Vow of Deception

by Angela Johnson

  “My lord, ’tis good you are back. You have—”

  “Bring us some spiced wine, John,” Rand interrupted. “Ballocks. ’Tis as frigid as a witch’s teat out there.” A fire was blazing in the hearth, and Rand sought its warmth.

  “But, my lord—”

  A large, looming figure emerged from the tall-backed chair by the fire. Rand veered back in surprise, his hand going to his sword. When he recognized Amaury de Valence, he dropped his hand. The man he’d hired to follow Sir Golan’s every move.

  Rand waved Will away. The squire turned on his heel and went and sat down at the dais table.

  “Amaury, what are you doing here? Is aught wrong? Pray, tell me Rose is all right?” Rand could not suppress the anxious quiver in his voice. Amaury usually sent one of his underlings to keep Rand informed of Sir Golan’s movements. The switch in routine was disconcerting at the least, but he feared the worst.

  “Lady Ayleston is fine, Rand.”

  Rand exhaled with relief.

  “To the best of my knowledge, that is. But that may change. That’s why I wanted to speak to you. I have some disturbing news to report,” he said, and then his lips pinched into a taught, grim line.

  “Go on, man. I am listening.”

  “One of the men following Sir Golan was found strangled in the alley behind a brothel Golan frequented. I have no proof Golan was the culprit, but I think it would be prudent to assume he discovered he was being followed and killed the man as a message to you.”

  “Murdering bastard,” Rand swore. Jaw clenched in frustration, Rand paced before the fire. A sudden disturbing thought struck him and he stopped, his body as rigid as a lance. “Do you know where Sir Golan is now?”

  “Aye. ’Tis another reason I wished to speak to you personally. Fortunately, I had posted two men to follow Sir Golan. I received word from my other spy that Sir Golan was last seen headed in the direction of Ayleston Castle on his way to his new post at Chester.”

  A sharp pounding pain pulsed at Rand’s temple and his palms broke out in a sweat. “Will!”

  His squire started. Wine from the chalice he held splashed over the rim and onto the board.

  Rand blanched. A foreboding shiver skimmed across the back of his neck, raising the small hairs there.

  “Aye, Sir Rand.”

  “Have my horse saddled and readied. I head for Ayleston posthaste.”

  Will set his wine on the table and stepped down from the dais. “But, my lord, ’tis too dangerous to travel now. The blizzard shall make the trip impossible. You could become stranded and get lost in this storm.”

  “Do as I say, Will. Now,” he thundered, his fear a living, breathing beast crawling beneath his skin and making him itch to be in motion.

  Will nodded and raced from the Great Hall. Unable to remain idle, Rand decided to gather some viands for the trip himself. He turned on his spurs and headed for the kitchen. Then, remembering something Amaury said, he spun back.

  “You mentioned Sir Golan was on his way to Chester to take up his new position. What position?”

  “Have you not heard?”

  Rand growled beneath his breath. “Would I ask you if I had?”

  “The king appointed Sir Golan lieutenant-justiciar of the earldom of Chester. He shall pose an even greater adversary now that he holds such a prominent position of power.”

  In that moment, Rand knew he had to kill Golan. Rose would never be safe till the man was buried and residing in Hell with Bertram. The revelation warred with his strong sense of loyalty he owed the king. To kill a sworn official of the king was a breach of the king’s peace.

  Thunderstruck, his heart palpitated faster than a speeding quarrel. It was then he realized he had fallen in love with Rose. Mayhap he always had loved her.

  That he would go against his deep-seated beliefs in order to protect Rose made it impossible to deny his feelings for her anymore. And struck him with near mortal terror.

  Rand, atop his mount, dipped his head down into the biting wind and flexed his frozen fingers and toes. Huge icy snowflakes hit his face with a stinging impact. His horse trudged through foot-deep snow, the well-worn tracks in the road long having been eroded by the blanketing snow. Not a single star guided his way.

  Riding for hours, he should have arrived at Ayleston by now.

  He could deny it no longer. He was lost.

  Shivers overtook him. He tried to keep his attention focused ahead for any familiar identifying marker, but his thoughts were tangled. And his eyes kept drifting closed. He released a stiff hold on the reins and slapped his face to force himself awake.

  Riding another mile, he saw a dark lump in the snow up ahead. A hand stuck up out of the mound. In amazement, Rand realized it was a man buried in the snow.

  He jumped from his steed to the ground, stumbled to the man, dropped to his knees, and began clawing him out of the snow. The young man lay faceup, eyes open, body stiff and frozen. The man was obviously dead. Rand saw no wounds and surmised the man had died from the elements. If Rand did not reach a settlement soon, he would succumb to the same fate.

  Even as the thought penetrated his befogged mind, a wolf howled. Startled, Leviathan bolted. Rand cursed, jumped to his feet clumsily, and staggered after his steed. But the animal disappeared rapidly in the distance. Rand stumbled to a stop and dropped to his knees. Icy snow penetrated through his tunic and cloak into his flesh where he knelt.

  Breathing heavily, heart racing, Rand moved his numb lips in prayer, asking God to give him the strength to continue.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rose kissed Jason on the forehead and pushed herself up from the floor with a hand to her knee. Legs wobbling, she moved to the fire. After reading the extorter’s note once more, she tossed it into the flames and watched it burn to ashes.

  Just as her heartbeat returned to normal, a ferocious pounding shook the door again.

  A cry of alarm skewered her throat.

  Oh, God, what now?

  Paralyzed by fear, she stood staring at the door with her eyes open wide. The iron hinges rattled with the force of the blows. “What do you want?! Why don’t you leave us alone?!” she cried out in despair.

  “Mama?” Jason whimpered, wakening. He sat up in his pallet trembling in fear.

  Rose rushed to Jason and dropped onto her knees. She clutched him to her breast, stroking his cheek.

  “Jason, darling, I want you to listen to me. Crawl under the bed and hide beneath it. Don’t come out till I tell you to. Understand?”

  He nodded. His wide blue-green eyes flooded with tears and her chest constricted. “Go then.” She got up, and once he’d crawled beneath the bed, she grabbed the dagger and raised it high, blade thrust outward.

  Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

  She waited. Her heartbeat pulsed at the base of her throat.

  “Rose, are you all right? Open the door.”

  As she recognized Rand’s voice, though it sounded slightly hoarse, relief shuddered through her. She dropped the dagger on the washstand, unlocked the door, and threw it open.

  Rand stepped into the chamber. After a brief glance at the drugged guard on the floor, his gaze sought hers. It glittered with the flame of relief.

  She launched herself at him, saying, “Praise God ’tis you.”

  Rand stumbled, but clutched her to him tightly. “Aye ’tis me. I promise never to leave you again.”

  Her head pressed to his chest, she felt him shivering. His cloak was stiff from the cold. She pulled back and looked up at him. He teetered on his feet, his lips were lavender, and his eyes were dazed. She recognized the signs of being exposed to the elements too long.

  She clutched his icy-cold hands between hers. “We need to get you out of those clothes and warm you up.”

  That he did not make some lewd jest at her words told her the seriousness of his condition.

  “What’s wrong with Justin? And why is Sir William lying on the floor in your chamber?”
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  “Did you not get my message?”

  “I didn’t receive any message.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “The man I hired to follow Sir Golan came to Chester and informed me of Golan’s latest movements. I came as soon as I learned he was headed for Ayleston.”

  Then Rand swayed on his feet and stumbled.

  “Ahhhh!” she cried in alarm, dipping her shoulder beneath his arm and wrapping her arm around his waist to keep him from falling. But his heavy weight pulled her down and she landed on her knees.

  Driving pain shot straight up her knees. Breathing heavily, she clutched his waist tightly. Rand’s head dipped warily to his chest, his golden hair concealing his face. The snow encrusted on his cloak melted and dripped onto the floorboards. Plop, plop, plop. It formed a puddle of water.

  Exhaustion sapped her body, but she needed to garner enough strength to tend to Rand. So she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and tugged Rand up onto his feet. “Come. Let’s get you out of your damp clothes and into bed.”

  A thump emerged from under the bed.

  “What was that?” Rand asked.

  “’Tis all right, Jason. You may come out now,” Rose said, her voice softly encouraging.

  Jason crawled out from under the bed bottom first. When he stood up, he glared at Rand, his small mouth pursed in a disgruntled pout. Rose knew Jason was still angry with Rand for leaving him and was not about to forgive him easily.

  Rand’s eyebrows arched in inquiry. “What was Jason doing under the bed?”

  “When you were pounding on the door so forcefully, I was frightened it was Sir Golan and he might gain entry. I made Jason hide for safety’s sake.”

  Beneath her arm his body tensed. “What are you talking about? I never pounded on your chamber door. I rapped once and then called for you when you did not answer.”

  She led him out of the occupied chamber and into the corridor. “I can only surmise it was Sir Golan then.”

  “What has been going on here tonight, Rose? The gatekeeper said Sir Justin was injured. Now I find the man who was ordered to guard you is unconscious and in your chamber.”

  “I’ll explain everything when you are warm and dry. I am worried for you. You are in danger of becoming very ill if we do not warm you up quickly.”

  Jason scuttled in front of them and opened her bedchamber door.

  “Jason, prithee pull the bedclothes down for me and then seek your bed for the night.”

  After he did as she bid, Rose turned and set Rand down on the side of the bed. She helped him pull off his cloak, tunic, and sherte. When the tight sleeves of his sherte came free of his wrists, she stumbled forward. Cradled between his rock-hard thighs, she clutched the muscles of his chest to stop her momentum. Her face dove into his neck, her lips brushing silky-soft skin. She caught a whiff of snow, pine, and his unique masculine scent.

  Inadvertently, her fingers flexed, testing the heat and strength of him. His tautly rippled stomach clenched when he sucked in a deep breath. Warmth bathed her neck on his exhale. Goose bumps rippled down her side.

  Feeling a rush of heat up her neck, she jerked backward.

  Avoiding his gaze, trying to regain her emotional distance, she said gruffly, “We need to remove your damp underclothes.” She reached for the tie at the rolled waist of his braies.

  He brushed her fingers aside, saying, “I can remove them myself. I am not infirm.”

  Rose gasped. Rand looked up into Rose’s wide, stunned eyes. He read recognition at his inadvertent words. He’d said those very words many years ago when Rose treated his infected knee wound. The same night he and Rose made love.

  “Rose—”

  But Rose turned away. “I’ll get some extra blankets to warm you.”

  Sighing at her continued refusal to discuss that night, he reached down and tried to untie the cord at the waist of his braies, but his fingers, stinging with numbness, fumbled with the knot.

  At the foot of the bed, Rose delved into the clothes chest she had opened.

  He groaned in frustration and flopped down on the bed in exhaustion.

  Conversely, his cock was alive and pumping with blood, a reaction to Rose accidentally brushing her fingers and lips over his bared upper body. The offending member tented his braies.

  Her lavender and rose scent lingered in the bed pillow, an exquisite torment to his self-control.

  His teeth began to chatter. “I cannot…untie my braies. My fingers…are numb.”

  After she retrieved a fur and two woolen blankets from the chest, she tossed them on the foot of the bed and moved to his side again.

  “Stubborn fool,” she mumbled. Her fingers worked quickly untying the knot. With her gaze turned away, she pulled his braies and hose down to his knees as he raised his hips.

  Aye, stubborn fool, he cursed his erection. He wanted to seize her and make her his own in the most elemental of ways. But he must resist temptation.

  He had assumed responsibility for protecting Rose when he married her. Failure was not an option. But what did he do at the first sign of his deepening feelings for Rose? He abandoned her, and as a result, Sir Golan seized the opportunity to retaliate.

  On the long ride to Ayleston, Rand had realized it was time he stopped running away whenever he wished to avoid unpleasant situations. Since he was a small boy escaping his father’s abusive control, it had become the way he dealt with personal dilemmas he did not wish to confront.

  He would do so no more.

  He meant what he said to Rose earlier. He was never going to run away from her again. But to succeed, he’d have to rein in his carnal impulses. He would not subject Rose to his unwanted advances again. It was the one thing she had ever asked of him and he meant to keep his promise. No matter the temptation.

  Rose’s fingers brushed his thigh. Rand groaned. He gritted his teeth and reiterated in his head, No matter the temptation. No matter the temptation. No matter the temptation.

  Though Rose turned her face away, it was impossible not to give a brief glance at his member.

  Amazingly, he was semiaroused.

  With a flush of embarrassment, she pulled both hose and braies down to his ankles and tugged them off his feet. Stopping in surprise, she stared at his toes. The two smallest toes of one of his feet were webbed like a duck. The oddity made her smile. She’d always considered Rand perfect in face and form, and this slight imperfection made him less intimidating.

  Once more Rand began shaking with shivers and his teeth chattered. Inwardly cursing her distraction, she flipped the coverlet up over him and tossed his undergarments on the mound of clothes on the floor beside the bed. Then she piled the wool blankets and fur she’d retrieved from the chest on top of him.

  Next she moved to the fireplace and added more kindling and logs. A spark caught. Flames flared and roared to life, their hungry fingers reaching out to tease and caress the logs like a fiery lover.

  “’Od’s blood, I am cold,” Rand swore.

  Rose turned back to Rand, frowning. Curled on his side, Rand reached out his shaking hand and clutched the fur tightly to his chin.

  It was difficult seeing Rand so weak and vulnerable. He could have died out in the storm, yet he’d braved the danger to travel to Ayleston to protect her from the vengeful Sir Golan.

  Rose could not bear watching him suffer anymore. Indeed, there was one more way she knew to get him warm. She could not let her fears prevent her from using every means she knew as a healer to reverse his symptoms. Hesitating but a moment, she hurriedly removed her garments, then lifted the blankets and crawled into bed with Rand.

  Rand stiffened, saying between gritted teeth, “What do you think you are doing, Rose?”

  Rose huddled up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. Her body touched his back, buttocks, and thighs. “Being exposed to the cold so long made your body heat drop dangerously. Our bodily contact is the only thing that can make you warm again.”

 
Long, silent moments passed, except for their breathing and an occasional pop from the fire. A thickening tension built as they lay skin to skin—like sultry waves of heat given off by a roaring fire. Rose felt open and vulnerable. Breathless.

  “’Tis working,” Rand said, his voice a raspy caress. “I’m warming up already.”

  She could feel it too. Her naked breasts pressed against him—heat from her body seeped into his supple, muscular back, making her colder. But she barely noticed. His thighs were impossibly thick and strong. She inhaled deeply, taking air into her lungs, breathing in his pine scent. It was redolent and extremely alluring.

  Rose clutched him tighter, frowning as she felt a rough, uneven patch of skin near his lower back. “Rand, what is this on your—”

  “Tell me what happened here tonight,” Rand suddenly blurted out.

  When he rolled onto his back, she snuggled up to his side and laid her head on his shoulder. Eager for the distraction, she explained everything that occurred yesterday, beginning with the arrival of Sir Golan.

  “The bastard,” Rand swore. “I shan’t rest till Sir Golan pays for harming Justin. I should have killed the man on the jousting field.”

  Rose could not have agreed more heartily. Instead, she finished describing the events that unfolded right up to Rand’s return.

  Rand shifted, stretching his legs. “’Tis all my fault. If I had been here, the bastard would not have dared to attack you. In the morning, I shall remove Sir Golan from Ayleston. If he knows what’s best, he shall not gainsay me.”

  She bit her lip and rested her hand on his chest. “Dare you risk insulting him? He now has great authority to do us harm.” The thud of his heart beat a rhythmic tattoo against her palm.

  “I don’t want you to worry about Sir Golan.”

  “How can I not when he seems determined to destroy us?”

  “Now that I have returned he will not challenge me face-to-face. The man is not a fool.” His hand came up and covered hers. “He knows I have King Edward’s trust. As such, Sir Golan can’t risk going against me without drawing the king’s wrath upon him.”