by Shea,Lisa
Her mouth twisted into a grin. “You can act as midwife for me and live vicariously through my pregnancy.”
Sarah bit her tongue. She was hardly in a position to scold Rachel for her situation, considering her own state. She had never even told Reynald …
She suddenly looked up at Rachel, another thought muddling her already confused mind.
“I do not understand,” she pressed, looking between Rachel’s belly and her eyes. “If you were in love with Reynald, and had already won him over after my injury, why did you go after Denis? Were you seeking to make one or the other of them jealous?”
Rachel’s eyebrows knitted. “Reynald? I tried to attract his interest, several times. He paid less attention to me than to a gnat. He was by your side day and night when you were first brought in with your stomach wound, even though you just lay there, unconscious. I tried everything. I held watch beside him, talking to him as sweetly as I could. I offered to give him massages. I suggested walks with him in the garden, to distract him from his worries. He was always courteous but insistent that he could not leave your side.”
She chuckled at the memories. “Finally I told him that the room’s air was addling his brain, and that he needed to go for a ride in the fresh outside breezes. That I was heading to Burbage and that he should go with me, to keep me safe.”
Her eyes flashed with annoyance. “He told me in no uncertain terms to make the ride by myself.”
A warmth returned to her cheeks, and she gave a toothy smile. “That was when I met up with Denis. He was far more receptive to my conversation.”
Sarah looked at her sister in shock. “I thought that Reynald had been the one to chase after you? That this was his fault?”
Rachel laughed merrily at the thought. “Certainly it was his fault that I was out on my own! You should have heard his tone when he told me to ride without him. I imagine once I had been ‘abducted’ that he came after me all right – but he never found me! Denis has hidden our home where none could locate it. I trust in him. I have faith in him!”
Sarah sat back down against one of the wooden boxes, her mind in turmoil. How could she have been so completely wrong? She, who prided herself on her truth and honesty?
She realized in a blinding flash that her father was right. She had built a situation in her mind, and she had deliberately interpreted any news or evidence she heard to support that mindset. If she had been more open minded – if she had been less insecure and jealous – she might have been willing to ask more questions, to hear more answers.
She would have known the truth.
Rachel’s mirth filled the room, and it was a few minutes before she had calmed herself enough to take the pot off the fire and place it to the side. “You never were good at sensing the emotions of others,” she chuckled. “You were always better at telling others how to feel or what to do. How could you possibly have thought that Reynald was interested in anybody but you? Could you not see it in his eyes?”
Sarah looked away, her face flushing. She had seen the emotion – and had assumed it was because of Rachel. She had felt so sure that Reynald could not love her, that he would fall victim to Rachel’s charms. It was as if she was looking for the proof and willing to interpret whatever signs she saw as that evidence.
A wave of exhaustion overcame her, and she moved over to the blankets, wearily laying down on them. Through her half-closed eyes she saw Rachel shrug, then pick disinterestedly at her stew.
Sarah rolled over and faced the roughly hewn back wall of the cave. She brought the image of Reynald’s face up in her mind and focused on it with all of her will.
He would find her. Somehow, he would figure out a way to find her.
Chapter 25
Sarah awoke to waves of nausea, and she stumbled through the morning gloom to a pot in the corner of the room. She emptied the contents of her stomach, her head spinning. Finally she began to feel better and sat back to look around her.
A voice tinged with sarcasm came from behind her. “Wow, am I seeing my big sister showing some fear? I do not think I have seen you like this since you were forced by our parents to recite a psalm at the Christmas festival, all those years ago!”
Sarah wiped her mouth off with a nearby rag, sitting back against the side wall. The torches were guttering low, but light was trickling in from the opening high above. The dinginess of the room became more apparent with each passing moment.
She looked over wearily at her younger sister, who had propped herself up on one arm and was steadily watching her.
Sarah met her gaze evenly. “Do I have something to be afraid of, sister? What is your plan here?”
Rachel’s face creased into a frown. “My plan is for me to know,” she snapped. “If you are not afraid, just why were you sick? You can hardly blame me – you did not touch a spoonful of my stew.” Her gaze sharpened, and she rolled to a standing position. “Do not tell me that miss goody-two-shoes has finally spread her legs for some man?”
Sarah instinctively pressed herself against the back wall, bringing her legs in against her.
Rachel’s eyes flared first with shock, then with anger.
“I do not believe it! You just could not stand to have me bear the first grandchild for our parents – so you went and got yourself pregnant!” She stalked across the room toward Sarah. “Who is the father, then? Cedric? Simon? Reynald?”
Sarah flinched, but it was all Rachel needed. Her face grew cold. “Well, let us see how you like things when your bastard child grows up without a father, then,” she snarled. “For once, I will be the treasured one in our family.”
Sarah reined in her temper. She needed every facility under her control to get a handle on this situation. “Reynald has already dealt with Charles and Bruce,” she pointed out. “Denis is simply one more miscreant to bring to heel.”
Rachel’s grin was immediate. “You do not know my Denis,” she purred. “He is a Templar, after all! Plus, he is unimpeded by the twin pillars of honor and justice. He does whatever he wants. If things do not go his way, he twists the truth to achieve his desired solution. The ends justify the means, after all. Let us see how Reynald stands up to that.”
She turned in a huff, hammering at the door to be let through. In a moment Sarah was left to herself.
Sarah wrapped her arms around her bent knees, pulling them close to herself. She felt as if the door closing behind Rachel’s departing form was echoed by a door closing in her own heart. She had long since accepted Rachel’s attacks on her personally. That was something Sarah could live with, could continue to support her sister through.
However, if Rachel was going to actively seek to cause harm to those she loved, to single them out for attack … that was a threshold crossing that seemed final.
After all Sarah had done for Rachel over the years, all of the sacrifices she had made, that Rachel could deliberately discuss harming those Sarah loved …
Sarah closed her eyes. Rachel had made her decision. There was nothing to be done but to accept it and to move forward.
Wearily, she got to her feet and moved toward the fire. She knew with every fiber of her being that Reynald would be coming for her. She stirred the flames into life and hunted through the boxes for safe food to eat and water to boil. She was going to be sure to be ready to help him when he arrived.
Sarah kept herself busy through the day, doing exercises against the walls, organizing her food supplies, and making sure to drink ample fluids. She listened carefully by the door, but could make out no sound to indicate if there were guards or what their routine was.
The light was fading from the room when there was noise at the door. Rachel entered the room, and Sarah spotted a guard who pulled the door shut again with a solid thunk. Rachel glanced over at Sarah, then at the row of supplies laid out along one wall.
“Nice to see you are settling in,” she commented airily. She went over to a pile of hardened bread pieces, taking one with idle curiosity. “I guess
I am on babysitting duty again tonight. Denis is out, so it is no great hardship for me.”
Sarah turned her head to the side, ignoring her sister. She pressed the palms of her hands against each other, flexing first one arm, then the other. Her strength was slowly returning, hour by hour, and she focused on her efforts with grim determination.
Rachel chuckled. “Not talking to me, eh? This has got to be a first. I am so used to you telling me what to do. Surely there must be things you feel I have done wrong, which only you can fix.”
Sarah forced herself not to rise to the bait. She moved on through her routine, counting to twenty before beginning the next set.
Rachel shrugged, grabbing a stick from a nearby wall and scratching out a solitaire board on the ground. She took a pile of beans from one of the boxes and laid them out, then jumped them over each other along the grid, humming a sailor’s ditty to herself.
Sarah’s heart dropped, but she forced herself to continue. She remembered so easily those many hours of playing with her sister, laughing and enjoying their time together.
That it had come to this …
Rachel suddenly looked up, her face contorted with frustration. “How come you are so high and mighty, after all?” she shot out, as if she were continuing a tirade which had until now raged silently in her own mind. “You never even supported me when I needed you the most!”
Sarah shook her head in confusion, drawn in despite her resolution to remain silent. “What? When was it that I did not stand by you?”
Rachel turned to look fully at her sister. “When I told you that Dirk raped me! You did not even say a word!”
Sarah froze, her mind racing. “You never said any such thing,” she choked out. “You said you had slept with him and that you had been drinking, as if that absolved you from any responsibility.”
“He was older than me!” Her sister sprung to her feet. “He should never have touched me!”
Sarah rose to her feet as well, staring at her sister in bafflement. “Yes, and you were old enough to know better!” she shot back. “You were in our home! You could have yelled for help! You did not raise any alarm when he touched you.”
Sarah shook her head in shock. “If our situations had been reversed, and one of your suitors had come after me, I would have fought the blaggard tooth and nail. The thought of him touching me would repulse me!”
Rachel’s face grew dark and sullen. “I was drunk,” she insisted.
Sarah’s face grew firm. “If I was drunk, and your fiancé assaulted me, it would loosen my inhibitions all right – I would have punched him squarely in the nose, rather than trying to reason with him. I would have let loose with all that was holy, to mangle him to a pulp and to scratch his eyes out.”
She plowed ahead. The box was open and could never be closed again. “If you were drunk at the time, you were certainly sober afterwards. You never thought it important to tell me the man I was going to pledge my entire life to was a cheating bastard?”
Rachel stared in anger at her older sister. “How could I tell you? I was embarrassed!”
Sarah’s heart constricted between steel bands. “Your embarrassment was so important that you would sentence me to a lifelong partnership with a man of such dishonor that he would sleep with my sister?”
She ran her hands through her hair, overwhelmed with raging emotions. “If it had been me, I would have told you immediately! I would have screamed, I would have yelled, I would have dragged you away from the traitorous whelp. I would never have let you near him again.”
She took in a deep breath, her heart failing her. Somewhere within the woman before her lurked her little sister, the innocent blonde with pigtails, the one she had taught addition to, the one she had curled up with at night. Sarah’s voice faltered. “I would have protected you; I would have defended you. No matter what embarrassment or shame I felt. It would have been nothing compared with my concern for you.”
Rachel’s voice was thick with venom. “Well, I am not you, am I,” she snarled. “I knew you could not understand.”
Sarah stared at her for a long moment, unable to think of anything to say in response. Finally she turned, went to her pile of rags, and curled up on it, face to the wall.
* * *
The room was nearly pitch dark; only the barest of flickers came from the settling embers in the fireplace. There was a quiet metallic noise from the door, the sound of the key turning in the lock. She was awake in an instant, her body tingling with adrenaline. Her fingers sought out a thick length of wood which she had secreted underneath her bedding. She had not been bothered so far – but she was not going to take any chances. The presence of her sister in the room seemed little protection against harm.
There was a soft creaking, and in a moment a dark figure moved carefully through the gloom.
Sarah wrapped her fingers more tightly around her baton. He was only a few feet away from her. Just one more step …
A rasped whisper came through the night, so faint she could barely hear it. “Sarah?”
Sarah immediately dropped her weapon and clamored to her feet, relief sweeping over her. “Reynald,” she exhaled with joy, her eyes glittering.
He was at her side in a heartbeat, pulling her into a strong embrace. His mouth was against her ear, and his voice eased out, ragged with emotion.
“You are safe, thank God you are safe,” he murmured.
She held him tightly against her, losing herself in the safety of his arms. It was a few minutes before he pulled back to look through the gloom at her, scanning her body for injuries.
Sarah glanced behind him, then back at his face. “Cedric? Is he seriously hurt?”
Reynald shook his head, leaning forward to kiss her tenderly on the forehead. “You are too much, my darling. He is fine; we found him only a few hours after the attack. Let us worry about you and your safety for now. I only have a few men with me; we hoped stealth would serve us best tonight.”
He looked around the room again, getting his bearings. “Where is your sister?”
A groggy call eased from the other corner of the room. “Sarah?”
Reynald instinctively turned toward it. His voice came pitched slightly louder, to reach her ears.
“Rachel, do not worry. We are here to rescue you.”
“No!” warned Sarah, fighting to keep her volume low. “We have to go … now!” She tugged at Reynald’s arm.
It was like pulling on an oak tree. Reynald turned to her in confusion. “Surely we cannot leave your sister here?” he asked Sarah, his voice becoming harsh. “What are you thinking?”
Rachel climbed to her feet, her eyes glinting in the low firelight. “Reynald?” she called out, her voice growing louder with each passing second. “Reynald, it is you!” She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Wake up! Wake up you fools! We are under attack!”
Reynald drew his sword, then glanced between Rachel’s fierce look of triumph and Sarah’s desperation. Deciding in a heartbeat, he took hold of Sarah’s arm and ran from the room, down the corridor, bringing her alongside with him.
The entrance was up ahead – Sarah could see the mouth of the cave silhouetted against the starry sky. She put on an extra burst of speed, and the pair ran through …
Rough hands grabbed at her from the side of the cave’s mouth, yanking her hand out of Reynald’s grasp. She cried out in panic, struggling to get free, but she was held in a strong grip. A knife was brought up to press against her throat, and she froze in place.
She swung her gaze across the clearing, looking for Reynald. He was pressed up against the other side of the cave’s mouth. Two men, each the size of a giant, held him firmly against the stone slab. He was straining with every ounce of strength to move toward her, but the men held him immobile.
A tall, muscular man with cropped, sandy brown hair stepped forward into the torchlight. He drew his sword and brought it forward to press steadily at Reynald’s throat. Sarah shivered with fear, realizi
ng suddenly how vulnerable they both were.
Reynald did not move or flinch. His eyes held the gaze of his attacker with an even fury. His voice was steel.
“Denis. It has been a while.”
“Yes, it has,” agreed Denis, his growl filling the clearing. “You have caused trouble far too many times for my liking.” He called out over his shoulders. “You men out there. Drop your weapons, or Reynald and Sarah will be slain before your eyes. Do not doubt that I would do it. I would much rather see them dead than surrender to the likes of you.”
There was a long pause, and then as Sarah’s eyes adjusted to the lighting in the area, she realized there was a small group of men at the edge of the clearing. Cedric wore a bandage, and his eyes were blazing with frustration. Ethan and Elijah stood side by side, ready to spring in a heartbeat. Walter’s muscles strained with the effort of holding back from a bull rush. Charles stood tall and proud, ready to lay his life on the line for his friend.
Every man there she knew and trusted with her life. All looked to Reynald for a sign, which he gave. Slowly, one by one, they let their swords fall.
Rachel came out of the cliff wall behind them, helping a man stagger along. The soldier held a cloth to his head; blood streamed down from beneath the compress.
The man stumbled toward his boss. “I am sorry, Denis,” he gasped. “Reynald came at me unawares. It will not happen again.”
“Indeed it will not,” commented Denis dryly. With one sweep he removed his sword from Reynald’s throat and ran the man through his chest, holding the sword hilt against his breastbone for a long moment. Then he smiled and withdrew, allowing the guard to slump to the ground, dead.
Reynald remained frozen in place, motionless in the grasp of his two captors, his eyes sharp on the knife held at Sarah’s neck.
Denis wiped the blood from his blade on his pants. “I never could abide incompetence.”
Sarah’s eyes sought out Rachel’s, and she pleaded with her sister. “Please, Rachel, there are only five of you now. Let us go. We can find some sort of a solution for you. Let us talk about it. Surely this is not the life you wish to lead.”