by Lynn Lorenz
“Will, how can you ask me to do that? You know I must have an heir to deliver Baymore to.” Jackson took a step back.
“I know nothing of the sort.” Will turned his nose up and burned a stare into Jackson’s eyes. He didn’t care how Jackson justified it—Will couldn’t see the need, especially for a wife.
“You must know! It has weighed heavily on my mind for some time. I must have an heir. I am responsible for the lands, the people.” He waved his arm to encompass everyone and everything. “I am Duke of Baymore.”
“And have you forgotten it was I who put you there? It was I who fought Hugh to the death for you, freed you from that hellhole, and declared you rightful duke?” Will tried to keep the shaking that rattled his bones from poisoning his voice, but heard the betraying tremor.
“I have never forgotten that.” Jackson shook his head. “Never.”
“Have you forgotten then, that you love me?”
“Never.”
“And that I love you? More than my own life? More than my family, my father, my birthright?” Will clenched his teeth and lips to keep them from betraying him again. His father’s rejection had torn a hole in Will’s heart that gaped and bled. To have lost his love and good favor had been a hard blow, the one that he’d dreaded all along.
“Nay, Will. I have not forgotten your sacrifices.”
“Then explain to me how you plan to keep a wife, bed her, and bed me at the same time.” Will crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the big man to answer. “Are you planning to leave her in the middle of the night and come to me? Or am I to come to you and ask her to leave? Perhaps a miracle will occur and she’ll just roll over in bed and make room for me? Then you can have us both, as your whim moves you.”
Jackson’s mouth opened, then closed and then opened again, as if he were a fish on the bank, gasping for breath, and the color drained from his face.
In that long moment, as Will stared his lover down, he saw the realization hit Jackson as surely as the branch had hit him on their ride back to Baymore.
“Oh fuck.” Jackson clutched his head with one hand and reached for a chair with the other, then sank into it.
“I couldn’t have said it better, Your Grace,” Will drawled. He sat on the edge of his bed, letting the robe fall open over his legs.
Jackson scrubbed his hands over his face, then looked up at Will.
“I am indeed a right dolt. Thick boned and thick headed.” He clutched his head in his hands. “I never once thought about the truth of it. All I saw was my duty to this land and a son to leave it to.”
“And what about this poor woman? She’s signed the contract and will arrive soon to wed you. She might put up with a mistress—most nobles keep several. But when she finds your lover is a man?” Will shook his head. “She has family. Her brother is bringing her here to see her safely ensconced at your side. I’m not sure he’ll be pleased when she tells him what she’s found here. We’ll be killed, Jackson.”
Jackson sighed, slumped even farther over, his elbows on his knees as he cradled his head in his hands.
Will didn’t stop there, he couldn’t. It was as if the dam had been opened and everything he’d held inside spewed forth. “Oh, you’ll have an heir for Baymore, but it won’t be you. With you dead, your wife will control the dukedom. She may marry who she will, or of her brother’s will, with your money and lands behind her, with or without your child in her belly.”
“What have I done?” Jackson moaned. Straightening, he gazed into Will’s eyes. “And to you, my Will. I must have hurt you terribly.” He shook his head and reached for Will, but drew back his hand before he touched Will’s knee. “I’m so sorry, Will. Damn my stupid pride.”
“Well, it won’t be the first time your pride has gotten us into trouble, Your Grace, and I doubt it will be the last,” Will said and pulled the robe over his legs to cover them.
Jackson stared at him with eyes so bleak and hopeless it stabbed at Will’s heart. Jackson might have hurt him deeply, but he’d never hate the big man.
“Oh my sweet love.” Will sighed and went to him. He kneeled and ran a hand over Jackson’s arm. “We’ll find a way out of this. I should never have written the letters, I see that now. This is my fault.”
“Your fault? I asked for the wife!” Jackson looked down at Will. “And asked you to find her for me. God, what an ass I’ve been.”
“Aye. It’s my fault and you’ve been an ass. We are well matched, Your Grace.” He gave Jackson’s shoulder a squeeze meant to comfort. “I was too distraught over your request. Too stunned to do any more than carry out your orders and feel my own pain, my mind murky and dark. I should have spoken of my feelings. I should have thought of the dangers before putting quill to parchment.” Will pushed to his feet. “Now, I’ll have to find a way to put a halt to this marriage.”
“A halt?” Jackson shrugged. “Can’t I refuse her?”
“On what grounds?” Will paced, needing room to move and think. If they didn’t get out of this, surely both of them would lose their lives and Will’s urge to protect his lover wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“Perhaps she has a lover? Perhaps she might want to be freed from this contract more than I?” Jackson grasped at a thin ledge to hold his hopes on.
Will crossed the room, long sharp strides taking him the length and back as he pondered the situation.
There was little that would allow for the contract to be broken. He went to the desk and sifted through the parchments strewn across it. In the piles of papers he had a copy of the terms of marriage. He’d buried it to avoid looking at it.
Will pulled back the chair and sat. “Here it is.” He leaned over the words, reading each section until he came to the end. “There is not much here. I write a better contract than I thought, damn me.” He gave a wry laugh.
“What if I caught her with another man? Before we married?” Jackson’s brow rose in hope.
“And ruin her reputation? I suppose I could approach her, get her in some compromising situation for you to discover.” Will’s stomach turned at the thought, not of just being with a woman, but of the depths of deceit they’d sink in that plan. Were they that desperate to label an innocent woman as indecent? To sacrifice another person for their own well-being?
Jackson looked up, his mouth downturned and his eyes bleary. They locked gazes. Desperation and hope burned in his dark eyes and Will feared Jackson would make a reckless and hasty decision. There had been enough of those made already.
“No. There must be another way. I would not forfeit both our honors in such an evil scheme.” Will’s lover shook his head.
Jackson may have doubted, but Will knew his lover was not the kind of man to destroy someone just for his own personal gain. A lover of men, a sinner against God, Jackson may be. But he was no deceiver, no liar, not such a low scoundrel.
Will stood and paced again. “Let me ponder this, Your Grace.” He crossed his arms, gathering the robe around him and chewed his lip.
Jackson had something in his thought about her and another man. What if she asked to be released? Her reputation would remain intact, unsullied. But how?
They could tell her the truth and throw themselves on her pity and graces. If God was with them, Lady Beth might be kind and understanding, like Lady Ellen, but he doubted they could have such favor with the Good Lord.
It would mean a horrible and dishonorable death.
They would swing from the nearest tree, their privates hacked away. Will shuddered as a chill raced down his back at the memory of his night in an icy field. That would have been an easier death at least.
His lover watched with rumpled brows as Will strode back and forth.
The more Will turned the problem over in his mind, the more he doubted he’d discover a way out. Not without leaving bodies and reputations dead and destroyed.
At last, he halted his march and turned to face Jackson.
“My duke, I fear I am at a loss.
There is nothing to be done with it. We must wait and see what occurs once your bride arrives. Let us see what kind of woman she is, and if her brother is a reasonable man.”
“Perhaps we could pay them off, give her the bride’s dowry?”
Will shook his head. “What excuse could we possibly give without telling the truth and sign the warrants for our arrests and deaths?”
Jackson groaned and shook his head, then looked up at Will. “Perhaps she’ll be repulsed by me and refuse.”
“Repulsed?” Will strode to his lover and corded his fingers through Jackson’s great unruly mane. “By you? Never. My greatest fear is she falls in love with you and you with her.”
Jackson pulled Will to him, brushing aside the robe that hid his lover’s body from his touch. As he ran his hand over Will’s chest to pluck at a perfect nipple, he shuddered.
“There is no room in my heart for anyone but you, sweet Will. My soul is yours.”
Will looked down at Jackson. “That may be, but once you are wed, your body will belong to her.”
“If that is so, we only have a few days more before she arrives. Let us not waste a moment of it, my lord.” Jackson pulled Will tight in a possessive grip.
Will smiled, slipped off his robe, baring firm pale flesh to Jackson. “As usual, I am ready, Your Grace. You, on the other hand, are still dressed.”
He pulled away, lay back on the bed, and spread his long hair over the pillows. “Remove your clothes, Your Grace.”
“Aye, my lord.” Jackson obeyed.
Chapter Fourteen
At midmorning Marcus crossed from the barracks, entered the keep, and made his way up the stairs to Lord Holcombe’s room in answer to the steward’s summons. He didn’t dare to ask about the strange atmosphere that seemed to float in the air inside the castle, but knew that neither Jackson, nor Will, were happy. Some pall, some dread spell had been cast over them, and for these many days and nights they were silent and brooding.
At William’s door he paused and knocked.
“Enter.”
Marcus pushed the door open and stepped inside.
“Shut the door, Master Marcus.” William, seated at his desk, waved a hand at him without looking up from his work. A large ledger lay before him, as he bent over it with a quill in his hand. Marcus watched as William dabbed his pen into a pot of ink, wrote, then sprinkled powder and blotted at the words.
“Have a seat.” William looked up and leaned back in his chair.
Marcus sat in the chair in front of William’s desk. “Your lordship.”
“I have a duty for you and a dozen of your best men. Lady Beth Mayfield, and her brother Lord Basil Clayton are on their way to Baymore. I want you to ride out to meet them and escort them safely here. Make sure the men and yourself are well turned out.”
“Aye, my lord.” Marcus nodded. “Guests of the duke?”
William swallowed, his fingers worried the edge of the parchment. “Indeed. Lady Beth is coming to wed the duke, and her brother brings her to her betrothed.” He gritted out the words between tightly clenched teeth and thin white lips. For the first time, Marcus was aware of the dark circles under William’s eyes.
“To wed?” Marcus jerked back. “The duke? But…you…he…” He had no way to express his surprise at this turn of events. How could he admit his suspicions about Lord William and the duke? If they were false, William would have every right to dismiss him, or even pull his sword and run him through.
William’s chest rose with the deep breath he pulled in. Then with a deep shudder, he exhaled and slumped in his seat, burying his hands in his hair. He looked up and caught Marcus’s gaze, his eyes filled with absolute despair.
So, it was true.
“How did this happen?” Marcus leaned forward, concerned about William.
William stood, pushing the chair back and toppling it. “His damned pride, honor, and duty to Baymore.” William waved his hand about. “My pain at his pronouncement blinded me to the possibilities. Before I realized what I had done, I’d sent the contract, and we’d sealed our fate.” He paced across the room, each step quick and hard. As Marcus watched, he could see the distraction the steward had been driven to in the rumpled manner of his clothing, the unruly braid of his hair, and the sourness of his once beautiful expression.
“What are you going to do?”
“That’s what I want to speak with you about, Marcus.” Will stopped next to him and put a trembling hand on his shoulder.
William took a deep breath. “I’m going to risk telling you the truth. I pray I don’t have to kill you over it,” he whispered. “I’d hate to lose the best master of arms Baymore’s ever had.”
Marcus put his hand over William’s and clamped it down. “You won’t. Speak freely, my lord.” He’d earned their trust the first time they met in the dungeon corridor two years ago, and now it was time to earn it again.
“Then you know of Jackson and I? Our…bond?”
“I have suspected it from the beginning.”
“And you never told? Never thought to accuse us?” William didn’t pull his hand away and Marcus didn’t remove his.
“Never, my lord. What purpose would it serve? I am not so minded to deny any person, man or woman, a chance for love.” He shook his head. “It would only leave Baymore in peril, to be fought over by other lords perhaps not as fair, generous, or concerned about their people and their lands.”
“Aye.” William sighed. “We are blessed to have you Marcus.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have a plan, but it involves you.” William pulled his hand back.
“Me, my lord?” Marcus’s belly rolled over, as if he’d eaten bad meat. Knowing of their love and not telling was one thing, but to become involved?
William took his seat again, folded his hands together on the table, and held Marcus’s gaze.
“The contract is stable. If there is any way out of it, it must come from Lady Beth. I’ve thought this over hard and for much time, Marcus, and I have no other solution. I want you to woo her. Take your time coming to Baymore once you’ve joined her caravan and present yourself to her.” William waved his hand at Marcus.
Marcus’s mouth dropped open. Had William lost his mind?
“Woo her? Why would she want me over Jackson? He’s a duke. I am nothing, a lowly soldier.”
“Come now, Marcus. I think you underestimate your charms. I’ve heard the servant girls speak of you.” William cocked an eyebrow at him.
He laughed. “You think the wenches at the castle find me well and so the fine Lady Beth would also? You’re mad!”
“I’m desperate.” William’s eyes burned.
“And still not thinking clearly.” Marcus shook his head. “Look at me,” he declared, holding his arms out for inspection.
“I have,” Will drawled. “Trust me, you are a finely made man, Marcus. Any woman, any man, would find you pleasing.” Something glittered in William’s eyes and Marcus swallowed at his lord’s appraising gaze.
“I have no words, my lord.” He didn’t. William’s look and words spoke too much, and he didn’t want to go down that forbidden path. His path wasn’t theirs. For a moment, a spark of pride burned in him that William, so handsome, so fair, would find him pleasing, but he let that uneasy ember die.
“None are needed. I am sworn to Jackson, both as his lover and as his steward.” He shrugged. “You are sworn to him also. To protect his lands, his keep, and his person. He needs you now more than any other time. I know this is something terrible I ask of you, but we are in a terrible position.”
“You want me to woo her, win her heart, so that she’ll cancel the contract of marriage?” Marcus stared into Will’s fevered eyes. “And choose me?”
“Right.” Will nodded.
Marcus ran a hand over his face and sat back.
“What then?”
William frowned. “What do you mean what then?”
“After I’ve w
on her heart. She’s in love with me, the marriage rescinded, the contract null and void. She just goes back home?” Marcus stared at the steward. “Am I expected to marry her? Stay here or renounce my oath, leave my post, and return with her?”
William groaned and closed his eyes. “Damn.”
“Damn, indeed.”
“We are doomed, then, Jackson and I. He will marry her and…” William seemed to collapse upon himself. “I will leave,” he whispered. “Return to my father’s keep.” His face paled, his brow furrowed as if under great strain, and he lowered his head to rest it on the desk.
Marcus’s heart went out to his lordship and to his duke. William was right, as master of arms he had given his oath to Baymore—to guard it, to protect it from attack, to hold it dear. They were under attack, or soon would be, if anyone found out about Jackson and William’s love, and it was Marcus’s duty to protect them. After all, he’d sworn his life to Baymore.
If that sacrifice included wooing a lady, and marrying her, so be it. It wasn’t how he’d dreamed of it happening, of the love he prayed he’d find, but a wife was what he’d longed for. Perhaps a family. Would it be so bad to get what he’d dreamed of, no matter what the means?
“I’ll do it.”
William’s head shot up. “What?”
“I agree. I’ll do my best to win her. But I want…I want a dowry. I have nothing, my lord, to offer her. I want a house for her. Land and livestock, perhaps. I want to stay on here, as master of arms.” He bit his lip to stop his rambling, thinking he’d asked for too much.
William’s gaze met his and Marcus held his breath. Fear that he’d overstepped his rank, demanded too much, shot through him as he waited.
“Done. I’ll draw up the deeds now.” William pulled out a fresh piece of parchment, dipped his quill in the ink, and began writing. “And Marcus? Jackson must never know of this deceit.”
Chapter Fifteen