Halcyon Rising

by Diana Bold

  The moment she settled upon him, the pleasure disappeared, replaced by the nightmare of his past. Panic surged within him, and he wrenched his lips from hers, setting her roughly aside.

  Damaged. Dirty. Broken.

  The words tumbled through his mind as he struggled to regain control. He had fantasized endlessly about having her in his arms, but he found he could not do it. Even after all these years, he could not stand to be touched or restrained in any way.

  “Rhoswen,” he breathed, the word wrenched from deep inside him. “If you were in my mind, you must have seen things… things that must have horrified you. And you have to know… I am unclean. I do not deserve your kiss… your touch.”

  She blinked up at him in confusion, her lips swollen from his kiss, her nipples hard against the soft fabric of her strange clothes. “I saw nothing but good in you, Sebastian. I don’t know what you mean.”

  Her words shattered him. He did not know if she told the truth or lied to spare his feelings. He could not bear the thought of her having seen the degradations he had suffered at Sa’id’s hands. Or worse yet, how his body had often acted independently of his mind, how he had found pleasure in things that should have disgusted him, how he had sometimes begged to be touched.

  Sa’id had always liked to hear him beg.

  A tremor traveled the length of his body as he tried to force the hateful memories back where they belonged. His arousal faded in an icy rush. Christ, he had managed to keep thoughts of Sa’id buried for so long. And for a moment he hated her for making him relive them.

  She scrambled to her knees, kneading his shoulder, obviously distressed. “Don’t be angry. I won’t force myself on you again. I promise.”

  He gave a bitter laugh, feeling unmanned. What sort of man turned a woman like her away?

  Unfortunately, the answer was clear. He wasn’t a man. He had lost the right to call himself one in the desert.

  The wisest course would be to leave the tower until he had gained some control, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away. Despite everything, the last half hour had been one of the best of his life. He had never felt this close to anyone.

  “Talk to me,” he implored, desperate for some answers. She had him twisted in knots, and he still did not even know who she was. “Tell me where you came from.”

  “I can’t do that,” she reiterated. “I would like to. Really I would. But even if I did, you’d never believe me.”

  “I would believe you.” He could not begin to imagine a place where gadgets like the ones on his desk were commonplace, but he feared the answer would shake his entire world.

  “My offer still stands. I will tell you everything you want to know about our instruments. How they’re made and what they’re used for. I can answer any of your questions, except for where I’m from. All you have to do in return is help me leave this place.”

  With a harsh sigh, he stared up at the vaulted stone ceiling. He wanted what she offered, more than he could possibly explain, even more than he wanted to sink deep within her sweet, soft body and banish the ghosts of his past. But he could not see any way to match her bargain without earning his brother’s eternal enmity.

  “Sebastian! Open the door.” Angry and frustrated, the distinctive bellow sounded from the courtyard below the tower, slicing through Sebastian’s troubled thoughts.

  Simon.

  Sebastian could not imagine what had brought his brother to his doorstep at this time of night, but it did not bode well.

  * * *

  Simon’s angry roar sent trepidation chasing down Rhoswen’s spine. She cast Sebastian a nervous glance, hoping he’d set her mind at ease, but he looked nearly as anxious as she. She’d foolishly allowed herself to relax her guard around Sebastian, but she hadn’t forgotten the dangers beyond the tower.

  “’Tis Simon.” Sebastian’s husky voice held a hint of worry. “I must see what he wants.” Sliding from the bed, he crossed the room and disappeared down the stairs.

  Rhoswen waited only moments before pulling on the heavy robe, and then hurrying after him. She was determined to hear firsthand what had prompted the lord of the castle to bellow for his brother like a commoner. His late night appearance undoubtedly had something to do with her.

  She reached the herbarium on the ground floor just as Sebastian’s bristling older brother entered the tower. If she’d been a little quicker, perhaps she’d have seen how Sebastian opened the door.

  Hawkesmere’s Lord gave her an angry, speculative glance, then turned his attention upon Sebastian. “This is the second time in less than two days I have been forced to traipse all the way over here to talk to you.”

  Sebastian frowned. “I am not used to being summoned like one of your lackeys.”

  “Has the wench bewitched you? I have never seen you take such an interest in anything that was not in the bottom of one of your glass tubes.” Simon cast another brooding glance in Rhoswen’s direction. “She is lovely, lad. I understand your fascination, but use a little sense. You have obviously gotten what you wanted, why not let me question her now?”

  Sebastian’s face darkened with unmistakable anger. “She stays with me.”

  “Why do you care?” Simon’s voice revealed his own barely controlled fury. “I do not understand why she means so much to you.”

  “I already told you,” Sebastian thundered, his own voice rising with obvious frustration. “I have seen far too many innocents suffer to be a party to any more senseless brutality.”

  “Swear to me you are telling the truth,” Simon demanded. “Swear you would never betray me for a woman.”

  Rhoswen bit her lip, clenching her hands in frustrated fists at her sides. She hated to put Sebastian in such a difficult position, yet at the same time had no doubt he’d do whatever it took to save her.

  Her heart swelled with nameless emotion, and tears pricked her eyes. She’d done nothing to deserve his loyalty, but somehow she’d earned it. She prayed she didn’t have to do anything to hurt him.

  “I take full responsibility,” Sebastian said evasively. “No harm will come to Hawkesmere because of her, Simon. I swear it.”

  Simon shook his head, looking unconvinced. “I do not believe you. Especially given the fact that a stranger tried to steal a horse in the village a few hours ago. A stranger who looks exactly like her.”

  Trevelan!

  Guilt suffused her when she realized she’d hardly given her companion a thought since she’d first laid eyes upon Sebastian. During those first few days on the trail, she’d prayed Trevelan would catch up and somehow mount a rescue, but when she’d arrived at Hawkesmere without so much as a glimpse of her friend, she’d assumed he’d abandoned her.

  Sebastian turned and gave her a piercing glance, betrayal shimmering in the emerald depths of his eyes. “What do you know of this?”

  She shook her head wordlessly, unsure what to say. Was there any explanation he would believe?

  With a frown, he turned his attention back to his brother. “Can you give us a moment? I will meet you in the dungeon as soon as I have some answers.”

  Simon hesitated and shot her a fulminating glare, but then he nodded and stormed out.

  As soon as Sebastian shut the door behind his brother, she stepped forward and gave him an imploring look. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you. I just didn’t think it would become an issue. Your men captured me before Trevelan could join me on the beach. When I never saw him on the journey here, I assumed he either hadn’t seen what happened or had chosen to abandon me to my fate.”

  “Trevelan?” Sebastian frowned, obviously upset by this new information. “Who is he to you? Your brother? Your husband?”

  “Neither.” She cast about for an explanation he would believe, wondering why she felt so guilty, as though she’d been unfaithful in some way. “He is my friend. We were making our annual trip to the great standing stones on the Salisbury Plain to observe the stars.”

  Best not to mention the
ir mission to explore the remains of Old Halcyon.

  He stared at her for a moment. “Do not lie to me, Rhoswen. I can accept your secrets, but not your lies.”

  “Neither of us intends to harm your people in any way,” she promised, hoping he heard the truth of that in her voice. “He’s a scholar, not a warrior. Please, Sebastian. Don’t let your brother harm him.”

  Sebastian’s anger fled in the face of her gentle request, though he hated that she cared enough about another man to make it. Still, he could not refuse her. He had come too far down this path to turn back now.

  He shoved his hand through his hair and turned away, pacing the length of the room as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he now had two strange, foreign creatures to worry about. Slowly, a plan began to take shape.

  Returning to her side, he offered her a strained smile. “I will speak with my brother. I think I can come up with a believable story, and perhaps he will agree to release your friend. But you must promise me if this does not work—if Simon refuses to listen to me—you will let me help you leave, even if it means leaving your friend behind.”

  Her blue eyes clouded with dismay. “I can’t, Sebastian. I can’t leave without Trevelan, not if he risked his life to help me.”

  He shook his head. “I will not lift a finger for the man if you do not make me this promise.” He cupped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “I do not want anything to happen to you. And there is no point in sacrificing yourself when it will not save him.”

  She bit her lip, her eyes welling with tears. “I can’t leave him. And I don’t think you’d like me very much if I was the sort of person who could.”

  Her words made sense, even contained the sort of honor he tried to apply to his own life, but he still did not like them. “I suppose you are right. If Simon believes my story and agrees to let the two of you go, I will see that your friend is made comfortable and gets some rest in preparation for your journey back to… wherever you came from.”

  “Thank you.” The utter trust in her eyes slew him. She put far too much faith in his ability to work a miracle. He was not at all certain he could reason with Simon and hated that he had to attempt do so on behalf of a man who was obviously his rival for Rhoswen’s affections.

  Chapter Seven

  When Sebastian met his brother in the guardtower, Simon’s face was dark with suspicion. However, he asked no questions, simply pointed toward the stairs. Sebastian followed him down to the dungeons for the second time in less than a sennight, turmoil churning within him.

  Pausing in front of the first small chamber, Simon gestured inside. “We questioned him for three hours, but he never said a word.”

  A tall, lean man hung shackled to the wall, his pale, nude body mottled with blood and bruises.

  Sebastian schooled his expression to hide his revulsion; glad for the cowl of the heavy robe he had retrieved from Rhoswen. He knew all too well how much strength it took to withstand such pain without cracking.

  Grudging respect built within him.

  The man’s extreme height, blond hair and pale skin marked him a foreigner. A Saxon, perhaps? Yet, other than the marks of his recent beating, he bore no scars. Impossible for a warrior to reach manhood without some sort of battle wound.

  Perhaps he was a scholar.

  The man met his gaze with defiant hatred, though he had been hit in the face so many times his pale blue eyes were swollen almost shut. Still not broken, Sebastian thought with reluctant admiration.

  The prisoner had some deep connection to Rhoswen. Sebastian had seen the truth in her eyes. After all Sebastian had shared with her, he could not help feeling betrayed by this man’s very existence.

  It would have been easier to contemplate helping the man if he had been bowed with age or disfigured in some way. As it was, he found it all too easy to picture Rhoswen in Trevelan’s arms.

  “He will not talk,” Sebastian said, glad the story he had concocted to explain where Rhoswen had come from would still work. He would have been hard pressed to make up another at such short notice. “The maid finally told me all, Simon. Trust me, there is no reason to treat the poor man so harshly.”

  Simon raised a mocking brow. “Oh? Do tell.”

  “He is mute,” Sebastian lied blithely. “He has not spoken because he cannot.”

  A harsh laugh was Simon’s only reply.

  “He is a Danish scholar,” Sebastian continued. “She is his sister. They were on their way to see the great standing stones at Salisbury when you captured her on the beach. I imagine he followed, trying to rescue her.”

  Simon frowned. “This is what she told you?”

  “She was very forthcoming once you left,” Sebastian assured him, tamping down his guilt. His utter certainty that Rhoswen and her friend meant no harm to Hawkesmere’s people justified his lies, but they still did not fall easy from his tongue. “She has kept her silence to protect him. They are not a threat, Simon. The strange instruments she carried were scientific in nature. She explained them to me, and they are not as advanced as we first thought, merely very well crafted.”

  “I want to speak with her,” Simon warned, but Sebastian could see he wanted to believe him. Not only because it made everything much easier, but because he did not want to believe his little brother would lie to him. “I need to hear this with my own ears. I want you to bring her to the Great Hall tonight for dinner, so that I can watch her and speak to her at my leisure.”

  “Of course,” Sebastian agreed with a sinking heart. He had wanted to keep Rhoswen hidden from the rest of Hawkesmere’s people. When she appeared in the Hall, she was bound to cause quite a stir.

  He risked a quick glance at Trevelan and found the stranger watching him with a narrowed, speculative gaze. He prayed the fool had enough wits left to keep his mouth shut and not ruin his story. If he said even one word now, he would put all three of their lives at risk.

  Thankfully, Trevelan seemed to realize what was at stake.

  “Let me care for his wounds and settle him comfortably so he can regain his strength,” Sebastian coaxed. “Then let them go on their way, Simon. We have already inconvenienced them more than enough. Do not become what I spent so many years fighting against.”

  Simon sighed and pinned Sebastian with a fierce look. “I will do this, because you have asked it of me, and you so seldom ask me for anything. But if any of my people should come to harm, I will never forgive you.”

  “Thank you,” Sebastian told him, overwhelmed with relief. “I will take care of everything. You need never worry about them again, I swear it.”

  Frowning, Simon turned toward the door. “Go ahead and cut him down. I will send for the healer and summon a servant to bring you some hot water and bandages. He is in rough shape. He will need every bit of you and Miranda’s combined skill to walk away from here.”

  Sebastian waited until he heard his brother’s footsteps fade away before he cut Trevelan’s bonds. The large, blond man sagged forward, gasping with pain as his weakened limbs took the weight of his body after so many hours bound to the wall.

  Sebastian caught him, wrapping an arm around his waist as he helped him to the narrow cot in the corner of the cell. “Lie down. I mean you no harm.”

  With a soft moan, Trevelan curled up on his side, obviously unable to bear the mattress’ pressure against the wounds on his back. He had been given at least a dozen lashes, and the deep welts were bloody and enflamed. Lying on his stomach probably would not be any easier, because Sebastian feared several of his ribs were broken.

  “Rhoswen is fine, sir,” Sebastian assured the man in a hushed tone. “I appreciate your support of my claim that you were mute. If you had said anything to dispute me, it would have been disastrous.”

  Trevelan merely watched him, and Sebastian began to wonder if the man really was mute. Or perhaps he just did not understand. Foolish to assume the man would be able to speak his language just because Rhoswen could. She might be his i
nterpreter.

  A servant appeared with hot water and bandages, and Sebastian sent the man to gather the herbs and poultices he would need. Miranda, the village healer, would bring her own, but it would take at least an hour for her to arrive, and Sebastian knew enough of the healing arts to make Trevelan more comfortable.

  When the servant disappeared, Sebastian began cleaning Trevelan’s wounds. His respect for the man grew when Trevelan remained stoic throughout the pain. This strong-willed foreigner was Rhoswen’s equal in a way Sebastian feared he himself could never be.

  All his life, Sebastian had been accused of being far too fair to be a man. He had always hated his looks. People often thought him weak at first glance, made all sorts of erroneous assumptions about his character and sexual practices. After his comely face had caused Sa’id to pick him for his perverted games, Sebastian had even considered disfiguring himself to prevent such a thing from ever happening again.

  But despite Trevelan’s wounds, the man was so handsome Sebastian felt like a troll in comparison. He could not help but wonder if Rhoswen’s sweet passion had all been an act, a desperate attempt to gain Sebastian’s help.

  The thought sobered him, and he wished he had the ability to explore her mind the way she had explored his. He would dearly like to know if all her kisses and touches had been spurred by fear.

  Jesu Christ, just yesterday he had sworn to never take what he wanted, no matter how freely she appeared to give it, in order to keep from becoming like his hated desert master. Already he had gone far past the line he had meant to draw.

  “Rhoswen read my mind,” he told Trevelan, in a half-hearted attempt to explain the situation. “She must have found me worthy of her trust, so I hope you will come to feel the same.”

  “If you have put your filthy hands upon her, I swear I’ll kill you.” When Trevelan finally spoke, his voice was hoarse with disuse, his accent even thicker than Rhoswen’s.