“Nay.” But still he shuddered beneath her hands and he sounded frightened.
“William?” Her palms smoothed over his shoulders. “William?”
“I’m well,” he said, but she didn’t believe him.
“This is no time to be foolhardy. If you—” She stopped. His hands came up onto her elbows and pulled at her, and her arms went around him. He burrowed his head into her stomach and wrapped himself around her. “William?”
From the depths of his soul came a cry of terror. “’Tis dark.”
She didn’t know what to say; she didn’t understand, she just smoothed his hair on the back of his head.
“’Tis dark,” he said again. “I can’t see.”
Then she knew. Only a man who had lost his sight for months and regained it again could feel the terror that trapped William. He shook with a palsy, he crept close into her lap. A stab of panic jolted her and she asked, “Could you see after they threw you in?”
“Aye.” He nodded against her.
“What could you see?”
“The light of the trap door shining from above.”
“What else?”
“Nicholas and his wicked face peering down at us.”
“Was he alone?”
“Surrounded by servants and mercenaries.” He gulped.
“And is that bastard going to win?”
“Saura,” he said desperately, ignoring her plea for strength. “I can’t see.”
She rubbed her hands in a long, slow circle around his back and wondered what to tell him. She understood; she felt an empathy no one else could feel. She’d been trapped by Theobold’sx power and then released, by Lord Peter’s plea for help. Now her freedom was threatened by the lunatic designs of one man. She’d almost been choked to death for her objections, and in her heart and soul she understood the agony William was experiencing.
Also, she knew the dark. She knew how it felt to have no concept of the spaces around her, of the monsters who lay hidden in the night. She knew just how much William had indulged in the pleasure of sight, using it for his duties as knight and seigneur. She could only guess how many candles he had lit when his vision had returned, how many alms he had distributed.
Now he lay like a child in her lap, cold and still. “William, be logical,” she said, using his magic word. “You know you’re not blind.”
“I know that. I know it with my mind. But I open my eyes and there’s nothing there, no matter how I squint and strain.” He raised his head, turning it from side to side, and buried it back at her waist. “My heart pounds, my hands sweat, inside my heart I fear.”
Holding him, bending over him, she made soothing noises.
“Nicholas knew how to torment me, didn’t he?” he asked. “That whoreson knew what would torture me.”
“Nay,” she denied instantly. “Nicholas had no idea how this would affect you. He’d have done more with it if he had. Even I had no idea how this would affect you. I never thought. I’m sorry.”
He laughed, a half-hysterical whistle in his throat. “A grown man afraid of the dark. God, what a fool I am.”
“Nay, never that. You’re a grown man who faces the challenges that would destroy a lesser man and treats them as mountains to be climbed. You take misfortune and make good fortune. You take the rocks in your road and use them to smooth the road for others.”
Uncomforted, he snuggled closer. His face pressed against her and he shuddered in a terror too deep for tears.
The prison buried them in silence. Only the whistle of the wind through the cracks made a noise. They were alone as they’d hadn’t been since their wedding, and Saura wondered if she had the courage to say what would ease him. She drew a breath and said, “Do you know what my life was like before I came to Burke Castle?”
She paused, but he said nothing. She didn’t even know if he listened to her. For a moment, she wondered if she could raise him from his dread. Determination came swiftly on the heels of her doubt; she had to try, one sentence at a time. She wanted to comfort him, but first she had to talk about that time before she came to him. “I never told you about living with my stepfather, did I?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but continued in a flat tone, “When I look back on my time at Pertrade, my predominant memory is of cold. It seemed ’twas always cold there. I lived with the danger of becoming stale and old, someone’s boring aunt who skulked in the shadows.”
“Your brothers didn’t agree.”
The words whispered out of her lap and she relaxed. He was listening. “How could my brothers know? They never had to live with hate and distrust every moment of their lives. It warped me. The contempt was pounding me into a new shape—a different Saura. Theobald was winning.”
He shook his head in denial, his face rubbing against her belly.
She sighed with quivering sadness. “I promise you, William—where a burst of violence couldn’t succeed, the slow wearing of malice would conquer. Then your father came along and offered me a chance to escape. And I took it, for I only existed there.” Her hand moved in a slow, firm circle on his back, rubbing him between the shoulder blades, easing the tension in his shoulders. In the mellow voice of a mother crooning to a babe, she said, “I arrived at your house, and right away I was warmed. The fires burned with a pure heat, the servants were kinder, the work was interesting. And you, you were like sunshine on a summer day.”
“Sunshine?” He turned his head and spoke up toward her face. “That’s not what you said at the time. You said I smelled and was lazy and overflowing with pity for myself.”
Her hand tugged at his hair. “So you were. But you had that fascinating voice, all smooth and rich and—”
“Messy?” A note of amusement slipped into his tone, and his grip loosened a bit. One of his hands imitated her, rubbing her back.
“You were that. And obstinate and bullheaded. I liked the challenge of you, I liked the way you made me feel, the way you welcomed me. I could hardly believe you would treat an old woman as if she were a young, vital girl, but you did. I wondered…I wondered how you would handle me, if you knew, and I found out. Remember, in the bath?”
He grunted, but she thought he smiled. She stroked his cheek, checking for dimples, and the cheek crept out from her protective embrace. “From that moment on, I had a direction. I had a goal. I wanted you.”
“Why would you want me? I’m childish.”
“Less than most men.” His hand skidded down her back and pinched her backside. She jumped and laughed, and wished she didn’t have to say it, but she did. In a low voice, she told him, “You’ve forced me to face myself, and I haven’t liked that. You’ve made me see what a coward I am. I was afraid to love you, really love you, because….”
“Because the ones you love keep growing up and leaving you to fend for yourself.” He pulled himself away and sat up, facing her in the dark. His knee pushed against hers; his chest loomed close and warm. He smoothed his tender fingers over her face.
Straightening her spine, she answered stiffly, “I was going to say it was Theobald and his cruelties.”
“I thought so for a long time, too. After all, living with a man who despises you and wishes you harm must cause scars. But you’re so resilient, so sure of your worth, that Theobald did little actual damage. Once you came into my household, those scratches he made in your confidence were quickly healed.” In a low, coaxing voice, he asked, “Are you so sure you can be loved?”
“What do you mean?” She heard the hostility in her voice and cursed it, but couldn’t call it back.
“I don’t think you ever cared about Theobald or what he thought.” She digested that, and he said thoughtfully, “You know, I blame Maud for our current difficulties.”
Indignant, she said, “What do you mean? She couldn’t wait for us to marry. She was so happy.”
“Aye, happy to have her chick well settled so she could pursue her romance with my father.”
“’Tis good for her! For the fi
rst time in years she hasn’t had to hover over me and worry about me and watch for plots against me and clear my way!”
He said nothing, and she blurted, “I’m not jealous of—” The words caught in her throat. Just yesterday she’d admitted she was jealous. She dropped her head and muttered, “I’m a petty little bitch.”
“Nay, nay, not you.” He put his arms around her. “You’re finding your way. I just wish I could convince you to trust me. I trust you. Blubbering in your lap.”
“You’re over it now, aren’t you?” she asked.
Startled, he searched his mind and found no remnant of panic. In wonder, he said, “Aye, it seems I am.”
“That’s good.” She stood up and away. “Because I found a way to escape, but I need you to clear it out.”
Her matter-of-fact pronouncement amazed him. “Wait a minute!” He reached out and knocked his wife into his lap, cradling her carefully. “You’re a witch. A beautiful, raven-haired witch. I come to you in fear and trembling and by the time you’re done with me I’m curing your ills.”
“Are you angry?”
He laughed and hugged her close. “Nay.”
“William, why did you come alone?” She didn’t mean to, but her voice quavered pathetically.
“Why didn’t I come with an army?”
“Aye.” She dropped her head onto his chest, listening to his reply with her ear pressed to his breastbone.
“You must learn to trust me, dearling. If I’d come with an army, Nicholas would have dragged you up on the battlements and threatened to throw you over. ’Twas better to come alone, unarmed, with only my eating knife at my belt, and let them take me with no struggle.”
“With no struggle at all?”
He shrugged. “Only a bit. Nicholas would be suspicious if he captured me too easily. He believes I’m so desperate for you, I have no plan.”
“Foolish man,” she murmured.
“Not so foolish,” he corrected. “I am desperate for you. I always knew I must remove you from his grasp before I could start smashing skulls.”
She started at his grim resolve, and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
“I’ll teach you to trust me one day. One day, we will have to finish this conversation we’ve started.”
Her voice was so tiny he bent to hear it. “I know. William, they killed Bula.”
“What?”
He stiffened, and she wished she didn’t have to tell him. “They captured me in the woods, where I’d foolishly gone.”
“To cry, Nicholas said.”
“’Tis true. I couldn’t bear to worry and wonder about you, about us, any longer. So I went where I knew I should not, and Bula paid with his life for me.” Her voice shook with guilt.
“Bula gave his life for you because of your never-ending patience with him, because of your gentle devotion to him, because of your kindness. You mourn Bula, but think how much more he would mourn you.”
Her pain was too deep for tears. “You comfort me, William, where no one else could.”
“Sweet thing.” He kissed her hair, came to his feet and set her on hers. “Now where is this escape route?”
Taking his hand, she led him through the darkness. “I explored this room, and found quite a few things. The builders of the castle took advantage of a natural cave, I’d guess, and used it for their dungeon. It isn’t large, and while it isn’t muddy, it feels humid.”
“’Tis close to the sea,” he agreed. “I can taste the salt tang, even in here.”
“Aye, can you not?” She grinned. “This place has been shut up for a long time. The walls should be mossy. The atmosphere should reek, but it’s only stale. In fact, if you stand still and listen, you can hear the wind blowing off the ocean.”
He tugged her to a stop and stood stock still. “By our Lady of the Fountain! You’re right.” Finishing her thought, he said, “A natural cave must have an outlet to the sea.”
“Aye.”
Chuckling, he swung her hand back and forth. “So how do we get out?”
“The ceiling gets low here,” she warned. “Duck down. There’s a tunnel.”
He reached out and touched the wall. It was, as she said, clear of moss. It felt slightly moist and the rock left his fingers feeling itchy. Pulling them back, he rubbed them together and said, “Aye, that’s the feel of chalk.”
“It makes me shudder,” she declared, her voice suddenly far below him.
He jerked back, but not quickly enough. His forehead hit the wall with a resounding smack, and he found her sympathy ended in a snap. “I told you to duck!” she said in exasperation, and he found himself remembering Madame Saura and her strictures.
“My skills have atrophied,” he apologized, dropping to his knees and easing into the tunnel. Almost at once he felt a fresh breeze; thin, but present. “God’s teeth.” He felt a surge of excitement. “We’re going to get out of here.”
“The cave’s very tiny and there’s a kink here.” She sounded muffled, strained. “I can get through on my knees, but I don’t know about you.”
He grunted, already finding the space too confining, but the smell of the ocean lured him on. He ended on his stomach, crawling through the powdery dirt and hoping the rocks above him were stable. As if he were a babe at his own birthing, he pulled one shoulder through the bottleneck, and then the other shoulder, and wiggled up and out. Almost immediately he had room to sit up, and he could see. “Light!” he shouted. The sound bounced off the walls and bits of dust cascaded off the ceiling.
Saura shushed him, chuckling. “Aye, I knew there had to be light. I cleaned out all the cracks that I could, poking the pebbles out, and felt the wind on my face.”
He stared at that wonderful illumination shining through in a smiling curve. They’d get out; he knew it now.
“William?” She touched his shoulder, her voice hushed and serious. “When we get out, what will we do?”
Twisting in the cramped quarters, he peered along the path of the tiny beam to his wife’s face. Her features were barely discernible, but serious, thoughtful, and he squeezed around to hug her. “The first thing a warrior learns is to deal with one insurmountable problem at a time.”
She chuckled.
“Charles went to fetch my father,” he assured her. “Probably they’re close to the coast right now.”
Charles lay under the pile of brush and groaned. He was alive, but barely. Moss drooped into his mouth when he breathed and he wished he could move his hands to brush it away. They had wrenched his arms out of their sockets when they’d bound him, and he wished with all his heart he hadn’t stopped at that wretched little alehouse for a drink. He thought of what William would say about his stupidity and groaned again.
Channing had objected with respect, and then with vigor, but Charles thought a wee drop couldn’t hurt and he’d yelled the man into silence. William’s sullen troops had milled around the inn, waiting impatiently, while his own less disciplined troops had joined their master. Thus it was when they left three hours later, they’d been easily overcome.
How could there be any doubt? It had been Nicholas’s men who attacked them, a large force of heavily armed men. William’s men had fought with valor; his own men had fled, and now he found himself face down in a ditch, wishing he’d been killed. ’Twould have been an easy death compared to what William would do to him.
He groaned again.
TWENTY-ONE
“What blocks us?” William asked, squeezing next to Saura and feeling around the wall.
“A boulder. A huge boulder. I couldn’t budge it.”
He grunted, finding the outlines of the rock.
“But God didn’t place it. Whoever built the dungeon shoved it there, and I know it could be shoved away.”
“By God, perhaps.” His initial euphoria faded. “Is there aught in the cave? Perhaps a board I could use as a lever?”
“Nay,” she said doubtfully. “There’s nothing I found, nothing I c
an think of. Can’t we both push?”
“Of course, my puny dearling, we can both push. Come and put your shoulder to it.”
Eager to help, she wiggled up against him.
“Mmm, that’s nice,” he said. “But I think it would be more effective if you faced the same way I do.”
Obediently, she eased away, twisted around and backed into him.
“This is nice, too,” he teased.
“But ’tis no place to be trapped,” she said severely. “So push.”
The amorous husband dropped his banter and became Lord William. “On my word. One, two….”
At last she slid down the boulder, panting. “We roll it a bit and it rolls right back into place. We need help.”
“’Tis on an incline. Go back out into the cave and see if you can find—”
“A lever,” she finished. “Aye, sir.”
As she crawled through the kink in the tunnel, she heard someone calling. She turned her head back, but it didn’t come from William; she turned her head forward and wondered who could be in the cave. And why. And whether Nicholas had been unable to wait to kill them. She prayed. As the walls began to fall back and give way to the main room, she paused and listened.
“M’lady?”
She would always recognize that mournful, worried voice. “Bronnie?”
“M’lady? Where have ye been? I’ve been hollerin’ and hollerin’.”
“What do you need?”
“I brought food an’ wine.”
Suspecting the truth, she said, “Lord Nicholas is very kind.”
“Ah, Lord Nicholas, he doesn’t exactly know.”
“You’re a good man, and if I weren’t so thirsty I’d make you take it all back. Toss it down.” She ran to pick up the packages he slung down, and then asked, “Is there a bench we could have?”
“A bench, m’lady?”
“To sit on.” Her voice trembled with melodramatic anguish. “The rats come right up and try to nibble on my fingers and I hoped for a bench.”
“Migawd. At once, m’lady. There’s a bench right here in th’ wine casks where cook comes t’ sit an’ sip a bit of th’ grape.” He left and returned at once. “How can I get it down t’ ye?”
Candle in the Window: Castles #1 Page 34
