Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me

by Lana Williams

  Well, he might not be able to meet Lord Crefton yet, but the dungeon certainly could not hide. “Brom is near to starving, so use your charms on another servant to get him some food. And remember to watch for Crefton. I’m going to find the steward and see what more I can ascertain. Stay away from the women, Stephen. We’ve no time for frivolity.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Stephen nodded, his eyes downcast. He turned and hurried toward the keep.

  Nicholas’s luck seemed to improve for he caught sight of the steward walking across the bailey. “Robert, a word if you please.”

  “Of course, Lord Trisbane. How may I be of service?”

  “I wonder if I might look at your dungeon.”

  Robert looked perplexed at his request. “The dungeon, my lord?”

  Nicholas grasped for a valid excuse. “I’m making some changes at my holding, and I’d like to see how the dungeon here at Amberley is constructed.”

  “I see.” He tapped a finger against his chin, seeming to ponder the matter before answering. “I’d be pleased to escort you there.”

  As they made their way inside the keep, Robert asked, “How is your man feeling, my lord?”

  “His stomach is still unsettled. It seems to worsen when he stands.”

  “I’ll ask the cook if he has any suggestions. With no healer in our village, he’s come to be of assistance with lesser ailments.”

  Nicholas nearly grimaced. Would the cook come up with some oddity for Brom to eat? He sincerely hoped not, or he’d have to find a reward for Brom’s sacrifice. “We’d appreciate that.”

  Robert passed through the kitchen, and though several servants chopped and stirred, the cook was absent. “We’ll look for him later. Shall we proceed to the dungeon?”

  “Aye,” Nicholas agreed.

  The stairs were steep and narrow. Robert’s torch did little to ease the gloom. Cold seeped into Nicholas’s bones, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of the temperature in the depths under the keep or if it was a sign. “Have you used it much of late?”

  “It stands empty at the moment, my lord.” Robert’s voice echoed in the stone stairwell.

  At the bottom of the stairs were two small rooms with stout doors barred by thick planks of wood. A narrow area with a small bench and table stood on the opposite side, obviously for the guards’ use.

  Robert moved aside, holding his torch high, and let Nicholas survey their surroundings. “Is it much different from your own, my lord?”

  “Hmm,” Nicholas answered noncommittally. He nearly cursed in frustration. The area was dark and foreboding, but he couldn’t discern if anything matched his vision or not. “Might I see the inside of one of the cells?”

  If Robert thought his request odd, he didn’t say. He stepped forward to lift a plank from across the door of a cell, and opened it.

  Nicholas entered the dungeon and looked at the sparse, narrow room. He could’ve touched the opposite wall without stretching, the cell was so cramped. Visions of William, writhing in pain as he lay on a pallet on the dirt floor burst through his mind. Nicholas’s head pounded as the flashing images overcame him. He braced a hand against the cold, stone wall as his mind spun.

  His doubt fell away in an instant.

  William had been here – had lain in this dark, damp place in pain. Alone. Frightened. Angry.

  Nicholas fought to regain his equilibrium, focusing on the rough wall beneath his hand. The gray rock was stained rust in places where water had leaked in. A frigid dampness permeated the cell, and he could not imagine a more miserable place to lay injured and helpless. William must have been beside himself with fear, worried that he’d die here with no one the wiser.

  Where had his second sight been when his brother had needed him the most? Guilt cascaded through him like the torrent of a waterfall, stealing his breath. He hung his head in despair as he realized what he’d done. He’d suppressed the visions with all his power.

  It was his fault that William had been forced to endure such suffering at Crefton’s hands. Nicholas’s own selfish desire to escape his second sight had prevented him from reaching William sooner. If his brother died, the blame lay with Nicholas.

  Robert spoke, but his voice sounded distant, as though he stood at the end of a long tunnel. Anger filled Nicholas, and he spun to face Robert.

  The steward stepped back, his expression held alarm. “Lord Trisbane? Are you well?”

  “Nay. I am not well. And I am not Lord Trisbane,” Nicholas said through clenched teeth.

  Robert’s eyes grew wide. “My lord? I don’t understand.”

  “Nor do I,” Nicholas replied. “I am Lord Nicholas de Bremont.” He waited for Robert’s reaction, which was quick in coming.

  The horrified look on Robert’s face confirmed everything Nicholas feared. He drew his knife from his belt to make certain his intentions were clear. “Take me to Lord Crefton. Now.”

  Robert’s gaze locked onto the blade that shone dully in the low light. “Lord de Bremont, please I beg of you. There are circumstances of which you are unaware – ”

  Rage coursed through Nicholas. “Circumstances? Do not speak to me of circumstances!” He held the blade before Robert’s nose. “If you care at all for your lord, then take me to him now, else I’ll kill you and find him myself.”

  *

  Elizabeth heaved a sigh, unable to lose herself in the intricate pattern of the tapestry on the loom before her. She’d retreated to the solar to calm her thoughts with the work she loved best: weaving.

  The detailed color scheme left little room for error and normally kept her mind off her worries as she worked the shuttle. Realizing she’d just made another mistake, she sat back in her chair.

  Lady Margaret looked up from the thread she carded with a smooth rhythm. “Is something amiss?”

  Elizabeth bit her tongue, sorely tempted to blurt out the events of the afternoon to her aunt. Why did she hesitate? She shared most everything with the older woman. Perhaps it was because she didn’t think she could explain it without being appalled at her own behavior.

  What could she possibly say? Don’t mind me. I merely asked Lord Trisbane to kiss me. Again. You see, I felt a bit cheated the first time we kissed. However, I got far more than I bargained for with my request.

  Dear heavens! Nay, no coherent explanation existed for the afternoon’s events. “All is well.”

  As she thought on it further, she realized that despite her embarrassment, she was glad she’d asked Lord Trisbane to kiss her.

  Perhaps it was unfair of her to judge on such short acquaintance, but he seemed perfect. His patience and kindness toward the children, his concern for her last eve, his compliments to her at supper. And that amazing kiss. Aye, perfect in every way.

  Yet he couldn’t have been more out of reach if he were on the moon.

  Her responsibilities tied her here. With her brother gone, she had to continue to take care of her father and their holding as best she could. She sighed as the truth sunk into her. He was not for her. She was not free. Her family and Amberley were her first priority. She couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes on that front.

  Margaret’s eyes narrowed as she studied Elizabeth. “Did you discuss the colors of thread we need with Edith?”

  “We were interrupted. I’ll visit her again on the morrow.” Elizabeth nearly squirmed in her seat under her aunt’s scrutiny.

  Margaret’s hands halted, her expression puzzled. “Interrupted? By whom?”

  Elizabeth stood abruptly. “I want to check on Father before the evening meal and remind him to remain in his chambers tonight.”

  “But, Elizabeth – ”

  “I’ll see you in the hall.” She pasted a smile on her lips and, with a wave, left the solar. She closed the door and leaned against it. What on earth was wrong with her?

  All day long, her emotions had shifted from despair at the idea of Lord Trisbane leaving to giddiness at the attraction that simmered between them. As she th
ought of those long-lashed, blue eyes looking down at her, heating her with their intensity, the giddiness returned. She shook her head. He’d be leaving on the morrow, never to cross her path again.

  But he hadn’t left yet.

  Though embarrassed at her actions of the afternoon, she would seize this last opportunity to be with him at supper. Another memory for the long lonely years ahead, for she knew with all her heart she would never meet another man like Lord Trisbane.

  Smiling to herself, she made her way to her father’s chamber and knocked softly on the door.

  “Come.”

  Her father’s confident tone reassured her, for he sounded like the father she missed so dearly. She entered the chamber to find him at his desk, a piece of parchment spread out before him, his finger tracing something he examined with care.

  The tall windows cast the fading afternoon light onto the desk and silhouetted his upper body. He looked well. His white hair was brushed neatly, and he wore a clean saffron tunic. Relief filled her at the sight of him looking so much like his old self.

  “What are you studying, Father?” Curious, she drew nearer and saw he examined a map.

  “He went here first, then on to the next tournament,” he said as though continuing a conversation.

  With a sinking heart, she swallowed her disappointment. “Who?” But she already knew.

  “Gregory.”

  Of course. Gregory. The lump in her throat burned.

  The map showed England, Normandy, Brittany, Poitou, and Flanders. All countries that Gregory had traveled through at one time or another.

  She’d known her father wouldn’t rest until Gregory’s murderer was found and punished. He’d even taken matters into his own hands when he’d thought William guilty. Convincing him of William’s innocence had been difficult. Yet after speaking with the captured knight, both she and Margaret had become convinced he had not killed Gregory.

  “We’ll need a list of the other knights in the last tournament.” He finally looked up at her, but she knew he didn’t see her. “Surely that won’t be hard to obtain.”

  Elizabeth nodded in agreement. She also wanted to find the man who’d killed her brother, but not at the sake of her father’s well-being.

  His obsession with revenge for Gregory’s death had worsened his mental state. What had been a bit of absentmindedness had increased to only occasional moments of lucidity. At times like this, she missed Gregory more than ever – someone who understood her father, who could help reason with him and share this burden with her.

  Should she encourage his efforts with the hope that if he found the guilty person and justice was served, he could at last start to heal from the loss of Gregory? Worry settled heavy on her shoulders. She would do anything to help and protect her father, but she just wasn’t certain what that was.

  His attention returned to the map.

  At least this interest would gain her what she needed for the night – for him to remain in his chamber. “Father, I’ll have Robert bring your supper so you can review this with him.”

  He looked up at her, a frown marring his white bushy brows. “Why? I think we should eat in the hall so we can all discuss this.”

  “Our visitors are still here.”

  “Visitors? Excellent. Perhaps they can assist us in some way. When did they arrive?”

  Elizabeth debated her options. While her father seemed quite coherent now, that could change at the snap of a finger. What might trigger the change, she could not say. Stressful situations often caused his confusion. She didn’t want anyone to see him at his worst. Nor did she want him to mention William’s capture.

  With a heavy sigh, she tried the same thing that had worked last time. “These travelers don’t care for the hunt.”

  Her father stared at her as though she were crazed. “What are you speaking of? Why does that matter?”

  “It doesn’t. I just thought since they prefer to fish that you’d rather remain in your chamber. I can send Robert up with your meal and you can discuss the list with him then.”

  “Elizabeth, one would think you’re trying to hide me from these visitors. What in heaven is wrong with you?”

  Chapter Seven

  Nicholas had listened at the door for only a moment, but that had been long enough. How could he have been so blind to Elizabeth’s deception? All the sweetness and innocence he’d seen in her were false. Her lies would end now.

  Fury poured through him, and he pressed his knife firmly into Robert’s back. He would play the fool no more. “Open the door. Now.”

  Robert hesitated, but the prick of the knife convinced him to move. He pushed open the heavy oak panel to reveal Elizabeth standing beside an older man. Crefton – Nicholas recognized him immediately from his visions.

  “Aye, Lady Elizabeth,” Nicholas said. “Why would you want to hide your father from me? What game do you play?” He kicked the door shut behind him.

  Her stunned expression gave him a brief moment of pleasure.

  “Lady Elizabeth, I fear – ” Robert grunted in pain as Nicholas adjusted his hold on him.

  “No need for you to speak, Robert,” Nicholas advised.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Crefton stood and took several steps toward them. “Who the devil are you?”

  “Father,” Elizabeth said as she moved to stand in front of the old lord, “this is Lord Trisbane, one of our...guests.”

  Nicholas shook his head, amazed at her composure. She’d play her lies through to the end it seemed. He cursed himself for the burgeoning affection he’d felt for her.

  Shoving Robert aside, he returned his knife to its sheath and grasped the hilt of his sword. “I repeat: why do you want your father to remain in his chamber? Would you hide him from me?”

  Her soft brown eyes darted from his face to the hand on his sword and back again. Worry mixed with fear in her expression. “I don’t understand.”

  “Stop pretending you don’t know who I am.” He moved toward her and the old man, certain the steward was no threat.

  “He is Lord Nicholas de Bremont, my lady,” Robert said.

  Elizabeth gasped, seemingly horrified. Her face flooded with color.

  Crefton glanced at Elizabeth, but otherwise showed no reaction to Robert’s declaration. The old man held the bluff much better than his daughter.

  “William...is he...all right?” Elizabeth’s halting words refueled Nicholas’s anger.

  “Nay, he is not all right. You left him half dead at the gate of my keep!”

  Guilt flooded Elizabeth’s face, erasing the remaining doubt that plagued him. She glanced at Robert, and Nicholas had his answer as to who had accompanied her to his holding to deliver William. Robert’s expression mirrored hers – guilty.

  She stepped back to take her father’s arm. “Lord de Bremont, I am – rather we – are sorry for William’s ill health. We were certain he’d be better off in your hands than – ”

  “Silence!”

  She flinched.

  “Do you think an apology makes any difference after what you’ve done? It means nothing. I will not listen to your lies. You have deceived me since my arrival.”

  “That’s not true,” she protested, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Who is this William he speaks of?” Crefton asked Elizabeth, his brow knitted with confusion.

  Nicholas’s hand clenched the hilt of his sword. He wanted to draw it and run the man through. “Is your memory so short that you’ve forgotten the name of the man you nearly killed? My brother. Held in your dungeon without proper care – ”

  “Nay!” Elizabeth cried out. “We cared for him as best we could.”

  “It wasn’t good enough. Add that to the fact that you tried to seduce me to distract me from my purpose.”

  She gasped at his words, color high in her cheeks.

  “Do you deny it?” He moved to stand before her, perhaps to prove to both of them that he could be near her without lust coloring his actio
ns. The scent of roses drifted up to taunt him, reminding him of the kisses they’d shared. A sharp pain filled his head as a vivid scene swamped his senses.

  Elizabeth’s soft, warm body moved beneath his.

  Her long brown tresses fanned over the pillow.

  Passion – with a hint of something more – glowed in her face.

  Her soft cry of release undid him.

  He fought against the vision and the desire it brought forth. As his mind cleared, he tried desperately to convince himself that what he’d seen and felt was only his misplaced desire, not a vision. It had to be.

  Damn his unruly mind. Damn Crefton for what he’d done to William. Most of all, damn Elizabeth for making him want things he wasn’t meant to have. “You knew who I was from the moment I arrived,” he ground out.

  “Nay, I did not.”

  “You knew.” He repeated the words. “Why else would you beg me to kiss you, try to gain my empathy, and hide your father from me?” He gestured toward Crefton, who stood motionless by her side, his expression oddly blank. “All because you knew my true identity.”

  She shook her head as tears filled her eyes.

  “You used all of your wiles to hide the truth from me.” He turned away from her in disgust then spun back as another thought occurred to him. “Did you torture William? Is that how he received his injuries?”

  “Heavens, no!” She denied it as though appalled at the very idea.

  “Why?” He stepped closer but didn’t touch her. Didn’t dare touch her. Why did she have to be the one who stirred his blood more than any other? “What could he have possibly done to you?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but he shook his head. “Nay. I would not believe you. Your father will explain.”

  Nicholas studied her face, amazed that she looked so innocent even after he’d exposed her treachery. She said nothing as she looked at her father, her expression unreadable. What was going on in the mind behind that beautiful face? He tore his gaze from her and the temptation she presented and turned to Crefton.

  “Lord de Bremont,” Robert interrupted. “While the circumstances may show us in a poor light, the truth is that Lady Elizabeth – ”