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Chapter Fourteen

J ames blinked. He was not dreaming then. Carys was truly here in front of him, she was not a vision. Visions did not talk, they didn’t smell like fresh air, and they did not cradle men’s faces in their soft hands.

He leaned into the caress, then turned his head to place a kiss on her palm. The need to rub his cheek against her was so strong he didn’t even try to resist. Only moments ago he had been drowning in fear and despair and Carys was offering him a respite from the horror he was facing, short as it may be. He’d been right all those months ago. Miracles did happen. And against all odds, one had come to Sheridan Manor for him. The only problem was … It had come too late. He would never get to reap the benefit from it now.

In the morning he would be dead.

Mm. Best to put that idea out of his head and ask what he needed to know instead.

“How is Branwen?” He had tortured himself all day over the memory of her, lying pale and limp, in her husband’s arms. Had the shock of the assault caused her to go into premature labor? It would not be unheard of. Had she lost the babe? He prayed it was not the case.

“She’s fine. Thanks to you.” Carys’ voice wobbled. “You saved her, like you said you would, you arrived in time. Oh, James, I can never thank you enough for what you did.”

“Please.” He shook his head. There was no need to thank him. “What else could I have done? I don’t regret it, even if I have to?—”

“You’re not going to die for it!” There was such fierceness, such conviction in her voice that James stared. How could she make such promises to a condemned man? “Didn’t you hear what I said? I’m here to take you out of this cell.”

There it was again, the shocking declaration. Earlier, lost to the joy of seeing her in front of him, soft and real, he had not really paid attention to her words, because he knew she would never be able to get him out of this hellhole. She seemed convinced opening the trap door and getting the ladder down was all she needed to do to free him. It was not.

“You can’t get me out.” He gestured at the shackles holding him captive. Evidently she had not imagined he would be tied up and chained to the wall when she had hatched her mad plan, but it was time she faced the truth. “How did you get in here anyway?”

“Through the trap door.”

The woman had the gall to give him a slanted smile, as if the answer to his question was obvious. It was, since the trap door was the only way to access the dungeon. But of course he was not wondering if she had slipped through the cracks in the wood like some sort of magical rain. Rather, he couldn’t understand how she had not been seen—and stopped—by the guard stationed in the room above the dungeon. How had she convinced him to let her through? Had she appealed to his sensibilities, claiming she wanted to see the condemned prisoner one last time? Against all odds, the man might have taken pity on her. She was irresistible, James knew it all too well.

And now that she had gained access to him, she thought she could get him out. But it was no use. Tied to a hook on the wall by an iron chain, he was not going anywhere, even if the door was open.

Carys straightened up, determination etched all over her face. “Let’s go. I should think you’ve spent enough time in that vile place. I certainly have.”

“We cannot go,” he repeated, getting worried by her refusal to accept facts. Had her mind been unhinged by his arrest? By now she should have seen it was hopeless. Even if she had secreted a weapon about her person, she would never have the strength to break the chain or the time to saw through it before the guard called her back. “How do you suppose to free me of my shackles?”

“With the key the Earl of Lancaster gave me.”

James stared at her. The earl, the man who wanted him dead, had given her the means to set him free?

“What do you mean? Why on earth would he do that?”

It didn’t make any sense. The man meant to keep him prisoner until the king arrived. He would have known she would try to free him if she were allowed into the dungeon. So had he thought to amuse himself by giving her false hope? Had the guard outside been asked to let her through, and reinforcements called to prevent an escape? His confusion must have shown on his face because Carys explained, her voice as steady as if they were having a discussion in the peaceful solar instead of a stinky dungeon.

“I left him no choice. Did you really think I would give up and leave you to rot while waiting for your execution?” She gave something like a snort, as if the notion was too ludicrous to contemplate. “Matthew did all he could to get you freed. In vain. So I went to the earl’s bedchamber once everyone had gone to bed.”

Everything within James dissolved. He could think of only one reason she would have done this. To bargain for his life. And there was only one way she could have succeeded. By using her body. She had gone to a man she knew full well was not above raping women even when they were married and with child, and done what was required to earn a pardon. She had sold her body for him.

It could not be borne.

He could not live with that burden on his shoulders, with the knowledge of what Carys had sacrificed for him. How had she not guessed he would rather die than allow her to be harmed in any way?

“Please tell me you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

As if to prove it, she knelt in front of him and extracted a small key from her bodice. He recoiled when she made to insert it into the lock holding his shackles.

“No!”

There was such anguish in that one word that Carys paused. Setting James free would have to wait. Right now, he needed reassurance more than he needed his freedom. He seemed to think she had bought a pardon with her body, a reasonable assumption given the circumstances, she had to admit. That had not been her intention, but deep down she knew she would have done whatever the earl requested to save the man she loved, including sleeping with him. Because she simply could not let James die now.

No price would have been too high to pay.

But James did not seem to share this opinion. Before anything else, before she attempted to free him, he needed to hear she had not been raped. So she looked at him straight in the eye and said what he wanted to hear.

“The vile man didn’t touch me, I swear. I didn’t use my body to free you.” She infused all the conviction she was capable of in her words. He needed to be left in no doubt about it; they could not have this hanging over them for the rest of their lives. “You can accept your freedom without guilt. I was not hurt in any way.”

Everything within him seemed to relax and after a moment, he held out his hands to her, finally allowing her to use the key to unlock the shackles.

“What happened then?”

As she went to work, Carys began to relay what had happened in the earl’s bedchamber earlier that night.

When she had entered, she’d found the man sound asleep, as she’d hoped, lying flat on his stomach. Even better, his clothes were heaped haphazardly on a chair next to the bed. Moved by instinct, she snatched the undershirt from the top of the pile and hid it under her cloak. It could only aid her in her plan to be in possession of such an incriminating item.

Then she cleared her throat and, heart thumping hard in her chest, waited for him to wake up. It didn’t take long. When he saw her standing at the foot of the bed, the earl opened wide, incredulous eyes. A quick look around the room told him she had come alone and his lips curved into a slow smile.

“Come for a fuck with a member of the royal family, have you, wench?” He scoffed and she realized he had not even recognized her for the woman who had been in the hall with Branwen that morning. It was hardly surprising, as he had barely spared her a glance. This might work to her advantage, so she didn’t rectify the mistake. “You wouldn’t be the first one, believe me, but you’re wasting your time. Be gone with you. I don’t bed women who are old enough to be my mother.”

“I may be old enough to have birthed you but I count myself lucky that I did not,” Carys answered calmly. Let him insult her all he liked, she cared not. “It is not hard to guess your poor mother must be ashamed of the man you have become.”

For a moment he just stared, as if stunned by her declaration. In that moment, with his hair ruffled and his naked, slightly hollow chest, he appeared little more than a youth. By her estimation, he could not be much older than twenty summers. How could someone so young be so evil, she wondered? Anger boiled anew. Because he was English, and high born, he felt he could use people the way it suited him. Well, it was time he learned actions had consequences.

“How dare you speak to me thus?” he demanded, his body tensing. He was not used to being questioned and he didn’t like it one little bit.

“I dare because you dared attack my daughter and have condemned the man I love to death. And now I have no other choice but to avenge the one and save the other.”

“Save?” Another scoff. “You think you can save the miserable man’s hide by offering yourself to me in reward for my generosity? I’m sorry but I am not tempted, as you can see. Your dubious charms fail to rouse my blood.”

In a flamboyant gesture he threw aside the covers and stood next to the bed. Carys saw that he was stark naked and, just as he’d said, limp as a worm. She could not repress a sigh of relief at the sight. There had always been the danger of him pouncing on her, not through real desire, of course, but just to show her her place. It was clear, however, that he had no intention of tumbling her into bed.

“I’m relieved to see you feel no desire for me, because I certainly feel none for you,” was her answer. “I am not here to offer my ‘dubious charms’, whatever you may think.”

“How do you suppose to force me to release the steward then? My mind is quite made up. He tried to kill me. He will pay for it.”

This was it. The moment of truth. All day, while Matthew had done his best to talk his way out of the situation, Carys had agonized about the best way to pressure the earl into releasing James. Finally, after much deliberation, she thought she might have come up with the solution. The man’s weakness needed to be used against him, and she had a fair idea of what that might be.

She took in a deep inhale, praying she was right.

“Tell me, what do you think the king will think when he is told tomorrow that his nephew boasts about his superiority over him to anyone who cares to listen? When he hears the Earl of Lancaster thinks himself a better lover than his liege and is not above ridiculing his uncle for his exploits in bed?”

The man’s eyes widened. “When have I ever done that, pray?”

“Just before you pounced on my daughter Branwen this morning,” Carys hissed, her wrath igniting a fire within her. In that moment she felt invincible. “You said you would show her what a real man can do, as opposed to a cripple in his late fifties. I recall every word, as does she.”

“I never said?—”

“Branwen will swear that you raped her, her husband will attest to it as well. I will tell the king I saw and heard it all, Master Mortimer and everyone at the castle will confirm the story. Faced with such overwhelming evidence, he will not be able to doubt the veracity of the claim.”

She knew she was putting herself at risk by provoking the earl, but thoughts of James rotting in his cell gave her the courage she needed. As horrid as it was to imagine him in the dank place, all alone and dreading the arrival of dawn, it was nothing compared to the fate awaiting him. She had no illusion about what the English king would do. A man capable of subduing the Welsh and the Scots would not hesitate in punishing someone who had attacked a member of his family and almost killed him. Edward would be merciless.

But she would too.

She would do what it took to protect her family and the people she loved.

“Is it really worth taking the risk of such a tale reaching the king’s ears, my lord? Only you can tell. But I would think very carefully if I were you, because your uncle will have little choice but to heed Branwen’s words when she stakes her claim, supported by her husband, brother to one of his most loyal knights. Are you so confident he will not believe her when she says you wanted to show her how much more manly than the king himself you were?”

“He would have to believe I raped her first!”

Carys didn’t let that bother her. Unfortunately, a man who acted the way he had acted toward her daughter could not be new to the crime. No, she could well imagine the charge of rape had been laid at the earl’s door before. The real question was not whether Edward would believe it, but whether he would think it worthy of punishment. From what she’d heard, he was not exactly the scrupulous sort himself when it came to women.

Feeling sick to her soul at the depravity of men, she straightened her spine.

“He will have no choice but to believe her, because she has everything she needs to back her claim.” Thanks to her, Branwen would be in possession of the earl’s undershirt, which they would make sure to tear and bloody before it was presented to the king. “The garment you discarded before pouncing on her, for one.”

She glanced to the pile of clothes meaningfully. But, far from being worried at the realization that his undershirt was missing, the earl scoffed. “A man doesn’t need to get naked to take his pleasure with a woman. Are you still a virgin that you do not know this, old crone?”

“Perhaps the shirt alone will not be enough,” she conceded, not allowing the insult to rankle her. “But that will not be her only proof.” Carys smiled grimly when she remembered Margaret using her knowledge of James’ body to make him believe they had slept together. It had been what had made him take her claim seriously. Despicable as it was, it was worth using the same weapon. She arched a brow and nodded in the direction of the earl’s groin. “How would she know how small your appendage is if you had not raped her? Or are you telling me it is common knowledge at court?”

Fury exploded in the man’s eyes. Had it been wise to add that last provocation? Probably not. But she had not been able to resist, knowing that someone like him would hate to be mocked in his virility. One had to strike where it hurt, and she did not have any sword. More’s the pity. Then she would have been able to punish him the way she wanted, and make sure he did not assault anyone else ever again. He snatched the sheet to cover his offended manhood when she’d feared he would launch himself at her in retaliation.

It was then Carys understood that she had won.

It seemed that, against all odds, the man had some vestige of honor left. If he had not, he would just have killed her for her slight. Of course, the fact that he hadn’t struck her might not have anything to with honor. She had claimed everyone at Sheridan Manor was in accord as to what version of events to present to the king when he arrived. With her out of the way, they would still present their grievances, and add her murder to the list. He was cornered and he knew it.

“You would lie and blackmail me?” he rasped once he was covered.

There was no hesitation. She would have done far worse for Branwen and James and he was a fool to even doubt it.

“Yes, because they are the only weapons I have. Were I a knight instead of an untrained woman, believe me, I would silence you in a more permanent way for raping my daughter.”

“Wait, I didn’t?—”

“Only because someone stronger stopped you before you could,” she spat, unable to believe he thought the fact that he had been prevented from actually raping his victim would be an argument in his favor. “And you had every intention of doing so. You frightened her out of her wits, which is bad enough, and her being with child and so close to her term! She fainted from sheer terror because of what you did. Or did you not see that?” For a moment Branwen would have thought herself back to her old life, before Matthew, when men thought they could dispose of her body. It was unbearable. “You nearly sent her husband mad with anguish. You put her babe in danger. What you did is unforgivable. Believe me, if I had James Mortimer’s strength, you would be dead by now.”

Carys had thought herself powerless but, in that moment, she saw that he believed her. The mighty Earl of Lancaster, nephew to the King of England, thought her a force to be reckoned with.

She pressed her advantage.

“So now the choice is yours: either you kill an innocent man, someone so below your notice you won’t even derive any satisfaction from his murder, or you risk the ire of your uncle, who happens to be the most powerful man in all England, Scotland and Wales, a man who subjugated two proud nations and created a whole dynasty.” God knew she hated the man, but if ever there was a time to list King Edward’s achievements, this was it. “How do you think he will take the humiliation of being told in front of his men that you think him unable to perform in bed? Do you think he will really give you the benefit of the doubt?”

Here she was relying on the fact that the young pup had already roused his uncle’s hackles with his arrogance. For all she knew, the two men trusted one another implicitly. Heart beating, she waited. It quickly became obvious, however, that she had been right to gamble on him having riled the king in the past. The earl’s face became a stony mask, as if he knew he would not so easily talk himself out of the hole she had dug for him.

Finally, he uttered the words she had been hoping to hear. “What do you want?”

“My daughter will be excused from seeing the king when he arrives. She will plead an indisposition, on account of her being with child.” Her voice was as hard as steel, betraying her determination. But she would not have Branwen setting eyes on her aggressor ever again or meeting the equally lecherous Edward. Matthew would have to welcome him, of course, and he might well want to air his grievances about the man’s nephew once he was in front of him, but she was confident she could talk some sense into him before the confrontation.

“Agreed.” The earl saw the benefit in this for him and sounded only too glad to grant her this wish. If Branwen didn’t see the king, she would not be able to accuse him of having raped her.

“And, secondly, you will release James Mortimer. Now. Tonight. He will leave the castle before dawn, you have my word on it, and not come back until the royal retinue has left. With him gone, and Branwen safely tucked away in her bedchamber, no one will breathe a word of what happened to the king during his stay at Sheridan Manor. You will be safe.”

The young man stared at her a long moment, weighing her determination. She stared right back, unblinking. Never had she felt more ready to stand her ground.

“Eventually, he surrendered,” Carys told James, who had watched her with wide eyes during her whole story. “I left the room in possession of the key that would free you, and his promise no one would stop me from entering or exiting the dungeon.”

“So you saved my life?” His voice was full of awe.

“There was no reason for you to be killed in the first place, so it is little achievement,” she retorted promptly. Why should he be punished for doing no more than defend an innocent woman from rape? He had done nothing wrong.

“I beg to differ. You are one amazing woman, Carys.”

“I don’t know about that.” But she felt amazing, and other things besides, when she was with him.

They were now standing in front of one another, their bodies almost touching. Carys wanted to throw herself against James’ chest and melt into his arms but he seemed strangely reluctant to hold her.

Her heart broke. She had been so certain they could finally be together now that he was assured to live!

“Why aren’t you taking me in your arms?” she whispered when it became impossible to ignore the need to feel that he was here, safe, alive. “What does a woman have to do to earn a kiss from you? I would have thought that saving your sorry hide might be enough, but apparently it?—”

He stopped her with a finger on her cheek.

“Carys, please. I … ” He gestured at himself, at his blood-crusted clothes, his jaw covered with a black shadow, his filthy hands. “I would like nothing more than to kiss you right now but I cannot. Look at me.”

“I am looking at you. And I want you to kiss me, so desperately. I don’t care about the blood, or the dirt, except for wishing you had never endured all you had to endure,” she finished in a sob. “I thought for a moment that I would lose you, and it almost?—”

This time he stopped her with the fiercest kiss she had ever received, hot, decadent, utterly delicious. The kiss she had dreamed about for weeks.

“James.” She ground herself against him and had the satisfaction of feeling him hard against her stomach. Say what he might about the state of him, she could have made love to him right here, right now, just to prove to herself that she had succeeded in her mission. But unfortunately, it wasn’t an option. “No, we can’t,” she forced herself to say.

“Of course, we can’t,” he said in between feverish kisses. “Not here, in a filthy dungeon. Not now, when I smell worse than the castle midden. When I do take you, it will be in my feathered bed, not on moldy straw. When I cover your body with mine, I will be clean, not covered in God knows what filth. When I hear your moans of pleasure, I will enjoy them without having to worry about who might hear us.”

Oh, was he trying to make her mad, talking about what he intended to do while saying they could not lie together?

“I mean that you have to leave,” she said against his lips. She had promised the earl that James would not see the king, but that was not the reason why she needed him out of Sheridan Manor. She didn’t trust the man as far as she could spit and would take her own precautions. “Dawn is nearing and the king is due to arrive today. You need to be out of the way when he does, in case one of the earl’s men goes to him to tell him that you almost killed his nephew. I cannot risk having you captured again. You won’t escape retribution a second time.”

He stilled against her. “Yes. You’re right.”

“Hide in the village. We will send word to you when the king’s retinue is gone and you can safely come back. Now, let’s go. I don’t want to be caught because we lingered too long.”

“No.”

After one last kiss, he followed her to the wooden ladder leading up to the trap door. For more discretion, they extinguished the torch before ascending and Carys went out first. She didn’t trust the earl not to have posted guards to intercept them, despite his promise not to do so. When she saw no one, she called out to James that it was safe to come out.

Once out in the bailey she watched him take in deep gulps of fresh, flower-scented air. Her heart squeezed in compassion. How sweet it would taste to a man who’d spent a whole day and night in a dungeon, and thought he was about to die. She, too, felt as if she had been given her life back.

But they had to hurry. Dawn was not far. Over the horizon, they could already distinguish the pikes of the forest at the top of the hill.

“Go find Mistress Ivy,” she told him urgently. “Tell her what happened. I’m sure she will help?—”

“Don’t worry about me. Now I’m out of that hell hole, I’ll be just fine.” James drew her into the shadow of the keep when the moon appeared from behind a cloud, illuminating them, and then took her into his arms. “Thank you, Carys. I have no idea how to repay you for what you did.”

“One or two ideas come to mind.” She had the satisfaction of hearing him growl in her ear. Apparently, he’d had the same ideas.

“And so I’m leaving. Again.” He sighed, his forehead against hers. “Will you wait for me? Again?”

“Yes, I will wait for you. Again. And always.”