by Diana Bold
“I would never force myself on an unwilling maid,” Sebastian said sharply. Trevelan’s reply confirmed that there was more between him and Rhoswen than she had claimed. The man seemed very much the jealous lover. “If you wish, I will allow you to visit with her briefly so you can ask her for yourself.”
Trevelan’s anger visibly deserted him. “I’ve been so worried. I feared I’d lost her forever.”
Sebastian could well imagine how hard such a loss would be. “Remember who saved you from such a fate before you make any further unfounded accusations. Do not judge me by my brother’s actions.”
Trevelan looked as though he would like to say something else, but then he closed his eyes, overcome by either exhaustion or common sense.
Sebastian sighed and set his supplies aside. He had treated the worst of the damage; he would let Miranda worry about the rest. “If you are feeling up to it, I will help you to a chamber upstairs where you will be more comfortable.”
“I can make it,” Trevelan replied with mulish certainty.
Sebastian nodded, and then, with as much patience as he could muster, he urged Trevelan up the endless flights of stairs from the dungeon to the upper warren of small chambers reserved for high-ranking knights and visitors.
Once Sebastian had settled Trevelan upon his pallet to regain his breath and composure, he posted a guard at his door and went to fetch Rhoswen.
* * *
Trevelan fell back upon the rough pallet, glaring after the dark-haired barbarian who’d arranged his release from the dungeons, anger and gratitude warring within him. The bastard had obviously done this for Rhoswen’s sake. His eyes had softened when he’d spoken of her, and Trevelan could only imagine what she’d had to do to acquire his help. The thought of his sweet, delicate woman beneath that huge, rutting savage made Trevelan wild with rage.
This was his fault. He should have found a way to save her during the trek here. He never should have allowed her to fall to the mercy of this group of savages. But she was strong. He could only hope Sebastian was telling the truth about letting them go and pray this nightmare hadn’t crushed her.
A shiver ran down his spine, and the wracking tremors sent pain ricocheting from one part of his battered body to the next. Withstanding the torturous inquisition had taken every ounce of endurance he possessed.
He’d never imagined such violence existed, let alone that it would be directed toward him. Surely they hadn’t used such brutal tactics on a woman? If they’d harmed one hair on Rhoswen’s head, he feared whatever veneer of civility he’d managed to retain would shatter completely, and he’d be driven to murder.
A soft, female voice conferred with the guard outside, and he perked up a bit, wondering if Sebastian had fetched Rhoswen already. Seeing her alive and well would do him a world of good.
Unfortunately, the door opened to admit a stranger, a woman whose green eyes assessed him with surprising intelligence. Her thick braid was the color of autumn leaves — a rich, startling blend of reds and golds.
The healer.
As she moved further into the room, he realized the old crone his imagination had conjured was in fact a slender young woman.
She sucked in a breath and set the basket she carried beside the tepid water and bandages Sebastian had already provided.
“What have they done to you, poor lad?” The soft, sing-song lilt of her voice washed over him like the cool, mountain stream that ran beside the castle, inexplicably soothing. “You have nearly died from the thrashing they gave, have you not?”
An accurate appraisal of his condition, but hardly a test of her healing skills. He already knew he looked more dead than alive. Felt that way, too.
She knelt beside his pallet, her plain, woolen kirtle pooling against his forearm as she bent over him and pressed her small, warm hand to his forehead. Frowning, she swept back the rough blanket, leaving him naked from the knees up.
Stunned, he tried to reclaim the coverlet, but his weak attempt sent him reeling back against the pallet, gasping in pain. He wanted to curse, but remembered just in time that he wasn’t supposed to speak. Closing his eyes, he fisted his hands at his sides and resigned himself to letting this lovely young healer look her fill.
“Ah, you are a handsome one, are you not?” Her sweet voice matched the gentle hands she ran over every inch of his body, seeming to probe through his skin to the bones below.
He couldn’t contain a sharp moan as she moved down his ribcage, and he wondered angrily if she were capable of speaking without asking a question.
“Mute, are you?” Finishing her exploration of his ribs, she continued down his stomach, pressing here and there until sweat broke out across his chilled body. “Pity, that. You have old eyes; they tell a story of their own.”
Startled by her strange claim, he forced himself to meet her gaze, only to find her staring at him with a pensive frown.
“Mute, perhaps,” she murmured, more to herself than him. “But not dumb. Not dumb at all.”
Then, still holding his gaze, she conducted an impersonal, business-like examination of his genitalia. To his utter disbelief, he hardened in instinctive response to her soft, warm hands, his pain ebbing as he swelled with uncontrollable and unwanted need.
One perfectly formed eyebrow quirked up in obvious amusement. “Impressive reaction for someone half-dead. You will live.”
With brisk efficiency, she swept the blankets back over him, hiding his shameful display from view. “You have a long, painful road ahead of you. A few broken ribs, and more bruises than I can count, but there does not seem to be any irreparable damage to your insides, so that is good news.”
He gave a soft huff of a laugh, only to wince in renewed pain.
“It is good news,” she told him sternly, as though he’d argued with her. “In time this will seem nothing more than a bad dream. Now try to relax, and I’ll make you a tisane to ease your pain and help you sleep.”
Sudden gratitude washed over him, stunning him with its humble simplicity. Her kindness was unexpected, yet more welcome than she could ever know. Though he knew she’d been assigned to see to his wounds, her concern seemed real.
As she rose to turn away, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight.
She stared at him for a long moment, then smiled. “You are most welcome.”
Chapter Eight
Rhoswen paced Sebastian’s tower as she waited for him to return. He’d been gone for an eternity, and she feared his attempts to help her had failed. What if his brother had seen through whatever story he’d chosen to tell and thrown him in the dungeon alongside Trevelan? She didn’t know how she’d live with herself if something happened to him.
Though she’d only known him a few days, her journey into his mind made him real and dear to her in a way she’d never known before. She’d never experienced this painful longing. When she left, she would miss him.
She understood how alone he was, how separate from those who surrounded him. He had an amazing mind. If he’d been born in Halcyon and given the benefit of the education he deserved, he would have accomplished great things.
Perhaps he still could.
She hoped he would make some great breakthrough, something that would catapult his backward world forward a bit. He might even ensure some future generation of her own people would one day have the chance to walk in the sun.
She prowled the different levels of the tower as she waited, learning more about him with each chamber she entered. The top level, where he slept, boasted the huge, surprisingly comfortable bed and several trunks filled with treasures from his travels. Fur rugs covered the wooden floors, a welcome departure from the filthy rushes his kind used for no fathomable reason. Heavy, striped blue and silver silk bed hangings turned his bed into a warm oasis against the Welsh winters.
His expansive workroom encompassed the second floor. She examined dozens of half-finished experiments, journals of careful notes and drawings of different mechanical invent
ions with a touch of awe.
Sebastian was a scientist by his very nature.
She longed to take him to Halcyon and show him the laboratories full of gleaming steel and glass. Oh, how he’d love the orderly rows of instruments and the vast libraries and databases where her people’s knowledge was stored.
Until she’d met him, she’d never truly appreciated the advantages of growing up in the sparkling city beneath the sea. She’d focused so much time and energy in the pursuit of Surface exploration; she’d stopped appreciating her home.
Well, all that would change once she got back. The driving desire to make her home on the Surface, which had consumed her for so long, had faded. She wondered if she’d ever be convinced to leave again. The Surface held dangers she’d never imagined.
Dried herbs and flowers hung from the ceiling of the bottom floor, and tinctures and elixirs lined dozens of shelves. The scope of his knowledge of plants and their possible uses amazed her. In this area, she imagined he could teach her people a thing or two.
She stared longingly at the cabinet that hid the entrance to the hot springs, but somehow resisted the urge to go below and look for the tunnels that could provide her a means of escape. She couldn’t leave without Trevelan and still couldn't believe he'd really come to her rescue. Perhaps his feelings for her ran deeper than she'd ever imagined.
Besides, she couldn't betray Sebastian in such a manner, not when news of Trevelan had already given him reason to doubt her. Right now he risked his very life to save her, had even agreed to help Trevelan, who was a stranger to him. If she left now, she would never forgive herself.
Her mission to evaluate Old Halcyon had been eclipsed by the more important goal of making sure she and Trevelan both got home with all their secrets intact. Much as it pained her to admit, Sebastian seemed her only hope of accomplishing that.
Wearied by all the useless speculation and worry, she returned to the top floor and burrowed beneath the warm blankets to wait for Sebastian’s return.
Much later, she finally heard the massive tower door creak open. Hurried footsteps sounded in the stairwell, and then Sebastian strode into his bedchamber, looking as hale and handsome as ever.
Relief washed through her, and she leapt from the bed, throwing herself into his arms and hugging him tightly. “Oh, Sebastian. I was so worried about you.”
He tensed for a moment, as though unsure how to handle her exuberance. Then he sighed and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against his strong chest. “Everything has been sorted,” he murmured, his lips very close to her ear. “I have spoken to my brother, and he has agreed to let you and your friend leave.”
“How did you do that?” She pulled back and stared at him in amazement. “I thought he meant to kill us both as spies.”
“I lied,” Sebastian admitted grimly. “I told him Trevelan was mute, which was why he had not spoken. I also claimed the two of you were on a pilgrimage to the great standing stones when you became lost on our land.”
She bit her lip, knowing how much it must have cost him to lie to his brother on her behalf. “Thank you. I do not have the words to express my appreciation for all you’ve done.”
He shrugged and stepped away. “I could not stand by and do nothing. If either of you had been harmed, I would have been forever haunted.”
She feared too many ghosts haunted him already.
“Well, you took a big risk on my behalf, and I am grateful.”
“I wish I could tell you it was going to be that easy,” he told her grimly. “Part of our bargain was that I bring you to dinner tonight. Simon wants to ask you some questions.”
She bit her lip, a sharp pang of fear shooting through her. “All right. But you’ll have to tell me what I should say.”
He gave her a long, searching look. “Would you like to go see your friend? He has been given a room in the tower above the dungeon. He needs his rest, but I think he needs to see that you are all right. I do not think he trusts me.”
“That would be wonderful.” Rhoswen’s heart swelled with relief. “I would like to see him.”
She started toward the door, but Sebastian caught her arm. “Perhaps you should change. I doubt the people of Hawkesmere would understand if you were to parade across the bailey in your nightclothes, enchanting as they might be.”
Flushing, she folded her arms across her chest. In truth, she hadn’t given any thought to her state of dress. “Of course. Can you tell me where you put the rest of my things?”
He strode to one of his trunks and pulled out the azure velvet gown with the white lawn chemise that had been in her pack. Halcyon’s seamstress had carefully crafted the garment for her based on her descriptions of the latest Surface fashions she'd provided after her last trip.
“Will this do?” she asked as he handed her the bundle of clothing. She hoped it was suitable, since so far she’d been completely underdressed for every occasion.
“The fabric is finer than anything I have ever seen. I doubt the Queen has garments of such quality. But if we make this a quick visit and no one gets a close look at you…” He trailed off, reaching out to run his fingertips down a long, tangled strand of her hair. “Perhaps it would be best if you simply wore the robe again. Nothing about you makes any sense, Rhoswen. You’re bound to cause a stir, no matter what you wear.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, chagrined. “I did my best to make sure I’d fit in with your people.”
“You are simply too beautiful. ‘Tis not your fault. And Hawkesmere has been long without a mistress. You will have to wear it tonight, I suppose, but for now I would like to keep you as inconspicuous as possible.”
“I’ll wear whatever you think best,” she assured him in a meek tone that was totally out of character. His comment about her beauty had touched her, but had also made it very clear to her how completely out of her element she was. For all her spying on those who inhabited the Surface, there was much she still did not know.
He stared at her for a moment longer, then removed the heavy robe and lowered it carefully over her shoulders. He tucked her hair behind her ears, then pulled up the cowl, effectively shielding her from prying eyes.
As she followed Sebastian out of the tower and across the bailey back toward the dungeon, she remembered that first painful trek. Her feet felt much better today, but she still limped awkwardly, and every muscle in her body ached. She kept her head down, peering around the edges of the cowl, but no one seemed to pay them much attention.
Sebastian led her up a set of steps where a warren of small sleeping chambers, none larger than her closet at home, bisected a long hallway. He paused before a door at the end of the hall where an unsmiling guard stepped aside to let them pass.
“He looks terrible,” Sebastian warned. “Brace yourself.”
Then he swung the door open and motioned for her to go inside. She took a deep breath and entered.
Trevelan lay upon a clean pallet in the corner, covered with several blankets, his beautiful face beaten to a bloody pulp. A lovely, red-haired woman stood beside him, coaxing him to drink a tisane of some sort.
“Hello, Miranda,” Sebastian murmured in greeting. “Do you mind if we speak to your patient alone for a moment?”
Miranda glanced over at Sebastian, her green gaze sweeping his lean form with obvious appreciation. “Certainly. I am done for the moment, in any event. I will check on him again this evening.”
A sudden stab of what could only be jealousy swept through Rhoswen, stunning her with its ferocity. She’d never thought to experience such a trite emotion but couldn’t deny that the thought of Sebastian in another woman’s arms bothered her.
As Miranda left the room, she cast a curious glance in Rhoswen’s direction. Still annoyed, Rhoswen kept her face hidden beneath the cowl, unwilling to assuage her interest. She waited until the woman’s footsteps faded down the hall, then rushed to Trevelan’s side.
“Oh, Trevelan,” she cried, kneeling beside
his pallet. “Are you all right?”
Trevelan opened his swollen eyes and peered up at her. “I’ve been better,” he rasped, forcing a wry smile. “But I’m alive.”
Relieved by Trevelan’s tone, she motioned Sebastian forward. “If Sebastian wouldn’t have helped me, we’d both be dead.” She needed Trevelan to realize not all of the Surface people were barbarians. She wanted him to acknowledge his debt to the man who’d risked so much for their sake.
Instead, he made a pained, noncommittal sound and closed his eyes again. “I want to speak to you alone. Can you make him leave?”
Sebastian met her embarrassed gaze with a grim shrug and stepped back into the hall, closing the door behind him.
“How could you be so rude?” she asked Trevelan in a harsh whisper. “That man saved your life.”
“How can you be so foolish?” Trevelan snapped in return. “I can’t believe you trust him. This is probably all a ruse, a trick to make me confess to the crimes they believe I’ve committed. Neither of us will leave here alive, Rhoswen. Can’t you see that? Please tell me you haven’t given yourself to him.”
“Of course not.” Furious heat burned her cheeks. “I delved his mind. I trust him implicitly. He is a good man. You’d recognize it yourself if you could let go of your hatred and prejudice for even a moment.”
“What did you tell him?” Trevelan demanded. “When I think of all I suffered in that dungeon to keep you safe…only to find you’d been telling him everything he wanted to know in return for his empty promises of help—”
“I didn’t tell him anything,” she claimed, though guilt assaulted her. She mentally assured herself nothing she’d spoken to Sebastian about could be used against Halcyon.
“He’ll betray us,” Trevelan said, his voice weary and disgusted. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Anger and disappointment streaked through her. “You’re tired and weak. You need to rest.”