June Francis

by Convenient Wife Rebel Lady

  Owain’s smile faded. ‘You would leave us so soon?’

  ‘I have no choice in the matter. The news of events in France, which Davy has brought me, means I mustn’t delay. We both plan to leave at first light and will travel part of the road together.’

  ‘I will not ask you what this business is, but you will take care?’ said Owain. ‘We do not want to lose you again.’

  ‘You must not worry about me, Owain,’ said Jack, his expression uncompromising.

  Anna wondered if his business in France had aught to do with what had happened to him six years ago, but received the impression that questions would be unwelcome.

  ‘Then let us drink a toast to Jack,’ said Owain.

  ‘Indeed, we will,’ said Kate, smiling at her stepbrother. ‘To your good health, Jack.’ She raised her goblet.

  Anna echoed her words as she gazed at the man who had rescued her. He had been handsome before, but he was mistaken in believing she considered him ugly. There was that about his face now which went deeper than pure good looks. Suddenly she wanted to know the man behind that scarred visage. ‘This is a fine wine,’ she said, sipping the rioja.

  ‘Is it one we supplied to you, Owain?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Aye. You can trust your agents. They carried on your business as if you were still there giving them their orders,’ he replied.

  Jack agreed inwardly that they had proved their worth, but reckoned that was due to his older twin’s belief and determination that he still lived. Perhaps if he had not been so secretive about his relationship with Monique, then Matt might have been able to trace him to Arabia. But what was the use of thinking such thoughts? It was too late for regrets. He had still not told him the true reason for his abduction or about what took him to France, knowing that if he had done so, then his twin would have been furious with him and done all in his power to prevent him.

  Jack moved over to the table, which had been cleared of papers and now displayed several dishes of food. The slices of beef, cheese and bread, cakes and tartlets made his mouth water. Anna followed him and, as they helped themselves, she murmured, ‘Owain says that you were sold into slavery, Jack. I find it difficult to believe that such a thing could happen.’

  He frowned as he fixed her with a stare. ‘You believe I speak falsely?’

  She flushed. ‘No, but it seems so incredible that it could happen in a so-called civilised country.’

  ‘There are thousands taken into slavery in this world, Anna,’ he rasped. ‘Not only in France but Spain, Africa and Arabia. You find it unbelievable because those worlds are beyond your experience. Yet look at what your husband’s nephew planned for you. He would see you burn. Now that I find incredible and there are questions I would like to ask.’ He paused, before adding, ‘But it really is none of my business and you should tell Owain everything. Now, if you will excuse me.’

  She felt the colour deepen in her cheeks and came to the conclusion that the sooner Jack left the better. He had played the role of knight errant, yet now he was doubting whether she was as innocent as she had appeared. Perhaps he now believed she was a witch. She thought back to the moment when he had come to her rescue. If he had not done so, then she might not have lived to see this night through and she would always be grateful to him. But she no longer felt hungry and, draining her goblet of wine, slipped out of the parlour.

  Jack caught the glimpse of a whisk of black skirts as Anna left the room. Obviously she’d had enough of the small gathering. However caring a family, when one had lived a different life away from them, it was never easy for either party to adjust to the changes. He knew he had offended her and regretted it. He wondered what she would think of him if she knew he had murder in his heart. No doubt she would be shocked and attempt to dissuade him from such a course.

  He had sworn Davy to secrecy about his intentions—not that he had told him the absolute truth—but hopefully he could be trusted with what he did know. Jack had no desire to cause his kinfolk further worry, but it was his life and he must do what he believed was just. He knew Matt sensed his distress, but the pain of being treated as of less worth than a beast of burden had gone too deep to talk of it easily, even to his twin. His experience would always set him apart and that made him feel very alone. Perhaps that was why he sympathised so much with Anna—being accused of being a witch made her an outcast, too.

  He must stop thinking about her! Sympathy could weaken a man and result in death. During his captivity, he had immersed himself in bitterness and hatred and used any method necessary to ensure his survival. He was not proud that there had been a time when he’d had to act in ways that now made him feel ashamed. Anna would certainly not approve of his behaviour.

  Anna had no sooner left the parlour than she encountered one of the servants in the passage outside. She was a pleasant-faced woman with greying brown hair and soft hazel eyes.

  ‘I was coming to tell you that your bedchamber is ready, Lady Anna,’ she said. ‘There’s hot water if you wish to cleanse yourself from the dust of travel. Your baggage has been taken up. It is a pleasure to see you back here at Rowan.’

  ‘Thank you, Megan,’ said Anna absently. The maid had worked on her half-brother’s manor as long as she could remember.

  ‘I’m so sorry your house burned down. Yet perhaps it’s fate that has brought you here.’

  Anna was too weary and full of aches and pains to bother asking her what she meant by those last words. ‘Goodnight, Megan. I’ll manage to undress without help.’

  ‘But there is something I must—’ began Megan.

  ‘Not now.’ Anna left her behind and made her way upstairs to the bedchamber that had been hers all her growing years.

  A branch of candles had been lit and stood on a small table. It was a well-appointed room and its window looked out over the vegetable garden and the paddocks where Owain’s fine brood mares and stud horses grazed. She wondered whether to bother unpacking the few clothes she had managed to save from the fire. Perhaps just her night rail and toiletries for now, she decided. She gazed at the bed and wanted to collapse on it and sleep for hours and hours, but first she must wash. At least her gloves had protected her hands and they were reasonably clean still.

  There was a tablet of Kate’s special lavender oil soap on the stand and a thickly woven drying cloth. No doubt it had come from Bruges and had been delivered to this household by a carrier who had worked for Jack.

  She undressed, throwing her smoke-impregnated gown into a corner of the room. She stood naked a moment, inspecting her bruised arms and scratched breast. A shadow darkened her eyes and a tear fell on her cheek as she remembered those terrifying moments in her bedchamber. Whose face had been behind that devil’s mask?

  Should she do as Jack had said and tell Owain everything that had happened that day? Forewarned was forearmed; if her half-brother was to represent her and challenge Will at the local court, then perhaps he should know that, besides accusing her of adultery, Will had said that she was a murderess and witch, as well. Due to the difference in their ages, Owain had been more of a father to her than a brother. Both he and Kate deserved her honesty, but the accusation against her mother continued to nag at her.

  Anna sighed, taking her night rail from a saddlebag. She sniffed the garment and discovered that it, too, stank of smoke. Should she dress again and go and ask Kate might she borrow a nightgown? Perhaps not. Anna was in no mood for a heart to heart with the woman who had been as a mother to her. She felt guilty for feeling the way she did, so instead she thought of Jack.

  His refusal to talk about his time spent in captivity spoke to her of great suffering. How would she have coped with being a slave? Of course, wives were to some degree considered chattels by their husbands, but this could not compare with slavery such as Jack had experienced. Giles, who had been almost twice her age, had adored and spoilt her. She missed him still, but time had lessened her grief. He had left her well provided for, and even if she were to remarry she w
ould not lose by it. She was only twenty-three, so still young enough to bear children. The thought caused her a mixture of anguish and hope. Although something had died inside her when she had lost Joshua, she knew that she still had more love to give. But not now—not yet.

  She put on her night rail and then unpinned her red-gold hair so that it rippled down her back. As she combed it, her mind drifted over all that had happened that day. Would she ever be rid of the images of Will’s hissing voice accusing her of adultery and witchcraft, of that devil’s mask, her house aflame, poor Marjorie dead and Jack plucking her from danger? She wondered what thoughts lay behind those fine steely blue-grey eyes of his. She wished she might help him. After all, he had come to her aid when she was in dire peril.

  Anna finished combing her hair and then knelt by her bedside and prayed for mercy, forgiveness, guidance and protection from evil. She was just about to climb into bed when there came a knock. For a moment she thought of pretending she was asleep, but curiosity sent her over to the door.

  She pressed her ear against the wood. ‘Who is it?’

  There was no answer.

  The knock came again.

  ‘Who is it?’ she repeated.

  Again no answer, but she could hear heavy breathing. Her heart began to thud. What should she do? Perhaps it was the children playing games with her? She flung open the door, only to be confronted by an adult male holding the devilish mask up to his face. The light from a nearby wall lantern shone on his flaxen hair. She caught her breath as he lowered the mask and the face behind it looked even more terrifying in the flickering light.

  ‘Well, so-called sister of mine, have you never wondered why your hair is the colour it is?’ Hal sneered. ‘Your mother, Gwendolyn, had a lover!’

  Anna started backwards, feeling sick inside. She could not believe that a person she had known all her life could treat her like this, even though they had never been the best of friends. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she croaked.

  ‘Believe what you want, but it’s true. Owain and Kate lied to you. You’ve bad blood in you, Anna.’

  ‘Why do you torment me so?’ she whispered.

  His mouth twisted in an ugly smile. ‘Because you were born in sin. Your father was a Frenchman, the Comte d’Azay, and you’re his daughter.’

  Anna felt as if ice suddenly encased her heart. ‘It—it can’t be true,’ she stammered, although there had been a time when she had asked Owain whether they had kin with red-gold hair. He had hinted that her great-grandmother had hair the same colour as hers and she had believed him.

  ‘That’s silenced you, hasn’t it?’ sneered Hal, his eyes alighting on the curtain of hair that rippled down over her breasts.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ she gasped. ‘I would have naught to do with you.’

  ‘By the devil, you’re lovely.’ He spoke in a hoarse voice and reached out a hand towards her.

  She noticed the teethmarks on his wrist and that was proof enough for her that Hal and the man who had attacked her in her bedchamber really were one and the same person. ‘How dare you! Haven’t you hurt and insulted me enough?’ she raged, knocking his hand aside.

  ‘Insult you? I’m the only one in this family who’s told you the truth.’ Hal sounded quite indignant. ‘The rest have been living a lie for years. You’re no kin to the ap Rowans. Your mother bewitched and killed my father with an enchantment. You’ve inherited her power and cast a spell on me. If you won’t break it, then you must accept the consequences.’ He lunged at her.

  Anna backed into her bedchamber and tried to slam the door shut. He was too quick for her and, brushing her hair aside, seized the neck of her night rail with rough hands and tore it. She screamed.

  ‘Shush, shush,’ he muttered, placing a hand over her mouth. ‘We don’t want anyone coming, do we?’

  ‘God’s blood! What do you think you’re doing?’ bellowed a familiar voice.

  Hal was dragged away from her. Anna sagged against the doorjamb and watched him struggle in Jack’s hold, cursing him and blaming her for being a witch and a Jezebel for the way he had acted. She watched as Jack closed his mouth with a punch to the jaw and sent him crashing into the opposite wall before he slumped to the floor.

  Jack licked his bloodied knuckles and glanced at Anna. She fumbled for the torn silk to cover her bare breasts. He could not look away. Such perfect breasts. It seemed an eternity since he had found comfort and pleasure in a woman. Guilt twisted his gut and now he felt angry with Anna for making him desire her. Then he looked into her terrified face.

  ‘My thanks, Jack,’ she said hoarsely, concealing herself behind the door, the full horror of what might have been suddenly registering with her. ‘I have not spoken of it, but I deem it was Hal who attacked me in my own house before the lightning struck,’ she added.

  A groan from the man on the floor drew Jack’s attention and he knelt beside him. A curse escaped Hal. ‘How could you torment Anna in such a way, you cur?’ demanded Jack.

  ‘She has bad blood in her. Murderer’s—adulterer’s—witch’s blood,’ snarled Hal.

  ‘You lie!’ cried Anna, wrapping the bed coverlet about her and coming out into the passage.

  ‘Enough of this,’ growled Jack. ‘Get back inside your bedchamber, Anna. I’ll deal with him.’

  She gripped his arm. ‘Get him out of my sight. I don’t want to ever see him again.’ She returned to her bedchamber and closed and bolted the door behind her.

  Jack yanked Hal to his feet. ‘Take a word of advice from me, you cur, and stay away from Anna,’ he growled.

  Hal cursed him. ‘Who are you to give me advice? You know naught of Anna or what went on here years ago.’

  ‘Whatever happened, it is no excuse for your behaviour towards a lady, so just do what I say,’ warned Jack, ‘or I will kill you.’

  ‘You just want her for yourself,’ accused Hal.

  Jack didn’t demean himself by denying Hal’s words, but his eyes were cold chips of ice. ‘Take my advice and leave. Owain is not going to be pleased with you when he hears of this.’

  Hal glared at him. ‘You’ll regret your interference in my affairs.’

  Jack laughed. ‘You are a fool if you would threaten me.’ He drew his sword and dug its point in Hal’s large stomach. ‘Now move!’ He spun him round and now the point was in his back.

  Still cursing him, Hal did as he was told, stumbling along the passage. Jack brought up the rear, determined to see him off Rowan Manor, relieved to be leaving in the morning. Twice he had embroiled himself in Anna’s affairs. There must not be a third time.

  Chapter Three

  Anna stepped away from the other side of the door and sank on to the bed. She felt deeply embarrassed that for a second time Jack had rescued her from the attentions of a man who had levelled such terrible accusations at her. Some men might have believed there was an element of truth in them, especially when one of her accusers had known her since her birth. She felt sick with the fear that her mother truly had committed adultery with a French lover and that she, herself, was a bastard child. Had Jack overheard that earlier part of Hal’s accusation? She thought not—surely he would have interfered earlier if he had done so.

  Anna closed her eyes tightly, trying to recall the name of the Frenchman. He was a Comte and his name begun with a D…d’Azay! That’s what Hal had called him and she could not deny there had been a ring of truth in his voice. Besides, she did not believe that Hal could have conjured up a French aristocrat for her mother’s lover? If he had wanted to simply blacken her name, surely it would have been more believable to name an English or Welsh man? Anna did not want to believe in this French aristocrat lover, but she did. Which meant Owain and Kate and others had lied to her. It pained her that they had kept the truth from her all these years, but it did not hurt as much as the realisation that they were not kin to her. Their blood did not run in her veins. She was no real member of their family. She was alone. Truly an outcast.

  She
shivered and climbed into bed and snuggled beneath the covers. Tears trickled down her cheeks. How could she stay here, knowing that she did not belong? She certainly had no intention of returning to Fenwick and was uncertain if she would ever go back there again. Obviously Hal and Will were in cahoots with each other and determined to destroy her. She felt deeply hurt that two men she had trusted could behave so wickedly towards her. Did they really believe the accusations levelled at her? Or had they spoken in such a way purely to undermine her confidence and strength of will to help them get what they wanted from her?

  What was she to do? She felt desperately unhappy, worried and confused. How could she make a sensible decision whilst in such a state of mind? Oh, God, why did you have to take Giles and my son from me? Was it because my sins are manifold due to my having been conceived in an adulterous relationship? What is your purpose in punishing me? How can I absolve myself from this sin? Or is it my parents’ sin that needs absolving and only I can do it? She desperately wanted to know and was reminded of the psalmist in Holy Scripture who cried to God from the depths of his being to be rescued from the pit of despair.

  There came a knock on the door, causing her to start up. Who could it be this time? Jack? Her emotions immediately ran riot. Was there some truth in Hal’s accusation that Jack wanted her for himself? He had not denied it. Perhaps he believed what Hal had said and deemed she would welcome him into her bed?

  Her head began to throb.

  ‘Lady Anna, it’s Megan. I have your sleeping draught here.’

  Anna’s relief was overwhelming and her suspicions that Jack might be devious faded. She tumbled out of bed and hurried over to the door and opened it. ‘Do come in.’

  The maid viewed her with concern. ‘You looked flushed. I hope you aren’t about to come down with a fever.’