The Forgiven Duke (A Forgotten Castles Novel)

by Carie, Jamie

  Within minutes he was swept onto the rocky beach. He crawled out of the water’s greedy reach, so quiet he didn’t know if the battle still raged until he turned and saw the fiery ship, sinking with men running to the highest point of the deck.

  They saw him and the other soldiers who had managed to struggle to shore and took aim. Pistol shots peppered the rock all around him, silent but deadly, turning the sand into little tufts like an invisible person had tiptoed by leaving telltale prints of death, telling him that despite the utter quiet of this battle scene, someone wanted him dead. He crawled up the shore, one of the soldiers coming to his side and helping him up.

  They ran together, a soundless bloodbath of carnage behind them.

  A soundless and terrified town in front of them.

  God help us. Had it worked?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The sky lit up from behind Alex’s closed lids.

  She tried to shake it away . . . a dream . . . She shook her head and covered her face with her pillow.

  Boom! Crash! Cracks of thunder and flashes of bright light and then utter darkness.

  She jerked awake and sat upright with a gasp. “John?” She looked over toward the other made-up cot in the room. He leapt out of bed, his torso glowing in the light from the window, pulled on his shirt, and reached for her hand. “It sounds like the town is being attacked. Come on!”

  They bolted from the blacksmith’s shop into the pale moonlight of the street, the sky lit up with streaking lines of fire, the sounds of bombs bursting with booming explosions.

  Others from all around them were coming out of their houses and shops, streaming into the street and huddling in fearful groups. “What is it? What’s happening?” Alex clung to John’s side and looked up at his face, lighting white and then shadowed by explosion after earth-rocking explosion.

  John leaned down toward her, his face tense and fearful. “I think we’re being attacked.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. We should hide you. This might be—”

  “No.” The word came from someplace deep inside her. If she had caused any part of this, then she didn’t know how she would bear it. She’d only been following her heart’s cry to find her parents. How could such a noble goal come to this?

  She took a step toward the shore and the burning, sinking ship. Dear God, everything has gone so wrong. I stopped trusting You and listening to You when I took John’s offer of marriage. I knew it wasn’t right, but now I might have to marry him. How can we be married when we’ve done nothing but deceive each other? And now others are suffering because I’ve come here. What should I do?

  She took several more steps. A sudden thought rushed through her whole being, a certainty that pounded with her heartbeat.

  “He’s here.” She said it so softly that only she heard it. “My guardian. You kept coming, didn’t you? You’re here, aren’t you?” Tears trickled down her cheeks as she gazed at a shore on fire.

  “Are you mad?” John grasped her and pulled her back. “Come back where you’ll be safe.”

  She let him pull her back toward Svein’s shop but she kept mumbling, “It’s all my fault.”

  “Alexandria!” She heard her name amidst the cries of the people.

  She turned to see Ana standing a little ways down the street outside the open door of the inn. She waved Alexandria over to her.

  Had it been only hours ago that they had slipped the letter under the door? Had she read it? Alex found no stomach for such a plan now. She hurried over to her, John right behind her.

  “Come inside!” Ana’s hand shook as she grasped hold of Alex and pulled her inside the inn. John stayed just outside the door talking to Hans.

  Ana pulled her farther away from the men and whispered in quick staccato, “The duke has come for you. He was a prisoner of the Spanish but he escaped. He and the British soldiers devised a plan to destroy the Spanish ship.”

  “The ship that is now on fire?”

  “Yes, I haven’t seen anyone since they left here, but it looks as if their plan is working. They are fighting them now.”

  “So it’s true. He came for me.”

  Ana nodded. “I read your note, but so did Hans. He is not for such a plan and I confess I don’t understand. Why would you marry John if you don’t love him?”

  Alex swallowed hard, her cheeks burning with shame. She looked away from Ana. “I–I may be with child.”

  She said it so low but Ana heard. “I see.”

  “I don’t think you do. It was a mistake, an accident. He, I think he forced me, in a way.”

  Ana turned her face away. “Oh, dear. He seemed like such a good man. I can hardly believe it.”

  “I know. He is a good man. He just felt desperate . . . to have me . . . and my fortune. But in his heart, I know he is a good man.”

  “You have forgiven him then?”

  “No . . . possibly . . . I don’t know! I hardly know how I feel. But I have not been forthright in my dealings with him either. We have both done things to regret.”

  “If you can forgive him, then perhaps your marriage will be successful. Forgiveness is a cornerstone in any marriage, I think.”

  “But there is one other thing and it breaks my heart, Ana.”

  “What is it?” Ana took her hand and squeezed it.

  “I think I was meant for another. I think I love another man.”

  Ana’s brows drew together in the shared moment of heartbreak and then understanding dawned in her eyes. “The duke?”

  Tears filled Alex’s eyes as she nodded. “We’ve ruined everything.”

  Ana pulled her into her arms and patted her back. “We will pray and trust God. He will show you the way.”

  “I am unworthy of God’s help.”

  “We all fall short. We are all unworthy. Only Christ was worthy, you know this?”

  “Yes.” Alex took a long breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I confess my sin and have prayed for forgiveness for taking charge of my own life, for a lying and deceitful heart, for wanting my will at any cost, for demanding my own way over trusting God’s way. And He has not forsaken me, Ana. I can feel His presence and His love for me, even when I went off the path and told John I would marry him.”

  “He hears you and forgives you. He will help you find a way through this with John. Just continue to trust Him. Now, let us go back to the men and wait and see what happens.”

  Alex stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You said the duke escaped and is now with the British soldiers?”

  “He is leading them. He came up with the plan to destroy the men who were looking for you. He was very weak when I saw him. These Spaniards that are after you . . . they have done terrible things to him. But he was very strong in spirit when he spoke of you, of finding you and protecting you.”

  “What if he is killed out there?” Alex whispered. “I could never forgive myself.”

  “I do not think he will fail.”

  “Thank you, Ana. For telling me this and being my friend. I think . . . I know what I have to do.”

  BACK OUTSIDE ALEX SAW THAT the Spanish ship was engulfed in flames and sinking under the waves of the harbor. There was no more cannon fire, just an occasional distant shout that could be heard from the shore. Alex stood by John’s side watching for Gabriel and the British soldiers to come back into town.

  “Alex, come back to the blacksmith shop for a moment with me. I need to talk to you in private.”

  Alex looked up at John’s frowning face. “All right.” She was dreading the conversation to come, but she, too, had to tell John a few things and it would be better to tell him in a quiet place.

  “Ana, we’ll be back in a little while.”

  Ana nodded, her face tired and tense.

  Once in
the main room Alex turned toward the empty forge and stared into the cavernous, blackened hole. “Before you say anything, I need to tell you something. I have made a decision, John.”

  “What sort of decision?” John’s voice was terse.

  “I want to postpone our marriage, indefinitely.”

  “Until you know if you’re expecting, you mean. Alex, please. You have toyed with my heart too many times already. I cannot abide these games you play.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean to stop doing. From now on I promise to be honest with you.”

  “What do you mean to do? You aren’t making any sense, love.”

  Alex turned toward him. “I believe that God has provided me with a guardian, a man who is willing to risk everything, even his own life, to protect me, and in return I have not obeyed or trusted him.”

  “You’re in love with him!”

  “No!” Alex wrung her hands together. “That is, I don’t know. But as his ward I will go to him and submit myself to what he and the regent think is best.” Her voice hardened. “It is more difficult than you know to give up my search for my parents. If I weren’t at a dead end anyway, I don’t know that I could. But we will let the Duke of St. Easton decide our fate.”

  “You would tell him everything?”

  She looked at the floor as hot, pulsing shame filled her face. “Yes.”

  John took a step closer and then another. He gently grasped Alex’s upper arms. “I can’t let you do that.”

  The soft menace in his voice made Alex’s gaze fly to his face. She took a step back, but he matched her step, his hands tightening like manacles on her arms.

  “Think of it, Alex. Think what he will do to me.”

  “You don’t know. . . . We aren’t even sure anything happened!” She tried to wrench free. “Let me go!”

  “He won’t care. He’ll have me thrown into Newgate or worse. Don’t you think I saw the way he looked at you that day on Dublin’s shore? He’ll do anything to have you. That’s why I had to drug you so I could seduce you. It was my only chance, love.”

  “Stop calling me that. If you’re so afraid of him, you can leave. I won’t tell him what you did. Just go.”

  “If only it were that easy.” John came closer so his mouth was next to her ear. In a harsh whisper, his hands tightening so she made a noise of distress, he explained to her what he had really done. “Even if you are not carrying my child . . . even if you catch yourself a duke . . . don’t you think he’ll notice something is terribly wrong on your wedding night? Do you really think he’ll want such . . . damaged goods?”

  Is that what she was now? Spoiled, damaged, unworthy of any man’s love? Alex fought back tears. “Stop it. I don’t want to hear any more. Let me go. Please!”

  “Not possible. I haven’t gone to all this trouble to end up with nothing. Besides, I really do love you. If it takes the rest of our lives, I will make you believe it.”

  Alex shook her head back and forth, unable to utter another word, praying silently for help.

  “Now. There’s an attic I’ve discovered in this place. You will wait there while I determine what is going on and hire a ship to take us back to Dublin, where we will be immediately married. No more talk of confessions and dukes, do you understand?” As he talked he dragged her over to the brick forge, picked up an object that was inside a jar, and brought it around.

  She struggled against his strong chest as he hauled her up against him and shoved a cloth over her nose and mouth. Panic snaked down her spine and spread in prickles of terror. She kicked out, fought to breathe around the horrid-smelling cloth. She shuddered, her limbs growing ever heavy. No, no, no.

  God help me.

  Everything went black.

  SHE WOKE TO PITCH DARK and her head throbbing like she’d been clubbed. Thoughts flitted across her mind. Balls of fire, exploding bombs, a fiery sinking ship. John’s face. Why was he so angry? It all flooded back to her as she sat up and rubbed her head. She was in the attic. He had snapped, lost his mind, and locked her in the attic.

  She stood, her legs wobbly and unsure as she staggered around the room. There was a single window and when she pushed back the thin curtain, a little moonlight spilled across the wooden planks of the floor. She looked down at the street, seeing nothing—no movement, no people. Had they all gone to bed? What time could it be?

  She turned around and fumbled about the room, finding a door that was locked from the outside and a few blacksmith’s tools and creations strewn across the floor. Svein must use this room for storage. There were horseshoes, nails, shovels, and picks. She took up a pickax, went over to the door, and very quietly tried to pry it open. If John was sleeping downstairs, she didn’t want him to hear her and come to investigate. He might use the cloth on her again.

  After several tries, she let the heavy ax drop from her fingers and slumped to the floor. It was no use. Unless she attacked the door with the ax, splintering the wood and making a big enough hole to escape from, it wasn’t going to open. Maybe later, if she watched out of the window and saw John leave, then she could make such a racket. It was the best plan she could come up with at the moment.

  She walked back to the window, leaned her forehead against the cool glass, and closed her eyes. The pane she was leaning on moved, giving her a sudden idea. She raised the pickax and very quietly and slowly tapped at the square pane, wincing at the sound but thinking that John couldn’t possibly hear it. After several hard taps the glass cracked.

  Alex pulled up her skirt and grasped hold of the ruffled hem of her petticoat. With a mighty jerk on the seam, she ripped the fabric and smiled with success. Ripping the entire ruffle off, she had a long length of cloth that she wrapped around her fingers to act as a thick glove. With her hand protected, she pushed against the cracked glass until a piece fell to the ground outside.

  With slow and careful movements, she picked out each piece of glass, some falling outside, but mostly she was able to grasp hold of the glass slivers and stack them in a pile in the corner of the room.

  The opening was small, much too small to try to climb out of, but large enough for a white flag to fly from. If Ana saw the flag, like the one Tomas had used to signal for help, Alex was sure she would know what it was and devise a plan to rescue her. Thank God she had told Ana the truth.

  Please God, let Ana see it and not John.

  She tied one end to her wrist and let the other end flutter in the wind outside the window. She sat on the floor under the window, leaning her head against the wall and closing her eyes. She tried to stay awake. She meant to. But soon, she had slumped to the floor and was fast asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The silence revealed a new horror.

  Silent guns, silent cannon blasts, silent sailing bombs with their silent explosions—silent screams as men fell, flaming, from the deck of the ship. Vibrations all around, so loud in the silence, reaching into his core and making him feel the horrors of battle like never before.

  His other senses, heightened from the months of his affliction, recoiled in anguish as he helped load the land cannons and fire them at the flaming ship. The hot burning smells of smoke and fire and burning flesh—the taste of gunpowder on his tongue. The feel of the searing bore of the cannon, the grainy gunpowder as they poured it into the bore, the soft wad of material and then the cannon balls filled with more powder and shoved in front of it all. A flash, a boom that he could feel in waves of vibration from the ground and air all around him, a cloud of smoke that filled his lungs until they spasmed, each breath an agony, and then the cheers he saw on the faces of the soldiers as it hit its mark. The gruesome sights of battle played out in slow motion, unreal and yet too real by the absence of sound.

  Gabriel stood on the beach and watched the last burning embers of the ship sink under the surface of the wat
er. His men spread out across the rocky beach, rifles ready in case any of the floating bodies decided to try to struggle up on shore. He fell to his knees and coughed, rubbing his face with blackened hands.

  They’d won.

  Alexandria was safe. He could take her home now. When he found her, that is. He should be thanking God for their victory. So why did he feel so wretched? Why did he grieve the lost lives of his enemy?

  He stayed there, in the rocky sand, on his knees praying and grieving for a long time. The men dispersed, going back into town to celebrate, leaving only a small troupe to guard the area in shifts all through the night. Gabriel started to rise and go with them but found that he couldn’t get up. His legs were too weak. He couldn’t seem to move.

  He sank back down to the ground and lay there for a while, resting and breathing, not caring if he slept the night through in the open or not. He thought of Ryan, grief stabbing at his stomach. How had the man, such a good man, gotten mixed up in all this? Bad luck? A senseless death added to all the other senseless things in this world around him. Gabriel prayed God would reward him in heaven. He prayed God’s plan for every life really did make sense.

  He felt a nudge and turned his head toward it. Montague stood over him, holding out a hand and motioning that he would help him up.

  “Oh, very well.” Gabriel let him, knowing that he needed water and decent shelter from the cold wind for the night if he was to survive.

  He stood and took a few wavering steps. Montague reached out and started to support him with his arm around Gabriel’s waist. “I can do it.” Gabriel shrugged him off, embarrassed and harassed. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I just need some rest.”

  Montague bowed, seeming to understand his need to be alone, but Gabriel could feel him watch his progression for a long time as he stumbled back into town.