “If you and your men can go with one meal a day, then I can as well.”
His footsteps snapped against the floor as he followed me. In three strides, he caught up, took hold of my arm, and pulled me to a stop. He was near enough that I could see the moist strands of his hair and even a stray raindrop in his eyebrow. The scent of metal and smoke fire that clung to him was somehow comforting. There was a strength about him that emanated from his armor, a strength that moved through his fingers into my arm.
“I want you to eat both meals,” he said again, harder.
“I’m faring just fine.” But even as I spoke the words, my stomach released a horrific growl. “Although I might fare better if the soup had just a tad more broth. You may want to speak to the cook about the need to water it down more.”
His brows furrowed. “You’re a stubborn woman.”
“Why, yes, I am. Thank you for noticing.”
His stormy expression radiated with frustration, and I half expected him to let the fury of the storm loose, to give me the tongue-lashing I deserved and then to promptly drag me out of the soldier’s barracks and back to the keep where he’d told me to stay.
But after a long moment, his shoulders fell and he released me. “I’m sorry, my lady,” he whispered, his voice and expression softening. “We shouldn’t have invited you to visit. Then you wouldn’t be trapped in the middle of all this.”
“You’re not a seer. You couldn’t predict that your neighbors would decide to attack.”
His gaze dropped, but not before I saw the guilt in his eyes. “We knew we were under the threat of attack. Lord Pitt sent his captain to warn us long before your arrival.”
I attempted to digest his revelation. He’d invited me to Maidstone even though the situation had been precariously volatile?
“I shouldn’t have asked any woman to come here.” Agony laced his voice. “I should have told you and your grandmother to stay as far away as possible.”
“Or at the very least, you could have told us about the dang
er and then let us decide for ourselves whether we wanted to brave the visit.”
He bowed his head. “I intentionally deceived you, my lady. Although I don’t deserve your pardon, I hope that one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”
A chilled breeze swept through the door and rippled over me. I’d already covered one of the wounded men with my cloak. And now I had no way to prevent the shiver that rippled through me. I hugged my arms to my thin body.
Maybe he hadn’t intended to hurt my feelings with his attention when I’d first visited, since he’d assumed I was there to make a match with him. But this? Withholding such vital information from Grandmother and me? He’d had the opportunity to tell us about the severity of the situation on more than one occasion, especially after Captain Foxe’s visit. He could have sent us away. But he’d remained silent.
And now here we were, in the middle of a battle, slowly starving to death.
“If I’d only had myself to worry about, I could probably forgive you,” I said. “But I’m responsible for Grandmother. And I can’t bear to think that I’ve needlessly put her in harm’s way.”
“I know.” His voice was low and hoarse. “I can’t bear to think that I’ve put both of you in the middle of all this.”
The rational part of me knew his intentions had been noble. He’d only hoped to arrange a marriage for himself so that he could save his family’s estate. He’d been willing to sacrifice his own desires and plans so that he could do what was best for his family.
Even so, I couldn’t ignore the pain in my heart over the fact that he’d placed his family’s needs over our safety. I couldn’t make light of his deceit. I couldn’t pretend it away. I couldn’t cover over it with a witty response. All I could do was turn away from him.
I wanted to run from the hurt. But there was no place to go. I was trapped—as trapped in the castle walls as I was by my feelings for him.
I sped out the door and splashed into the mud, letting the rain pelt against me and punish me for caring so much about him when I would have been wiser not to. And for caring about him still even though I knew I should stop.