by Lisa Jackson
“But why would they not come downstairs?”
“Because they’re so ... so involved.”
“What? Oh ...” Penelope rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t—oh!”
Kiera grabbed the front of her sister’s tunic. “You can and you must, do you hear me? If anyone finds out what I‘ve, I mean, what Elyn and I have done, ’twill be hideous. Unthinkable! Father will probably collapse and die, just after he’s flailed Elyn and me—and, yes you—for lying, until we are near dead; the Lord of Penbrooke will be embarrassed at being played for a fool and will ... will probably flog me yet again, as well as Elyn and anyone else involved in the plot.”
“Y-you mean me?” Penelope whispered, properly terrified as she finally grasped the solemnity of the situation.
“Of course, you, too,” Kiera said to make her point. She remembered all too well the steely edge to Kelan’s words last night, the furious glint in his eye when he’d warned her not to play him for a fool. “And Hildy! Do you want her death on your hands? Listen to me, we are all in this together.” Kiera was desperate. “Please, Penelope, help me.”
“I—I guess I have no choice,” she said, looking over her shoulder as if suddenly aware they might be overheard.
“That’s right. This is your only choice. So you must make sure that no one goes into Elyn’s chamber.”
“What if he comes out?”
“That should be all right. As long as he doesn’t see me. He’ll sleep a long time, though, I think.”
Penelope’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because he is tired!” Kiera snapped, then realized she, too, was near dead on her feet. She’d slept so little ... “He rode for hours before he got here, then there was the wedding and the feast and ... and all the wine and the elixir. He drank a lot. He’ll not raise his head for hours.”
Penelope’s eyebrows raised suspiciously, as if she didn’t believe Kiera’s excuses. “And so you actually slept with him?” Was there a trace of awe in her voice?
“I slept very little,” Kiera admitted, for that much was the truth, but she embellished it enough to satisfy her sister’s rampant curiosity. ” ’Twas difficult with him there snoring.”
“In the bed with you?”
“Yes,” Kiera hissed, for her sister would believe nothing less. “I was jumpy and nervous all night. Never closed my eyes. Now, see that meals are brought up and left outside the door! You can suggest that Elyn and her husband want to dine ... in privacy.” Her head was really pounding now. How long could she keep up this pretense? Elyn had to return. She had to. And soon. “Check Elyn’s favorite hiding places, the bell tower, and the weaving room and ... the wine cellar. I’ll search the hayloft and ...” A heavy tread clambered up the stairs, and the fat laundress carrying a huge basket of bed linens waddled, breathing hard, along the hallway.
“M’ladies,” she said with a nod of her head. “Good mornin’ to ye both.”
“And you, too,” Kiera said. Penelope looked as if she was about to faint dead away.
“She saw us,” Penelope hissed as the laundress disappeared around the corner.
“She sees us every day.”
“But not ...you know, plotting and scheming and lying here in the dark.”
Kiera wanted to slap Penelope silly. The girl was such a twit! But a good-hearted one. “Come on.” Kiera tugged her younger sister from the shadows. “Think nothing of it. Now, if you find Elyn, for God’s sake send her to her bedchamber!”
“Won’t the Lord of Penbrooke know that she’s different? I mean, a different person? Not you?”
For an odd reason Kiera didn’t want to acknowledge, her heart twisted, adding to the ache already pounding dully through her brain. “It was dark last night. He was in his cups. As I said, he ... he fell asleep.”
“But—”
“Just do your part, Penelope, please!” Kiera snapped. “Try to find Elyn, for surely, if she’s returned from meeting Brock, she’s hiding somewhere so that no one will see her, as she’s supposed to be in the bedchamber with her new husband!”
“I shall, but what if something goes wrong?”
“Such as?”
“Such as we don’t find her.”
Kiera’s heart dropped, for Penelope was voicing her own worst fears. “Then I’ll go out and look for her. Meet me at the stable and let me know ... either shake your head if you haven’t found her or nod if you have.” She grabbed her sister’s slim shoulder. “And whatever else you do, don’t let anyone into Elyn’s bedchamber. Make sure that Father, the serving girls, and the nosy steward realize that the newly wedded couple want their privacy.”
“If that’s possible.”
“It has to be! Now go. We have to find her before her husband wakes.” Again Kiera’s silly heart wrenched, but she paid it no mind. She could not, would not, so much as think she might care for the man with whom she’d spent the night. Oh, Lord, this was such an impossible mess.
She passed by the solar and paused, thinking she should take the time to explain her absence at Elyn’s wedding. But Kemper, the steward, was just closing the door to the chamber.
“The lord doesn’t wish to be disturbed this morning,” Kemper insisted when she asked for access. A tall, narrow-shouldered man with clever eyes and tight, disapproving lips, he was forever looking down his hooked nose.
“I would like a word with him.”
“Can it wait?” If possible, his mouth pulled into a tighter line. Better not to raise his suspicions.
“Aye. I’ll be back later after ... after I go for a ride, but please, if you speak to him, tell him I would like to see him as soon as I can.”
“I’ll pass it along.” He offered what was a thin pretense of a smile.
“Thank you,” she said, and found she felt grateful after all that she didn’t have to face her father. Even though his eyesight was dim, Llwyd could sense things and would probably feel her discomfort. From the time she’d been a child, her father was able to ferret out the truth and seemed uncannily able to smell a lie even before it was spoken. And right now she had little time to waste. Who knew when Kelan would awaken?
And then what? What will you do when you have to face him in the morning light?
“Oh, fie and fiddle.” She wouldn’t think of it now. Surely she would find Elyn, wherever she was. And when she did, she’d shake the living devil from her.
Chapter Seven
“But I don’t understand.” Elyn studied the lines of Brock’s face. He seemed older somehow and embittered, the creases around his mouth severe. His lips were thin, and his gaze was lost somewhere as he stared up at the ceiling of the inn where they’d spent the night.
“I cannot run off just yet,” he said, his voice, as ever, smooth as velvet.
Disappointed, she cuddled up to him in the tiny bed, feeling his warmth upon the cold sheets, listening to the pounding of his heart. He was tense, every muscle taut. He didn’t so much as notice as she pushed her fingers through the curls of blond hair covering his chest and rested her head upon his shoulder.
“But I did. I ran off.”
His smile was wicked. “You didn’t run to me,” he reminded her. “You ran away from him.”
“Did I not come to you?” she demanded. Why was he being so distant?
“That you did.” He placed a kiss upon her crown and she remembered why she loved him so. His kiss robbed her of her breath; his touch was pure sorcery. “We must be patient,” he said and squeezed her shoulder.
“For what? I left my family. My keep. My sister who is now married to the Lord of Penbrooke. And I gave up everything, lied to everyone in my family, all for you.” Levering onto an elbow she glared down at the man she loved with all her heart. Petulantly, she reminded him, “I did everything we planned. I held up my part of the bargain and avoided the marriage my father arranged. All I expect in return is for you to take me away. As you promised.”
“What of Kiera?”
Elyn swallowed har
d and her glance slid away. Guilt, ever at her side, raked rough talons down her heart. But then Kiera had lied, too, hadn’t she? After offering to do anything in return for Elyn’s having saved her life, she’d balked when asked to stand in for her. “What of Kiera?” Elyn whispered now, refusing to feel guilty. Kiera got what she deserved.
Brock laughed suddenly and pinned her onto the mattress with his weight. “How am I to trust you, Elyn, if you would gladly give up your sister’s freedom for a turn at your own?”
“I love you,” she said simply.
“Do you?”
“Aye. And you?”
“What do you think?” He growled as he caught her lower lip between his teeth. One hand covered her breast, his fingers toying with her nipple.
“I—I think you are trying not to answer me.”
“You can trust me, Elyn ...” He leaned down and licked her nipple, though he looked up at her as his tongue teased the very tip. “Everything will be as I planned.”
“As we planned,” she corrected, but she was already writhing under him, wanting more of him, needing to hear the words of love, to feel his weight upon her.
His teeth scraped a bit. Delicious pain seared through her.
“Aye,” he said, his breath warm against her wet, sore skin. His fingers lowered to her buttocks and he pressed her firmly against him. “Just as we planned.”
It was still early when Kiera swept down the stairs and along a narrow corridor that led past the kitchens. The scents of sizzling meat, baking bread, and cinnamon followed after her, and she realized, despite her aching head, she was hungry. Her stomach rumbled, but she had no time to waste.
Outside a fine mist had shrouded the keep and clouds hung low, letting in few rays from the winter sun that climbed ever higher in the sky, telling her that she had but a few hours before the midday meal would arrive at Elyn’s door. Kiera flipped the hood of her cloak over her hair and hurried around tall stacks of firewood. Two huntsmen were hauling a stag and several rabbits strung upon poles toward the tanner’s hut. Through an open doorway Kiera caught a glimpse of the strong-armed alewives stirring huge, bitter-smelling vats of beer.
Hammers banged as the carpenters repaired the roof of the candlemaker’s hut, and the sweeps of the windmill swished through air so cold Kiera’s breath fogged. Hastily she skirted puddles that had formed in the cart ruts while ducks and geese squawked and flapped noisily out of her way.
Avoiding conversation, she walked through the fog-shrouded bailey as if she were going for a morning’s breath of fresh air, but her gaze was forever moving, hoping for a glimpse of her sister.
So that Elyn can take her rightful place at Kelan’s side, even though you yourself have allowed him to bed you. Biting her lip, she told herself that it was of no matter, that she had no claim on Kelan, that, in fact, she didn’t want him.
Or did she?
The thought of his lovemaking ...
Oh, stop it! You’re as bad as Elyn, a hopeless, sorry romantic. What’s wrong with you? You don’t even know the man. What should worry you more is that because of your rashness and lust you are no longer a virgin, no longer suited to marry anyone.
Quickly she took a path past the potter’s hut, her gaze anxiously scouring its dark interior. She saw nothing but the potter at his wheel, his black cat curled at his feet. She stopped at the apothecary’s hut and the baker’s niche, managed to make small talk, then hurried through the garden and into the storage rooms, even climbed into the towers to open the hermit’s cells and peer inside. But there was no sign of her sister.
Curse and rot Elyn! God’s teeth, where was she?
With Brock, you ninny! She’s not coming back. Why would she?
Kiera was halfway down the stairs of the west tower and stopped dead in her tracks. The ugly thought took root. Was it possible? Nay, nay, nay! She couldn’t believe that Elyn would deceive her so.
But didn’t she trick Father and Kelan and everyone else in the keep? Why do you think she wouldn’t do the same to you?
’Twas impossible. They had a pact ... a bargain ... a ... promise. She would find Elyn. If it killed her.
More determined than ever, Kiera checked the dungeons and the armory and any other spot she thought her sister might hide. To no avail. Elyn was still missing. And Kiera was swiftly running out of time. The Lord of Penbrooke wouldn’t sleep all day.
Her only hope was that Penelope was luckier than she and that by some twist of fortune their youngest sister had found Elyn.
She left the tower and ducked around a hayrick, avoiding the kennel master, who was walking four dogs, all of whom wagged their tails and strained their leashes at the boy who was carting ashes from the keep in a large wheelbarrow. Kiera veered away from the center of the bailey, taking a crooked path that wound through the orchard to the stable.
She stole quietly inside, where she was greeted with the musty scents of dry hay, dung, and dust. Pale morning light oozed through the slats in the windows, and she spied Orson, the near crippled stable master, seated upon his favorite stool. He didn’t look up from his work as his gnarled fingers feverishly polished the bit of a bridle.
“Orson?”
”Oh! M’lady. I didn’t hear ye come in.” He got to his feet as Kiera entered the dark interior. A lantern sat on a ledge above a water trough, its flame low. The inside of the stable remained shadowy and warm, with horses shifting and snorting from their stalls. The stable was one of Kiera’s favorite places within the walls of Lawenydd.
“Easy, now,” Orson said to the animals. “We’ve a lady among us.” He chuckled. “Goin’ ridin’ today, m’lady?” he asked. He should have been relieved of his duties years before, but he was a favorite of her father. Since his son, Joseph, had inherited Orson’s way with the horses, the old man had retained his position. Even after Obsidian had turned up missing, Kiera thought with a familiar pang of guilt.
“Aye, Orson.” She managed a smile and hoped she didn’t seem nervous. “I thought a ride might be good this morning. On Garnet.”
“Ye’re feelin’ up to it, are ye? It’s cold this morn and I heard ye were so ill yesterday that ye missed yer own sister’s weddin’.”
“I was feeling poorly, but I’m much better today,” Kiera said and ignored the questions in the stable master’s gaze. Beneath the wrinkled folds of skin, his brown eyes gleamed as if he were privy to some private joke, and she imagined that everyone in the castle knew of her deception.
Orson yelled over his shoulder, “Joseph ... the lady needs her jennet.”
“Right,” a deep voice called and then Orson’s son appeared from around the comer. As tall and strapping as Orson was shriveled and stooped, Joseph inclined his head and offered a smile of white teeth. His yellow hair was as coarse and straight as the straw he fed the animals, and his features were spread wide upon a friendly face. Kiera had grown up with him, and as children, she and Elyn and Joseph had been friends. Until their mother had changed all that. He, after all, was a stableboy. Lady Twyla hadn’t wanted her daughters to consider him anything but a servant. “I’ll bring Garnet round,” he said with a quick nod.
“Thank you.” She smiled at him, but he’d already disappeared through a doorway.
Orson hung the bridle on a peg and squinted hard. “Ye’re not plannin’ on ridin’ alone, are ye?”
“I won’t be gone long.”
His frown became a scowl. “I could send Joseph or one of the other stableboys with ye. Or one of the guards. The forest, it isn’t safe. There’s robbers and henchmen and outlaws in the woods, but then you should know that better than anyone.”
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Worry not.”
“Does yer father know about this?” he asked, then quickly cleared his throat, as if he realized it wasn’t his place to question her. “Well, ye be careful,” he added, “and that’s all I have to say to ye, except ye have a nice ride.”
“I will, Orson, thank you.” She turned quickly an
d hurried outside to find that Joseph was already waiting for her, holding tight to the reins of Garnet as her favorite tall red-coated mare fidgeted and stomped, then tossed her head.
“She’s ready to run,” Joseph observed with a grin.
“She’s always ready to run.”
“Like her mistress.”
Kiera grinned despite her fears. “Aye, Joseph, like her mistress.” If only he knew that she would like nothing better than to run as far as this game mare would take her. She cast a glance over her shoulder to the third floor of the great hall and the window of Elyn’s room, where she imagined, for a fleeting second, she spied the Lord of Penbrooke glaring down at her. But she blinked and he was gone, as if he were a ghost, or more likely nothing more than the play of pale sunlight through the fog. Kelan was asleep and would probably not waken for hours. At least she hoped so.
“Have a good ride.”
“I will.” Kiera swung onto the mare’s back, and the pain between her legs caused her to wince as she took up the reins. She had to work fast and find Elyn ... wherever the bloody hell her sister was hiding.
Mayhap she’s hurt. Even dead. Thrown from her horse. Kiera’s heart turned to ice. Her fingers twined in the reins. Nay. The worst that could have happened was that Elyn had changed her mind and wasn’t returning. Kiera had kept that wayward thought at the back of her mind, but it was there just the same even though she prayed her sister wouldn’t have betrayed her.
But why would she not?
Had she not risked life and limb and banishment to be with her beloved? Perhaps she’d left Kiera to deal with Penbrooke forever. Kiera urged her mare toward the main gates. She had to find Elyn.
Or else she would be forced to play the part of Kelan’s bride again tonight.
And would that be so bad? The damage is already done. Why not spend another night learning the ways of lovemaking?
And what then? Would she not be further enmeshed in her own web of lies? She guided Garnet through the bailey and under the portcullis. One way or another, she had to locate her sister and insist she return to take her place as Kelan of Penbrooke’s bride.
