My Rebellious Heart

by Samantha James

  The bailey was teeming with knights and horses. There was an air of skittish excitement she could not fail to notice. Behind her, Thorne straightened with an impatient exclamation. Will was standing near the stables and spotted them first. He ran over and grabbed the horse's reins.

  Thorne dismounted with a grimace. His hands on Shana's waist, he frowned back at the boy.

  "What goes on, Will, that the men prepare to ride out for battle at nightfall?"

  The lad's eyes were round with excitement. "They have just ridden in, milord! Why, there was a chase just outside the castle walls—I saw it with me own eyes! And now we've caught him at last, the Dragon himself"

  "The Dragon!" Both Thorne and Shana whirled on him.

  "Aye, milord. He stands before Sir Geoffrey, there with the scarlet mantle, trussed up tight as a piglet, he is!"

  Two pair of eyes followed his finger. Sure enough, a tall dark-haired man wearing scarlet stood before Sir Geoffrey near the guardhouse.

  A staggering horror gripped Shana's chest. A silent scream welled in her throat. She blinked, and blinked again, hoping that her eyes deceived her— praying that they had!—for she knew the man in scarlet, the one hailed as the Dragon She knew him well indeed ...

  It was Barris

  Chapter 19

  Blackness fringed her vision. Her knees felt like melting wax Conscious of a faint buzzing in her ears, she felt herself swaying, and for one awful moment she was certain she would faint. Thorne's grip on her arm kept her upright. The numbing pressure of his fingers biting into her soft flesh jerked her back to reality.

  Her eyes flew sharply to his face. That perchance he had not recognized Barris was but a foolish notion, and one she swiftly discarded. Thin-lipped and tense, his profile bespoke a shuttered coldness Feeling trapped and utterly stricken, Shana could not look away from him Though he spoke not a word, with but the searing stroke of his eyes, he damned and accused ...

  She was grateful when Sir Geoffrey approached. Their conversation was lost to Shana. She no longer had an eye to spare for either of them. Her attention shifted to Barris. Two hulking guards prepared to lead him away. Barris half turned and spied her.

  "Shana! Shana!" His shout went through her like a blade.

  All talk ceased as if an ax had fallen. Geoffrey stopped short. He exclaimed unthinkingly, "Shana ... by all that is holy! Do not tell me you know this man!"

  It was Thorne who answered. "He was her betrothed."

  "Her betrothed! Nay, it cannot be! By the Holy Virgin, how—"

  "You must forgive us, Geoffrey. 'Twould seem my wife and I have a very great deal to discuss of a sudden." Despite his limp, he spun her around and marched her toward the hall Her head held high, Shana tried to pull away but he would have none of it His grip tightened like a clamp.

  Once they were alone in the tower chamber, he released her as if she were some loathsome, filthy creature A pitcher of ale awaited on the table near the hearth He crossed to it and filled a goblet to the rim Sprawled in the chair there, he downed the contents quickly, and then another. At last he lowered it, staring at her over the run, his gaze ablaze with a frightening intensity.

  Shana had yet to move. Her heart beat with dull, pounding strokes. With unnatural stiffness she smoothed her skirts and folded her hands before her to still their trembling. She endured his burning glare as best she could, but at last she could withstand the tension no longer.

  "Do not look at me so'" she cried "I have done nothing!"

  His eyes were glittering shards of onyx "Aye, you have done nothing! Indeed, you said nothing all the time we spent scouring the countryside seeking the man known as the Dragon'" His laugh raked like needles wheeling along her spine. "Oh, you must have been proud of yourself, princess. No doubt you branded us fools while we searched and stewed and scratched our heads in vain—aye, and me the biggest fool of all! So tell me, love, did you find it amusing knowing that the man all England sought was no other than your betrothed?"

  A feeling of sick dread twisted her insides. It spun through her mind that she was the fool, for only now did she realize he thought she'd known the Dragon's identity all along. And only now did she realize how truly bund she had been, for it all made perfect sense now Barris's association with Llywelyn, his fierce desire to rid Wales of the yoke of England Snatches of memory invaded her consciousness. She recalled the messenger who had come to him that last night at Merwen, his air of urgency when he left, his refusal to tell her where he must go. And he had been gone so often, both before and after her father's death. No doubt he had taken on the guise of the Dragon during those tunes.

  She drew a deep, painful breath. "I did not know Barns was the Dragon, Thorne—"

  Her quiet pride but fueled the fury boiling within him. He was up and out of the chair and standing before her, his voice like thunder m the night. With his fingers he jerked her face up.

  "Once before I looked into your eyes and thought I saw truth, Shana. Ah, you lied so convincingly, and all the while your men lay in wait for me, anxious to number my days on this earth. So I fear you must forgive me, sweet, when I say I am scarcely inclined to believe the denial that springs from your lips so readily."

  His expression was remote and implacable. She sensed no softening within him, none at all. A mounting despair took root inside her. She shook her head, the threat of tears blurring her voice. "What would you have me do, Thorne? Swear before God? So be it then. I did not know Barris was the Dragon. He kept it from me, Thorne! I swear by the Blessed Virgin, I did not know!"

  He did not believe her. She saw it in the twist of his lips, the way his jaw clenched anew.

  She gave a dry sob, a sound that ripped through him like a spear "How can you doubt me? I killed a man—one of my own countrymen!—that you might live. Does that mean nothing to you?"

  His hands descended to her shoulders. His hold almost brutal, he caught her against him. "Aye," he said fiercely, "Do you think that has not haunted me, for in so doing you robbed me of all I believed to be true of you. I thought you selfish and greedy and uncaring! Oh, I said not a word, for I knew it would distress you to speak of it. But every day since, I have asked myself why you did such a thing, when you could have been rid of me, free of me forever—free to return to Merwen! So mayhap I should be the one to ask why you killed another that I might live—and what it means to you."

  Shana was suddenly afraid, terrified of the storm of feelings she felt for this man He angered her, certainly—he goaded her temper past bearing! Vivid remembrance scored her heart. She recalled the moment she had seen him lying bleeding and helpless, pale and still. Hatred had been the last thing on her mind in that instant. A far different emotion indeed had filled her, an emotion she was almost afraid to name …

  "I did it because—because you are my husband." To her horror, her voice betrayed her. What was meant to be a fierce avowal came out a quavering wisp of sound.

  "Is that the only reason? Come, princess, there must be another. I am, after all, the man you detested above all others! I find it odd you suddenly chose to cling to the bonds you have shunned so fiercely."

  His coldness pierced clear to the bone. Always he pushed, always he prodded. Somehow she held fast against the tears that threatened, yet the storm of emotion held deep in her breast spilled free.

  Her fingers twisted in the front of his tunic. "Why are you being so cruel?" she cried. "Why do

  you hold me so distant when I would give to you all that I have ... all that I am?"

  His smile was tight. "Will you? 'Tis a woman's way to play the sweetly obliging maid when a man has something she wants. But no matter. I will know soon enough whether you speak the truth, or tell me that which you believe I wish to hear." His manner cool, he put her from him and bowed mockingly. 'Tor now you must forgive me for leaving you, princess. I must see to the comfort of our … guest."

  Numbly she watched him turn and stride toward the door Only when it creaked open did she find her voice
She rushed forward with a strangled cry. "Thorne. Thorne!"

  But he did not hear or mayhap he chose not to listen.

  Geoffrey was restlessly pacing when Thorne reentered the hall. He turned and eyed his friend, not bothering to hide his wary concern.

  Thorne scowled blackly and summoned a maid for ale. "Cease your petty fears for the lady," he growled. "Were I inclined to do her bodily harm I'd have done so long before this." He snorted and spoke as if to himself. "Though 'tis certainly to my credit that I've yet to lay a hand on her—the wench certainly gives me enough provocation!"

  Another time, and Geoffrey might have been sorely inclined to laughter. Now, however, his handsome features were grave as he watched his friend seat himself. "This Welsh raider—the Dragon," he said slowly. "He was truly Shana's betrothed?"

  "Aye." Thorne gave a harsh laugh. "And she dares to claim she did not know he was the Dragon!"

  "Thorne, mayhap 'tis not my place to pass judgment, but it occurs to me she may be telling the truth."

  Thorne sent him a smoldering look. "You are right," he said shortly. " 'Tis not your place to pass judgment. But you did well, my friend, to capture our elusive foe, I will apprise King Edward myself of your part in the Dragon's capture. You may rest assured he will know 'twas your doing."

  Geoffrey smiled slightly. "Although there were but two of them, we pursued them for half the day, through thickets and wooded hillsides—and nearly lost them more times than I can count. We'd not have caught up with the Dragon if his horse had not gone lame. The other, I fear, got away."

  An uncomfortable look flitted over Geoffrey's features. "A word of warning, Thorne. Two days past a messenger from the king passed through. It seems King Edward is less than pleased with the loss of English lives—"

  "There's no need to mince words, my friend." Thorne interrupted with a tight smile. "You mean he is less than pleased with my efforts to squelch the rebellion here in the border lands." He went on to tell Geoffrey what had happened at Llandyrr; how it was true that someone plundered Welsh lands without mercy—and all in his name. "Someone," Thorne finished grimly, "is determined to blacken my reputation."

  "Mayhap to dampen Edward's faith in you," Geoffrey rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He frowned. "I have to tell you, Thorne, Lord Newbury fairly gloated when Edward's messenger arrived. There's been talk of his displeasure that Edward chose you over him to command the forces here. And he's made no secret that he would covet Langley as his own. It could be that he is somehow responsible for perpetrating these attacks in your name."

  The possibility occurs to me as well. Thorne grimaced, "I shall take care in watching his movements from now on."

  It was inevitable that the conversation lead back to Shana. A band of tightness seemed to wrap about Thorne's chest. He pictured anew her eyes, wide and glistening, unwavering and mutely pleading. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to steel himself against the way she trembled like a wounded doe in his arms, to harden his heart against her plea, all thready and weak and tremulous.

  The temptation to sweep aside his indignation, to succumb to the sweetness of that softly quivering mouth, had been overwhelming. But there was a part of him that was like an iron fist and refused to yield. Geoffrey, it seemed, was inclined to believe her claim that she had not been aware of Barris's secret identity as the Dragon.

  But Thorne was determined to know the truth— and he would know it now.

  With that thought, he left the hall. His steps carried him purposefully toward the dungeon. Once there, he gestured for the jailer to unlock the door to Barris's cell. Moments later, he stepped within.

  The cell was cramped and drafty, lit only by the glimmer of light that seeped through the grillwork set high in the door. His captive sat on the floor, his back against the damp stone wall. Barris arose slowly when he saw who confronted him.

  "Lord Weston," he said, with an exaggerated bow. "You honor me with your presence."

  Thorne's eyes glinted. The Welshman betrayed no hint of submission in either his tone or his manner. "You've led us a merry chase these many months," he stated coolly. "But all things must come to an end—as your masquerade as the Dragon has just done."

  Barris smiled tightly. "This hardly marks the end of Welsh resistance. My people will not give in so easily."

  "Ah, yes, you are a stubborn lot, as I well know, which reminds me ... At Merwen, you must have thought yourself so very clever, knowing that I had seen you in the flesh and never deigned to guess that you were the Dragon. Indeed, I can only imagine the laughter you surely shared with a certain Welsh princess!" By the time he'd finished, Thorne could no longer contain his fury.

  Barris stiffened. His rage had known no bounds when he'd discovered the Bastard Earl had escaped from Merwen and taken Shana along with him—and taken her to wife yet! Indeed, his role as the Dragon had become a vendetta of sorts, to pit his sword and wits against that of the Bastard Earl in this game played out between England and Wales.

  "You act as if you are the one wronged here." Barris could not hide his bitterness. "But I would remind you, milord, 'twas you who abducted my betrothed!"

  "And I would remind you she is now my wife and that may well have saved her pretty little neck. What if the king had discovered her deceit in concealing your identity? Indeed, the fact that she is my wife might have been—and still may be her only salvation!"

  Barris had gone slightly pale. "Shana knew nothing, man, nothing! And 'tis you who deceive yourself if you choose to believe otherwise!"

  Thorne's lip curled. "What! Do you mean to say she knew nothing of your masquerade?"

  "Aye," Barris said heatedly. "No one but a few trusted friends and Prince Llywelyn were aware of my role, for my task was a dangerous one. 'Twas just as you said—to allow Shana such knowledge might have placed her life in jeopardy, and never would I have taken such a risk! I love her too much to have ever gambled with her life."

  Their eyes clashed wordlessly. Time spun out endlessly; the air was charged with a seething tension.

  Thorne had expected him to rally to Shana's defense; what he had not expected was to believe him, yet in that shattering instant, he knew ... Barris did not lie. Nay, he could not reject Harris's fiery claim that Shana was innocent of any deceit; she had not known he was the Dragon. Thorne's mouth twisted. Barris's declaration was all he wanted to hear—all he needed to hear. So why was he not relieved? And what was this tangled skein of feeling that seized his heart like a clamp? He spun around, then called for the jailer. Barris's voice stopped him in midstride. "Wait! I would know ... she is well?"

  Thorne turned slowly, his hands clenched at his sides "You need not concern yourself with her well-being," he said sharply. "She is no longer your concern."

  By the time Thorne emerged from the dungeon, he could delude himself no longer as to the emotion clawing at his gut—it was jealousy, sheer and simple. Though he despised himself thoroughly for allowing such petty weakness, he wondered bitterly how Shana would respond to his advances now that Barris had reappeared. Would she resist him again? Scorn him anew? He could not stand the thought. But while Barris might have her love, he knew his bewitching wife as no other man ever had, not even Barris. He, not Barris, had claimed her innocence and branded it his own. And there was a primitive satisfaction in knowing he was the first man to lie with her, to stoke the dormant fires within her to raging flames

  She belonged to him, he thought fiercely. And by God, she would know it!

  Such was the bent of his mind as he climbed the tower stairs.

  He entered the chamber just as Shana stepped into the bath. She sank quickly beneath the waters, darting a hasty glance over her shoulder. When she beheld him standing there in the entrance glowering at her, she averted her gaze and dragged her knees against her chest.

  The door dosed. Along with his presence, an endless silence crept into the chamber, weighting the air with the heaviness of expectancy.

  Thorne wordlessly cro
ssed the room to stand directly behind her. His gaze, brooding and unflagging, rested upon the damsel who gave his heart no peace. Her hair was coiled into a knot on her crown, baring the fragile sweep of her nape, the slightness of her shoulders. Her gaze was fixed as if in fascination on the notched carving at the end of the wooden tub. Thorne knew by the way she huddled in the water that she found his perusal thoroughly unnerving.

  In truth, her nerves were stretched taut as a bowstring. She wished frantically she could see him, that she might gauge his mood. Yet she was scarcely relieved as he stepped to the side of the tub. Visibly nervous and praying it didn't show, her eyes climbed slowly to his.

  Mercifully, no trace of his earlier anger dwelled in his features Vet Shana was hardly relieved, for an aura of danger emanated from him. He towered over her, tall and somehow intimidating, yet he did no more than stare at her.

  She moistened her lips, for her mouth was suddenly parchment dry. "Why do you look at me so?"

  A faint smile dallied about his lips. "Princess," he stated smoothly, "I but admire what is mine."

  An aching despair encircled her heart. Where was the gentle, tender lover she had come to know these past days? The cold-eyed knight before her was only too familiar. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the pain that stabbed at her. God! she thought brokenly. She had convinced herself they had come so far—that mayhap someday they could truly care for each other. But clearly nothing had changed She was naught but a possession to him, to be used as he pleased, neither loved nor cherished.

  She opened her eyes to discover he had pushed up the sleeves of his tunic He reached for the soap and linen cloth she had placed within reach.

  Shana's eyes flew wide. She made some faint, choked sound.

  "Oh, you need not thank me." That brash voice came from just behind her. "You bathed me when I was ill, princess. I merely think it time I returned the favor."

  He knelt. With long, deft strokes he soaped and rinsed the slender length of her back and shoulders. Shana froze, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. His hands slid over the slope of her shoulder and around to the front. Very deliberately he slid her arms forward along the sides of the tub Shana's pulse began to beat the ragged rhythm of a drum, for now the front of her body lay open to his touch.