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“ You were right. She’s not with child.”

James was in the weapon room by the barbican, sharpening an axe when Carys finally located him. He dropped everything when she said the words he would have been hoping to hear and turned to face her. His eyes were two glittering gems, and the heat burning in them reached, just like that wretched Margaret had said earlier, all the way to her core. For a moment she wondered if, in his relief, he would kiss her. He did not, instead taking her by the arm.

“Come.”

He led her to a small room at the back of the stables. His personal room, she realized when she saw the three black tunics that had been placed to dry on the chest in the corner and the blanket they had used that day on the beach.

At any other time she might have found herself both unnerved and aroused by the memory—and the proximity of his bed. But right now she just wanted to share what she had learned during her conversation with his conniving sister-in-law.

He closed the door behind them and lifted his chin. “Tell me all.”

Carys bit her lip. No, not all. She would not reveal the full extent of the woman’s treachery, as it would cause him unnecessary pain and humiliation. He would not be told that Margaret had tricked him into sleeping with her all those years ago. He only needed to know that he didn’t have to marry a woman he didn’t want because she was not with child. Would she be strong enough to hide anything from him? She wasn’t sure, as she had never been able to dissemble, and a man like him would be able to wiggle information out of anyone, but she had to try.

His attitude did not help her hold on to her composure. He had never looked more forbidding. With his back ramrod straight, his nostrils flaring, his eyes flashing in anger, he was truly formidable.

“Luck was with me,” she started without further ado. The important thing was to put an end to his agony. “She was full of mead when I found her and all too ready to talk to a stranger. I think she relished the chance to expose what she saw as a clever plan and quickly confirmed what you suspected. She is not with child.”

The spark of ire in James’ eyes was instantly doused. His whole body finally relaxed, as if he’d not dared to hope until he’d heard her repeat the words.

“So she lied about us sharing a bed? About us … ” He stopped and made what would have been a grimace in another man.

“N-not exactly,” Carys murmured. Oh, this was excruciating. Why did she have to be the one announcing such news to him? “I’m afraid she did share your bed, in more ways than one. Don’t you have any memories of her coming to lie next to you, of touching you?”

How many times had the woman used him for her pleasure? Probably more than once.

James frowned. “She was constantly by my side, that much I remember, feeding me, wiping my brow, my chest, to bring the temperature down … ”

His voice trailed. It was clear he was remembering Margaret lingering over the gesture, and maybe more. Carys’ stomach roiled. James’ sister-in-law might not have gotten with child from the abuse she’d visited on him, but she had most definitely done all that was needed to have him while he lay at her mercy. There was no prize for guessing how she would have roused his body so that she could take her pleasure with him.

“I’m sorry. It’s not what anyone would want to hear.”

As she apologized, a thought struck her. James had said his illness had been severe and he’d found it unusually hard to shake off the fever. What if there had been more to it than a simple seasonal chill? What if Margaret had prolonged his weakness with herbs and potions so that she could enjoy his body for longer? After what Carys had heard, she wouldn’t put anything past the woman.

She kept her doubts to herself, however, and hoped James had not started wondering the same thing. He would feel soiled enough already, what good would it do to be told he might have been kept at the woman’s mercy for longer than necessary?

“She said she’d always been in love with you, even before your wedding to Joanne, and had hoped you would marry her instead of her sister. That is why she concocted this mad plan.”

What was she doing? Why had she felt the need to add this? As if anything could justify the woman’s actions!

James stared ahead of him, stunned by all he’d just heard.

Margaret was in love with him. She’d taken advantage of his weakened state to have her way with him. She’d lied about carrying his child when she knew he was mortally afraid of losing another babe. She had tried to force him into a union he didn’t desire and ruin the rest of his life.

Though it was a lot to take in, he did not for a moment think to doubt Carys was telling the truth. He’d thought from the start that there was something wrong with this story, and worse, he’d started to have disturbing memories in the last few weeks, memories he’d done his best to push to the back of his mind.

Heat pooling in his groin, hair brushing against his stomach, hands roaming all over his body. A woman moaning above him.

“Dear God,” he whispered, feeling all the blood drain from his veins.

It had not been just a nightmare, or visions brought on by fever. It had been real.

He’d started to wonder if there wasn’t a problem with Margaret while he’d stayed in her cottage. There had been an odd gleam in her eyes every time she’d addressed him. It had made him uncomfortable and he’d done his best to convince himself that he was imagining things, going as far as thinking himself perverted for attributing such thoughts to his sister-in-law. Her change of attitude could have all too easily be attributed to grief, which, he knew, could cause a person to act oddly.

But now he was told she’d been in love with him all along and he had not imagined the lewd scenes happening under the cover of darkness.

How could she have taken advantage of him thus? What was he to think? Had the loss of her children unhinged her mind? It would explain why she had done such an outrageous thing as to violate his body while he was unable to stop her or even understand what was happening.

“I think you should beware. I’m sorry to say she is prepared to go quite far in her bid to have you.”

Carys’ words brought him back to the present.

“Yes. So I see.” If she had been prepared to rape him and then lie about being with child to force him into marriage, everything was possible. “But did she really think I would not notice her body was not changing?”

A pause. “I think she didn’t think that far ahead. She only wanted to secure your hand. The rest did not matter.”

He understood from the way Carys averted her eyes that she was keeping something from him. It came to him in a flash of understanding. Once her position was secure, Margaret would have pretended to lose the child, thereby destroying what little sanity he had left. He swallowed, loving Carys for trying to spare him the full horror of his sister-in-law’s scheme. As a thank you for her efforts, he pretended he had not guessed it anyway.

“I’m sorry. It cannot have been easy for you to hear the depth of her depravity.”

It would have been horrifying. The only consolation was that it had been this way around. He would surely have gone mad if he’d had to hear about someone raping Carys while she was unconscious.

She gave him a taut smile that told him all he needed to know about what she had thought of Margaret’s confession. “Don’t worry about me.”

But he did worry. No one should have to hear such sordid tales about people they cared about. Because in this moment, he felt sure she cared about him as much as he cared about her. And thanks to her, he was once again free to speak about his feelings and intentions for the future. Could he do it now?

No. He had to do things in order.

James closed the gap between them and placed a hand over her cheek, forcing himself to stay still when he wanted to draw her into a kiss. “Will you be all right here, waiting for me a moment?”

“Yes.”

Before he could do anything, he was going to have a discussion with Margaret.

“You whore!”

James froze when Margaret’s insult scalded his ears. Not her! And especially not now, when he was about to kiss Carys. His fingers tightened into her soft hair, frustration radiating through his every bone. His lips were an inch away from her mouth, his heart was thumping hard in his chest, and he had to stop and see to a woman he wished never to see again.

Would there be no end to the trouble Margaret caused him?

As soon as he had finished talking to her, he had run back to Carys, to tell her that it was all over. Thanks to her, he wouldn’t have to marry a woman he didn’t want. The relief had been so overwhelming he had drawn her into his arms to do what he had been prevented from doing the day before. She had not pulled away, rather looked at him with eyes aglow with hope and desire. The temptation had been impossible to resist. They were alone in his room, and there was a bed behind them.

He would kiss her, then he would take her to bed.

For once, he didn’t want to think, to fear, or worry about the consequences. Carys knew what he feared so he trusted she would help him stay in control when the moment came. In any case, it was either risk it or go mad with frustration. Having escaped Margaret’s clutches, he felt reborn. Having been told what she had done, he felt the need to cleanse himself.

Carys would be the one to do that for him.

They had been about to kiss when the door to his bedchamber had burst open, allowing an irate Margaret into the room. Damnation! How had she known where to find them? Had she followed him after their discussion, then waited, listening at the door? If she had, she would have heard everything, and understood what he and Carys were about to do.

When he turned to face her, Margaret didn’t spare him a glance. She was glaring at Carys as you would to an enemy, her eyes burning with an unholy fire. “You whore! You told him what I did, didn’t you, you turned him against?—”

“There is only one whore in this room,” James cut in, his voice like ice. “And it is not Carys. You had better remember it before I gag you.”

“This is all her fault. You were going to marry me and now?—”

“I would never have married you.” Was she really so deluded? “I sensed there was something not right with your story. I would have waited for your belly to swell to decide anything and it wouldn’t have taken me long to see that there was no child, and therefore no reason for us to marry.”

She completely ignored him and turned her attention back to Carys, who had taken a few steps back. “You wanted him for yourself, you bitch! You were jealous I was going to get him. Well, if I can’t have him, then, neither can you.”

With those words, Margaret drew a knife out of her sleeve and launched herself at Carys. There was no time to think. James threw himself between the two women, desperate to stop the murder of an innocent. Seeing she was going to be stopped, Margaret changed tack and swung her arm in a wide arc. There was no avoiding the cut. The knife caught him on the cheek, slicing at his flesh, but he barely registered the pain, too intent on neutralizing her without breaking her arm. Fury was lending Margaret more strength than he would have thought possible. Still, she was too small, and ultimately no match for him. If she was determined to kill, he was twice as determined to survive.

The knife fell to the floor with a clang . He kicked it to the other end of the room, where she wouldn’t be able to retrieve it.

Margaret did not stop struggling, however. Taking advantage of James’ resolve not to hurt her, she wiggled like a worm, making it impossible for him to hold her in place. She roared, clawed at his face, did her best to bite whatever part of him she could reach. There was no other choice but to stun her. He could not risk having her launch herself at someone else when she left the room a defeated woman only to hurt another innocent. In the state she was in, she might even cause herself harm. His blow caught her just under the chin.

She dropped like a stone, the silence in the room deafening after the mad struggle.

James let out a sigh of relief.

“Go get help,” he instructed Carys, kneeling by the unconscious woman. He could not go himself, in case Margaret came to while he was gone. He needed to be the one to face her if she started to lash out again.

Carys nodded and ran to the barbican, not thinking for a moment to argue. The scene she had just witnessed had been terrifying. Who would have thought a woman as small in stature as Margaret would struggle so fiercely? It had been obvious James had done his best to control her without inflicting any pain. Considering what the woman had done to him, she thought his restraint commendable. In the end, though, he’d had no choice but to stun her.

It had been the quickest, safest solution.

When she came back a moment later accompanied by three of the guards, she found James standing by the window, looking as calm as if nothing of importance had happened. His profile, carved against the whitewashed walls, was heartbreakingly beautiful, his dark skin offering a striking contrast to the paleness of the background.

His orders were delivered to the men in his flat, matter-of-fact voice.

“Please take my sister-in-law away. I’m sorry to say that she attacked her ladyship’s mother for no reason that we can discern.” He sighed, as if pained by this development. Carys of course knew better. “I had no other choice but to stun her to stop her from injuring herself. She will need to be put under lock and key, for fear she tries to hurt someone else. Do not let her sway you with her bile when she wakes up. Ignore what she says. She lost her children recently and I think she is not in her right mind, as can be evidenced for this unwarranted attack.”

The tallest of the men gestured to the other two that they should carry her between them. “Of course. You can be sure she won’t escape until you have decided what to do with her.”

“Thank you.” James carried on staring straight ahead, not sparing them or his sister-in-law a glance.

The three men left, a limp Margaret with them. Carys could not find it in herself to pity the woman. After all she had done, she deserved nothing less than to be locked in a room to reflect on her perfidy. Once they were alone, James left his place by the window to come stand in the middle of the room. All the air left her lungs.

“Dear God, but you’re bleeding!” she cried out, running to him.

There was a cut on his cheek, just below the eye. How had she not seen it before? The whole left side of his face was covered in blood. It was a horrific sight but James placed a finger on his cheek and shrugged.

“’Tis nothing.”

No, perhaps not compared to what it could have been, but it was still bad enough. It wasn’t very deep but it was as long as her index finger. “It’s going to require stitches,” she said, feeling close to swooning, a most unusual reaction for her. She was not one to faint at the sight of blood. So why was she so unsettled?

“Sit down,” James ordered when she wavered.

As her legs were about to give way from under her, she was only too glad to comply. A stool was conveniently placed behind her and she fell rather than she sat on it. In a dazed state, Carys watched as James went to find a needle, some thread, a square piece of linen and a pitcher of water. His gestures slow and measured, he placed everything on the table next to where she was. Then he squatted in front of her, his hands on her knees.

“I’ve seen your embroidery. It’s exceptionally good.”

“I-is it?” she stammered. Why on earth was he talking about this now? Embroidery? What did it have to do with any of this?

“It is. And so I would like you to stitch me up. Old Agnes’ sight is going and I fear she will only butcher me. Much better to have someone skilled with a needle to see to my wound, don’t you think?”

Her heart skipped a beat at the idea of stitching him. Say what he might, this was nothing like embroidery, and she was already feeling lightheaded. Could she do what he was asking in such conditions?

“Mistress Ivy in the village is also a skilled healer and her sight is fine,” she croaked. “We could send someone to her and?—”

The hands at her knees slid higher, silencing her. She could feel the heat of his palms through the material of her dress. “Please, Carys. No old Agnes, no Mistress Ivy. No other healer I don’t know. I want you.”

Though she knew what he’d meant to say, the words sounded like a declaration. He wanted her, in more ways than one. Her heart started to beat a fierce rhythm, because she wanted him too, in more ways than one.

“If you’re sure.” The words had difficulty passing her mouth.

“I’m sure.”

“Then it’s your turn to sit down.”

With a smile, he straightened back up and helped her to her feet. Fingers entwined, they stared at each other a long moment. Was he about to kiss her? Her heart started to beat wildly in anticipation, but he shook his head slightly, as if to say he would not touch her, not while his face was covered in blood.

Forcing herself to be grateful for this mark of consideration rather than dwell on her disappointment, Carys walked over to the table where everything was waiting for her. When she turned around, James took his position on the stool, then lifted his head up in readiness.

She approached on legs that felt barely able to support her. His eyes were burning with feverish intent and appeared darker than ever. Dear, oh dear. It seemed every time she thought she’d seen him at his most forbidding, something happened to make her see how wrong she’d been. Was there no end to the depth of his intensity? Thank the Lord he was only half Egyptian. More masculine power might well have paralyzed her.

“Do your worst. Only, don’t get carried away and transform the scar into a flower, or heaven forbid, a robin. It wouldn’t be very manly.”

His words teased a smile out of her. How could he jest at a time like this? But she was grateful for it, as it helped ease the tension in her body. She needed to be relaxed to do this. “No robin, I promise. But before I do anything, I’m going to clean the wound.”

“Of course. What was I thinking? The easy part first.”

Carys nodded. He was right. The cleaning would be easy, and even pleasurable. For both of them. They had better enjoy it because then the torture would begin. For both of them. With tender gestures, she wiped his cheek, jaw, and neck. As she’d already noticed this morning, he hadn’t shaved. White specks peppered the otherwise black stubble, especially on the chin and around the mouth. It was fascinating, and by the time she had finished, she was certain she had not cleaned anyone so thoroughly.

Eventually, she could not stall any longer. The bloodied cloth was discarded and she applied herself to the task of fitting the thread through the eye needle, a task made harder than it should have been by her trembling hands. Holding the needle at the ready she turned to him.

“Ready?”

“I think I’m readier than you are.” He eyed her hand with an arched brow.

“Possibly. This is nothing like embroidery. I have not sewn up many wounds in my time, and every time was worse than the previous one.”

“Let us hope that it is the last time you have to do it, then.”

“Indeed,” Carys replied fervently.