Secret Thunder
Page 34
"He pulled out this knife," Matfrid said. "I didn't expect it. I mean, he'd been actin'... well... a bit off. Wrong. But I didn't think much of it. Then out comes this knife. I tried to get him to put it away. Then he starts hollerin' at me. And I see his arm goin' back and forth, and these flashes, like..." Her hand drifted up to touch her scars. "I didn't even feel it at first. I saw the blood on him, and thought he was cutting himself. Then I realized he was cutting me, and I started screaming."
The hall was filled with the low buzz of conversation.
"They pulled him off me," Matfrid said, "and gave me two shillings, and left. I never seen any of them again." She glanced toward Orrik. "Till now."
"My husband is telling the truth about what happened in Cottwyk," Faithe said. "He was trying to protect that woman from Lord Caedmon—nothing more. Caedmon wasn't evil. He'd been very ill, and his illness affected his mind. I explained all of that in my letter."
Alberic whipped the sheet of parchment from his clerk's hand and held it out to Faithe. "This is the only letter from you that we received today—the one in which you denounce Sir Luke as—"
"Denounce him!" Crossing the hall swiftly, Faithe snatched the letter from Alberic and stared at it in outrage. "I didn't write this. I never would have written this."
She looked toward Orrik; so did Alberic and the soldiers who comprised the jury.
Orrik pressed himself against the stone wall and licked his lips nervously. "I did it for you, Faithe."
"You wrote this and pretended it came from me?"
"I did it for you! For you!"
Faithe shook her head. "Oh, Orrik."
"Am I to understand," Alberic ground out, "that this man" —he pointed to Orrik— "forged that letter and presented it to the court as genuine?"
Orrik needed no translator to comprehend the sheriff's rage. "'Twas the only way!" he insisted, moving sideways along the wall toward the door. "The only way! I had to protect her! 'Twas up to me!"
"Guards." Alberic pointed to Orrik. His men leapt on the bailiff, pinioning his hands behind him. "I knew you Saxons were a devious lot, but this is outrageous. You've made a fool out of me and a mockery of this court, and I intend to see that you pay with your life."
"Please," Faithe implored the sheriff, "he thought he was helping me. I beg you to be merciful."
"Mercy in this case," Alberic said, "would be a swift execution, with no preliminaries. That is the most generous punishment I feel disposed to mete out."
Faithe looked stricken. "Could you not perhaps... imprison him, or—"
"I'd rather hang than putrefy in some Norman prison!" Orrik declared.
Shaking her head slowly, Faithe took a step toward the man who'd been, for most of her life, like a father to her. "Why, Orrik?" she said, her voice quavering with emotion. "Why did you force me to choose between you and my husband? I begged you not to. I loved you. I didn't want this to happen, but you doomed yourself."
"'Twas these greedy, murdering Norman bastards who doomed me," he spat out. "These whoresons have doomed all of us. They seized our country and ravished it, and that was bad enough, but when they took you, my little girl, my wee Faithe, and gave you to that bloodthirsty son of a—"
"That's enough, Saxon!" Alberic interjected. "If you want a quick death, you'll hold your tongue." His attention turned to Luke. For a long moment the two men regarded each other in eloquent silence.
Luke had been vindicated, thanks to Faithe. There was nothing to be done now but release him. The sheriff's dark gaze and clenched fists attested to his displeasure at that prospect, but in the end he simply turned to his guards and muttered, "Remove Sir Luke's restraints. He's free to go."
One of the guards produced a key and unlocked Luke's manacles. "Don't let him go!" Orrik exclaimed as the guards dragged him toward the cellar. "Are you mad?"
Flinging the shackles aside, Luke crossed to Faithe and gathered her in his arms, murmuring her name and kissing her hair.
"I did it for you!" Orrik screamed to Faithe as he was wrestled into the stairwell. "Did you want to be bound in marriage to the Black Dragon?"
"The Black Dragon doesn't exist," she replied. "My husband is Luke of Hauekleah, and I'm taking him home now."
Epilogue
May 1068: Hauekleah
"This way," Luke whispered, guiding Faithe by her hand through the darkened woods.
"Why are you whispering?" Faithe asked. "Everyone's gone home by now.
It was almost dawn; the last of the May Day celebrants had long since retired for the night. Luke had insisted on waiting until the woods were empty before bringing Faithe out here. Nevertheless, he'd been surprisingly eager to do so; in fact, it had been his idea.
"This is it." He led her into a small clearing, silvery with moonlight and the faint, luminous promise of daybreak. New grass and spring wildflowers scented the air. Birds chattered raucously all around them.
Luke unpinned his mantle and spread it on the grass, then urged her to lie down with him. Gathering her in his arms, he kissed her deeply; she returned the kiss with joyous passion. He caressed her with unhurried hands, moving her wrapper aside to cup a breast through her shift. She glided her hands beneath his shirt, reveling in his warmth and strength, so familiar to her now, yet still so intoxicating. Had it only been a year since he'd come to Hauekleah—the victorious invader claiming his war prize?
The Black Dragon was gone, along with Caedmon. The past, with all its pain and sorrow, lay dead and buried. The future was curled up in Faithe's belly, waiting to be born.
She gasped and pressed his palm to her stomach, just beginning to swell with their child. Another faint kick thudded against his hand. He gasped, and then laughed delightedly, along with her.
Closing a hand around his neck to draw him nearer, she kissed him, then reached down to untie his chausses.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "What of the baby? Now that I've felt him move, I can't help but think we'd be disturbing him if we—"
"The baby," she replied as she pulled him down on top of her, "had better get used to this. Because I have no intention of giving it up. I'll never stop loving you... with my body or with my heart."
"Nay," he murmured as they joined together, moving as one to a rhythm as ancient as time itself, "don't ever stop. And neither will I."
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Author's Note
Unlike most of my books, the story for Secret Thunder came to me fully formed, in a burst of inspiration that I couldn't ignore. I was sitting in bed reading, and something started me thinking about dark heroes. Within minutes I'd conjured up Luke de Périgueux, a bloodthirsty Norman knight with a dreadful secret.
Faithe materialized with the same kind of preternatural ease. To me, she personifies the pluck and adaptability of the English people as they survived centuries of invasion and assimilation of foreign peoples. Like her ancestors before her, she will do whatever it takes to preserve her home and way of life—even to the extent of giving herself in marriage to a conquering soldier with a ferocious reputation.
Secret Thunder, a story in which a woman's love redeems a man who's come to view himself as a monster, is very much a Beauty and the Beast tale. While writing it, I was truly swept away into the events of the story. I hope your reading experience was equally absorbing.
As I wrote Secret Thunder, I became increasingly intrigued by the amiable young Alex—and more than a little curious about those scars. Who was the mysterious woman who'd earned him that beating at seventeen, and what would happen if they met again? The book that resulted from these ruminations is Wild Wind, in which Alex is thrown together again with Nicolette de St. Clair, the object of his consuming adolescent passion. Desperate for the heir he hasn't been able to father, Nicolette's dissolute husband makes a shocking request of Alex.
Table of Contents
Secret Thunder
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
; Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Author's Note