Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose

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Rogues to Lovers: Legend of the Blue Rose Page 23

by Laurel O'Donnell


  “Thomas!”

  The young boy whirled to find Dumount approaching him, a small cat held in his hands.

  Ella froze, shocked. How had he found the cat? Why would he find the cat? Was that what he was searching for in the garden?

  Thomas’s eyes lit with gratitude and surprise as he reached for the black and white cat.

  Ella scowled. Why had Dumount found the cat? For what purpose? Had Thomas asked him for help?

  Thomas hugged the cat tightly.

  Dumount spoke to the boy, who bobbed his head in agreement.

  Thomas suddenly launched himself at Dumount, embracing him.

  Startled, Ella stood frozen. It was a strange sight. This small boy holding a black and white squirming cat while squeezing a tall knight. The image was so warm and… Could she be wrong about Dumount? Wrong?! Wrong that he killed her brother? Wrong that he was casting a spell over everyone but her? She shook her head.

  Thomas pulled away and raced back toward the keep, toward her. He ran by her and Ella watched the child hug the squirming cat tightly. It was kind of Dumount to help him find the cat. Yet, kind was not a word Ella would have used to describe him. She looked up to see Dumount staring at her.

  Ella locked gazes with Dumount. She lifted her chin, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. What had he said to the boy?

  Graden stared down at the rose bush growing in the corner of the blacksmith’s shop. He would have to ask Ella about the blue rose. Perhaps she had found it. Perhaps she could grow it. He shook his head. She would never tell him the truth. If she ever found out the blue rose was what he was searching for, she would make sure he never found it.

  “There you are!”

  He turned to see Miles coming toward him.

  “What are you doing out here? We were going hunting.” Miles looked down at the rose bush. “Oh, heavens above! Please tell me that you do not care for those weeds! Ella rambles on about them all of the time!”

  Graden glanced back at the bush. It was full of red roses. “She has an amazing ability to grow them.”

  “They are everywhere. Before I left, it wasn’t this bad. Now, the damned weeds have taken over the castle!”

  Graden knelt before the rose bush. “They are interesting flowers. I don’t know much about growing them, but see this one?” He pointed to a five petaled rose. “The five wounds of Christ.”

  Miles peered over his shoulder. He raised his eyebrows. “That must be good luck.”

  “Not all roses have five petals. Some have more.”

  “You and Ella should get together. You can talk roses all day. Are we hunting?”

  Graden nodded. He was going hunting, but only to search for the blue rose. Miles didn’t need to know that. He stared at the red rose for a long moment. “Have you ever seen any other colored roses?”

  “You mean other than red?” He shrugged. “White.”

  “Has Ella grown any roses that were not red?”

  “I don’t know,” Miles answered. “You’d have to ask her.”

  Graden scowled, thinking about their last meeting. He stood, dusting off his leggings.

  Miles laughed. “You’re not afraid of her, are you?”

  Graden chuckled, but it was hardly convincing. “Afraid, no. But I can’t help noticing she has no fondness for me.”

  Miles threw an arm about Graden’s shoulders. “Give her time, old boy. She’ll come to see you as I do.”

  Unfortunately, Graden had a feeling he was running out of time.

  Ella was speaking to the cook about the evening meal. When they had settled on duck, the cook left to prepare. Ella turned to look out a window into the inner ward below. It was lively with villagers and workers moving about. Her gaze shifted to the outer ward.

  Beneath the morning sun, two horses charged toward the outer gatehouse, kicking up dust in their wake as they left the castle. She recognized her brother and beside him, Dumount. His dark hair blew in the wind. She couldn’t help but notice that his command of his horse was impeccable. They must be going hunting.

  Miles had always liked to hunt with Edwin. Now, Dumount was taking his place. The thought angered her. It should be Edwin hunting with Miles, not the man who had killed him. She longed to know the secret Graden was keeping and she was certain the witch that lived on the borders of his lands had the key. It was perfect timing. She headed for the stables. She had to speak to the witch. Only she knew the entire truth. And if Ella could discover the truth, perhaps she would have what she needed to turn Miles against Dumount and have the murderer thrown out of her castle.

  A Knight Amid Thorns

  Laurel O'Donnell

  Chapter Four

  The sun was setting as Ella approached the small shack. She had ridden the entire day, escorted by an elderly knight named Sir Tristonay, who now waited by the horses to accompany her home. He had not expressed his unease or displeasure, but the way he stood staring at the shack with a furrow in his wrinkled brow, his gray mustache turned down in a frown, and his hand on the pommel of his sword, said volumes.

  Ella moved to the shack, eyeing it cautiously and with some doubt. A witch? She didn’t believe in witches, but there were enough stories to make her hesitate. Witches could turn you into stone; witches could cast spells on you. All fabrications she didn’t believe, but that came to mind nonetheless. Finally, she drew herself up and called, “Good eve!”

  When no one answered, she stepped up to the door. “Good eve,” she called again. She swiped the cotton fabric covering the doorway aside and peered inside. A table stood in the middle of the room; herbs and bottles lay in piles on the top. A stone and mortar dish rested near the bottles. A hearth filled the wall behind the table. A small black cauldron bubbled over the warm fire.

  Ella stepped hesitantly into the room. Against a wall beside the hearth was a large shelf of pottery jars. A small mattress lay against the wall to the right.

  She heard a noise behind her and spun.

  A middle-aged woman with long blonde hair was entering the cruck. She carried a bucket with two hands.

  “Good eve,” Ella greeted. Instinctively, she rushed up to her. “Please let me help.” She eased the bucket from her hands.

  “Ahhh. Thank you,” the woman said.

  Ella’s gaze swept her. She was just a woman. This was no witch. “Where would you like it?”

  “Near the hearth.”

  Ella carried the bucket to the hearth. As she set it down, something within the bucket sloshed. She looked down to see what appeared to be red liquid inside. Was that blood? She was glad the bucket was on the floor because she would have dropped it in shock otherwise. “What is that?”

  “I should ask you…what are you doing here?”

  “Oh.” Ella wiped her hands on her dress. “I’ve come to ask you some questions.”

  “Questions?” The woman looked up at her.

  For the first time, Ella saw her white eyes behind the strands of blonde hair that hung over her face. She was blind! No wonder villagers thought she was a witch and were afraid of her! Compassion filled Ella. She was no witch. She was an outcast. Ella quickly looked away. “About Graden Dumount.”

  The silence stretched.

  Ella finally glanced at the woman again to find her staring at her. The woman reached her hands forward until they touched the end of the table. She felt along the table using it as a guide to the stone and mortar. Then she turned and walked toward the hearth.

  Ella looked around the room, noticing only one straw mattress. “Do you live here alone? Do you have help?”

  The woman chuckled. “I doubt anyone would live with me. Most are too afraid to even visit.” She moved directly to the cauldron and began to stir it.

  Ella scowled, not liking her answer. The woman was alone and helpless if robbers happened along.

  “You have questions?” the woman prompted.

  Ella walked to the table, scanning it. Leaves, herbs, and plants all lay in piles on the table. “Ma
ny years ago, did Graden Dumount come to you for help with his ailing father?”

  “Many have come to me for help. Just as you are doing. I cannot remember all of them.”

  “He would have been a young boy then. Maybe twelve summers.”

  She paused her stirring of the cauldron to consider this quietly. “Aye. Yes! He came. Just a child, really. Thin. He smelled of rain.”

  “What did you give him?”

  The woman turned to her. “Why do you want to know? His father recovered, didn’t he?”

  Ella’s suspicions were confirmed. “At what price? What did you demand in return?” She leaned forward to touch the table in her curiosity.

  The woman cocked her head. She took a step toward Ella, inhaling, obviously intent on getting Ella’s scent. Her white eyes focused on Ella intensely as she leaned forward across the table to inhale again. Her mouth opened in a gasp. “You smell of roses!”

  Confused, Ella pulled back. She lifted her arm to smell her sleeve. She couldn’t smell roses.

  “Do you have many roses?” the woman asked enthusiastically. “What colors are they? Do they bloom? How many petals?”

  Shocked and a bit overwhelmed by her sudden interest, Ella shook her head and opened her mouth to answer.

  But before she could utter a word, the woman had moved around the table and stood before her, reaching out to her. “I know you. Eleanor Rames.”

  A tremor of unease shot through Ella as the woman’s hand darted out to capture a lock of her hair and brought it to her nose. “How do you know me?” Ella asked.

  “The roses,” she whispered reverently, almost as if she were lost in a dream. “I can help you.”

  “Help me? I’m only here for answers.”

  “I can help you.” The woman released the lock of Ella’s hair. She gently stroked Ella’s cheek sympathetically. “There is sadness in you. I can help you get rid of that sadness.”

  Ella’s breath caught. As if her words brought it forth, Ella felt the weight of guilt over Edwin’s death return and her chest tightened in agony.

  “I can make it go away,” she whispered.

  “You can bring Edwin back?” Ella asked. She knew it was impossible. Edwin had been dead for five long years. And no one could bring the dead back to life. But the thought jumped immediately to her mind. She ached to see her brother again and tell him how sorry she was.

  The woman cocked her head in compassion. “I can make your sadness disappear.”

  Ella felt tremors of temptation run down her spine. She wanted her sadness to disappear. She wanted Edwin back. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was. What if this was her only chance? “What do you mean? How can you make my sadness disappear?”

  “I can make you feel happy again.”

  “How? What will you do?”

  “Dumount is the cause of your sadness.”

  Stunned, Ella stared into her white eyes. In those eyes she saw Graden Dumount and realized the woman was right. He had killed Edwin. He had wormed his way into her life by befriending Miles, a way that felt like betrayal on her brother’s part. Ella wanted Dumount gone and her family back. It was all she ever thought about, all she desired. She felt something moving down her cheek and wiped at it. She was surprised to find her cheek moist. “What will you do?”

  “I will make your sadness disappear.”

  Ella wanted Dumount gone, out of her life, punished for what he had done to Edwin. She dropped her chin to her chest, unable to resist the pull of the woman’s words. “What do you want in return? My soul?”

  The woman chuckled. “No, dear. No. I want only one thing.”

  Graden stood, holding the reins of the horse, staring at the shack. When he and Miles had returned from hunting to find Ella gone, he knew immediately where she went. She wanted answers. Plus, his instinctive need to warn her not to go to the witch, his fierce desire to keep her away, only fueled her curiosity. He knew where she was. He had ridden hard, and now stood staring at the shack as if he were twelve summers again. He wrestled with the desire to let her find out what he had done and the need to keep her from making the same mistake. He wanted to storm into the shack, grab her hand and pull her from the witch’s clutches. Yet, he knew she would fight him. She hated him. She wanted to punish him. He could not save her.

  Ella emerged from the shack, her face pale.

  Graden instinctively took a step toward her, drawing her attention. When her eyes alighted on him, her mouth dropped open and a bloom of red anger spread across her cheeks.

  Graden straightened, mustering all his defenses for a battle. He approached her. “Did you receive all your answers?” he asked.

  “Were you spying on me?”

  Graden shook his head. “I thought you might be in trouble.”

  Ella brushed past him. “Where is Sir Tristonay?”

  “I sent him back to the castle. He looked exhausted.” He followed her to the horses, his boots crunching on gravel. “What did you do? Why did you come here?”

  “You’re right. I came for answers. About you. I already told you that I wanted to learn everything I could about you.”

  Dread climbed Graden’s spine in tingles. “Have you found your answers?”

  “I know why you came here. I know that she gave you something to cure your father. There is still only one question I have. Why did you kill my brother?”

  Graden stared at her for a long moment. It wouldn’t matter what he told her, she would always see him as a monster. “She doesn’t have that answer.”

  “Apparently only two people have that answer. And one of them was killed.” She grabbed the reins of her mare.

  “Did you make a deal with her?”

  Ella hesitated. “If I did, it’s no concern of yours.”

  She was right. It should be no concern of his. Yet, there was something about this little whirlwind of a woman. Something that made him want to shield her and protect her. He feared he was too late. “What did she demand as payment?”

  She turned, her gaze slowly moving over him.

  He silently prayed she had not made a deal with the witch. He would not wish this unending search on anyone. He had given his word to the witch to find the flower, an oath of honor. He was certain that if Ella had made a deal with the witch, she would keep her vow and search for the rose, as he had done. For as long as it took.

  She shook her head. “Again, it’s of no concern to you.” She pulled herself up onto the horse.

  Graden stood for a moment, unmoving. “I’ve heard tell that all she demands as payment is one thing. One thing that is more important to her than anything else.”

  Ella glanced down at him.

  “A blue rose.”

  Ella dismounted in the inner ward of Castle Rames, leaving Graden alone. She felt his eyes on her as she walked up the three stairs into the keep. The sky above was still dark and there was little movement in the inner ward. Most of the castle slept. She was not tired and headed for the gardens. Working in the gardens relaxed her. She could clear her mind there. There was always work to be done, pruning and planting. Time to think.

  A blue rose. The payment the woman had demanded of her. How had Graden known? Had the woman demanded the same payment from him all those years ago? The word, the image of a single blue rose, echoed in her mind the entire ride home.

  As she entered the gardens, she saw a tiny tush wiggling about beneath one of her rose bushes. She watched him, confused. Thomas was ducking his head and searching beneath the bush. “Have you lost your cat again, Thomas?”

  Thomas emerged from beneath the rose bush, startled. He brushed at his dirty tunic. “No, milady.” He had a scratch on his cheek, probably from the thorns of the rose bush.

  “I’m glad Sir Dumount helped you find your cat.” And that was the truth. The memory of Graden handing the cat to Thomas came to her mind again. Strangely, tenderness stirred in her.

  “Aye,” Thomas agreed and turned away to look beneath another rose bu
sh. “I was lucky he spotted her in the tree.”

  Lucky. Ella scowled as Thomas fidgeted beneath the rose bush. “What are you doing under there? There are many thorns. You –”

  “I’m helping Lord Dumount,” Thomas exclaimed.

  Ella’s scowl deepened. “Helping him with what?”

  Thomas poked his head from beneath the rose bush. “He found my cat, so I am helping him find his rose.”

  “His rose?” she repeated, prickles dancing along the nape of her neck. “Why would his rose be in my garden?”

  “It’s a special rose,” Thomas said. “A blue rose. He said he lost it and if I could help him find it –”

  A blue rose! Graden had gotten the cure for his father from the witch and in return he searched for a blue rose for her! Was that why he killed Edwin? For information about the blue rose?

  A Knight Amid Thorns

  Laurel O'Donnell

  Chapter Five

  Graden had to find the rose before Ella. He knew he was right now. All the witch wanted was that damned blue rose. While Ella hadn’t told him outright, he had seen the truth in her eyes, the way her beautiful orbs widened when he mentioned the flower. How many people were looking for it? He had to find it. He had to find it before all the rest, Ella included. His search had taken him this long and if the rose was so elusive, he couldn’t risk someone finding it before him. If they did, he would spend the rest of his life searching for another with no hope of a family of his own or a life.

  Graden had stopped in the keep and replenished his supplies of bread and ale before hurrying toward the stables. He made it halfway across the empty courtyard when he heard her voice.

  “Dumount!”

  He paused in the middle of the inner ward, part of him wanting to flee, part wanting to see her again, perhaps for the last time. He waited for her.

 

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