“I didn't know where you were,” she said lamely.
“I was in a dungeon cell,” he grated. “Placed there until Duncan could sell me, like the breeding stock you once named, me to the highest bidder!” He clung to the footpost of the bed. “I stayed there until you sailed for your homeland, milady! I was on the battlements, watching the Windlass take you out of my
“They lied to you, Gilly,” Nick stressed, “for their own evil reasons."
“But why?” she cried, swiping at the tears that were beginning to fall.
“To eventually do what Elga swore to me they would not: hand you over to Rolf de Viennes!” For as long as he lived, Kaelan would hate Duncan Hesar, if for no other reason than that. And for no other reason than that, he vowed then and there to take de Vienne's life.
“I would never have Joined with de Viennes,” Gillian whispered. “You had no reason to be concerned that I would."
“And I was to know this?” he asked. He came limping around the foot of the bed. “I gave up my life to keep you out of that bastard's hands, only to have Duncan hand you over anyway!"
“Why do you think we ran away in the dead of winter?” she beseeched him. “There has never been—nor will there ever be—another man save you for this woman, Kaelan Hesar!” She was growing angry at the disgust she was viewing on his hard face. “I had made a vow never to marry if it was not to be you who would be my mate!"
“Really?” he flung back at her. He hobbled toward her, mindless of the agony in his thigh. “You heard of Marie's death, did you not, Gillian?” He snaked out his hand to grab the footboard. “That was five years ago. Did you write me a letter of condolence expressing your sorrow? Did you send a messenger to see if I was still alive?"
Nick was watching him with a dark scowl. There was something odd about the way Kaelan was standing-or trying to-braced against the foot of the bed.
“I didn't know where you were!” she shouted.
“The hell you didn't!” Kaelan bellowed. “The entire realm knew where I'd been exiled, Gillian Cree!"
“Actually, we were told you had left Virago,” Nick said, catching a look of annoyance at his interruption as Kaelan's glower flicked over him for a brief moment.
“They said...” Gillian began.
“WHO SAID?” Kaelan thundered at her.
“DUNCAN AND ELGA!” she gave him right back.
“And what lies did they tell this time?” Kaelan scoffed.
Gillian didn't reply. She was already feeling immensely guilty for having listened to Duncan and Elga, to those at Court who had always resented Kaelan Hesar and wished him ill. Deep in her heart, she knew he'd been terribly wronged by them all and she had added most to his misery.
“What did they tell you, Gillian?” Kaelan pressed.
Nick cleared his throat, gaining the prince's attention. “That after you buried Marie, you had gone to live in Rysalia, to breed horses with Ben-Alkazar,” he answered for his sister.
“And?” Kaelan questioned, squinting dangerously, suspecting more.
“That you'd taken three Hasdu women to wife,” Gillian answered, watching the incredulous, stunned expression settling on Kaelan's ashen face as he turned to stare at her. “And you believed that nonsense, too?” he whispered.
“How was I to know any differently?” she asked. When he continued to stare at her, the emotions crossing his face alternating between hurt and anger, she flung out a dismissing hand. “At that time, I thought you capable of just about anything, Hesar!"
Kaelan flinched, but his words were steady and filled with sadness. “What a despicable bastard you must have always thought I was, Gillian,” he said.
“I thought no such thing!” she shot back.
“No?” he guffawed. “To have believed me capable of such perfidy, there had to have been suspicion of my honor there in the back of your empty little head in the first place!"
“My empty...?” Gillian shot up from the cot. “How dare you say such a thing to me, Kaelan Hesar?"
“Calm down, the both of you,” Nick said, getting up from the chair. He was still frowning heavily at the way Kaelan was standing. “Did you hurt your leg when you fell into the pond, Kaelan?” He put out a hand to the prince.
“What difference does it make?” Kaelan snarled. He shoved past Nick, lurching toward the door, almost falling. “Who cares about what happens to me anyway?"
Nick reached out to stop him, but Kaelan flung the door open and staggered through. “Damn it, Kaelan! Come back here!"
“Let him?” Gillian cried. “He'll only resent us the more if you go after him, Nick."
“He's hurt,” Nick protested. “Did you see the way he's limping?"
“He'll not stay long below; it's freezing down there,” she said in a tired, forlorn voice. She sank down on the cot and curled into a ball.
“Can't you hear him coughing?” Nick fumed, his eyes glowing with anger. “The man is close to having lung fever."
“Leave him be, Nicholas,” Gillian pleaded.
Nick slumped to the bed. “How could things have gone so wrong?” he moaned.
Gillian began to sob and turned her face into the pillow so her brother would not see or hear. She was so ashamed of herself for having taken what Duncan and Elga had told her as truth. Not to have given the man she loved the benefit of the doubt was bad enough; to have actually believed the lies told about him was worse. He would never forgive her and she wasn't all that sure she would ever forgive herself.
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Chapter Nineteen
Pain was something Kaelan Hesar had grown accustomed to feeling. From the moment his brother had condemned him to a loveless marriage, the young prince had begun to experience an agony of the soul from which he had seen no escape. He had learned to endure; to put aside his dreams and needs and desires; to hide his unhappiness as best he could; to try to make the best of what he had.
But pain is a constant reminder and, although broken bones will eventually heal, a broken heart will not. You can not splint a broken heart. You can not expect the pieces to knit together again. Once broken, a man's heart remains that way and the pain is a never-ending torment that plagues with ‘what could have beens'.
Kaelan sat on the servants’ stairs and gazed out the window at the falling snow. He was shivering, and the wracking cough that had now sprang up was a misery unto itself. He could feel the congestion in his lungs, hear the rattling his breath caused, and knew he was going to have one hell of a chest cold by morning.
“That's what comes of going out in this kind of weather, fool,” he grumbled.
Sitting hunched over the pain in his thigh, he continued to watch the pristine flakes tumbling down beyond the window and wondered briefly if he and Nick might not have to dig out come morning. Already the snow was up to the window ledge. He coughed wetly, feeling the rattling in his chest getting worse, and sighed. Why was he punishing himself by sitting there getting sicker by the moment? There was a roaring fire in his chambers by which he could warm his chilled body, if not his cold heart.
“Stubborn man,” he labeled himself. Sighing tiredly, he pushed up from the stair, grunting as a sharp, unrelenting pain drove through his leg. He stood there for a moment, letting the pain dissolve, squeezing his eyes shut against the bone-deep agony, then resolutely turned to pull himself wearily up the stairs.
How he loved her still, he thought, as he climbed, wincing with the effort. It wasn't the warmth of the fire he sought; it was Gillian's beloved face. Even to fight with her, to hear her scorn him, was better than the solitude with which he'd lived these last five years. He'd gladly suffer her waspish tongue if for no other reason than to hear her speak.
To hear anyone speak to him.
He had to pause now and again, to suck in the agony in his thigh, to endure it, to go on. The pain was worse than usual and he couldn't help but wonder if the cold had not invaded even his bones.
“Do you need help, Kael
an?"
Startled, the prince looked up. Nick was at the top of the stairs; his face was filled with concern. Kaelan shook his head. “I can make it."
“Why didn't you tell me you had hurt your leg in the fall this morning?” Nick grumbled. He wanted to go to the prince's aid, but knew the man wouldn't appreciate it.
Kaelan shrugged as he continued to make his way slowly up the stairs. “It wasn't important.” He gained the last two steps, tightened his grip on the banister as his leg threatened to give out under him. He managed to grin at Nick Cree. “I'm used to it."
“Stubborn man,” Nick unknowingly echoed with admiration. Only a blind man couldn't see the effort it had taken for Kaelan to climb the stairs. He matched his pace alongside Kaelan's as they walked to the prince's chamber. Hesar's limp was very pronounced and it worried him.
“How bad did you hurt it?"
Pretending he hadn't heard Nick's question, Kaelan opened his chamber door and went inside. His attention went straight to Gillian's cot and he frowned. “We've got to bring in one of the trundle beds from down the hall, Nick. She can't sleep on the gods-be-damned floor like that."
“She could sleep in the bed with us ’til tomorrow,” Nick snorted. “If she wasn't as gods-be-damned stubborn as you are."
Gillian lifted her head, unaware of the tear tracks which stained her cheeks and the red puffy eyes. “I'm fine where I am,” she told them.
The sight of her swollen eyes and still-damp cheeks hurt Kaelan. He wished with all his being he had the courage to go to her, take her in his arms, make her see how much he still loved her; but he doubted she'd allow such contact. Instead, he sat down heavily on the bed-only a few feet from her-and fused his gaze with hers. “This thing needs changing, Mam'selle” he said, shrugging his shoulders around the sticky discomfort of the camphor-soaked flannel poultice she had had Nick plaster on his chest. “It's cold."
“No one told you to go traipsing down the gods-be-damned stairs to get it cold, Hesar,” she grated, flinging aside the covers.
“Berate him tomorrow,” Nick warned her. “The man's wheezing as badly as a distempered dog."
“Worse,” Kaelan mumbled. He sneezed hard, then sneezed again, reaching up to run the sleeve of his tattered shirt under his nose.
“Oh, stop that!” Gillian commanded and threw him a rag to wipe his nose. “That's so disgusting, Hesar!” She went to the fireplace, bent over, and poured more camphor into a small pot. Holding the pot over the flames to warm it, she glanced over at Kaelan. “Well, take the gods-be-damned rag off, Hesar, and give it to me lest you want me to pour this brew on you.” She looked away from him. “Which I'll gladly do if you so desire it."
A slight grin tickled the corners of Kaelan's mouth as he reached up under his shirt and pulled out the offending flannel square. He handed it to her. “I'd prefer you re-wet it over there, Lady."
She took the rag and dipped it in the pot. “By the way,” she said, her teeth clenched tightly together, “I am sorry."
“For what?” he inquired.
She cast him an exasperated look. “For not having had more faith in you, Hesar."
“I am sorry, as well,” he replied, letting his gaze drift over her lovely profile.
Gillian wrung out the flannel and stood up. “What have you got to be sorry about?” she muttered. “'Twas not you who lost faith in me, was it?"
He looked up at her as she came to him, motioning for him to lift his shirt. “No, I never lost faith in you,” he answered, pulling up his shirt. “I lost faith in myself."
Nick stood by the door—his arms folded over his massive chest-and watched the sparring. He wondered if either of these two knew what it was they were doing. There was wonder on Kaelan's face as Gillian dropped to her knees to paste the flannel rag to the prince's chest; there was intense guilt and hope on Gillian's as she lifted her head from her work, her hands plastered on the flannel she had placed against the sick man's chest, and looked up into his eyes.
“How did you lose faith in yourself, Milord?” she questioned softly.
Nick's left brow eased up beneath the sweep of his tousled hair as Kaelan put out a hand to cup Gillian's face. The prince's hand was trembling.
“For not having had the courage to come after you when Marie died,” the prince told her. “I should have. I wanted to."
Gillian lowered her gaze. “And risk the Jarl's punishment? That would have been foolhardy, I think.” Still looking at the floor, her next words were nearly inaudible. “Why did you not get word to me, milord? I would have come to you."
“I feared for you, dearling,” Kaelan replied gently. “For what Duncan might do to you should you try; for what he might force you to do. I had no fear for my own well-being.” He caressed her chin. “Inside, I was already dead. Seeing the Windlass tack southward to Chale, watching it disappear on the horizon, taking you from me, was like having a dagger driven into my heart that day."
Gillian looked up, her face filled with hurt. “I did not want to stay at the Keep and watch you take your vows to another woman."
“And I did not want you there to see it,” he replied. He moved his hand to the mussed braid over her left shoulder, lifted it, enjoying the silky feel of her hair through his fingers. “It was bad enough I had to be there to endure it. I was with the wrong woman on my Joining night. Pretending she was you didn't work."
She blushed, took her hands from his chest, and stood up. The thought of him making love to Marie Sinclair still had the ability to make Gillian furious and it caused her great hurt. “Did she care for you?” That was a question she had always wanted answered.
“About as much as she cared for a toothache,” he replied and met her gaze squarely. “Marie despised me."
“Then why did she marry you?” Gillian asked.
“What choice did she have?” he countered. “Her father wanted his house allied to the Jarl's. It was a match made in heaven for Sinclair. He gave as much care to Marie's objections as Duncan gave to mine."
“I heard she went kicking and screaming to the altar,” Nick commented. He shrugged at Gillian's look of surprise when she turned to stare at him. “We thought it best you didn't know."
“What else did you and Papa keep from me, Nicholas?” she snapped.
“Only that,” Nick groused. “Papa thought if you knew the match wasn't gladly met, you'd have found a way to find Kaelan.” He cast the prince an apologetic look. “That wouldn't have been a very wise thing."
“No,” Kaelan agreed. “It wouldn't have."
Gillian drew in a long, calming breath. “I suppose."
“Would you have?” Kaelan asked. He eased his leg out in front of him, striving not to show the pain the action caused.
“Come after you?” she inquired. At his nod, a rueful smile touched her mobile mouth. “I might have.” Her gaze slid over his fever-glistening face like a potent caress. “I loved you enough to have done so, Milord."
“Loved?” he asked, his face mirroring his hurt.
“Stop baiting her,” Nick chuckled. “My little sister still loves you, Kaelan. Just as you still love her."
Gillian blushed again and went back to her cot. Sitting down with her legs bent to one side beneath her, she nodded her chin toward Kaelan. “Best see to his leg, Nick."
“There's no need,” Kaelan said too quickly It was the guilty look on his face that brought an instant scowl to Nick's.
“You didn't just hurt it this morning, did you?"
Kaelan gave a careless wave of his hand. “No, but having a swim in that frigid pond did nothing to make the gods-be-damned thing feel better.” He gave up his pretense and rubbed vigorously at the pain in his thigh. “Sometimes it hurts worse than others."
“What happened?” Nick asked.
Kaelan sighed. “I broke it."
“When?” Gillian demanded.
The prince looked away from her lovely face. “Awhile ago, dearling. What difference does it make?"
&n
bsp; “When?” Nick stressed.
Kaelan continued to knead the ache in his leg. He couldn't look at either of them as he answered: “Five years ago.” His voice fell to a whisper. “The day I killed Marie."
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Chapter Twenty: Five years earlier: Holy Dale Manor House
Marie Hesar stamped her foot angrily. Her china-blue eyes were snapping with fury as she regarded her husband. “I wish you were dead, Kaelan Hesar!” she flung at him.
“Aye, I bet you do,” Kaelan agreed. He stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the door jamb of their bedchamber, watching her. “You'll forgive me if I don't accommodate you, won't you, my love?"
“The demons take you to the Abyss!” she shouted. “You and that Chalean whore you mumble about in your sleep!"
Kaelan's eyes narrowed. “Be careful what you say, Marie,” he warned her. He could forgive his wife anything, save the vile epitaphs she aimed at Gillian Cree.
“If you were a real man,” Marie sneered, “you'd be with your precious Gilly this very moment.” She dropped her contemptuous gaze down his lean frame. “But a man is not something you will ever be, Kaelan."
“Why, Marie-love,” he replied silkily, “you've seen to that, haven't you?” One corner of his mouth lifted in taunt. “I believe the term they use to describe males like me is ’emasculated', and don't they call females like you ‘ball-breakers'?” His grin widened at her snort of disgust.
“As though you had balls before we married!” she threw at him.
“I had no complaints,” he chuckled, pushing away from the door.
“Some women will mate with mongrel dogs when they're in heat,” she insulted him, enjoying the instant frown her vulgar words brought to her husband's handsome face. It annoyed her that she found him so beautiful of countenance.
“Is that why you slept with Rolf de Viennes?” he challenged. Finding out his wife had not been a virgin on their wedding night was just one more reason he hated this woman so much.
Marie lifted her chin. “It was either give my maidenhead to a man I respected and admired or let you break it with your bumbling,” she sniffed. “At least he knew what to do with a real woman! He took care when he relieved me of my maidenhead!"
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