Susan Spencer Paul

by The Bride Thief

  With cold, aching fingers, Isabelle scratched out the final tally beneath the column of numbers that she had been recording all morn. She set the quill upon the wooden table beside the lone candle that her uncle had deigned to provide, pushed the ledger away and sat back in her chair, closing her eyes. She had only been locked away in the castle for a week, and already she wondered how long she would be able to survive. Her chamber was at the top of a crumbling tower, damp and without heat, light or even air, since her uncle had boarded shut the only window in the room. That was just as well, however, for the ceiling leaked when it rained, and she didn’t need the additional wet chill that the uncovered window would bring. During the summer, if she hadn’t yet managed to escape this Godforsaken prison, she knew that she would crave whatever view the window might afford, and light and air. For now she was content to merely stay dry.

  They were near Scotland, she thought, although she wasn’t certain. Her uncle and his men had kept up a relentless pace, and Isabelle had become so exhausted to-ward the end that the last day of their journey passed as nothing more than a dazed, bewildering blur. She’d been - half-asleep when they finally arrived, and her uncle had dragged her off her horse and into the castle, then up what seemed like hundreds of stairs to this chamber. She’d had only a fleeting impression of thick gray fog and drizzling rain before he pulled her into the rotting structure, an impression that was confirmed by the few glimpses that the crumbling and missing parts of the tower afforded as they climbed ever upward, and of trees, which made Isabelle wonder if the small castle wasn’t built on a mountain or hillside. Not that it mattered. Justin would never find her here, even if he decided to look for her, which, considering the way she had left him, and the words she had said, Isabelle believed unlikely. He was probably glad to be rid. of her, glad to be done with her faithlessness.

  “Justin,” she murmured, her voice small in the thick, damp air, “I pray God that you would know how sorry I am. Somehow, that you would know it.”

  The last words that he had spoken to her had haunted her relentlessly since he left Talwar, even before she, herself, so foolishly listened to Evelyn and left, as well.

  You never would have given me your trust, let alone your love.

  But, oh, how wrong he had been. Faithless she might be, but she loved him. So deeply, so fully… How could it be that he had never realized? Had she been so incapable of showing him what she felt? Too afraid to do so? She knew that she had never spoken the words aloud, not wanting to place a burden upon Justin that he might not want or, worse, that he might feel uncomfortable bearing. He hadn’t taken her for love, after all, but only because he had needed a wife. Hadn’t she told Senet that once, long ago? But on that last day, Justin had seemed hurt because he had believed she would never give him her love. The memory made Isabelle shake her head. If he had only known, if she had only told him, perhaps none of this ever would have happened.

  “I love you, Justin,” she whispered, wishing that the words might somehow be carried to him across the miles that separated them, that he might somehow know the truth of them and be soothed, even as he began his new life with Evelyn. “I will always love you.”

  He had deserved so much more from her when they were together. He had deserved so much better. Would he be happier with Evelyn? She was a murderer, a liar, but it was true that Evelyn and Justin had enjoyed each other’s company during the months that passed. Perhaps, by some miracle, Evelyn would come to love Justin enough to be good to him, to put his happiness before her own. Isabelle prayed that it would be so.

  But what if Evelyn couldn’t be trusted? Isabelle had known her cousin long and well enough to feel a measure of despair at the thought of Justin’s heart being put in Evelyn’s care. There was only one thing Isabelle could do at the moment to ensure that Evelyn behaved, and that was to work very hard to please Sir Myles. And she would do so, at least until she found a way to escape and make her way to Sir Alexander at Gyer. Somehow, she would manage to get away, despite the army of men that Sir Myles had posted about the castle to guard her.

  If she could survive living in this cold, damp chamber until the summer arrived, and if she could bide her time patiently until Sir Myles was forced to return to London… then surely a way would become clear for her to get free. And once she had done so, she would not demand that Justin take her back as his wife, if he proved to be content with Evelyn. She wouldn’t even reveal the truth about the part Evelyn had played in murdering their unborn child, but only if Evelyn continued to make Justin perfectly happy. Then it would be Isabelle who held the key of control over her cousin. Evelyn would do what she must to please Justin, else she’d find her father and herself paying dearly for their crimes.

  The lock in the chamber door began to rattle as the key was worked to open the ancient fixture, and then the heavy bolt, which had more recently been added on the outside of the door, was pulled back with a loud, sweeping thwip.

  “Good day, my dear,” Sir Myles greeted as the guard before him pushed the door wide. “How have you progressed?” Behind him, a servant hovered on the final step, bearing a tray of cheeses, bread and ale. The sight made Isabelle’s empty stomach twist painfully with want.

  Silent, she put a hand out to shove the closed account book a little farther away on the table, in her uncle’s direction.

  “Finished, have you?” he asked, strolling across the room and flipping the book open. Perusing it for a few moments with a smile of satisfaction, he at last gave a curt nod. “Very good. You may eat, then, and have the afternoon to rest.” He waved the servant in, picking the large book up and stepping back so that the tray could be placed on the table. “I shall return this eve to discuss plans for a venture I should like to undertake. You returned a tidy profit for Sir Alexander and the earl of Siere with the coal boats you had running from their mines to London, and I want you to arrange a similar transportation system for the mines I own. I mean to push the lord of Gyer and the earl out of the competition entirely, and want you to bend your every effort toward the task. With what you know about their arrangements, it should be a simple matter for you to accomplish.”

  God’s mercy, Isabelle thought with disgust. After all the hard work she’d put into organizing Sir Alexander’s and Sir Hugh’s various businesses, working now to destroy them would be a bitter chore, indeed.

  “Still no words?” Sir Myles asked softly. “I grow weary with such foolish insolence, Isabelle. Must I give you another day of hunger to make you behave as you should, with the obedience I demand?”

  Tilting her head up and to the side, Isabelle gave him a look that said better than a thousand words could about what he might do with his demands.

  A slow smile drew up the corners of Sir Myles’s mouth. “Or shall I give you another lesson in humiliation? Despite Evelyn’s jealous utterings, you were once a lovely creature, Isabelle. I had a good many marriage offers for you, though you were not aware of them.”

  Marriage offers? Isabelle thought with a frown. For her?

  “I felt it best to never let you realize how appealing you were,” Sir Myles went on softly, “but I need not worry over such as that now.” With a quick hand, he reached up and pulled away the cloth with which she had covered her head, tossing the ragged piece of linen onto the table and laughing as Isabelle scrambled to grab it and cover herself again.

  “That’s better,” he said with smug satisfaction. “That’s more of what I want from you, my dear. Fear and distress, which are far more appropriate to your circumstances than this useless determination not to speak a word. Now you listen very carefully to me, my girl.” He placed one hand flat upon the table, leaning forward until his face was nearly level with Isabelle’s. “If you think that what I’ve done to you thus far is the worst there can be, you are far wrong. I’m willing to leave you in peace, so long as you behave well and do your work, but there are a great many men guarding this castle who would gladly and willingly lend me aid in forcing you to compl
y, should you continue to prove stubborn. When I return this eve, you will speak to me with all the respect and deference that is my due, else I will invite my guards to visit you here, one by one, and use you as they please, until you give way. You think on that, Isabelle,” he advised, straightening. “You think on it long and well before deciding what you will do.”

  He left, striding past the guard who followed behind, shutting and locking the door. Isabelle sat where she was, shuddering at the visions her uncle’s words wrought. She hated being forced into speaking to the wretch, and despised herself for being so weak, but Isabelle knew, without needing to consider the matter long, that she would give way. It would be far less disgusting to speak civilly to Sir Myles than to suffer the bestial embraces of his men.

  Ravenous, she began to eat, quickly at first, ignoring the cramps in her stomach as it rebelled at being so suddenly filled, and then more slowly, savoring the taste of the simple fare even as exhaustion crept over her. At last, finished, she stood and, with unsteady, aching bones, made her way to the pallet in the chamber’s corner, as far away from the leaking roof as she had been able to manage placing it, and lay down. She covered herself with the bundle of blankets Sir Myles had provided and closed her eyes, letting herself dream of Justin, and of the days that she would forever cherish, when she had lived as his wife.

  Swiping rain out of his face with one hand, Justin bent and pushed his way into the tent where Alexander and Hugh sat around a table, drinking wine and making plans. Hugo, reclining restfully on a low pallet, greeted Justin with a smile, while in the far corner, Christian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking both aggravated and impatient at the conversation the other two men were having.

  “Sir Myles’s main guard is concentrated here, at the southern gate,” Alexander said, thumping a map that John had drawn from memory after having bravely slipped around the castle walls during the dark of night, avoiding Sir Myles’s soldiers, in an effort to locate each castle gate. “We will attack from all sides, concentrating on breaking down the eastern and northern gates, here, and here.”

  Hugh was shaking his head. “We’ll lose too many men. Better to attack with a small force of men at the north and make them chase us. Once they’re distracted, ‘twill be a far easier matter for the main group to take control of the gates and subdue Sir Myles’s forces.”

  “If we attack from all sides at once, the elements of surprise and confusion will be ours,” Alexander argued. “They’ll be overwhelmed.”

  “But not quickly enough,” Hugh countered. “There would be more than ample time for Sir Myles or another to make Lady Isabelle their surety by threatening her life against our withdrawal. It is a chance we cannot take.”

  “A chance we will not take,” Justin added, shaking his dark hair to rid it of raindrops.

  In his corner, Christian sighed loudly.

  Hugo sat up on the pallet, reaching toward a low table to fill a goblet with wine.

  “Will you take wine, Justin?” He lifted the goblet in Justin’s direction. “’Twill warm you, and you look chilled through, i’ faith.”

  “Thank you,” Justin said with a nod, accepting the cup. “’Tis indeed a sorry place Isabelle’s been brought to. I only pray that her uncle has been kind enough to keep her warm.” He took a sip of wine before adding, “I’m sorry that you had to come all this way just to keep on eye on Hugh, Hugo. Not enjoying it overmuch, are you?”

  Hugo gave a good-natured shrug. “If I don’t take care of him, who will? And how could I refuse dear Rosaleen, who asked so sweetly in her missive to me that I keep our venerable brother out of trouble and make certain he behaves himself?”

  “Wise of her,” Justin murmured, glancing at Hugh, who was scowling.

  “The woman’s getting fussy as a mother cat,” said the earl of Siere with great affront. “I don’t know why she thinks I need watching, like the veriest child.”

  “Very wise of her,” Justin amended, setting the cup back upon its tray and approaching the table. “If you two have come to some manner of agreement, I would like to go now and fetch my wife.”

  “We’ll attack at first light tomorrow morn,” Alexander said.

  “Nay, we will attack now,” Justin replied calmly. “I waited until John could give us the information we required to make a successful attack, but I will wait no longer.”

  “The rain…” Hugh began.

  “Will as like be here in the morn as it is now,” Justin stated. “We are six to one against them, and the castle itself is so rotted that two men shoving with their shoulders on any of the gates would force them to give way. If you will command the attack on the south side, Alex, and you on the north, Hugh, then Chris and my lads and I will make our way in through the east.”

  “I agree with Justin,” Sir Christian said. “The land is too heavily wooded here to require any such advance planning. ‘Twill be a surprise attack, no matter how we make our approach. And Lady Isabelle will be suffering every moment longer that she is made to remain inside that rotting pit.”

  “Nay,” the lord of Gyer said emphatically. “It is not well done. There must be a strategy. I cannot like such confusion.”

  “Alex speaks truly,” Hugh put in. “No battle was won from such a lack of preparation. We must outwit our enemy as best we may, with care and planning.”

  Hugo, bending to straighten the blankets on his pallet, said, “Humph.”

  “Then my lads and I will go fetch Isabelle on our own. Chris, do you stand with me?”

  “My men and I, both,” Christian vowed.

  “Damnation!” Sir Alexander slammed a fist on the small table, nearly shattering it. “I do not allow either of you to do anything so foolish. Sit down and be silent.” He pointed to the two empty chairs on either side of himself and Hugh.

  “Alex,” Hugh said in an advising tone, “calm yourself. There’s no need to act the tyrant just now. Justin, Chris, come, sit and speak reasonably. Hugo, bring us more wine, will you?”

  Justin’s eyes narrowed. “I am not indifferent to what I owe you both for your aid in helping me to free Isabelle. Indeed, my gratitude is boundless. But if you think that I will sit by in idle fashion, sipping wine as if naught were amiss, while my good lady wife lies imprisoned, suffering at the hands of her uncle, then you, my dear brothers, may take yourselves to Hell.”

  Sir Alexander stood slowly, his face burning with heat.

  “God’s sweet mercy,” Hugh muttered, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose as if there were an ache there. “Justin, will you never learn to guard your tongue?”

  “I will not countenance such words from you,” Sir Alexander said, directing a hard stare at his youngest brother.

  “Will you not?” Justin returned just as stiffly. “And I’m done with being managed by the pair of you. First you had me expelled from the tournaments, then you decided to force me into marriage…”

  “For that,” Sir Alexander stated, “you. should be thankful. You’d never have married Isabelle otherwise.”

  “Ha!” Justin retorted furiously. “I almost didn’t have her because of you! You would have shackled me to a murderess. A foul, evil witch who would have gladly murdered me in my sleep if she’d but had the—”

  “My brothers, be calmed,” Hugo demanded loudly, holding both hands up and moving to stand in the midst of them. “I cannot think this bickering will aid Lady Isabelle. I want you to think a moment, Alex, and you, also, Hugh, as to what your feelings would be if it were Lillis or Rosaleen who was imprisoned in yon castle, rather than Isabelle. Would either of you then be so willing to wait and argue while your good lady wife lay captive in such a foul place, and at the mercy of such a man as Sir Myles?”

  A silence ensued, during which every man stared at Hugo, who calmly returned to lie down upon his pallet. Alexander and Hugh exchanged glances, and then Hugh stood and checked the readiness of his sword.

  “Let’s go,” he said, to which Alex
ander agreed with an “Aye.”

  The four men left the tent together, moving quickly to gather their forces for attack.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Isabelle knew she was dreaming. It was exactly what she had done at her uncle’s house, before Justin stole her. He would come to her while she slept, gazing at her in just such a way, with love shining in his eyes, and would approach her, slowly, silently, her father’s magnificent sword in one hand, his handsome face covered with sweat and streaks of blood…

  She blinked, shaking away the last part of the dream, which wasn’t at all how it was supposed to go. But nothing changed. He kept coming toward her, slowly, saying her name, gripping her father’s sword in one hand, his muchloved face covered with sweat and blood.

  “Justin,” she murmured sleepily, levering herself upward with a hand, trying to focus her blurred vision through the darkness of the room. He couldn’t really be here. It was impossible. She must have gone mad with her longing to have conjured him up so. But he kept coming, closer and closer, until he stopped before her and slowly, so slowly, knelt, gazing fully into her eyes.

  “Lady,” he said, “I am seeking a wife. Will you come away with me and be my bride?”

  She seemed to move without conscious thought, her body propelled forward and into his arms by an unseen force, and she gripped him, tightly, and began to weep.

  “Justin,” she sobbed, trembling fiercely. “You’re here. You came.”

  His arms crushed her with their strength, so hard that she thought he meant to somehow meld their two bodies into one.

  “I came,” he murmured, pressing kisses against the top of her head. “Could you think I would not? That I would not follow after you, no matter where you were taken?”

  “Aye,” she admitted against her tears. “I did not think you would want me again, after all that I said, after my faithlessness.”

  “I do not care about any of that, nor of the words I spoke to you before I so foolishly left you alone at Talwar. Now or ever again. I love you, Isabelle, and must have you with me, whether or not you ever come to trust or love me. I am sorry if it isn’t what you wish, but I cannot be parted from you, else my life becomes worthless to me. I have come to steal you away again,” he murmured more softly, taking her tear-streaked face in his palms and turning her up to meet his gaze, “and to keep you with me always.”