Defiant

by Jessica Trapp

  Coldness seeped through Gwyneth.

  “I should have refused her, should have walked away when she came to me, but I did not. I wanted her and I took what she offered. While we were in the throes of passion, Rafe and other men came upon us. We were caught in the very act. I tried to hide her, protect her, and"—he swallowed—"she accused me of rape.”

  “Accused you?” Gwyneth sat upright on the bed. “But you said that she sought you out. ”

  “She did.”

  “That’s outrageous!”

  “Not unlike a certain woman who accused me of kidnapping her after she forced me to marry her,” he said with a wry smile.

  Gwyneth leaned back against the pillows, guilt weighing on her chest. “Truly, Jared, I am sorry. I had not intended for your life to be so complicated.”

  He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “She was doing what she thought she must to protect herself—the same as you, I think. Perhaps I’ve judged her too harshly.”

  Gwyneth chewed on her lower lip, not sure what else to say.

  “The men captured me, but I escaped, took a ship to nowhere.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s where I met James, your brother-in-law. Rafe believed her story and married her even though she was despoiled. Of a truth, though, he did not marry her for love. She was a wealthy woman. Later I learned she was pregnant with my child. The babe was too large for her and they both …” Jared took a deep breath and turned his vivid green gaze fully on her.

  “It was not your fault that she or the babe died.”

  “If I would not have taken her—”

  She touched his arm. “Jared, you did not murder her. Women sometimes pass in childbirth. ‘Tis part of life.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Enough questions about me. Tell me about you. Have you ever murdered anyone?”

  The question was asked lightly, a halfhearted attempt to change the subject but she cringed all the same.

  Realizing belatedly that her jaw hung slack and guilt likely shone in her eyes, she cleared her throat and sank back onto his chest. He didn’t know about the rapist and what Irma and she had done. “Of course not.”

  There was a long pause. Outside, a tree branch scraped against the keep’s wall.

  He stroked his goatee and stared at her in that way that ripped the veil from her thoughts. “Why are you lying?”

  She softened her voice and patted his chest. “Do not be ridiculous. I could never kill someone.”

  “This from a woman who planned to ship me offon a slave ship.” He continued to look at her until Gwyneth squirmed beneath his scrutiny.

  A tremble began in her shoulders and worked its way through her body as she was transported back in time to the murder. She could practically see the man’s lifeless eyes staring up at her. His jaw had been bristled with a beard and he had an aristocratic nose. The man’s eyes had widened when she’d walloped him over the head with the limb. His body had twisted in a sluggish half circle as he swirled downward into the water with his tunic full of rocks.

  “Open the door!”

  Gwyneth jumped as a cacophony of banging and clanking sounded in the hall outside their chamber. “Wh—”

  Bang! The door crashed open and Ivan, surrounded by a large band of armed knights, rushed into the chamber. Beside him was the jailor and a man whom Gwyneth recognized as one of the city’s judges. Swords flashed in the air. Armor clanked. Men shouted.

  Still naked, Jared leaped to his feet and grabbed his staff.

  “Arrest her!” Ivan said, pointing at Gwyneth. Oh, God. Her sins had come to haunt her.

  Boots clomped on the floor planks. They shoved Jared aside and rushed to her. Strong hands grasped her by her upper arms and dragged her from the bed.

  “Cease!” Her head pounded as she was pulled to the center of the room. Chilly air blew on her skin. The bedsheet trailed behind her, slipping down her body.

  Jared rushed forward and slammed his staff on the head of one of the knights. Hoisting his sword, the man turned. Three others turned with him, cutting her and Jared off from each other. His staff was brought up again and then with a loud crack the wood snapped in half as it caught one knight’s armor and splintered. He reached for his broken staff, but one of the knights kicked it away before he could reach it. It clattered across the planks and rolled near one of the trunks.

  Swords pointed at Jared’s bare chest and he was pushed against the wall.

  Two men held her near the bed. “Jared!” She squirmed but could not break free.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Jared demanded.

  “Your lady wife is not at all the innocent she pretends to be.” Ivan tugged sanctimoniously on his tunic. “She murdered your brother and threw his body in the river. ”

  Oh, mercy.

  All the men turned to look at her.

  Gooseflesh popped up on her arms and legs and her nipples puckered with the cold air. She bowed her head. Her hair swung in front of her face, but it was no longer long enough to cover her naked body.

  Ominous silence filled the room.

  “By order of the court, Lady Gwyneth is under arrest and you are not to interfere,” said the judge.

  Sweet heavens.

  “Get her a kirtle and take her now.”

  “Nay! “ But her heart pounded and her mind raced. “Jared!”

  Knights closed around her and the scent of sweat and eagerness of overexcited humans assailed her nostrils.

  Across the room, Gwyneth saw Jared’s brows slam together.

  Her shoulders rounded and she crumpled inward. Her shortened hair bobbed.

  “It was an accident!”

  The men holding her squeezed her upper arms tighter.

  “Tell them,” Ivan continued. “Tell them how you filled his tunic up with rocks and sold his boots to buy jewelry. That does not happen by accident.”

  “Did you do that, Gwyneth?” Jared demanded.

  She swallowed, not daring to look at him.

  “There have been other men as well. She takes them from brothels to rob and sell. A coldhearted bitch. ”

  “Nay—”

  “You really sold his boots?”

  She could feel Jared’s gaze on her. “I—”

  “Silence, witch!”

  A thin woman with a sour, pinched expression slipped from around the soldiers. “She took my husband.”

  “And my son,” said another woman who had also been hidden by the men. “He gave her gold and we never saw him again.” Oh, God.

  “That’s not tr—”

  “I said silence!” Ivan roared.

  The pinpoint of a dagger pricked her skin.

  “Take her,” Ivan said to the men, pointing toward the door.

  The magistrate turned to Jared. “An apology, my lord, for the time spent in prison. Now that we have the real murderess, all should be taken care of.""Jared! Surely you do not believe—”

  “Was the murder of my brother what you were hiding from me?”

  Gwyneth shivered.

  “The truth for once, wife.”

  “How many other men have you tricked as you did me?”

  Pain knifed her chest.

  “Did you kill my brother or not?”

  Unable to meet his damning gaze, she closed her eyes and lowered her head. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

  “Tell me.”

  “I-I-I—”

  Jared’s hands balled into fists. “Of all the bloody things. You did murder a man. And let another suffer for your sins. ”

  “But—”

  He turned away from her. “When will I ever learn women cannot be trusted!”

  Ivan tugged at the lace poking from the ends of his sleeves. “Take her now.”

  Gwyneth struggled against the hands binding her. She longed to break free, run to Jared and beg him to understand. Surely then he would enfold her in his strong, gentle embrace.

  Jared’s legs were braced apart. He held h
is staff steady. He did not move forward to protect her as he always had afore.

  “Jared?”

  No answer.

  “Jared?”

  A gown was thrown over her head and then a hood blocked her vision.

  Chapter 30

  Still naked, legs braced apart, Jared stared at the swirling knots in the closed oak door of the solar, afraid he would break in half if he moved. Agony burst in his chest. The men had filed out, taking Gwyneth with them.

  He had trusted her, believed in her.

  The knowledge that she had murdered his brother felt like he’d just swallowed a large stone. One that lay so heavy against his lungs he could scarcely breathe. He could still smell the stench of rat piss and rotting hay, still feel how the manacles had bit into his wrists and ankles.

  Scars laced his legs—the result of being dragged across the rough-hewn stone floor of the prison.

  Wearily Jared sank to the floor beside the bed, laid his head in his hands, and rubbed his temples. The witnesses had said that she had used other men as well and he had seen how she charmed them for her own gain.

  Memories of how she’d made him crawl across church tiles and forced the marriage bit into his mind. Then she had accused him of kidnapping her. Later, she’d seduced him for her own purposes as well.

  And, yet, he’d come to trust her anyway. What a fool he’d been.

  Aeliana fluttered. Jared raised his head and set his hand down on the floor to rise. The rope of hair tickled his palm. He lurched as if Gwyneth were still here and had touched him with her fingers.

  Taking a deep breath, he stared at the long silver-gold lock. It curled across the floor like a glittering snake, reflecting light from the candles that burned in the sconces.

  What sort of woman allowed a man to crop all of her hair without so much of a whimper?

  Slowly, he lifted the braid. It was soft and thick, much heavier than the piece he had taken with him to the prison. He held it up to his nose, the same as he had done so many times before. Lavender. Lavender and innocence.

  Yet, it was her fault he had been in that dirty prison. Her fault he’d drank poisoned ale. She’d reduced him to naught.

  Closing his eyes, he twirled it around his forearm, trying to discern what to do next. He could leave, get on a ship, and flee as he had done before—never let anyone close to him ever again.

  But, of a truth, the people—his people—needed Aeliana’s hunting talents to survive the winter. Somehow they had wormed their way into his heart.

  The ends of the lock of hair brushed against the skin of his wrist, softly taunting him. The people need you and you need Gwyneth, it seemed to say.

  The memory of how she had bent her head when they took her came sharply to his mind. Without her glorious mass of hair, she’d been naked. Vulnerable. She had confessed to killing Rafe in cold blood, to filling his tunic with rocks and dumping him in the river, but he wanted her all the same.

  Was she a witch or an innocent?

  At that moment, Kiera and Elizabeth barged inside.

  He snatched the bedsheet and wound it around his hips.

  Brown hair frizzed around Kiera’s elfin face and she wore a clean dress. In contrast to Kiera’s curly locks, the other child had long, straight, dark hair. She was taller than Irma’s daughter and her skinny arms poked out from too-short sleeves.

  Kiera propped one hand on her hip and gazed at him with a look that was as forward as her mother’s. “Where’s Lady Gwyn?”

  “She’s not here.” He looked into the girl’s trusting eyes. In his mind, he saw the magistrate toss a kirtle over Gwyneth’s naked body and a hood over her face. Agony lanced his chest. She was a murderess, but he loved her. He could not stop himself. And, just like Colette, she would steal pieces of his soul and sell them for her own gain if she let him.

  Kiera took in the long strand of hair hanging from his fist. “You scalped her! ”

  “Nay,” Jared started, “I—”

  Kiera pointed at the braid. “That’s her hair!” Tears welled in her eyes. “Why would you take it?”

  Jared twisted the braid back and forth. Its lavender scent wafted upward. “'Tis complicated.” An understatement. But impossible to explain to a child.

  Hand on hip, Kiera shook her finger at him. “My mama says that nobles are bad people, but Lady Gwyn isn’t bad.”

  Jared remembered the way her mama and Gwyneth had tied him to a cot and sought to poison him. How he’d been dragged on his knees.

  The dark-haired girl tugged Kiera’s sleeve. “We should go.”

  “Aye,” Jared agreed. “'Tis time to take you back to your mother.” At the brothel.

  Despite it all, his heart tugged. Gwyneth had wanted a better life for girls like this. She’d wanted to train them, give them skills. In only a few years, Kiera and the other one would be whores, the same as Irma. The only “skills” they would learn was how to open their legs several times a night.

  He set his jaw.

  The castlefolk were not his responsibility.

  The women in prison were not his responsibility.

  These girls were not his responsibility.

  They would use him. Just as everyone he cared about did.

  “We go to the brothel now,” he asserted quickly. Best to be rid of the two children as soon as possible. “Wait outside until I am dressed. ”

  Quickly he donned his boots and cloak, determined to drop both children off at the brothel with Irma. He would be rid of them, then take his hawk and leave England forever, wash his hands of marriage.

  A few minutes later they made their way down the steps of the keep and into the bailey.

  “My friend’s name is Elizabeth,” Kiera said as they walked past the newly cleaned moat. “She doesn’t talk, but her name is carved on the wooden beads she wears. That’s what Lady Gwyn told me.”

  “Wooden beads?” Coldness filtered through Jared’s chest, but he kept trudging ahead, his eyes on the path. “What do you mean, child?”

  “The beads—the necklace she wears.”

  Not slowing his pace, Jared glanced at the child. His brow furrowed. She had green eyes and straight dark hair. Could she be …

  “Show me.”

  Kiera pulled her friend close, hugging her tightly by the shoulders. “You can’t have them. You already took Lady Gywn’s hair.”

  Jared stopped and glowered down at the defiant little girl. So much like her mother. So much like Gwyneth. “I’m not going to take them. I want to see them.”

  “Nay.” Kiera turned to her friend. “Do not trust a man. Ever.”

  A tense moment passed. Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, looking up at Jared as if weighing out the matter for herself.

  “I saved your life, little one. I mean you no harm.” He held out his hand, palm up. A gesture of peace.

  Abruptly, she nodded, pushed her cloak to the side and lifted the beads for him to see.

  Jared’s knees trembled as he stared at the wooden necklace hanging around her neck. The one he had carved for Colette. He had not put her given name on it, but her middle name: Elizabeth.

  This was his child. Her eyes, her hair. He should have known.

  Dear God. He reached for her, touched her cheek. His legs shook and he could no longer hold himself up. Slowly he sank to his knees beside the little girl.

  “What are you doing?” Kiera asked.

  Blinking dazedly, he gathered both Kiera and Elizabeth into his arms. The two girls squirmed, but did not resist his open display of affection.

  “Why are you crying?” Kiera asked.

  “I-I-I’m not.”

  Elizabeth rubbed his cheek, her tiny finger coming away wet.

  “Or maybe I am. ”

  God had not abandoned him after all. Somehow, through some miracle, God had given him back his child. God and Gwyneth. His wonderful, impossible, glorious, defiant wife.

  Quickly lifting one girl in each arm, he quickened their pace.r />
  Kiera grabbed him around the neck. “Are we in a hurry? ”

  “Aye.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need answers.”

  Chapter 31

  Gwyneth slid her fingers across the damp stone walls looking for a hold so that she could climb to the lone window above her in the prison cell. Dismal rays of light slid across the flea-infested rushes. A rat rooted in a pile of putrid garbage that rotted in one corner.

  Defeated, she sank to the floor, heedless of her kirtle and cape—the only things she had been allowed to bring before guards had hauled her from her chamber and dragged her to this hellhole. She knew all too well the fate of imprisoned women: slavery.

  She put her head in her hands and drew her knees up to her chest. Jared had been in a place such as this for three years. Her fault. All her fault. Had he felt this lonely and deserted? She recalled how his lips had flattened when he learned she was a murderess.

  The flutter of wings sounded on the ledge above. She glanced up. A hawk’s head poked through the bars, her yellow eyes gleaming in the dim light.

  “Aeliana!” Hope sprang in Gwyneth’s chest.

  The hawk swooped through the bars holding a pigeon in its claws. With a thunk it was dropped at Gwyneth’s feet. Just as Jared had described that the bird had done for him.

  “Food!” one of the other prisoners said.

  Quickly Gwyneth snatched the pigeon. A tiny rolled parchment was tied to its leg with a piece of twine. Puzzled, she untied it and pulled it open.

  Bold, thick handwriting was scrawled across the missive.

  Keep silent.

  Jared?

  She held the note to her heart, read it again, then held it back to her heart. Jared had not abandoned her after all!

  But what did he mean, “keep silent"?

  At that moment the cell’s door clanged open. The guard, Jared, and Irma entered. A fierce scowl marred Jared’s handsome face and his hand was latched around Irma’s upper arm. He wore a black tunic and she was dressed in a scarlet dress. An angel of death and a lady of the night.

  Gwyneth leapt to her feet. “Irma! Jared!”

  Irma’s hands were bound behind her back and she wore her yellow scarf around her head.

  The town magistrate filed in after them. He wore a wide wine-colored cape and a white wig.