by Jody Hedlund
My gaze flew back to the door at the top of the stairway, where the abbot had positioned two guards. I didn’t have to go. I could send Bartholomew down to bring back a report.
Besides, I doubted Abbot Francis Michael would approve of me descending into the dungeon to speak with Derrick. But since the abbot had returned to the convent that afternoon to make preparations for my move, I didn’t have to worry about earning his censure.
I knew Trudy wouldn’t agree to my descent into the dungeon, which was another reason why I’d waited until the darkest hours of the night to make the trip, after my nursemaid’s snores filled my chamber.
Bartholomew disappeared around the winding steps, taking the light with him, thereby leaving me in growing blackness. I stumbled after the old guard before I let fear keep me from doing what I knew I must.
As much as I wanted to turn around and run back to fresh air and the safety of the upper levels, there was something driving me that I couldn’t ignore. I had to see Derrick.
And if I was honest with myself, I knew my desire to see him went beyond my promise to the duke.
I cared about him. And I’d believed he’d begun to feel the same way about me. I had a driving need to discover the truth before I moved to the convent.
Even if it didn’t change the outcome of becoming a nun and fulfilling the Ancient Vow, at least I would have peace in knowing the answer.
I leaned my head back against the stone wall, heedless of the webs and dust that caught in the dirty strands of my hair. I rubbed my hands over my arms, attempting to bring warmth to my chilled flesh.
Even though it was mid-summer, the heat didn’t reach into the underground pit. And it certainly couldn’t touch the cold emptiness of my heart — a coldness that had gripped me since the moment I’d looked into Rosemarie’s eyes and seen her mistrust and confusion.
I wasn’t sure what pained me more: the knowledge that she could believe me capable of the misdeeds, or the fact that I’d lost her.
Of course, maybe I’d never really had her to begin with . . .
I released a pent-up breath, the foul, dank air swirling around me.
If only I’d stayed true to my earlier conviction that I didn’t have the right to win her heart. If only I’d worked harder to keep my distance from her.
But even as the thought pushed through me, anger chased it away. It wouldn’t have mattered which of us had won her heart, as the outcome would have been the same. One of us would have ended up in chains.
I wasn’t quite sure who had murdered the sheriff and who had threatened Bennet and Collin, but I had a suspicion that somehow the abbot was behind it all. His last threat had been clear — if I wanted to keep Rosemarie from getting hurt next, I needed to willingly hand myself over.
I’d been afraid the duke would resist, that he’d force the abbot to free me. But thankfully he hadn’t protested too strongly. The duke knew me too well. He realized I’d do anything to ensure Rosemarie’s safety and that there was no way he’d stop me from handing myself over to the abbot if it meant I’d protect her.
What wasn’t clear was why the abbot wanted to keep Rosemarie from getting married. For whatever reason, the man of God seemed to think Rosemarie would be better off spending her life in the convent.
Maybe she would. At least there, she’d be safe.
But what did the abbot have to gain from her living there? The question wouldn’t leave my mind. Certainly he stood to gain something. Otherwise, why bring the competition to an end?
A scuffling sounded in the hallway outside my cell. Other than the jailer who brought me food several times a day, and the visits from my squire when the guards would allow, the rats were my only companions in the deserted dungeon.
I could at least count my blessings I was being fed. And that the jailer had scraped the muck from the cell and strewn the floor with fresh straw. Even though he’d been a gruff man, he hadn’t abused me, at least not yet.
A creak at the far end of the hallway pushed me up from my spot on the floor. I stared in the direction of the doorway as it began to open, letting in the light that had become all too rare over the past two days. Wariness quickly sprang to life and my muscles tensed.
I knew it was night based on the delivery of my last meal and the fact that the jailor hadn’t visited me again. Anyone else coming in the middle of the night would surely only bring trouble.
The door opened completely, and the light of a torch spilled into the dungeon, illuminating my cell and the empty one across from me. I flattened myself against the damp wall and wiped my grimy hands across my eyes. When I looked again, I saw an angel.
It was Rosemarie following behind her guard. Her hair was loose and floated around her head like a halo. The glint of the flame turned the strands to pure gold.
My chest tightened with a sudden surge of desire to hear her voice, to stand near her, and to know she was safe.
“Derrick,” she whispered, searching the opposite cell.
Although my noble self prodded me to stay hidden in the shadows, to let her go once and for all, I couldn’t resist pushing away from the wall and moving to the center of my cell. All I wanted to do was see her face one last time.
At my movement, she gasped and spun. “Derrick.” Her voice had a breathless quality, and did I detect just a tiny amount of joy? Was she glad to see me?
She crossed to the rusted bars and peered inside.
The guard raised his torch so that the light fell upon me, revealing my filth and the state to which I’d fallen. I was tempted to shrink back. I didn’t want her to see me this way. But the eagerness in her eyes sent another wave of need into my blood, stirring it faster. I took a step toward the bars, wanting to reach for her and draw her close.
She glanced over her shoulder then and visibly shuddered. “I haven’t been down here in years,” she said, looking around again and drawing near enough to the bars that she almost touched them.
“Why have you come now?”
In the light of the torch her beautiful blue eyes were filled with honesty. “I’ve been worried about you, and I had to see for myself how you were.”
“I’ve been better.”
Her face crumpled in distress. “I shall have you moved to a chamber upstairs immediately.”
With a sudden lurch of anxiety, I shook my head. If I allowed her to move me, what would the abbot do next? To her? His threat may have been subtle, but it had spoken loud enough to me. “I must stay here, my lady. I dare say you have the nicest guards and the finest prison I’ve ever been in.” I gave her a wry grin, hoping to ease her discomfort.
“You’re sure you’re well?”
I nodded, and in spite of how I smelled and looked, I bent closer to her. I caught the sweet scent of roses that was uniquely hers. “And you? Are you well and safe?”
“I’m well in body. But disquieted in spirit.” When her gaze met mine, I saw fear radiating from deep in her eyes.
My muscles tensed. “What’s wrong?” Was she in some kind of trouble?
I couldn’t stop myself from slipping my hand through the bars and taking hold of hers. Her fingers were cold but soft. And I was relieved when she didn’t pull away, but instead gripped me tightly, as if I was her only hope.
“Tell me what ails you,” I demanded, my chest swelling with the need to burst out of prison and defend her against whatever enemy she was facing. It didn’t matter anymore that she’d not risen to my defense in the Great Hall.
How could I blame her for remaining silent? She hadn’t known me long. She was wise to show caution when faced with the kind of evidence that had been brought against me. If anything, I should be angry with her for searching me out down in the dungeon, especially because of the possible danger she could bring on herself if the abbot were to learn of her visit.
She glanced around again and shuddered so violently it rippled through my hand all the way to my heart, piercing me with a fear I’d never believed possible. I looke
d to the guard who had accompanied her to the dungeon, and he seemed concerned for Rosemarie as well. “Is someone trying to harm you, my lady?”
“No,” she said with a faint smile. “It’s just my past coming to haunt me.”
“What of your past?” I asked, trying to keep my voice gentle.
“’Tis silly, really.” She ducked her head. “Only the nightmares of a torture I once witnessed by chance. I should have forgotten the scene by now. But there are times when I cannot . . .”
“Like when you saw the man in the boiling water?”
She nodded. “Or when I see rats.”
“Rats?”
Her voice dropped. “They’d put cages upon the stomachs of the men, bottomless cages, with starving rats inside.”
“Speak no more of it,” I urged softly. I knew well enough the method of torture — that the frenzied rats would gnaw and dig through the human’s flesh until they reached the entrails. It was a slow and excruciating way to die. “I’ve witnessed it once myself. As a matter of fact, I saw it here the day of your parents’ funeral.”
Surprise flitted across her delicate features. “Then perhaps we witnessed the same scene.”
My muscles tensed as I thought back to the men’s agonized screams as they lay dying. “I took pity on the men and hastened their death.”
Her eyes widened and she studied my face.
“The duke had given his approval,” I explained, hoping the darkness of the dungeon kept the grime on my face hidden. “He would likely have done it himself if I hadn’t spoken first.”
“I’ve always wondered who showed those poor men compassion.” A small smile graced her lips. “And now it would appear that you are the one to whom I owe my deepest gratitude.”
“No, my lady —”
“Now it would appear that I’m indebted to you again.” Her smile inched higher.
In spite of the grave circumstances, I couldn’t resist teasing her. “Shall I start to keep a tally of your debts to me? I wouldn’t want you to forget to give me my rewards.”
She ducked her head, and I was sure if there had been enough light I would have seen a pretty flush on her cheeks.
I grinned, even as my insides flared with the thought of the kind of reward I truly longed for from her, though I would never ask for it now.
Standing next to the door, the old hunched guard gave a slight cough.
“Is it true what I’ve heard?” I asked, quickly changing the subject. “Are you making plans to enter the convent?”
“Yes. It’s true.” Her voice had a note of resignation. “I have only five days left. The abbot has gone to make ready my rooms. What other choice do I have?”
I wanted to argue with her but forced myself to respond rationally. “Have you thought about how you’ll guarantee the safety of your people when you’re in the convent? How will you protect them from there?”
“I don’t lose my ability to rule after I fulfill my vow.”
“Will the abbot allow it?”
“Of course he will. I’ll be eighteen and ruler in my own right.”
I shrugged, but wariness wormed into my stomach, turning it sour. Did the abbot think that by keeping Rosemarie cloistered, he’d still be able to control her? Was he opposed to her marrying because he knew he’d lose his influence over her?
“Perhaps you should speak further with the abbot about how you’ll continue your reign from inside the convent’s walls.”
She peered at me, her eyes thoughtful, her lips pursed.
“My lady,” whispered the guard. “I think we should be going now.”
She moved as if to go, then pressed even closer to the bars of my cell, gripping my hand harder. “Did you do it, Derrick? Tell me the truth. I need to know.” Her voice was low and anguished.
I knew what she was referring to. I knew she wanted me to deny any involvement in the crimes. But it hurt that she could believe, even for one minute, I’d stoop so low.
“Do you really think I’m capable?” I whispered back, unable to keep the harshness from my tone.
“No.” Her whisper was still troubled but her answer took away the sting of her question nevertheless. Her brows furrowed and she peered into my eyes as if attempting to see into my soul. “If you didn’t do it, then why won’t you defend yourself?”
The reckless, heedless part of me had longed to rise to my own defense when the abbot had leveled the accusations against me. I’d wanted to shout out that I had nothing to do with any of the incidents, especially when I’d seen the disappointment in Rosemarie’s eyes.
But the self-restraint the duke had taught me over the years had been in good stead. I’d held back the words of defense. I’d humbled myself. And I’d taken the brunt of the abbot’s accusations without a fight, so that no one else would incur such needless blame.
“Remember, we show courage in many ways,” I said.
Even as the words left my lips, the truth of the statement pounded me. I’d always believed my father was a coward. But what if my father had refused to fight because he’d hoped to keep his family from dying of starvation? Perhaps he’d believed that handing himself over would at least save the lives of his wife and children. And it likely would have, under normal circumstances.
Rosemarie continued to study my face as if searching for the truth there.
“Sometimes courage can even take the form of a head bowed before the enemy,” I said softly, repeating the words Rosemarie had once spoken to me. Maybe I’d been wrong about my father all this time. What if my father had shown more courage in humbling himself rather than fighting?
“But if you’re innocent, why didn’t you say so?”
“Would it have done any good? With all the evidence pointing toward my guilt, who would have believed me?”
“I would have believed you,” she whispered. “I do believe you.”
I leaned against the bars. We were less than a hand’s span apart. Her warmth and life radiated into me, and once again I inhaled the fragrance of roses that surrounded her. Before I thought to stop myself, I slipped my fingers through the bars and touched her cheek. I knew I should resist. I had no right to win her affection, especially now.
Even so, I caressed her soft, unblemished skin. When she leaned into my touch, my heart gave a hard knock against my chest.
“I want you to believe me too,” I said softly. “I want you to trust that I would never, ever do anything intentionally that would bring you harm. In fact, I would lay down my very life for you.”
She released a sigh that brushed my wrist and sent my pulse into a thundering gallop.
The old guard nearby lifted his torch, exposing my intimate touch on her face. “We really need to go, my lady.”
She took a step back, breaking our contact. “If not you, then who?”
“I cannot say.” I’d spoken briefly with the duke as well as Collin and Bennet about my suspicions. But they couldn’t bring forward any accusations until they had solid proof. “I’m hoping when the duke returns, he’ll bring news of the true criminal that will set me free.”
“Unless my servants can uncover the truth first.” She drew her cloak about her. “I won’t let them rest until they’ve questioned every person in the land.”
Her declaration sent warmth pouring over me and I almost reached for her again. But she spun away, following her guard back down the passageway.
I pushed against the bars, the cold rusted iron bruising me. I wanted to call out after her not to leave me, that I couldn’t bear to be away from her again, that I didn’t see how I could go on in life without her.
The truth was, I loved her. Deeply and truly.
I hadn’t meant to fall in love with her, had tried not to, hadn’t thought I was worthy. But somehow, over the past month, it had happened anyway. Maybe I’d even fallen in love that first day I’d ridden through Ashby and watched her frantic efforts to stop the torture in the town square.
Whatever the case, I cou
ldn’t deny the truth any longer. “My lady,” I called after her.
Already in the doorway, she stopped. In the faint glow of the guard’s light, she was achingly beautiful. In fact, she was so much more than I’d ever imagined she’d be — intelligent, kind, thoughtful.
Her bright blue eyes regarded me with expectation.
I swallowed hard but couldn’t get out the words I wanted to say, that I loved her more than life itself, that I didn’t want her to enter the convent.
But what good would it do to tell her when I was locked in the dungeon, with only five days left until her eighteenth birthday, only five days to make her fall in love with me, only five days within which to be married.
“My lady,” came the old guard’s voice, more urgent.
She lifted her brow at me, clearly waiting for me to speak.
“Stay safe,” I managed.
She nodded and then turned once more. In an instant, the dungeon door squeaked closed, taking the torchlight and all hope with it.
I released a frustrated groan that echoed against the stone walls of my cell. Then, weary, I rested my head against the bars, letting blackness settle over me.
Perhaps this was exactly what the abbot had wanted. Unable to prevent the duke’s courtship plan, and unable to keep Rosemarie from being attracted to the three suitors — to me — perhaps the abbot figured the next step was locking me away to keep me from winning her heart.
And with so little time left until her birthday, it looked as if the plan would work.
I could only pray the duke would bring back evidence that could set me free before it was too late.
Chapter
20
“I don’t like this one bit, my lady.” Trudy’s voice echoed through the deserted Great Hall. She smoothed out the wrinkles in my gown and draped it around my chair.
“We’ll be fine,” I said for the hundredth time since I’d awakened Trudy and dragged her from her pallet. “Everyone else is asleep. No one has to know except you and Bartholomew and the night jailer.”
