by Wendy Stone
Wulf pulled off his jerkin, setting the heavy leather around her shoulders. It was warm from his body and smelled of him, a combination that made her weak in the knees, though she stiffened them determinedly.
"What must I say, Rose, to prove that I do love you?"
"I don't doubt your love, Wulf. I couldn't. I love you as well. But I cannot bind myself to a man who does not see me as a person first. You see me as a wife, not as a woman with a mind and spirit.” She lifted her hand to touch his cheek. “Perhaps it would be best if I went with my father. With time apart, perhaps you'll see for yourself what I mean."
"No,” Wulf said adamantly. “I don't want you to go. It would be like losing my other half if you left me, Rose.” He took her hands in both of his, bringing them to his lips. “Please, Rose, I will do whatever you wish, just don't leave me."
"And if my wish were for you to give up your fight with Geoffrey, to walk away from Red Thorn Keep and its people? What would you say then?"
"I would say it isn't you speaking. I've seen the horror in your eyes when you view the atrocities committed to my...to our people by that blackguard. You care more and give more than any three women I know."
Rose smiled, her lips parting in a wide grin.
"Was that the right answer?” Wulf asked, smiling also.
"It was the only answer,” she said, throwing herself into his arms. “I love you, Wulf."
"I love you, my Rose,” he said, spinning her around until she was dizzy. Then he stopped, letting her feet touch the ground before bending to find her lips.
"Well, well, isn't this a sight to behold. Take them."
Geoffrey's men came forward on his orders, pulling Rose from Wulf. Geoffrey took her, throwing her over his shoulder and striding away from the hut. Rose's last sight of Wulf was of him being beaten, fists and feet raining down.
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Chapter Nine
Rose struggled against the bindings. She was seated at the Lord ‘s Table beside Lord Geoffrey, her hands bound behind her so that her slender wrists caught in the slats at the back of the chair. No matter how much she pulled and twisted, the ropes held firm.
"My father will have your head on a pike. He will feed your entrails to his pigs. He'll bathe in your blood.” She refused to flinch when Geoffrey raised his hand to her, staring into his green eyes with all the hatred she could muster.
It helped that Wulf had been chained to one wall of the great hall. She could see him, his head bent as he hung limply. Blood dripped from one of his wounds to land at his feet. He had yet to regain consciousness.
"By the time your father finds you, we'll be wed,” Geoffrey said, looking up as the door from the bailey opened and two men hurried inside. “Ahh, here is the priest now, my lady, to say the blessings over us."
"I won't agree to it.” Rose glared at him. “You need my words on the matter and I won't give them."
"Then someone else will. It matters little whether you agree to this union or no. I must have your father's backing. Being your husband will get it for me. You are of little consequence except for what you bring me."
"I will never willingly be your wife."
Geoffrey spat on the floor at her feet. “Do you think I have any desire to touch my half-brother's leavings? I look at you and see him slavering on top of you. It sickens me."
"But you would still force the marriage upon me? Why?"
"My coffers are close to empty. I must have an army to retain Red Thorn Keep. This manse must remain mine. Your father would never allow you to be hungry or homeless."
"What of the bride price you settled? If your coffers are empty, how did you intend to pay that?"
"Bah, ‘tis of little concern to you. I shall marry you, then turn you over to my man so that he might conceive sons upon you. I'll raise them as my own."
"You'd raise someone else's sons?” .
"I cannot make them myself.” Geoffrey glanced down at her and shrugged. “Perhaps before I turn you over to Ronnely, I shall try you out myself. You are a comely bit, even used as you are.” He grabbed her face in his gauntleted hand, tipping it up so that he could find her lips with his own.
Rose struggled for a minute than let her mouth open under his. When his tongue pushed between her lips, she snapped her teeth down upon it. Geoffrey screamed, one hand going to his mouth, the other backhanding Rose. She sprawled limply against the chair, waiting for the pain to subside some before lifting her face again. With a slow deliberateness, she spit out his blood so that it landed upon her plate.
"That is the only thing of yours that I'll ever allow inside of me.” Her eyes narrowed as he lifted his hand again. She met his eyes with fury, almost daring him to hit her.
"My lord, the girl should be conscious for the ceremony,” the priest called from where he stood before the fire, a chalice of wine in his fat hand. His robes and waistline suggested luxury, vastly unlike the poor priest that had been going to marry her and Wulf.
Geoffrey nodded and instead pointed his hand at Wulf. “Wake that one, I want him witness when I take his lady as wife."
The bucket of cold water dumped over Wulf's head caused him to sputter into conciousness. His hands rattled the chains holding him and he lifted his face slowly, finding Geoffrey upon the raised dais.
"You cur. You should have been drowned at birth for the bastard you are."
"Bastard I may be,” Geoffrey spat, bloody spittle flying from his lips. “But I am lord of Red Thorn Keep, our father's family home."
"For now,” Wulf growled, his eyes glowing with emerald fire. “If you lay one hand upon her, it'll be the last thing you do, Geoffrey."
"You aren't good enough to say my name,” Geoffrey snarled, pulling his sword and walking over to Wulf. “Perhaps I should just slit your throat now and rid myself of the problems you pose."
The priest scurried over as quickly as his small, fat feet could bring him. “My lord, blood spilled on a wedding day is bad luck.” He made the sign of the cross, adding a ward against the evil eye at the end. “Perhaps you could just have him moved to your dungeon?"
The heavy doors at the far end of the hall banged open as one of Geoffrey's men ran into the room. The sound of men preparing for battle entered with him; shouted orders, the clanking of steel as men found their armor, booted feet running through the corridors. “Lord Hawke has brought his army to bear, Lord Geoffrey!"
"Reinforce the gates, get more men out there. Lord Hawke must not be allowed entrance until the ceremony is finished.” He turned to Wulf. “You woke just in time to see me make the lovely Rose my own. Perhaps I'll even have you moved to my chambers so that you can watch as I really make her mine.” He laughed as Wulf fought his restraints, coming within inches of Geoffrey's sword.
"Now,” he said to the priest. “Come and marry me to my blushing bride."
"You're mad, Geoffrey,” Wulf growled, his teeth grinding in rage. “I'm going to kill you."
"You might find that difficult.” Geoffrey laughed cruelly, waving a hand at the heavy chains.
"You can't keep me here forever,” Wulf rasped. “When I get free, you're dead."
"Well, there's more incentive for me to make sure you never get free. Shut him up.” He watched with satisfaction as one of his men forced a leather strip into Wulf's mouth and pulled tight, biting into the corners of his lips.
He went to Rose, reaching behind her and easily undoing the knots that had held her captive. She sighed as the ropes fell from her skin, slowly pulling her arms free of the slats and rubbing the nasty burns on her wrists. “My father will not take this, Geoffrey. Perhaps if you release us and throw yourself upon his mercy, he may let you live."
"Your father wants you married. Married you shall be.” He grabbed her arm, yanking her out of the chair and in front of one of the ragged tapestries that covered the rough walls. “Marry us,” he ordered the priest.
The sound of a ram began to reverberate, felt as much as heard thr
ough the heavy doors. The steady banging seemed to send Geoffrey into even further rage. “Do it!” he screamed.
The priest scurried forward, reaching into a pocket of his fur-covered robes and pulling free a scroll. “This is a sanctioned union, one agreed upon by all parties?"
Geoffrey's grip upon Rose's arm grew tighter and she gasped in pain, barely able to hear his answer.
"Yes, now get on with it."
The priest began to intone his scripture, going on and on as the pounding of the ram on the gates of the keep grew louder. Every booming thud seemed to send Geoffrey a bit further over the edge. “I said, get on with it!” he shouted, looking up as his mother entered the great hall, her hand going to her mouth when she saw what her son was doing.
"Geoffrey,” she gasped, hurrying to his side. “You cannot do this. Please, I know Lord Hawke. He'll kill you for this."
Geoffrey spun on his mother, hand flashing out, his gauntleted fist striking her upon the temple. Her head snapped back against the stone wall beneath the tapestry with a sickening crunch. She crumpled to the ground, an expression of surprise upon her face even as her eyes grew cold and empty with death.
"You killed her,” Rose gasped, staring down at the poor woman. “You killed your own mother.” She stared at the madness that covered Geoffrey's face and felt fear unlike anything she'd felt before. He'd gone insane. He stared down at his mother's body as if he had no idea who she was. “Finish this, priest. I wish to plant my seed in my wife's belly. My son will be conceived today."
"Do you, Lady Adaira Rose, daughter of the Black Hawke, take this man as your wedded husband? Do you promise to love him, honor him and obey him in all things as long as you both shall live?"
Rose's head was shaking a negative, even before the priest had finished her name. Geoffrey interrupted before she could say anything. “Of course she does. Now get to the end."
"The end?” the man asked, horrified by what was happening around him.
"Man and wife, say man and wife."
"Man and wife,” the priest echoed.
Geoffrey grabbed Rose's chin, lifting her face. “Bite me again and I shall take an axe to your Wulf. You will watch me hack him into pieces, slowly.” Then his lips pressed down against hers, letting her taste the blood from where she'd bitten him. She struggled, pushing at his chest with her fists, kicking at his shins until he finally let her loose, sending her stumbling backwards to hit the wall with enough force that her head struck the rock wall as Lady Solana's had moments before.
The world spun and turned black around her. Rose fought the blackness, knowing if she fell unconscious, she would be helpless against Geoffrey. She fought the nausea that threatened to bring the gorge to her throat, her stomach heaving as it wanted to empty itself. Terror and frustration, as well as pain, brought tears to her eyes, lending a luminousness to the gentle blue. She cringed away when he came toward her again, reaching out to grab her arm.
"Don't fight me, Rose, and maybe you'll find that we agree with each other. You might grow to enjoy our arrangement. You can take my sister in hand and teach her the ways of a lady."
"I'd rather die than let you touch me."
"That can be arranged!” He shouted the words into her face, drawing her up against his chest. “Take her to my bedchamber. Do not let her escape or it will be your hide next to his on the wall.” He pushed her off to one of his men, then turned to the table to pick up his chalice. “A toast,” he called as she was dragged from the room. “To my budding bride and the fortunes she'll bring us."
* * * *
Rose searched every wardrobe, every chest, hunting for some kind of weapon. She wouldn't surrender without a fight even if she was, in actuality, his bride. But it seemed the room had been stripped of anything she could use, as if he'd planned all this in advance. Rose shuddered at the thought, hugging herself against the chill. Even the fuel for the fire had been removed, as well as the poker for tending it. She huddled close to the dying flames, gathering what little warmth they could give her. She was loath to remove a coverlet from the bed. She refused to do anything that might encourage him to think of her and that bed.
The lock clicked and she gathered herself, preparing for battle as she stared at the door to the hall. A creak over her shoulder alerted her that she was looking at the wrong door. She turned, amazed to see a portion of one wall slide open. A small face peered out. For a moment, Rose reviewed everything she'd ever heard of fairies. The tiny creature stepped into the dying light of the fire, diminutive but human.
"W-who are you?” Rose managed to squeak.
"Lucy D'Ambrose,” the girl said. “Your Geoffrey's bride, Rose. He killed our mother.” She promptly burst into tears.
Rose's kind heart overcame her shock. She hurried to the girl, pulling her into her arms. “Yes,” she said softly. “It'll be all right Lucy."
The girl settled remarkably swiftly, surprising Rose again. “You don't want to be married to him, do you?"
"No, but he's holding my true intended prisoner and has locked me in this room. Can you help me get out of here, Lucy?"
"He'd kill me,” Lucy said quickly, staring at the door to the hall. Her eyes were wide with fear and a tinge of anger at her mother's death.
"Not if you came with us. You could, you know. My father and mother would take you in, Lucy. My mother has always wanted another little girl. She has four sons and me. Would you like that?"
"But what of Geoffrey? Won't he come after us? He's a warrior. He's mean, and he doesn't like it when he doesn't get his own way."
"My father, or Wulf, my intended, will take care of Geoffrey, Lucy. Don't fear.” She spoke the words with grim determination. “I can't help you though, unless you help me. Where does that take you?"
"Almost anywhere in the keep. Geoffrey doesn't know about it. I found it one day while playing in my wardrobe. Come,” she said, tugging on Rose's hand. “Let me show you."
Rose nodded, eagerly following the sweet girl into the dark hole. Lucy pushed on a portion and the wall slid shut, sealing them in darkness.
* * * *
Geoffrey pushed past the guard at the door. “Stay alert at your post. I'm not to be disturbed unless they breach the battlements. Understood?"
The guard nodded, his face determined at the thought of fighting the Black Hawke's men. They were reputed to be as merciless as his lord. Geoffrey immediately returned to the door. “Where is she?"
"Who, my Lord?"
"My wife, you bumbling idiot!” He slashed out with one hand, his dagger cutting through the guard's neck like butter, sending a spurt of blood to cover Geoffrey's jerkin. “Rose!” he roared, rushing back into his room and tearing it apart. In his madness, he didn't notice the bed hangings he'd torn aside had landed in the fireplace, on top of the bright red coals. They sputtered and smoked before catching, but Geoffrey was already gone. He hurried out of the room and down the hallway, throwing open doors and screaming Rose's name at the top of his lungs.
The hangings began to burn. The flames traced back to the edge still caught on the frame, catching the coverlet and sheets afire. Soon, the mattress and the wooden bed frame caught. It scurried along the rush covered floor, eating into the wooden floorboards. Smoke began to billow through the open doorway, obscuring the body of the guard
A serf, alerted by the smell and the smoke, rushed up the stairs. Immediately, he called for help. They sent up the alarm, forming a bucket brigade. The men reinforcing the gate hurried to assist. Holding the fortress would be useless if the fires spread and they feared burning more than an honorable death in battle. With a flurry of blows, the gate exploded open and the Black Hawke entered.
Within moments, he understood the situation. He barked orders for his men to help with the water while he searched for his daughter in the women watching. She was not among them.
"My daughter, Rose,” he said to one woman, grabbing her arm to make her face him.
"His Lordship sent her up to his r
oom. She was under guard, sir. I don't know anymore."
"What of Lord Wulf, woman? What happened to him?"
"He's chained in the great hall. Oh!” she gasped as something inside the keep collapsed, sending up a display of sparks.
"And he was just left there? And they dare to call me a barbarian.” Hawke stared at the smoke billowing out the door that led to the bailey. He shook his head and then took a deep breath of clean air before rushing inside. He tried to remember the floor plan of the place from before, when he'd come to confront Geoffrey. If only he'd taken care of the younger man then instead of simply warning him, none of this would have come to pass.
"Wulf!” he shouted into the smoke. He tried not to choke, listening for any sound of the man. A raspy cough sounded from across the room, to his left. He hurried over and found Wulf struggling frantically against his bonds. He had a leather strap across his mouth and he was coughing harshly, trying to breathe through his nose.
Hawke quickly untied the strap, dropping it to the ground. Then he stepped back and unsheathed his huge sword. “Hold still, boy,” he growled, his eyes watering as he squinted through the smoke.
"Just don't miss,” Wulf coughed.
Wulf's curse was heard even over the clang of steel meeting steel. The first chain holding him fast fell to his feet and then Hawke swung again, freeing him from the damned wall.
"Rose?” Wulf yelled above the roar of the flames. He struggled away from the older man, trying to get to the stairs and the last place he'd seen Rose. “Rose!"
"No, boy,” Hawke yelled, grabbing him. “You can't go up there. It's certain death."
"Rose is up there."
"I know!” Hawke shouted. “She's gone, boy."
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Chapter Ten
Hawke pulled Wulf from the roaring inferno that had taken over the house. It was only brute force that kept the man from leaping up the burning stairs. No one could have survived the inferno of the upstairs hall. As they passed the doorway, a loud crash came from within and the fire let out a roar that made those watching cringe.