His jaw clenched. Nay, he thought willfully. He could not give up, for there were battles yet to be fought ... and won.
His mind strayed to Shana; for these past days, his thoughts were never far from her. Knowing she was so near, yet far beyond his reach, was like a knife inside him.
Oh, but to touch her again, to feel the silken texture of her skin beneath his hand, the husky flutter of her laughter against his cheek. To see her just once more. His breath turned to fire in his lungs. If only he had not left her ... if only he had not laid his sword and allegiance at Llywelyn's feet, she would be his today ...
A pang of bitter regret assailed him. If he could erase the past and begin anew, would his choices have been any different? Barris had only to ask himself one question to know his answer: What was one man's love of a woman compared to the freedom of many?
The sound of footsteps in the passageway tore him from his wistful imaginings. Barris shot to his feet like an arrow, with one question pounding through his brain.
What need was there for his jailer to run?
A key scraped into the lock. His ears strained, for there was the unmistakable sound of jagged, almost sobbing breaths. His every sense alert, he flattened himself against the inside wall near the door.
The door creaked open. Barris pounced.
Seized from behind, Shana felt herself jerked back with a force that nearly snapped her ribs. She clawed at the elbow locked about her neck that even now had begun to tighten, eager to speed her on her way to the next world. Somehow, she dredged up enough air to let out a scream.
"Barris!"
It was a mangled, garbled sound, muffled as it was by the hand clamped over her mouth. At the same instant he at last gauged the provocative fullness of her form. His stranglehold was abruptly arrested.
"Shana!" Her name was both a prayer and a curse. He whirled her in his arms, staring joyfully down at the one person he had never expected to see. "What do you here?"
With a wobbly smile she stated the obvious. "I've come to help you flee." Her smile faded. Her fingers dug into his arm. "We must hurry, Barris. I managed to slip a sleeping potion into the ale the jailer was given with his evening meal. But I know not how long it will last. By the time he realizes you have escaped, you must be far, far away."
They crept into the passageway. Sure enough, the jailer was slumped over on his bench, his mouth open, snoring with vigor. Barris pulled Shana close.
"How will we get by the others?"
"The guard at the postern has sickened and taken to his bed for the night," she whispered. "There is no one to stop you from slipping out the gates there." Silently she watched him relieve the jailer of sword and dagger.
"And how many are here to give chase?" He slipped the dagger into his belt.
"Thorne has not yet returned from meeting with the king," she told him hurriedly. "Most of his men rode out with Sir Geoffrey and Lord Newbury this morning. Sir Quentin's garrison is here, but I bade the steward break open a cask of wine after the evening meal." A faint light glimmered in her eyes. "I fear the lot of them imbibed a little too freely."
He ran a finger over the curve of her cheek. "You always were a clever one, sweet princess."
Princess. Her heart squeezed painfully as Thorne's granite-hewn features swam in her mind's eye. She pushed the image aside and cast anxious eyes to Barris. "Hurry, Barris."
They spoke no more once they were out in the bailey. Barris was at her heels as they crept across the yard. The threat of rain lay heavy in the air; a dense blanket of clouds smothered the moon. Shana directed a hasty prayer heavenward. The lack of moonlight would make it harder for the night watchman to spot Barris if he should rouse. And rain would wash away his tracks. Stilt by the time they reached the postern gate her nerves were scraped raw.
"I'm sorry I could not procure a horse for you." She whispered her regret. "I'm afraid you must travel on foot from here, Barris."
He nodded. "I know a place I can hide until the furor dies down."
Shana said nothing. Silence drifted between them, as dark and heavy as the night. "I could not tell you I was the Dragon," he said suddenly. "Had I been able to, I would have. But I feared such knowledge would put you in jeopardy ... God, I've cursed myself a thousand times over for riding off and leaving you that night at Merwen. Only I never dreamed he would escape—never dreamed he would carry you off and you would be at his mercy ..."
"It does no good to dwell on the past," she said painfully "We cannot change what happened, Barris."
"The earl thought you knew I rode as the Dragon, didn't he? He came to my cell and demanded I tell him the truth. He thought you had deceived him! Christ, he has not harmed you, has he? Punished you or—"
She spoke with quiet fervor. "Never has he hurt me, Barris, never."
He must have heard something in her voice ... His tone sharpened. He searched her face. "Why did you wed him, Shana? Why?"
She did not flinch beneath his unrelenting gaze. "I had little say in the matter, Barris. Indeed, I had no choice."
He seized her hands. "Ah, but now you do!" His eyes roved over her upturned features. "Come with me, Shana. Now. Leave with me this night. You need never see England or the Bastard again—"
She tried to free herself. His grip tightened further. "Nay, Barris! I cannot!"
He swore. "You owe him nothing, Shana! And he truly is a bastard! He swept down on the village of Llandyrr just as he swept down on Merwen. He plunders and bums without thought or care—"
"Nay, Barris, that was not of his doing! Someone plunders and ravages, in his name and we know not who!" She paused as a horrible notion grasped her mind. " 'Tis not you, is it?"
Barris gave a mirthless laugh. "God, but I wish it were me! What sweet vengeance that would have been to see such a foul deed laid at his feet!"
"Barris, no! If he were the monster you believe,
I would know it!"
Anger contorted his features, "Why do you defend him, Shana? Why would you stay with him when you could be with me? To hell with the Bastard and everyone else! Blast it, Shana, come with me!" He caught her against him. His head swooped down.
"Barris, listen to me!" She cried out softly, twisting against him, evading his seeking lips "I cannot leave Thorne ... I—I carry his child!" A hot ache swelled her throat. Only now did she admit what her body had been telling her for days.
A hiss of air whistled harshly through his teeth. He went utterly still. Through the darkness, she could feel the ruthless probing of his eyes.
"He forced you, didn't he?" Conviction gathered full and ripe. "Aye, of course he did—"
She swallowed painfully, yet her voice did not waver. "Nay, Barris. Oh, I—I do not mean to hurt you, but never did Thorne force me—never was I unwilling."
At last he realized ... He had lost her, lost her to the Bastard Earl... He released her, pierced by a bittersweet defeat. The moment was steeped in endless silence. There was only the distant hum of insects, the sigh of the wind above the treetops. At last his voice intruded "You love him." It was not a question—the impact of that statement went through her like a thunderbolt. Her eyes flew wide, yet the fervent denial that sprang to her tips could find no voice. Time stood still while she delved deep into the innermost sanctum of her treacherous heart.
"Aye," she whispered, and knew it for the truth.
Tears burned her lids, for she felt his pain a& keenly as if it were her own. "Barris, please, do not hate me! You are much alike, I think, you and Thorne. You will fight to the end for what you want, for what you believe in." Gently she touched his cheek. "You have done what you believe is right, for yourself and for our people. But now I must do what is right for me."
The merest glimmer of a smile lifted his mouth. "Then I wish you happiness, princess." He cupped her cheek with his palm, brushing his thumb across the swell of her lips. "Remember me," was all he said. He turned and walked into the encroaching darkness.
She surrendered h
erself the next morning.
The entire castle was in an uproar when Sir Geoffrey rode in a short time later. Geoffrey furiously ordered her sequestered in her chamber until Thorne returned to deal with her. As angry as Geoffrey had been, Shana was certain that his wrath was nothing compared to what Thorne's would be, Only Sir Quentin did not treat her as if she were Satan's consort. He was kind enough to bring her evening meals and sat with her while she ate, though she was too distraught to do more than toy with her food.
Thorne returned two days later. Shana peered warily out the tower window where he stood in the bailey with Sir Geoffrey and Lord Newbury. It was not hard to discern the subject they discussed; in seconds Thorne was striding across the yard. Shana did not wait to glean his expression, for indeed, there was scarcely a need to. She had barely seated herself in the low-backed chair before the hearth than he stormed into their chamber like a raging windstorm. The door slammed in his wake and Shana jumped. Despite the fact she had braced herself over and over for this encounter—she had thought of nothing else!—she was suddenly quaking inside.
His figure crowded the doorway, so dark and menacing that the very air between them seemed charged with the power of his presence. His eyes locked with hers. Despite the distance between them she felt herself pierced to the bone, impaled as if by a lance. She couldn't have moved it her life depended on it.
"I have just one question, princess. Did you truly act alone? Or do you cover again for Sir Gryffen?" One by one, each word fell into the tense, waiting silence.
She grappled for composure, grappled for courage. " 'Twas my doing," she said, very low. "Mine alone, Thorne."
It was only later that she realized the deadly quiet which descended upon them should have served as a warning ... In the blink of an eye he was before her. Unrelenting hands dragged her upright.
Her admission met with a violent curse. "You little fool! Have you any idea what you've done?"
"Aye!" spared a man's life!" She defended herself heatedly.
"And condemned others in the bargain! Or would you have this blasted war drag on forever?"
"What did you expect me to do? The Dragon's sentence preceded your arrival, milord! Barris was to hang, or do you deny it?"
His silence was brutally incriminating.
Shana was suddenly as bitter as he. "Now I would ask you, milord. Could you have stopped his hanging? Or mayhap a better question is this ... would you have stopped it?"
His lips were ominously thin. "The matter was out of my hands. The king—"
"Ah, yes, you must ever do your duty to the king. 'Tis a pity you have no duty to me, for I am but your wife—and but a woman!"
"But a woman!" His Up curled. He'd underestimated her twice now—by the cross, he'd not do so again. "Milady, you would have me believe you are weak and helpless, and you are anything but that! Indeed, you have the gall of no other to think you can free a prisoner of the Crown and not pay the price! Are you merely foolish or do you truly believe that simply because you are a Welsh princess you can do as you please?"
Shana was stung. That he would goad her so wounded her deeply. In her pain, she struck out blindly. "You are the fool, milord, if you thought I would stand by and watch Barris hang. Dear God, I could never have lived with myself had I been so callous! For a man who dares not shirk his duty, you seem to know precious little of allegiance and devotion! The king had the power to make me wed an Englishman—he does not have the power to command my loyalty!"
Thorne's jaw clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. It was clear where her loyalties lay—and her heart as well. "And I thought mayhap you had changed—that you held some regard for me. But you are as selfish as ever, princess. You dare to speak of loyalty to me, yet 'twould seem you know precious little of it. You've no more desire to surfer my presence than I yours. So be it, then! By God, let us be delivered from each other this very day!" He threw open the door and bellowed for Cedric. "See that a mount is readied for milady," he said when the giant knight appeared. "And Sir Gryffen as well." He turned back to her, his expression a mask of iron, his eyes black frost.
Every last vestige of color drained from her face, along with her anger. All at once there was a suffocating tightness in her chest as if a massive stone had crushed her breast.
"You're sending me away?" Her voice was no more than a wisp of air.
"Aye, princess, with the greatest of pleasure!"
Her lips scarcely moved. "Where?"
The hatred leaping from his eyes stabbed her heart in a single thrust. "I'd send you across the sea if I could, princess. But alas, I cannot, so for now Weston will simply have to do."
All at once she was shaking, for he was tearing into her and through her as nothing else ever had. His anger she could deal with ... but not this frigid contempt.
"Had the choice been mine, I'd never have taken a wife, but thank God we need not endure each other any longer! Oh, and rest assured, princess, I'll do my utmost to see that we need never live together as lord and lady again!"
A crucifying pain pierced her heart. Shana did not wait to hear more. She thrust her way past him and ran the entire distance outside and into the bailey. Sobs tore from her throat as she threw herself into Sir Gryffen's arms.
"Take me away from here, Gryffen! Please, take me away!"
Chapter 21
Though her eyes glittered bright with the sheen of tears unshed, Shana's bearing was stiff with pride as she, Sir Gryffen, and Cedric passed through the gates. If Thorne was there to witness her departure, she was unaware of it. If she never saw him again, 'twould be far too soon.
But there her compliance ended She would go not to Weston as Thorne expected, but to Merwen. In her anguish, she did not see her actions as defiance. Bitterness poured from her like wine from a chalice. Thorne's message had been quite clear—he had no need of a wife, even less need of her! By going to Merwen she but obliged both of them.
Sir Gryffen was aghast. "Milady, we cannot go to Merwen. My lord expects Cedric and I to escort you to Weston. He was most adamant in his instruction—indeed, he has already sent a messenger along so his people know his lady is expected!"
His lady? Aye, she thought with a pang. Unwanted. Unloved.
She spoke with what little dignity she could muster. "I go to Merwen, Gryffen, for I vow I'll burn in hell before I will go to Weston as the earl commanded nor will I return to Langley If you will not accompany me, then I will go alone."
Gryffen glanced back to where the crenellated towers of Langley loomed high aloft into the blazing sky. The earl would be furious when he discovered Shana had defied his wishes. But he heard his mistress's stubbornness and glimpsed the desperation hidden deep in her eyes—and he knew he could not say her nay.
He glanced at Cedric, whose uncertainty mirrored his own, then back at Shana. "I cannot allow you to travel alone," he said heavily. "It seems we are bound for Merwen rather than Weston "
They traveled hard all through the day and most of the next. It was only much, much later that Gryffen regretted his decision ... and hers. Ah, if only he had known, he'd have pleaded, begged that they go to Weston instead ...
For Merwen was no more.
Stunned, the trio stared in numb, frozen shock at the sight that met them. 'Twas but an obscene mockery that the sun showered down upon their heads in glorious splendor, the walls which had once echoed with childish laughter and abounded with happiness were naught but charred stumps heaped upon the ground.
All that was left of Merwen was a pile of rubble.
Shana gave a strangled cry and slid off her mount. Unlike Langley, Merwen was forged not of stone, but timber. Fire was always a hazard, so everyone had always been especially careful. Still, she had never expected to see it burned to ashes
Most of the stable still remained. An old woman peeped out from behind a tottering gate It was Magda, one of the cook's helpers. With a cry she stumbled forward.
"Lady Shana! Praise the saints, we never thought to see
you again!" Tears of joy and sorrow leaked from her eyes.
"Magda! Oh, Magda, dear God, thank heaven
you're all right I pray all within were able to escape!"
Magda began to weep. "Oh, milady, 'twas awful—they swept in just as before, only this time they set the torch to the keep!"
Shana's blood turned to ice. "They?"
"Aye, milady, more English swine—and now everyone is gone!"
"English ..." Shana's hands were on her shoulders. "Magda, do you know ... was it the same English troops as before?"
The old woman shook her head. "I cannot say, milady But they were English, of that I am certain! 'Twas only by the mercy of the Lord that the stableboy Davy and I were spared, for we were able to hide before they saw us."
Magda went on to say she and Davy were now with her sister in the village. She had returned today to gather the last of the crops in the garden. Shana was only half aware when she, Sir Gryffen and Cedric were left alone once more.
The grizzled old knight gently touched her arm. "Lady Shana."
She paid him no heed. Her steps carried her blindly forward. The blood roared through her ears. She fell forward to her knees. Tears seared her heart, tears she refused to let loose
"Damn you, Thorne, I will never forgive you!" she cried, wept, screamed. "Never!"
He would never forgive himself.
It was only when the crimson rage that consumed his being had cooled that Thorne realized he had not sent Shana away—he had driven her away. Over and over those words he'd hurled at her tore at his conscience. Her expression in that instant she had fled their chamber haunted him endlessly He kept seeing her again and again, her eyes huge and wounded, glistening with moisture.
I'd send you across the sea if I could, princess Had the choice been mine, I'd never have taken a wife, but thank God we need not endure each other any hunger .,. Rest assured, princess, I'll do my utmost to see that we need never live together as lord and lady again . . .
My Rebellious Heart Page 30