“Mother was not able to visit you this morning, as she is seeing to other matters. What will she say, Brother,” Tye mused, “when she hears Juliana spent the night in your arms? What would your betrothed think of it?”
An angry hiss broke from Edouard and stirred Juliana’s hair. “What choice did we have, but to share this miserable chamber? Whether she slept in my arms or alone on her bed, we would have spent the night together.”
Tye grinned. “True.”
“Unlike you,”—Edouard’s voice was almost a snarl—“I am a chivalrous man. Naught inappropriate happened between Juliana and myself. I suffer no shame. Will you, however, force disgrace upon her, by telling tales about us?”
As Edouard spoke, Tye’s gaze flicked over her. He stared as though he saw through her chemise and the blanket wrapped around her, and she fought a tremor. “Bold words, Brother.” Tye’s mouth slid into a lopsided grin. “They make me curious, though. With her loveliness so close to you, were you not once tempted to—”
“Nay,” Edouard growled.
Tye’s laughter rang in the chamber. “You do not even know what I planned to say.”
“I can guess.”
With a last chuckle, Tye gestured to Azarel. The healer hurried forward, her leather shoes making light taps on the floorboards before she dropped down beside Juliana’s pallet. The basket creaked as she rummaged within.
Tye’s stare bored into Juliana. “Return to your pallet, so she can tend you.” His smile hardened. “You might think that because Mother is not here, ’twill be easy to deceive me. Beware, Juliana. My brother might insist he is an honorable man, but I”—he slowly winked—“am an unscrupulous knave.”
***
Tye didn’t, as Edouard had hoped, leave as soon as Azarel had finished seeing to Juliana’s wound. Once the healer had completed her work in silence, she picked up her basket, rose, and faced Tye.
“Her injury is much improved from yesterday,” she said.
“Mother will want to hear of her progress.” Tye crossed to the panel, knocked on it, and stood guard while the door opened and Azarel hurried out. He exchanged a few words with the men outside—instructions Edouard couldn’t make out—then shoved the door closed.
With swaggering strides, he approached Edouard. Leaning back against the nearest wall—beyond Edouard’s reach—Tye crossed his arms over his tunic. For some reason, he wasn’t wearing his sword belt. Had he tumbled out of a maidservant’s bed and hauled his clothes on before coming to the tower, and forgotten his weapons?
A mistake Edouard must try and use to his advantage.
Leather creaked as Tye bent one leg and planted his boot’s sole against the stone, an indolent posture that suggested he meant to stay awhile. Indeed, as long as he liked.
Ugh. Tye likely intended to taunt him further about his sleeping with Juliana.
Daring a glance at her, Edouard saw she’d scooted back on her pallet and curled her legs beneath her. Her wary expression told him she, too, suspected Tye’s intentions.
A smug warmth curled through Edouard; he was glad she disliked the bastard.
Edouard looked back at Tye, to find Tye studying him, his narrowed stare thoughtful.
“What do you want?” Edouard demanded in a tone he used only for the most witless of men. Usually it sent the fools scurrying.
Tye smirked. “Tell me about Father.”
Edouard scowled, the rise of hatred for Tye instantaneous and fierce. “I told you before. Do not call him such.”
Tye’s eyes glinted. “He is my sire. Do I not deserve to know a little about the man who slaked his lust with Mother and fathered me?”
“For all we know,” Edouard shot back, “what Veronique says about your paternity is a lie. She has always been interested in my sire’s riches.”
Tilting his head, Tye smiled. Then he pointed to his face. “Look at me.”
Edouard grimaced. “Must I?”
Tye leaned forward, his gaze bright. “Mother says my features favor our sire. Can you not see the resemblance?”
Edouard clenched his jaw. Tye’s hair was lighter brown than his sire’s, and his skin was more bronzed from the sun. Judging by the shape of Tye’s nose, it had been broken several times. Yet his features were similar to Edouard’s father’s. So was Tye’s muscular build.
“See?” Tye’s tone turned gloating. “You cannot deny I resemble him.”
“Looks are your only proof?” Mayhap if Edouard goaded Tye enough, he’d glean more details on Tye and Veronique’s schemes. Better still, Edouard might lure the conceited bastard into range of the chains. Then they’d see who was the son of Geoffrey de Lanceau.
“There is the timing of my birth,” Tye said. “Mother had no other lover but Geoffrey de Lanceau when she got with child. A fact, I am told, she tried to impress upon him when I was but a young boy, but he refused to believe her.”
“I cannot blame him.”
Tye’s hands slowly curled into fists while he leaned even farther forward. “How many times I have longed to stand before him and demand that he look upon me. Me, the bastard son he wishes was never born.”
A trace of anguish drove through Tye’s words. Edouard steeled himself against any notions of pity. Tye was a clever manipulator, just like his mother. “You will never get close enough to Father for him to look upon you.”
Tye pressed back against the wall. A grating laugh rumbled from him. “The day I kill him, I shall.”
Edouard longed to snarl that that wretched day would never come. However, this was a perfect opportunity to lure details from Tye. “What makes you believe you can murder him?”
“You must be aware of the missives Mother sent to Branton Keep. During our many years living in France, I trained with mercenaries who earned a living fighting for the French and English kings, whichever one offered the most coin to fight in a particular battle. I trained hard and, as my skills grew, won tournament after tournament. I am very good with a broadsword.”
“Father is better.”
“Is he?” Tye grinned. “I look forward to proving you wrong.”
“You will never get near to Branton Keep. His men-at-arms and servants—”
“Are honorable and loyal to the death.” Tye waved a careless hand. “No matter. I will mingle with our sire’s trusted colleagues, find a reason to meet him face to face, and then I will draw my blade.” He swung his arm down, mimicking a swift, killing blow. “Ha!”
Juliana gasped.
Edouard sensed her horror, but didn’t dare look her way, for foreboding stabbed deep inside him. There were very few ways Tye could be accepted into his father’s elite circle. He’d succeed, however, if he wore the gold ring entrusted to Landon.
“How quiet you are, Brother,” Tye said. “I have shocked you.”
Fighting his rising apprehension, Edouard forced an arrogant shrug. He must keep Tye talking. The more he learned, the better he could protect Juliana and destroy the traitorous plans. “I have to say, you are ambitious, but stupid. When, exactly, will you risk this killing?”
“Soon.” Tye examined the nails of his left hand. “When circumstances are right.”
“When you have Landon’s gold ring, you mean.”
Tye’s gaze lifted on an admiring grin. “How clever you are, Brother.”
“That explains why you and Veronique want Juliana to survive. You suspect she knows where Landon hid the ring. You want it badly enough to take care of her until her memories return.”
Juliana gasped again. “Merciful God.”
“You have overlooked a critical point, though,” Edouard said. “Even if she remembers her identity, she may not know the ring’s whereabouts. Landon may never have confided that to her.”
“A risk Mother and I are willing to take.”
“Because she is the only one alive who might know?” A derisive chuckle grated from Edouard. “What if Juliana doesn’t know? Your threat to kill my sire is an idle one, then?”
“’Tis not, at all, an idle threat,” Tye ground out.
“You talk of slaying him face to face. Brave words. Yet I vow you are a coward.” As fury darkened Tye’s gaze, Edouard added, “If you really wished my sire dead, you would have confronted him long before now.”
“Mother and I—”
“Mother and I,” Edouard mocked.
Tye took a step forward, his white-knuckled hands balled at his sides. “Some risks are worth taking; others require money and patience. We will find that ring. When I stand before Father so he can look full upon me, ’twill be with an army of mercenaries to fight at my side.”
Edouard snorted.
“Then he will know he is a dead man. Doomed to be slain by his own flesh-and-blood son he cruelly rejected all those years ago.” Tye chuckled. “What perfect irony.”
God’s teeth. Tye spoke in exactly the same manner as Veronique. How well she’d controlled and prepared her son, so he’d fulfill the murderous ambitions she’d not been able to bring to pass years ago.
Surely, though, as a grown man, Tye had a will of his own.
“Your mother hates my sire because he ended their affair years ago. Why, after so many years, she continues to resent him and plot vengeance against him, only she can explain,” Edouard said. “You must realize, though, that all she has told you of him is but her opinion?”
“’Tis the only one that matters.”
“Have you tried to contact our—my sire—on your own?”
Tye laughed, a sound ripe with bitterness. “Why would I? He has made it very clear he wants naught to do with me. Besides, if I tried to set up a meeting, he would agree only so he could arrest me. Then he would try and use me to capture Mother. As we both know, he has wanted her imprisoned for years for crimes including murder and treason.”
True. Tye might be many things, but he wasn’t stupid.
“On the other hand,”—Tye’s visage hardened—“he might not even bother to arrest me. He might attack. Once I was overpowered, he would run me through with a sword and leave my corpse for the birds to pick clean. He would eliminate me and the threat I pose to him and his heir.” Tye pointed. “You.”
“My father lives by the code of honor—”
“So you say.” Tye’s lip curled. “’Tis your opinion.”
“Look—”
But Tye wasn’t listening. “I eagerly await the confrontation to come. ’Twill be a magnificent day when, at last, I make him acknowledge me. I will slay him, seize all that is his, and make it mine.”
Ruthless, greedy bastard. “You will never defeat him,” Edouard growled, yanking on his chains.
“Spoken like a naïve, loving son.”
“Father is no fool. By now, he likely knows you are here at Waddesford. He will anticipate your attack, while he plans one of his own.”
“We shall see.”
Indeed, you arrogant whoreson, we shall. Edouard drew upon all the rage and frustration seething within him. “I will never let you kill my sire—”
Tye laughed.
“—or let you take control of what, as his heir, is rightfully mine.”
“You? The helpless son in chains?” Tye chortled.
Edouard mentally shoved aside the insult. Use Tye’s ambition to make him angry. Lure him closer, and then you will take the advantage.
“I might be chained,” Edouard said, “but I am worthy of being Geoffrey de Lanceau’s son. You are not.”
Tye sucked in a slow, deliberate breath. He seemed to grow taller and broader.
“Edouard,” Juliana whispered. Fear shone in her eyes as she glanced from him to Tye.
Menace in the slant of his jaw, Tye stepped nearer. “I am not worthy,” he said, “because of my birth?”
Edouard managed a thin smile. Let Tye make of that statement what he wished.
As the silence tautened, Tye bared his teeth. He looked furious enough to pummel Edouard into the floorboards.
Good.
“You have spoken unwisely, Brother.”
“Have I, you bastard?”
Come closer, Tye. Just a little closer. . .
Tye thrust his right fist down in Edouard’s face. “One more insult, and—”
Edouard shoved up on his heels and grabbed Tye’s wrist. With a stab of dismay, Edouard realized he was almost too slow; his movements, acutely honed in the tiltyards, were hampered by the added weight of the chains.
Tye yanked back on his hand. “Hell—”
As Tye stumbled and tried to catch his balance, Edouard tugged him forward, head first toward the pallet.
Twisting as he fell, Tye slammed his left fist into Edouard’s jaw. Pain sprayed through Edouard’s cheek. Smothering a groan, he shook his head and punched back. The blow bounced off Tye’s chest, but on a muffled clank, Edouard’s chain hit Tye’s bent leg. Tye grunted in pain.
With a strong tug, Tye freed his hand. Faster than Edouard expected, another blow flew, this time into his gut.
“Bastard,” Edouard choked out, fighting the need to brace his arm against his stomach. Shaking hair from his eyes, he grabbed his chain. When Tye scrambled to rise, Edouard looped it around Tye’s neck, forcing him down on his knees.
His back to Edouard, Tye clawed at the chain. His chin tipped up at an awkward angle as he tried to ease the chain’s pressure.
Bloodlust pulsed hard in Edouard’s veins. Who was helpless now?
“Edouard.” Juliana’s voice wove into the haze filling Edouard’s vision. “Edouard, stop.”
A choked breath snapped his gaze down to Tye’s face. Tye’s skin was reddening, while his mouth parted on strangled breaths.
“Now,” Edouard said with a smile, “who is the fool?”
Spittle oozed from Tye’s mouth. “Kill me, then.”
“Edouard, nay!” Juliana cried. Daring a glance, he found her standing dangerously near, hands open and pleading. “Murdering Tye will solve naught.”
Tye writhed in Edouard’s grasp. Edouard tightened his hold on the chain. A grisly choke rose from his half-brother.
“You are a man who lives by honor,” Juliana shrilled, “just like your father. ’Tis not your way to—”
“You do not remember me,” Edouard bellowed. “How can you say that?”
Her wide-eyed gaze beseeched him. “From all I have known of you recently, I have guessed your true nature.” Her hands knotted together. “You know I am right.”
He dragged his gaze away from her, lovely and passionate in her desperation. Never had he imagined killing an unarmed opponent, but here, with Tye at his mercy, he had a chance to end Veronique’s merciless plotting against his sire once and for all.
Killing Tye just might save his father’s life.
And yet Juliana’s words gouged into Edouard, running like blood into the parts of him ruled by chivalry between warriors. As much as he hated to admit it, killing Tye in this way held cowardice.
Edouard looked down at his fingers, pale against the taut iron links, and tried to reason with the powerful rage blazing inside him. Glaring down at Tye’s sweat-beaded profile, Edouard snarled, “Call the guards. I want the key to my manacles.”
Digging his fingers into the chain, Tye glared back.
“Call,” Edouard growled. “Now!”
“They will . . . not come. Told them . . . not to . . . heed cries.”
“Do it!”
“Will have . . . to . . . kill me,” Tye rasped.
Edouard stared down into Tye’s red-rimmed eyes. In them, Edouard saw a mirror of his own resolve never to yield. “I ask you,” Edouard bit out, “once again.”
“Please,” Juliana whispered, stepping nearer.
“Stay away,” Edouard snapped.
Tye’s lips quivered into a mocking smile. “Go on. Kill me. If you . . . are man enough.”
The haze of anger nearly blinded Edouard. Man enough?!
/> “Do not heed his taunts,” Juliana cried.
“Juliana!” Edouard roared.
“Even if you kill him, you will still be chained. How will we defeat the guards outside? How will we escape the keep? We cannot. Please, Edouard,”—her tone hoarsened—“if you will not spare him out of honor, spare him because I ask you to.”
Blowing aside a skein of hair, Edouard stared at her. God help him, but she was right about killing Tye. It gave them no advantage whatsoever. ’Twould only make their situation even more dire.
Tears trailed down her face. Her bosom rose and fell on anxious breaths. In her eyes, he saw disappointment as well as an urgent plea.
Her disappointment in him hurt worst of all. She’d looked at him that way when she’d found him kissing Nara.
Spitting a foul oath, he loosened his hold on the chain. Tye lurched forward and staggered to his feet. Inhaling on a gasp, he raced to the wall.
The chains clinked as they tumbled back onto the pallet to lie like iron snakes.
A wobbly smile lifted Juliana’s lips. “Thank you.”
Edouard looked away, trying to control the tremendous pressure building inside him. Now that he’d attacked Tye, would Veronique exact punishment upon him and Juliana?
The scrape of a boot heel on the planks snapped his focus back to Tye. Sucking air between his teeth, Tye flattened his hand against the wall and straightened to his full height. He ran his other hand over his tunic. “I will not forget what you did, Brother.” His voice cracked.
“Nor will I forget all you have done,” Edouard answered coldly.
“Please,” Juliana said. “No more fighting. ’Twill solve naught.”
Tye’s blazing stare didn’t waver. Edouard refused to look away, to back down from the challenge still crackling between him and his bastard brother.
His mouth set in a sneer, Tye turned toward the doorway. At last, he acknowledged he’d lost and was leav—
Tye spun. Before Edouard could lunge aside, Tye’s foot slammed into Edouard’s chest, a solid blow between the ribs that propelled him back against the wall. Grunting, he doubled over and tried to get air back into his lungs; each short, sharp breath was agonizing. Hellfire, he should have expected such trickery from Tye—
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