In the Shadow of the Wolf
Page 13
The bar wench looked at Lisander, not nearly as charmed by his sour demeanor. "Come to watch the festivities?"
"What festivities?"
"She's to be married," the wench said, matter-of-factly.
Lisander felt like he had been struck in the gut. It was suddenly hard to breath. Had they taken to long to return? Would she forever belong to another man? He mentally shook himself. The woman had merely said that she was to be married. She wasn't married yet, and, if he had anything to do with it, she wouldn't be marrying anyone but him, even if he had to steal her away.
"Who's the groom?" Demetrius asked, his face now a sickly pall, the news having hit him just as hard.
"The Duke of Craigmore, what owns this village," the wench said, her smile waning. "He's a terrible man, that one. Don't say as I can understand why her father agreed to marry her to that bastard, but it's said that it was decided a long time ago when she was a little girl. Argyll is titled but poor, and Craigmore is wealthy. Her father is probably just after gold."
Lisander couldn't help but agree with the crass woman. It was very likely the estate was in dire need of money, and what better way to gain a fortune than to sell your daughter? His gut churned angrily that her father could be so cold and unfeeling in arranging her marriage. That had to be the case, why else would he have done it when she was so young. She deserved better. She deserved to be with someone who loved her, who was willing to see to her welfare for the rest of her life. He knew that in human society, these things were not nearly as important as money. It was like a disease, and it took lives wherever it went, taking some lives quickly and leaving others wallowing in misery for the extent of their lives.
"We are much obliged for the news, madam," Demetrius said, nodding his head slightly in thanks.
"Might we purchase a room for the night?" Lisander asked, fishing another coin from his vest pocket.
The wench accepted the money and sashayed over to the counter, going behind it to her resting stool. "Take any room you like."
Lisander and Demetrius got up and headed to find a room. It was still early in the day, but they needed to rest for a moment. They needed to formulate a plan. The information the woman had given them changed everything. Of course, it had been foolish dreaming to believe that in all the years they had been gone that nothing had changed. The only thing that mattered, though, was Bronwyn. They would just have to devise a new strategy.
Demetrius opened the first door they came to. The room was filled with one bed. They looked at each other and then looked at the small bed. The nights were going to be very long if they had to sleep under each other.
"What say you to visiting Argyll before we rest? I must admit I am anxious to see Bronwyn," Lisander suggested.
"I thought you would never ask."
* * * *
Bronwyn knew she was avoiding the dress maker, but she couldn't help it. It was juvenile to believe that if the dress was not made then she would not have to get married, but she was still holding out hope.
Since the years that her father had announced her arranged marriage, she had pleaded with him to see reason, to find another, but the duke must have been powerful convincing, because her father had never budged on the subject. He was holding to the marriage, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Nothing except run away. She thought life estranged from her family estate, cold, hungry, destitute, would be far more appreciated than a life with her betrothed. The man was pure evil, and she detested the way he looked at her, the way he molested her with his eyes. She felt sullied every time she was in his presence and he undressed her with those dark beady eyes.
"Bronwyn," a woman's voice called, desperation evident in her tone.
Bronwyn jumped up and made a dash out of her hiding place in the garden of the courtyard. She heard the woman's footsteps on the cobbled stones at the entrance to the garden.
"Blast!" Bronwyn cursed. There was nowhere to go but out of the estate now, the woman was blocking her way back into the main part of the castle. She made a dash for the castle gate, slipping through a hallway to a small door just beside the main gate. She quickly went through the door and turned to shut it as quietly as possible behind her. When she turned around, she walked into a wall and fell back onto her ass in the grass.
A little dazed and confused from the unexpected fall, Bronwyn held her head for a second to steady her vision. When the stars began to clear, two pairs of boots came into focus. She gasped and when a man knelt down in front of her, stopping only when his face was mere inches from her own, looking down at her with the most beautiful pair of blue eyes, eyes that were disturbingly familiar. Her brain ceased function for a minute while she gazed into their depths.
Lisander extended her a hand and quickly pulled her to her feet where her unsteady legs let her land against his chest. He whispered in her ear, a smile playing about his lips, "May I help you, Bronwyn?"
"Who are you?" she stammered in confusion as she placed her hands on the stone wall of his chest and pushed away.
Lisander had to admit that he was disappointed that she didn't remember him. Of course, there was no recognition when she glanced at Demetrius either. But, then, it had been eight years since she had last seen them, and, after all, she had no idea that the tigers she had taken care of had been were tigers.