“How can you support him and still be my champion?” I asked with a frown, my desire to hit someone diminished, though Thomas surely deserved a slap or two.
“Though you have rejected me, you remain in my heart, silly, how else?” He wound a fluttering yellow arm around my shoulders.
“That is not reasonable.”
“Neither are you, nor your actions.”
I opened my mouth to object, but he grabbed me and planted his mouth brutally on mine.
I shoved him away in disgust. “Duncan will be back.”
“You think so?” He bit at his lip and then smiled at me as though I were the house idiot. “Even if he lives and should return, do you really think Gorgon would let him near you?”
“Probably not.” My breath came in gasps, my throat constricted with looming tears. I leaned against the parapet wall and stroked the angled stone. “But I have my home. There is that.”
“It is just as well, sweet Elena. He is a vile, vicious man.”
“Who, Duncan?” I stared at him in disbelief.
“Annie told me much of hers and Duncan’s past. They come from a dark, evil place. Each of them carries its mark.”
“I do not believe you.” I crossed my arms in irritation and turned away from him. “You hate Duncan and would do anything to keep him from me.”
“True, but that does not change what he is.” He strode away past me, yellow silk flapping around him in the humid breeze like a huge, deranged bird.
My heart sank anew. I took a last look out at the distant musketeers in their broad-brimmed hats, at the pike men and the cavaliers, their plumed hats like a small rippling sea in the distance. They progressed slowly off into the trees. The baggage and artillery trains, finally in position, began to move.
I was truly alone now.
Locked in my room, I resorted to my dreamless bed where the heavy hangings closed me in. I cried until my head was so clogged I could not breathe, grieving for the love I had lost, for the man with whom I had shared such bone-deep passion. For what I had paid and had still to pay this heartless brute on whom I had thrown myself, the price was dear. I had made a terrible sacrifice, but I lay in my own room within the home I had every intention of keeping. And with that sobering conclusion, the tears finally ceased, only to be replaced by a deep, languid uncaring about anything or anyone around me.
Rosemunde was in the room. She had come immediately when she heard of my return. Careful to keep wet cloths over my eyes, she murmured what she thought were helpful comments. By the time I recovered enough to rise and rinse my face, there was little left inside the burned out husk I had become. I hardly resembled the headstrong woman who had returned to this house in the early morning.
Not even the window, swollen from the night’s rain, would open to allow me a breeze. I retreated to my dressing table chair.
A knock came at the door.
“Yes?” Rosemunde called out from across the room. She threw a fearful look at the entry.
A familiar voice sounded. Rosemunde quickly threw the bolt and Captain Wallace strode in.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I resisted the inclination to throw myself into his arms. “I thought you left with Duncan.”
“I felt you might need some support and . . . uh . . . protection.” He stared down at his bandaged wrist, somewhat shy, it appeared, at this rebellious disclosure.
“That I might. Forgive my appearance.” I understood his loyalty and should not have been surprised by his presence. I reached over and took a short tug at his sleeve, but could not smile. I had no heart left. I doubted I would ever smile again.
“You are beautiful, as usual, my lady.”
“Did Duncan command you to stay?” I asked hopefully.
“Oh, no. I wish to continue to serve you, my lady.”
“So you deserted the Royalist Army?”
“I suppose I did, though I never formally signed up.”
“Gorgon will kill you if he catches you.”
“He will not catch me.” His mouth erupted into a devious smile. “I know every crack, every hiding place Tor House has to offer. In fact, unknown to him, I have spent the morning taking stock of the house,” he said. He assumed his usual straight-backed manner, a little stodgy in the doing of it. “As I knew you would want me to do.”
“Yes, thank you. How do our food stores look?”
“Acceptable. We are well stocked thanks to Captain Comrie’s assistance these last weeks. As far as Mrs. Deane is concerned that does not mean much, as the countess took the spice cabinet.”
“The whole cabinet?”
“Apparently, yes.
“And the house guard?”
“Essentially disbanded,” he said, with a sorrowful sigh. “Though we had heard a takeover was planned, there was no recourse. The Manx lieutenant presented a legitimate order from the earl’s warden. Every guard position in the house was turned over early this morning to his men.” His bright eyes demanded my attention. “Has he bothered you yet?”
“Gorgon? No. But I doubt that will last long.”
“I shall maintain my post at your side,” he said with a wag of a finger at me. “I am no farther away than your door.”
“Did the prince recruit the house guard?”
“No.” He shook his head definitively. “Your guard is still here, just working in different capacities.”
“Good. We may have need of them. Keep them alert and ready.”
“As you wish. Right now, Gorgon is so agoggle with his own importance that he floats from the great hall to the gallery and back again, spouting vainglorious plans for the house and its supporters. At least, so the servants tell me. But there will come a time when he will attempt to take you, my lady. You must be ready. Would you like your sword? Or a primed pistol?”
“Both, if you can get them safely in here. Duncan’s pistol is in Kalimir’s saddlebags. Kalimir is here, is he not?”
“Most certainly. But there is one other thing I would like to make you aware of, something I have just discovered myself.” The wrinkles in his leathern face deepened into abject discomfort.
“What is that?” I asked, still stunned with the events of the last hours, and only mildly curious at his unusual expression.
“Do you feel up to coming with me?” He raised his brows, the look gone, and put his hand out to me. “Down to the servant quarters?”
“Certainly,” I said, though it was an odd request.
Accommodations for the servants were located on the lower level of the back side of the house. Once we arrived there, we wound through two large rooms crowded with beds and pallets and various basic possessions to the back wall, where Wallace pointed down a dark rickety stair that descended to the lower earthen level.
Wallace went down first, and with his hand to steady me, I descended the creaky stair behind him. No sooner had my foot touched the earth, than a whimper came to me. The smell of blood, heavy sweat, and urine was overpowering. I covered my nose with my hand. Wallace led me around large, dim shapes, all covered with sheets and canvas. Finally, he pointed to a small form in the dark area behind an old bedstead, near a small window. A familiar, though beaten little face peered out at me.
“Paul, is that you?”
“Oh, my lady.” His bright, slanted eyes blinked at me. “Do not come near. I am not fit for your eyes.”
I urged him to come out from behind the headboard, which he finally did. Shirtless, he cringed before me in terror. I coaxed him into the light.
I held his bruised face in my hands. I shuddered, for looking further, I found my young friend and servant covered with bite marks all along his shoulders and his back. Massive bruises colored his arms and torso in various shades of black, blue, and yellow. There was one particularly brutal red and purple bite mark on his neck, under his ear.
“What happened to you?” I asked. My lack of interest in my surroundings had vanished. “Did a wild animal attack you?”
&nbs
p; “No, my lady. It was—” He cringed before me.
“—the steward, my lady.” His dark eyes flashed in renewed terror. “Do not tell him. He will kill me next time, if you do.”
“Why?” My eyes went huge. He could have hit me, I was so mortally astounded. “This happens regularly?”
The boy nodded, unable to look at me.
“This is why you were hiding on the watch-tower stair the other day?”
He nodded, a short miserable jerk of his head.
“The fiend loves boys, my lady,” Wallace interpreted, tight-lipped with disapproval.
I gasped. This battered, bleeding child before me could not be the result of anyone’s love-making. Yet he was. I closed my eyes, shocked to my core by this travesty.
“Get him out of here, out of Tor House. Do not let Gorgon near him again. Find a safe place where he can recover.”
“My abilities in this house are limited.” Wallace’s gaze roamed the space around us, as though searching for a way out. “But I will find a means of doing it, my lady.”
“What about Denis?” I asked, for I suddenly remembered the boy’s twin.
“We have not seen him for a long time.” Wallace’s face went white. “I am afraid—”
“Could he have run away?”
“No,” Paul whispered.
“Oh, Holy Mother,” I cried, my tattered heart at my feet.
The captain and I went silently back to my room, where Wallace shook his head, but finally, hesitantly, left me to attend my requests.
My idea of how to survive under Gorgon’s custody paled into woeful insufficiency beside this new development. My heart ached for Paul and Denis, who had depended on me to protect them. They were my charge and I had failed them. I had abandoned them completely with no thought but for myself. Would I now suffer the same as they? Only time would tell, for there was nothing I could do but await Gorgon’s pleasure.
Chapter Nineteen
Were he in my position, what would Duncan, that edge-of-the minute warrior, do? He certainly would not await his enemy’s inclination. With a striking tactic, he would take the initiative and somehow shift the power of the situation to his advantage. I was hardly a battle-hardened, strategy-driven cavalier. In fact, I desperately missed the one I had lost. Nevertheless, I made my way down to the house’s lower level to find Gorgon and deal with him now, not later.
Feverish humidity had risen as the morning progressed. I wiped my damp forehead before arriving at the private tower’s arch, and it was a good thing, for the library door was indeed open. I tucked my handkerchief into my little side pocket as I stepped within. I looked up and came to a sudden stop.
The document table that had always been under the middle window now faced the door like a barricade in the center of the circular room. Newly hung tapestries covered all three windows which created a dim, threatening atmosphere intensified at the moment by Gorgon’s hostile glare. He sat behind the table, arm extended over a pile of stiff parchments. The document cabinet had been pulled out from its nook beyond the bookcases and stood now at Gorgon’s right, as though held under his personal guard. The old battle axe that had hovered over the hearth mantle as long as I could remember, now lay atop the cabinet.
“I see you have made changes to suit yourself.” I looked around the room in dismay.
“I do not want you in this library.” Gorgon leaned his elbow on the chair arm. “Go,” he demanded, waving a hand at me as though I were an attending servant.
I took a shaky breath, for I could not falter now. There was no one left to pick up the pieces. I had to act to protect myself.
“I came to tell you that I have decided to accept our betrothal, on one condition.”
“And what is that?” he asked with a tired sigh, as though anything I might say would be boring.
“You will not touch me until our wedding night.”
His lower bearded jaw dropped. “That is convenient, given that pig of a countess absconded with the priest.” Grim humor wrinkled the skin around his eyes. “Why should I wait? Any child conceived would be legitimate by our later union.” His nostrils flared and his gaze traveled the length of my body as though I stood before him naked. “Your body excites me, Elena. I am pleased that you have accepted our union.”
“Stew-, I mean Warden Gorgon.” I carefully considered my hands, my fingers, my wrecked cuticles. “If you attempt to touch me before we are married under the auspices of the church, I will kill you.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” He smiled, a wolfish show of teeth within his freshly trimmed beard that was surprisingly attractive, if not for the ragged scar visible now along his jaw line. He produced a gusty laugh.
Air escaped my lungs in a loud begrudging rush. I could well be forced to keep my word, for any punishment was preferable to his touch.
“Go. I have better things to do than to spar with you, beloved.” He did not laugh again, though his face retained a somber grin.
I passed by the great hall the next morning and watched in amazement as Gorgon stamped back and forth across the wide slate floor. Not one soul had appeared in answer to the summons to come before their new lord.
He spoke to himself as he strode. He steamed with outrageous plans to exact his vengeance on the already destitute tenants and liegemen in the area.
He inhabited the earl’s chair on the dais and sat there for hours on end and fumed, still hoping, I suppose, that someone would arrive. It was unlike our people to ignore their lord. Their absence made me think that, unrelated to Gorgon’s intentions, the war, poor harvests, and the brutal summer heat that we endured this year may have decimated our population, and therefore, there may be no further provisions in the overrun area for the house to confiscate.
Gorgon seemed too busy to dally with me and so I counted myself lucky and spent that first day working in the orchard harvesting early apples. The next day I inventoried the house needs with Mrs. Lowry and Mrs. Deane. Wallace’s plans for our dismissed guards went forward, a force I had every intention of reinstating at some point in the future, armed and in good physical condition. He duly provided my sword and Duncan’s pistol with balls and gunpowder in a linen chest delivered to my quarters.
The one time I came upon him later in the week, I found Thomas, disgruntled and clearly unhappy with his fate, fine clothing or no, lounging in the gallery, his fawn-colored breeches covered in dust. I quickly left him to his grumbling.
The boy Paul had been spirited out of the house in the local ferrier supply wagon on its return to Manchester. With him, I sent a letter of reference to my Uncle Justin, whom I suspected had embraced Puritanism. Paul might not enjoy such a household, but he would be well cared for and safe from Gorgon’s perversions.
I had been adamant that Tor House was the answer to all my problems, but now, in the midst of my struggle to survive there, I found myself a lonely, beleaguered woman, and no longer sure of what I wanted.
I awoke late one afternoon to the fleeting sound of rushing water, a dream seeping out of my mind. I had been studying a copy of a well-known playwright’s work at my table and must have swooned. I looked down to find my wobbly hand still atop the open book before me. Hands to my head, I concentrated, trying to recapture the vision.
Some of it came back, but not all. I had been aboard that same future ship I thought I had avoided . . .
Thrown about in wind and rain, I fought to get to the ship’s side. After a struggle along ropes strung as lifelines, my hair loose and whipping in the wind, I reached and clung to the ship’s lurching gunwale as the distant shore melded into the gray distance. The ship’s bow plunged in and out of the dark, racing sea, scooping up great bodies of water that streamed over the decks. Though I was at the break of the high poop deck near the rear of the ship, cold seawater surged at my feet. A strong arm held me securely in place. The owner of that arm stood beside me at the rail, an outsized shadow that shielded my face from the worst of the coursing wind. I glanced at the settin
g sun and lifted my face in the frigid wind to the golden glow on the taut overhead sails that rose so high above me.
I dropped my hands into my lap and forced my chilled face, still gawking at a radiant future sail, to attend the present.
The stout warden stood in the open doorway to my quarters. He had not sought me out since our confrontation in the library, but now seemed to await a response from me.
I kept my shaky hands out of sight, clenched my teeth and forced a subtle smile. I nodded at him, to show that I recognized his query, though I had heard nothing.
Still feeling inundated and hardly able to breathe, I waved a flaccid hand, and he strode in. He closed the door behind him, which, too late, set off an alarm in my mind.
Deep shadows accompanied him. Was it my seer’s eye that conjured them or did these shadows really exist? He passed a gilded chair to sit in another next to me. The golden shine of that first chair went dull, as though inundated in his aura. I pushed back from the table and away from Gorgon’s proximity, and the darkness drained away, like my dreams.
He reached over from his seat next to me and swiped a pressing hand across the side of my breast, where it bulged at the fabric of my dress.
“Get out,” I cried. Incensed, I jumped to my feet to avoid any further assaults.
“No, no. I shall keep my hands away, tempting as you are.” He motioned at my vacated seat. “Please sit.”
I sat down delicately, ready for his least move.
He glowered at me and scooted his chair close up beside mine. “You really are quite tall for a woman, you know.”
“Where is the boy, Denis?” I asked, ignoring his comment with a frown, determined to keep him on the defensive. “He was last seen being led away by you.”
“Who says such a thing?” He squinted at me in derision.
Exile’s Bane Page 23
