The Forgiven Duke (A Forgotten Castles Novel)

by Carie, Jamie

  She shook her head and then stopped, studying him. Ryan wrote: No barber, but she says she cuts her husband and son’s hair and she would be willing to cut yours if you like.

  “Yes, thank you. Can we do that soon? Now?”

  “Let me get the food first.” She left and came back a short time later with a tray of bowls, putting the steaming stew in front of each soldier. She turned toward Gabriel and motioned him to follow her up the stairs to the second floor.

  Gabriel directed Ryan to tell the soldiers where he was going and then ignored them and whatever reaction they might have. It was known that Ryan had coin for a haircut, so let them fuss; he was getting this done.

  The stairs led to the family’s private quarters, a well-kept common room that was comfortably furnished. The woman directed Gabriel to a chair by the fire and went to fetch the supplies, coming back with a razor, scissors, a bowl of warm water, and a towel.

  Gabriel leaned his head back and closed his eyes as she lathered his face, the smell of soap so welcome his eyes began to swim from behind closed lids. He pushed the emotion aside, determined to use this situation to whatever advantage he could find.

  With deft scrapes of the razor that spoke of years of experience, she shaved weeks of beard from his face and neck. He lay back and let the muscles of his face relax, trusting her. She made quick work of it and then placed a steaming towel on his face, patting it, leaving it a moment before rinsing off the soap.

  Heaven. The first real comfort since his abduction. She said something, he could tell by the vibration of her near him, but his eyes were too relaxed to open and try to make it out. She gave him a moment and then touched his shoulder. He opened his eyes.

  “Your hair?” she asked, blond eyebrows raised.

  “Short, if you please.” He sat taller, looking aside for a moment. “I cannot hear you. Trouble with my ears.” It was getting easier to say to strangers. He didn’t have the strength to care what they thought about it anymore. She set to work, waves of black hair falling to the floor around him.

  He took a breath and decided to risk it. “Madam, I would like to ask you a question. It’s very important, and while you will have no reason to believe me, I need you to trust me.”

  She paused in clipping his hair, looked at him with a level glance, and nodded.

  “I am looking for Alexandria Featherstone. As I am sure you already know, the British soldiers down there are looking for her as well. I have come with a troop of Spanish as their prisoner but I am British. I mean her no harm. I am a friend of hers . . . her guardian. I am the Duke of St. Easton.”

  She backed up, stared at his face, and then rushed from the room, coming back scant seconds later with paper and pen.

  Gabriel nodded toward the paper. “You must write quickly. My guards will not give us much time.”

  She dipped the quill and bent to the task, the pen flying over the paper.

  Alexandria mentioned you. She left Reykjavik over two weeks ago, headed to the Dimmu borgir, the Black Castles, looking for her parents. I do not know what has become of her, but the British soldiers have searched all around this area and have not found her. They have spread rumors that they are being cruel to the citizens of Reykjavik in the hopes she would hear of it and come back to save us from further harm. I fear their plan may work as she has become a dear friend to us. Do you also want to take her back to England?

  Gabriel read it and then wadded it into a ball and threw it into the fire. “Yes, but under my protection. I will keep her safe and find a way to keep looking for her parents. Madam, she has no idea the depths of danger she is in. There are many countries that want to find her parents, powerful leaders, kings. I am here to protect her but I need help. I have to escape the Spanish and I believe I can with the British soldiers’ help. Can you spread the word? We must make a plan to deal with the Spanish ship in the harbor. There are nearly fifty soldiers aboard it, and they will have no issue with destroying this town if they don’t get what they want.”

  As he spoke her eyes grew wide with fear. “I shall do everything I can to help. Your Grace, Lady Featherstone saved my son’s life. I would do anything for her.”

  Gabriel started to speak, but she sprang up and started cutting his hair again. He wadded the rest of the paper into a ball and shoved it up the sleeve of his shirt as three Spanish soldiers came into the room. The woman spoke to them. They glared at her and Gabriel and then went back downstairs. Gabriel winked at the woman. She finished his hair, set down the scissors, and brushed the hair from his neck.

  She stood back and looked at him, surveying her work, a small smile playing across her lips. “You look much better.”

  “What is your name?”

  She sat back down at the table and wrote.

  Ana and my husband is Hans Magnusson. Tomas, our only son, was found by Alexandria. He had climbed into the church belfry and a beam of wood fell on his leg, trapping him there for two days. No one would have noticed the white strip of cloth clinging to the stone from the belfry window. But Alexandria saw the piece missing from his pillow casing and thought he might have made a flag with it. We owe her everything.

  A flash of pride streaked through him upon reading what Alexandria had done. God love her; everyone who knew her did.

  There was only one more pressing question he had to ask. “Ana, was there a man with her? Are they engaged to be married?”

  “Yes. There is a man with her. John Lemon.” She looked up from the words, pinning him with a glance full of understanding. “To my knowledge, she has not married him yet, but he is pressing her to do so soon.”

  Gabriel nodded.

  He walked over to a small mirror hanging on the wall and raked his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. Who was this gaunt creature staring back at him? John’s handsome face flashed through his mind.

  If Gabriel got to her in time, would she even consider him?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alex opened her eyes against the pounding fog in her head and turned over with a groan. Why did she feel so wretched? She sat up to get out of bed, threw back the covers, and jolted awake at what she saw. John. Still asleep and lying next to her. The memory of the night before flooded back to her.

  What had they done?

  Her heart raced as her gaze flew over John’s body. She had thrown the blanket off him too because it now covered only his feet. Panic rose to her throat as her gaze traveled up his naked form. Hadn’t he been clothed when they fell asleep? She had her nightgown still on, but he could have easily lifted it . . . Why couldn’t she remember anything? She closed her eyes and made a panic-filled sound.

  “John. Wake up!” Her voice was a harsh whisper.

  John blinked awake, reared up as Alex scrambled out of bed and stood near the door, keeping her eyes averted. “John, why don’t you have any clothes on? What have you done?” Tears flooded her eyes as the cold air snapped her back stiff.

  He rubbed his face and groaned. “Are you all right?”

  “All right? Am I all right? How can you ask that?” She hissed the words too loud but didn’t care at that moment who might hear. “Did you . . . ?”

  “I don’t know. It would appear so.”

  A cry came from Alex’s throat.

  “Alex, no . . . please.” He stood and reached for his pants. “I–I drank too much. I didn’t know what I was doing . . . Alex, come here.”

  “Don’t come near me, do you hear me? Why would you do such a thing?”

  He came around and tried to pull her into his arms, but she pushed him back with an angry grunt. “Don’t touch me.”

  “We’ll order you a hot bath. That’ll make you feel better.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked longingly, lovingly at her. He looked sorry too.

  She backed away from him,
raging at him in a shattered voice. “Just stay away from me. I will never forgive you for this.”

  He stood in only his breeches, his wide chest, nearly hairless, moving in and out as if he’d been running, his blond hair a tousled mess, so handsome and so wretchedly deceiving. Had he planned this, or was it an act of desperation that sounded reasonable to a drunk man? Alex suspected the latter but it didn’t make her feel much better.

  “Alex, please. I thought that you meant to marry me now.”

  “I said nothing of the sort.” She thought back, remembered how languid, how relaxed and happy she’d become. Her eyes widened. “The tea.” She walked over, snatched up the cup from the bureau, and sniffed it. There were still brown dregs in the bottom giving off a sharp odor.

  She walked over to him and pushed the cup into his bare chest. “There was something in this tea, wasn’t there? You knew I would have never married you . . . you knew that so you drugged me. Of all the horrible, deceiving tricks.” She hit him in the shoulder, her face crumpling.

  John pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tight enough that she couldn’t hit him any longer. “You don’t understand. I love you, Alex. I need your money, yes. That was the beginning of it. When I heard you are the ward of the Duke of St. Easton, I knew that he would place a huge dowry on you, he’s so rich. I swear I didn’t know about your fortune until later, when I read that letter, but it doesn’t matter. I love you so much. I couldn’t just let you walk away.”

  He held her away from him and looked down at her with that boyish, blue-eyed sincerity that had always charmed her. “Please. I’ll be the best husband. I’ll do anything for you. We will travel the world looking for your parents. Or become treasure hunters ourselves. Anything you want. I’ll protect you, Alex.”

  “Protect me?” she hissed in a broken whisper. “How can you even think that after this night? You . . . you are a monster.”

  His eyes hardened into blue flint. “You have no choice but to marry me now.”

  “Oh, yes I do. I don’t have to marry anyone—ever.”

  One hand tightened on her back while the other one came around and pressed against her lower stomach. “What if you carry my child? Would you make it illegitimate?”

  “I’ll get rid of it.”

  They both sucked in a shocked breath.

  “No. I didn’t mean it. I could never do that.” A shudder overwhelmed her and she collapsed against John’s chest, sobbing.

  “Shhh.” He stroked her back, bending his head over her in a protective embrace. “Shhh. I’ll love you my whole life. I’ll give you everything you could ever want. Please. Alexandria. Please be my wife.”

  But I’m in love with someone else! She saw the duke’s face against her closed lids and turned her face, her cheek lying wet with tears against John’s bare skin. Maybe she deserved this. He wasn’t a bad man, not any worse than she was, certainly. She had used John as a convenience when she needed him and he needed her, needed her money anyway. She didn’t doubt that he loved her. She didn’t doubt he would try to make her happy all her days.

  She just doubted that he could.

  “Alex, listen to me. As soon as you are . . . ready, feeling better, we’ll leave for Reykjavik. But we must enter the town and go to the Magnussons without alerting the soldiers. I want to be married before we turn ourselves over to them, a small ceremony at the inn, do you understand?”

  Alex nodded, a numb sense of nothingness lodged in her chest. What choice did she have?

  “Good.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed the top of her head, holding her close and whispering into her ear, “Everything will be all right.”

  Then why did it feel like nothing would ever be all right again?

  HOURS LATER, THE SUN RIDING low against the horizon in a glowing orb with pink-tinged clouds hovering around them, John and Alex trotted into Reykjavik. She wore her red cloak with the hood pulled up and hanging low over her face against the wind and the stares of anyone who might be about. John wore his hat low over his forehead as well. They had planned to avoid the main road and circle around to the back of the inn, and it was a good thing. There were signs of soldiers everywhere—more horses, noise, and people roaming the streets than when they’d been in Reykjavik before.

  “Let’s go to Svein’s blacksmith shop first. It should be empty since he’s gone, and the inn may be full of soldiers. We can send word to Hans and Ana from there.”

  Alex nodded, the tears that had been close all day rising to the surface again. The places that surrounded her heart and core of her being felt raw and ravished. As if she was no longer herself and didn’t know who she was anymore. She turned her head away before John could see her eyes, wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand as soon as he looked away.

  The blacksmith’s shop was dark and empty as John suspected. They dismounted and led their horses to the back door. It was locked tight. “Here, hold the reins. I think I can pry one of the boards loose.”

  Alex shivered in the dim light holding the horses while John pried up some nails with a flat rock. After a few minutes, he had removed several boards from the door, leaving enough space for him to crawl through. From the inside he unlocked the door and swung it open. “Hurry. Bring the horses through here.”

  They worked together to light some candles and search the surroundings. Svein had two back rooms, one a living space for himself with a narrow bed, a table and chairs, a cupboard, and another smaller fireplace than the massive forge in the blacksmith-shop area. The other room was a narrow stable with hay and a water trough, though little water was in it.

  John picked up a bucket. “I’ll go to the well for water. The horses can eat some of this hay. See if you can find anything for us to eat.”

  Alex nodded, eyes downcast, and worked on lighting the fire in the living quarters. After he left she rummaged around in the cupboard hoping Svein had some food stores. She would leave some coins on the table for payment. Distracting her leaden heart with the domestic task of cooking dinner, she found some yams, a couple of turnips, and some salt pork and placed it on the table. She could slice the vegetables and when John returned with some water, throw it all in a soup pot to cook. The salt pork would give it a nice flavor.

  As she was thinking this, she saw a small desk and chair in the corner. A thought streaked across her mind. What if she wasn’t pregnant and didn’t have to marry John? What if John had, for some strange reason, undressed but hadn’t touched her? Neither of them could really remember. What if it wasn’t too late to find out if her feelings for Gabriel were true and he might return them? What she desperately needed was time.

  She rushed to the desk and rustled through the drawers for a sheet of paper and a pen and ink pot. Svein was disorganized, ledgers and shop notes in piles and bulging from the drawers, but she finally found what she needed. She dipped the pen in the ink and paused over the page. Dare she?

  Dear Ana,

  I need your help, my friend. John and I are back in Reykjavik, and he plans to marry me before we turn ourselves over to the king’s soldiers. I have decided I do not want to marry him, at least not so soon, but he is forcing my hand. He is planning to ask you and Hans to help arrange a secret, very quiet wedding, but I can’t go through with it. I thought, perhaps, a sham wedding with a fake minister and papers. If you could arrange that, I would owe you a debt forever. Trust me, my friend, I have a plan. I know what I am doing.

  Yours,

  Alexandria Featherstone

  She folded the paper twice and then quickly began a second letter.

  Dear Hans and Ana,

  John and I are back in Reykjavik and we need your help. We have heard about the calamities put upon the good people of Reykjavik because of me, and I would like to turn myself over to the king’s soldiers as soon as may be. However
, John thinks it wise that we marry before we do so. Can you arrange a special license and secret ceremony with a minister of the church? We are in hiding at Svein’s blacksmith shop. Please hurry.

  Yours,

  John and Alexandria

  A sound from behind her made her spin around in her chair.

  “What are you doing?” John frowned down at her.

  Alex hid the folded note under her hand. “I’ve written a note to Ana and Hans. Here,” she held it out to him, “read it.”

  John’s eyes scanned the note. “I wouldn’t have said it was my idea alone to get married, but I guess it will do. As soon as it is dark, I will take it to the inn.”

  “I will come with you.”

  “There is no need for that.”

  Alex stood and placed a hand on John’s arm, smiling up at him. “If we are to be married, you must never forget what I am. I am not the sort of woman to be left behind on a middle-of-the-night mission.” She raised her brows at him beseechingly.

  John cracked a half smile and leaned down to brush his lips against hers. “You’re right,” he murmured close to her mouth, making her stomach curl with dread. “I shouldn’t forget all the things I love about you.”

  Alex took a step back. “Did you find water? Were there many soldiers around?”

  The distraction worked. He hefted up the full bucket. “Yes and yes.”

  “I’ll take a little of that water for our supper before you give it to the horses.” They went over to the table and Alex directed John to pour some into a pot she’d found and then turned back to the vegetables. “How many soldiers did you see?”

  “At least ten. And interestingly, two of them were wearing Spanish uniforms.”

  “Spanish?” Alex stopped cutting one of the turnips. “I wonder if the Spaniards that were following us in Ireland have tracked us down here.”