Not that he had any trouble finding all kinds of reserves of strength last night with Imogen in his arms, he thought dryly, and tried not to laugh out loud at the memory. He suspected that these men mightn’t get the joke and in Robert’s experience there was nothing as dangerous as an armed man who didn’t get the joke.
He contented himself with being safely ignored as the men manacled him and marched him out of the dungeons, but it was only when they reached the king’s apartments that Robert found his mind focusing on the situation at hand, instead of the brilliant memories of the night just past.
It was an unusual situation, to say the least. Condemned men didn’t normally have meetings with the king. William tended to keep his slaughter well away from the royal person. Despite the strangeness, however, Robert didn’t doubt for a moment that this odd social visit was merely a postponement, not a reprieve.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Death had never held much fear for him. He was a knight for hire. He was a giver of death and destruction and knew that he would one day be a receiver of it. Life was never meant to be forever, and the life of a knight was often brutally short. He had long since made his peace with that but, now, for the first time in his life, he felt his skin break out in a cold sweat at the thought of his own mortality.
And his fear had a name: Imogen.
She had brought a value to his life that he had never had before. He hated knowing that he would be leaving her behind unprotected in this dangerous world, and the longing to have more time to hold her in his arms was almost unbearable. Somehow, though, he suspected that there wouldn’t be time enough in eternity for him to have his fill of her.
He had to free himself of these morbid thoughts. He would achieve nothing by dwelling on this new fear, especially not when it had the power to paralyze him. Sunken in self-pity he would be of no help at all to Imogen. He drew a deep breath as he walked into the king’s chambers surrounded by the Royal Guard.
He didn’t bow to the man standing near the window even as the guards around him did so with energy. Instead, he stood passively, his manacles rattling as he crossed his arms defiantly over his chest.
William didn’t seem to notice this impertinence. He barely seemed to notice that his privacy had been invaded at all. Instead he stared morosely out the window and, even from the door, Robert could see that his eyes were badly bloodshot, and that his hand trembled slightly.
“Remove his manacles, then leave us,” William said, not even bothering to look round as he spoke, his voice alcohol-roughened. The guards quickly removed the iron rings and bowed, eager to leave the room.
I’d like to have half their luck, Robert thought wryly as he began rubbing blood down into his hands, gritting his teeth at the pain caused by the sudden return of his circulation.
After a long moment, William turned from the window and moved to sit down in a nearby chair. Robert hesitated a second, then decided that in this strange scene, bravado was everything. He sat down in a chair across from William’s.
Robert only barely suppressed the groan of pleasure that rose in his throat as he stretched himself out full length in the chair. Tired muscles started unwinding and returning to their natural position. As the pain slowly eased he found his curiosity increasing as to what was actually going on. He had sat only as an act of defiant bluster and had never expected William to let the insult remain, but he did. None of it tallied with what Robert knew to be fact. Hell, even before this mess, William had wanted to convert Robert to a dismembered form as quickly as possible. Now that William had the perfect excuse, he seemed to be too distracted to focus his anger.
Robert didn’t like this strange behavior and found himself automatically bracing himself.
“Your wife is certainly a most unusual baggage,” William said suddenly.
“You could say that,” Robert said, carefully keeping his voice neutral. But if the king dared to threaten Imogen in any way, Robert was more than ready to kill him with his bare hands.
“I believe I did say that,” William said testily. “Most unusual. I don’t think anyone has ever called me stupid to my face before, not and lived to tell about it.”
Robert winced and tried desperately to think of some mitigating circumstance to explain away Imogen’s undiplomatic statement, promising himself at the same time that if he ever got the chance he would have a very long discussion with the woman about how best to stay alive when playing games with kings. “She has been under a lot strain lately and…”
William nodded his head and waved away the excuse with a dismissive, “Yes, Yes,” grimacing slightly as the sudden movements sent pain raging through his raw head.
Robert waited with coiled preparedness for William’s next move, but the man seemed quite content to stare at the floor, as if he was trying to divine answers from the stonework. Robert found his patience growing dangerously thin.
He needed this to end. Now.
“Just what the hell is going on here?” Robert asked bluntly.
A ghost of a smile played over William’s face as he lifted his eyes to meet Robert’s, his brow rising sardonically. “What a truly excellent question.” He sighed and ran a shaky hand over his face before continuing wearily. “As near as I can make out, you and I have been dragged into a rather nasty little family argument. We are nothing but bit players in a larger drama, it would seem.” William’s voice was filled with a brooding bitterness, his eyes narrowing with sober anger. “You are no assassin, are you?” he finally asked accusingly.
Robert smiled lopsidedly. “One would think you are almost saddened by that.”
William stood up abruptly and began to pace the room before answering. “Aye, I would damn well prefer you to be an assassin. If you were the treasonous dog they told me you were, I could have you executed on this very day and could be rid of you permanently. If nothing else, it would make my world less irritating. I have always liked the idea of seeing your arrogant carcass dangling from a noose.”
“Thank you,” Robert murmured.
But William didn’t seem to notice the interruption, as he was too caught up in his vague feeling that somehow Robert had cheated him on purpose by not being guilty.
“I’ve never liked you,” William continued. “You’re smug, conceited and entirely without respect. You insult me just by living. You dare to patronize me, and dare further to do it in my presence, damn you, like I am just some squire instead of your king.” He swung round and pinned Robert with a glare. “But you damn well don’t plan to kill me, do you?” he roared.
Robert pretended to consider it for a moment, daring to believe for the first time that there just might be any number of tomorrows in his future. “No,” he said finally, unable and unwilling to hide his grin.
William seemed to deflate and age before Robert’s eyes.
William then carefully averted his face, moving to look out the window once more. “I’ve been an absolute fool,” he said with soft disgust. “I have somehow managed to give myself over to an evil illusion.” William needed no reply to that statement; too consumed dealing with sad truths that Robert knew nothing of.
When suddenly he turned around, all visible grief was gone. “So what exactly do you know of Lady Imogen’s past?”
It took a second for Robert to catch the abrupt change of topic, and then he just shrugged his shoulders.
“Very little. She holds her truths very closely, like a talisman to stop any further evils. She has let only small parts of her past escape. I do know, however, that she has been kept a virtual prisoner by her brother and that that bastard has deliberately hurt and terrified her. At the same time, he has bound her to him in some way that I just cannot seem to unravel—yet.” Robert looked down at his white knuckles. “In all, I know enough so that if you leave me alone with your precious Angel Courtier for even just a few minutes, I will send him straight back to the Devil.”
William smiled darkly. “Sounds perfect.”
Robert raised a
brow questioningly and William met his look blandly. “Let’s just say that Roger has become something of an inconvenience. I hope your wife continues to keep her own counsel concerning her brother, as I would rather the world remained ignorant of my own folly in this drama.”
And with that Robert had to be content. William was clearly going to say no more. Not that the details mattered now, Robert realized slowly, not when the king was all but telling him that he was removing the dark cloud of threat from their lives.
Robert felt strangely reluctant to grab this reprieve with both hands after the initial jubilation passed. He was too cautious to trust something he didn’t entirely understand and his instincts were warning him that it couldn’t really be this simple. “So, where exactly does that leave Imogen and I?” Robert asked, his muscles tensing as he awaited the reply.
William shrugged his shoulders. “It leaves the pair of you as far away from me as humanly possible,” he said succinctly.
Robert let out a surprised laugh. “Can I have that in writing?” he asked, elated, but not letting that blind him to the particulars.
“If that’s what it costs me to get you gone, I’ll do it right away.” He went to the door and bellowed for his secretary. The poor man scuttled into the room and quickly scribbled down William’s formal notice of exiling Robert and Imogen to Shadowsend.
Robert slowly got up, wincing only slightly with the pain of the movement. “I may have to beg a little more of your hospitality. Just time enough for some rest.” He looked down at the borrowed clothes. “And a bath.”
William grunted his affirmative as he heated his own sealing wax in a spoon, moving it slowly over the flickering candle. “Well, I suppose I owe Lady Imogen at the very least one rested husband. She might faint if you go to her in that condition. I’ll have one sent to your chamber now,” he said, and flicked a disgusted look over Robert’s unkempt figure.
“She is made of sterner stuff than that,” Robert murmured enigmatically as he took the paper from William’s outstretched hand.
With a small bow, Robert turned to leave. But William halted him and reached down to the table, picking up a small ring. “Give this to your lady.” William stared at the simple band intently. “And tell her that justice will be done.”
Without comment, Robert took the strangely warm ring and walked quickly to the door, eager to tell Imogen the good news about their exile.
William’s disgusted mutter of “I really don’t like you” reached him as he opened the door.
“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” Robert said with a smile as he looked over his shoulder, “I’ve never been none too fond of you, myself.”
William’s startled laughter followed Robert down the hall as he left the room a free man.
“If you don’t stop humming, Robert, I may have to actually leave this bed so that I can kill you,” Gareth said through gritted teeth, “and at the moment, I find the thought of leaving this bed truly perverted.”
“You never were a morning person, were you?” Robert asked with a good-natured smile, feeling very happy to be alive as he stepped into the copper tub that the servants had brought to the chamber Gareth and Matthew had been sharing. His impatience to be with Imogen raged inside him, but when he saw her this time, he wanted it to be without the least vestige of the dungeons clinging to him. This was the start of the rest of their lives and he wanted to do it properly this time. Still, he raced through his bath, not wanting to waste any more time away from Imogen than he had to.
“How very observant of you,” Gareth said sarcastically. “I am certainly not a morning person, not when that morning is separated from the night by only a few moments of sleep. I also find it does my humor no good to be confronted by a disgustingly happy madman asking me whether he can have a bath and borrow some clothes so that he can go and seduce his wife. Again.” Gareth yawned and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “I’d say I’m actually displaying remarkable tolerance by not strangling you.”
Robert chuckled as he began to scrub the soap into his scalp, groaning with happiness at the sensation. “You should be grateful that I haven’t taken your head off your shoulders for daring to bring Imogen to the court and then letting her go down into the dungeons last night,” Robert said with a smile as he enthusiastically lathered the suds. “I left you to look after her, not to give her an education in the king’s justice system.”
Gareth rolled over and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry about that. I knew you wouldn’t be best pleased but, at the time, I was more afraid of her than I was of you. Since you have been gone, the woman’s turned into a complete harpy.” He shuddered delicately. “At least they had the good sense to chain you to a wall. Her, they left free to terrorize the populace, and I’m man enough to admit that she frightened the hell out of me.”
“Wise man.”
“I thought so,” Gareth replied modestly.
“Spare me,” Matthew said flatly, his gaze never wavering from his hands as they expertly sharpened Robert’s sword.
Robert only laughed again as he ducked his head under the water to get out the last of the soap. He stood up once he was finished and casually wrapped a cloth around his hips, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction. “God, that’s good. I feel almost human again, which is novel after so long spent living like a caged animal.”
Gareth opened an eye and gave him an assessing once-over, taking in his faded bruises and weight loss. “Well, I don’t care what you think you feel like, you look a starved mess.” He closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back. “And that is no mean feat when you consider the obscene amount of food you forced me to watch you put away when you first got here.”
“Well, you had better keep your eyes averted as I intend to eat a lot more before this day is over. I aim to take full advantage of the king’s erratic hospitality after so much time spent in his less-than-inviting dungeon.” He smiled teasingly. “You’re getting squeamish, Old Man.”
“Old man?” Gareth murmured without opening his eyes. “I’m younger than you.”
“Only by twelve months,” Robert reproved as he began hunting for some clothes. “And as for how I look, a bit of good food and soft living should see that off nicely.”
“I wouldn’t get too ready for that soft living just yet if I were you, Boy.” Matthew’s face, when Robert spared him a glance, was the picture of gloom and despair.
“Why ever not? Surely I have done enough hard living for the time being?”
“Aye, that’s as it may be, but there seems to be one little detail you have overlooked.” Robert raised a questioning brow, his attention caught. Matthew looked down at the sword blade, its length glowing in the early-morning sunlight. “You seem to have forgotten that the brother still lingers on the scene.”
Robert laughed with relief and grabbed a deep blue tunic, pulling it over his head. When his face reemerged, his eyes glowed with an almost feral light. “You have got it wrong, Old Man. I haven’t forgotten that bastard for a second. I’m looking forward to sending him off to Hell with his head under his arm, but that’s not my idea of hard living. It will be a pure, unadulterated pleasure.”
“Will you want any help?” Gareth asked conversationally.
“No, the disposing of the big brother is a pleasure I intend to keep for myself. I am going to enjoy reaching down the son of a bitch’s throat and pulling off his balls.”
“Graphic,” Gareth murmured appreciatively.
“I liked it,” Robert demurred with false modesty.
“Like small boys playing at war,” Matthew said in disgust as he leaned the sword in the corner.
“You don’t like the plan? I kind of thought that he deserved it.” Robert paused a moment. “And worse.”
“It’s not a question of whether the worm deserves it or not,” Matthew growled with barely restrained impatience, “but what I’m questioning is why his painful demise hasn’t already been achieved. I happen to think you’re underestimating you
r enemy, and that is always a fatal mistake in my experience. Do you think he is now blithely waiting in his room for you to come and play creative executioner? Knowing that pond scum, he is already making plans while we speak.”
Robert shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what he is planning, I will beat him. He is not playing mind games with a terrified orphan anymore and, at the moment, that self-same orphan is my priority. Roger can wait his turn and, when the time comes, his opponent is going to be a grown man, not a child.”
“I was just saying it as I see it,” Matthew said with a quiet conviction that temporarily rocked Robert.
“You really can be an old woman sometimes, you know,” Gareth said with another yawn.
“Better an old woman than a dead hero.”
“Play nicely now, children,” Robert said with a slight smile, enjoying the familiar sounds of the two men arguing again. It was strange to confess, but he had actually missed it.
He sat on the end of the bed and put on Gareth’s boots that he had found near the hearth. As he moved his feet away quickly, he blithely ignored Gareth’s disgusted mutter: “Well, make yourself at home, do.”
Robert stood and spread his arms wide. “Well, I think I’m ready to go and tell my lady wife about her exile.” He smiled with relish. “And I even have it in writing and sealed by the king himself.”
“Well, you just toddle along and do that, but for God’s sake do it quietly. Some of us actually need sleep if we are to function normally.” Gareth cast a disgusted look at the glowing radiance on Robert’s face, then pulled a pillow over his head.
“And Roger?” Matthew asked quietly.
“I’ll see to him before we leave in the morning, never fear. But right now I need to be with my wife just to reassure myself that we are both alive.” He gave the old man a beatific smile as he left the room.
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