Tristan’s heart started to race. The man’s story seemed genuine, but how could it be? How could he be Lord Carney when Gwyneth had almost been betrothed to the earl a matter of weeks ago? And he mentioned to already be betrothed. How could that be? Tristan became desperate and moved closer to the man. “Do you remember anything else. Any little detail could help. Please.”
The man covered his face as sobs shook his body. “I can’t. I just can’t.”
Tristan tried to restrain himself, but couldn’t help it. He desperately needed information. “Please, just think!” He grabbed the man by the arms and shook him. “Think! This could be life or death.”
The man wrenched away from him and cried out, prompting the physician and Murtagh to return.
“What are you doing to the poor man?” the physician shouted. “Hasn’t he been through enough already?”
Tristan stepped back, raking his fingers through his hair, disturbed by his own desperate behavior. “He knows something else, Murtagh. I have to know what it is.”
His first mate gripped his shoulders, steadying him. “Please, be calm, Your Majesty. Allow the man time to rest and then maybe he’ll be rememberin’ somethin’.”
Tristan agreed and steadied his breathing as they turned to walk out.
“Wait,” the physician said, prompting Tristan to turn around. “He remembered one more thing.”
“Lorcan…” the man rasped, still cowering in fear on the cot. “The soldiers called their commander Lorcan.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Captives
After a full day at sea, Gwyn began to lose hope of anyone ever finding her and Isla. She had been betrayed and their captors had thought out their escape route well. She paced in the captain’s quarters, her heart aching. By now she would have been married—married to the wonderful man who had won her heart from the beginning. Where was Tristan? Was he searching for her? Maybe he hadn’t found her yet because the intruders had slain him. She couldn’t bear the thought and banished it from her mind. Tristan was alive. He would find her. She just had to hold tightly to her faith.
She limped toward the bed on her swollen ankle and hugged Isla close. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll be rescued soon. You’ll see.” Her friend hadn’t uttered a word since Slade had been killed, but Gwyn continued talking to her, hoping she’d come out of her shock. If any chance of escape presented itself, she’d need Isla to be of sound mind. Otherwise, they wouldn’t make it.
There was a knock at the door and then a man entered—a man she had trusted but who turned out to be her enemy. “How are you faring, Lady Gwyneth? I trust my servant boy is making sure you are cared for.”
She scoffed and turned her face away from him, continuing to hold on tight to Isla to make her feel safe in the presence of their captor. “Why do you even pretend to care, Lord Carney? Or should I even call you that? You’ve been deceiving me from the very beginning…even hiding your accent to deceive me.”
He sighed, relaxing into a chair by the bed. “I must apologize, Gwyneth. The circumstances are…regrettable, but you left me no choice. How can I regain your trust?”
Gwyn turned to him with an expression of stone. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how scared she was. “You can start by releasing us.”
He shook his head. “You know I can’t do that.”
“You could at least reveal your true identity then. I believe you owe me that much.”
“My name is Lorcan.”
Gwyn drew in a sharp breath. “I know that name. You are the commander of Lord Fergus’ army.”
Lorcan began to pace by the door. “You had better grow used to calling him King Fergus. He doesn’t take kindly to disrespect.”
Gwyn’s blood started to boil. “He’s not my king and I refuse to address him in such a manner.”
Lorcan growled, snatched her empty mug from the table and shattered it against the cabin wall. Then he whipped around and came closer. “You will do as you are told, Princess. Do you have any idea who you are dealing with?”
Gwyn limped backward, stunned by his outburst. It was the first time she’d witnessed him lose his temper. Then her eyes narrowed at him, refusing to show weakness in his presence. “Enlighten me. You have made it very clear you are nothing like the man I thought you were.”
The fire in Lorcan’s eyes fizzled out and he returned to his chair. “You seem to be favoring your ankle, Milady. Are you injured?”
Gwyn eased herself onto the bed, wincing with the movement. “I’m fine. I just twisted it yesterday.”
“One of my crew members is a physician of sorts. He treats minor ailments on the ship. I’ll have him come wrap your ankle.”
Gwyneth started to calm down and looked up at him. “Thank you, Milord. I would appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome.” He sighed and shook his head. “I know you must think me a monster, but you are mistaken, Your Majesty. I’m trying to help you. Do you not see that? If you cross Fergus, there will be nothing I can do to protect you. However, there is one thing you can do to ensure your safety and the safety of your maid.”
“What? Marry Lord Fergus? I’d rather rot in a dungeon cell.”
“No. By now he already has his queen.”
Gwyn’s thoughts tangled. Why would Fergus have her taken captive if he was already betrothed? Regardless, she had to put aside her questions and focus on gleaning as much information about Lorcan’s plans as she could. “What then?” she asked. “What do you propose?”
He arched one eyebrow as if his pending proposal was the most brilliant idea he would ever speak out loud. “Marry me. I know the prospect may seem foreign, but I believe you could grow to love me in time.”
She stared at him for a moment, noticing a flicker of kindness in his brown eyes—a hint of the honorable man who’d swept her off her feet at the feast months ago. It both surprised and enraged her at the same time with the knowledge it had all been a lie. “Do you truly believe I would marry you willingly after all the lies? As I told you before, I can only be true to my heart. I have chosen another.”
Lorcan’s eyes flamed at her reaction—the previous gentleness she’d observed evaporating away. He stood and pulled her with him by the shoulders in one swift movement. His face was so close to hers—she could feel his hot breath on her skin. “Your betrothed is dead, Milady,” he seethed through clenched teeth. “I ordered one of my men to kill him while he slept. I couldn’t risk the chance of him following us.”
Tears pricked Gwyn’s eyes as she tried to conceal the effect his cruel words had on her. “You’re lying.”
“Believe what you will, Your Majesty, but it won’t bring him back from the dead.”
Gwyneth drew in a trembling breath. “Why are you doing this?
“King Fergus offered me a bride of my choice for my service to him and I am determined to take what is rightfully mine.”
Gwyn wrenched away from his possessive arms and limped backward to the far wall of the cabin, chest heaving in and out. “I’ll never be yours.”
“You will marry me, either willingly or by force. Make no mistake about that,” Lorcan growled before storming out the door and slamming it behind him.
Tristan stood behind the captain’s wheel of the ship his men had purchased and repaired. It handled well, but required some getting used to, being accustomed to his old ship. Having been on land for several months, being at sea was a welcome change. However, Tristan didn’t take joy in his freedom as he usually did—concern for his betrothed permeating his thoughts.
After hearing Lord Carney’s story about the attack on the isles, it didn’t take long for Tristan to piece the facts together. Lorcan had Lady Gwyneth. He knew it with every beat of his heart. He’d impersonated Lord Carney to deceive her.
Tristan remembered the commander from the previous year, when he helped Leland rescue Lady Fiona and her daughter from Lord Fergus. Lorcan was a fierce fighter, but had escaped in a row boat wit
h the usurper before Tristan could face him properly. Was this Lord Fergus’ revenge for them foiling his marriage plans?
He wracked his memory, trying to recall anything he knew about Lorcan while his men naturally fell into the correct position on the deck. If the real Lord Carney’s story was true, Commander Lorcan would most likely be taking Gwyneth to the isles. If she wasn’t there the only other destination would be the conquered Kingdom of Órlaith. Would Lord Fergus be there waiting to kill him? So much was unknown. However, Tristan had no choice. He would rescue Gwyneth and his cousin or give his life trying.
As they headed toward the open sea, Leland approached and patted his shoulder. “Did you manage to rest at all last night, Cousin?”
Tristan nodded, but kept his eyes on the horizon. “Aye, a little. I should ask you the same question.”
“Some, although I know I’ll sleep much better once my sister and your betrothed are safe from harm.”
Tristan’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I should have known Lorcan was impersonating Lord Carney. If I’d only had one glimpse of his face, I would have recognized him. But I was distracted by jealousy at the time.”
“You can’t place blame on yourself. We were all taken by complete surprise. Lorcan did the same thing in Kiely—capturing little Clare on the night of my coronation and then luring Fiona out of the cottage so he could deliver them both to Lord Fergus. I fear this enemy will be more difficult to defeat than others in the past. However, placing blame on yourself for something out of your control is not going to help find our loved ones.”
He nodded slowly. “Aye, you have spoken wisely, Cousin, but it may take some time for my heart to believe what my head knows to be true. After wandering for so long, not knowing my true purpose in this life, I finally thought I’d found it. Gwyneth helped me remember—she woke me up. Happiness was in my grasp, but once again it has slipped through my fingers.”
“‘Tis true. Happiness can be fleeting, but there are gifts from God that can never be stolen from us, unless we banish them ourselves.”
Tristan closed his eyes, breathing in the warm, salty air from the sea. “What gifts?”
“Things like peace beyond understanding, joy in the midst of suffering and hope when all seems lost.”
He chuckled softly and looked over at Leland. “Now you sound like Gwyneth. She’s always speaking of hope.”
Leland gave him a knowing smile. “Sounds like the queen you have chosen is very wise and strong in her faith. She’ll survive this and come through stronger than ever. You both will.”
“I pray you’re right.” Tristan clutched the wooden die Gwyneth had given him, drawing strength he didn’t think he had. They had been through separation and hardship before, yet somehow God had brought them back together. While the future seemed bleak and uncertain, now was the time to grip his faith even harder. After all, he’d witnessed miracles before.
“I heard Lord Carney became lucid enough to draw a map of the isles?”
Tristan nodded. “Aye. He told me of a secret underground entrance. It sounds like the best way to infiltrate the fortress.”
“I agree. Can I see this map?”
“Aye, but it is in my cabin at the moment. I will explain my plan in detail tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Leland said, but Tristan could tell by the tone in his cousin’s voice, he wasn’t buying his excuse for delaying him from seeing the map. In reality, Tristan had a very good reason for not showing it just yet. It would give his cousin less time to argue over the plan developing in his mind. If it had any chance of success, it had to go perfectly. Otherwise, he would be putting his life on the line or even worse—Leland’s. His cousin had risked his life enough for him. This time, Tristan would put the bulk of the potential risk on himself.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Compromises
Airell laid a cool cloth over Slade’s forehead, while praying out loud for healing. By some miracle, he had survived a stab to the abdomen and the long return journey to Beatha. However, now a fever threatened to steal his life away.
A tear dripped down her cheek, seeing the young man she’d come to think of as a little brother in such a grave condition. He had to survive somehow.
As she finished her prayer, Slade’s eyes fluttered open and he stared at her tear-stained face. “Milady, please do not weep on my account.”
Airell sighed in relief and held his hand as a smile curved on her lips. “I shall try, but you know I’ve always been fond of you. Part of me will still see you as that young servant boy I taught how to read all those years ago. Forgive me if I sometimes forget you’ve grown up since then.”
He chuckled softly and then winced from the movement. “There is nothing to forgive. Your kindness has saved me more than once, as I recall.”
“And don’t forget, your bravery helped save Tiernay and I more than once as well.”
He coughed and offered a pained smile. “I was only doing what I knew to be honorable. Helping restore the true king to Brannagh and serving his noble, generous queen.”
“Thank you,” she whispered while sweeping some ginger strands of hair from his hot forehead. “How are you feeling?”
He blinked a few times, like staying awake was a great effort. “As well as can be expected, Your Majesty. Have the princesses been found?”
Airell shook her head sadly. “I haven’t heard any news yet, but we mustn’t give up hope.”
Slade’s lips started to tremble, either from his feverish condition or something troubling him. Airell could not be certain. “Lady Gwyneth seemed very strong. I hope that knowledge brings you comfort.”
“Aye, it does. And Lady Isla?”
His eyes took on a faraway look as though the mention of her name brought him anguish. “She was so frightened. She has told me of the nightmares she still has about King Malcolm’s attack all those years ago. I fear being held captive again might break her spirit.”
“No, it won’t, Slade. God will strengthen and watch over her.”
“Aye, you’re right. He watched over us before. If not for the hardships, we never would have met.” He calmed and smiled at her. “We formed a close friendship as children and then spent so much time apart. When I saw her again, something changed between us. I can’t explain when or how it happened, but I love her.”
She smoothed back his hair. “I know you do.”
A tear gathered in the corner of his eye. “If I don’t survive, will you tell her that for me?”
Airell let out a sigh of despair. “Don’t speak that way. You will tell her when she returns home.”
“Please?” He started to cough and grimace in pain.
She lifted his head gently, helping him take a few sips of the medicine the physician had left. “No more talking now. Close your eyes and try to rest.”
He obeyed and his trembling stopped as the medicine took its drowsy effect on him. When his breathing became slow and even, Airell left him in the care of a maid and left the room.
She’d barely taken a few steps down the passageway when a servant came rushing toward her. “Your Majesty. There are visitors waiting at the gate. Lord Edmund has requested your presence immediately.”
Airell rushed to the ramparts, hardly able to breathe upon her arrival. “Who is it?” she asked her uncle, who stood with the archers.
“‘Tis a physician and his wife from Kiely. They claim to have a message for King Leland.”
“Do we have reason to believe they are not who they claim?”
“Not necessarily, Your Majesty. The physician’s wife is the Countess of Aoife and offered her father’s ring as proof. We only thought it best to be cautious under the circumstances.”
Airell peered down at the couple and then back up at her uncle. “Aye, you were right to do so. Please, after the guards confirm their identity, allow them passage through the gates. Then, send them to my study. I wish to speak with them personally.”
Her uncle agreed and before to
o long, Airell sat at her desk as the couple were allowed in.
The tall man with dark hair bowed first, his wife following close behind. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with us, Your Majesty. I am Niall and this is Lady Sibeal, the Countess of Aoife. I apologize our arrival was unexpected.”
“Oh, please do not apologize. We are honored to have you as our guest. I understand you are a close friend of King Leland?”
The man nodded as he and his wife took a seat across from her. “Aye, Your Grace. I have a message for him. However, judging from the fact I haven’t seen him yet, I suppose he isn’t here.”
“Aye, you’re right.” Airell pursed her lips, taking a moment to prepare herself to explain. “My sister and Lady Isla…I’m afraid they were taken.”
“Taken?”
“Aye, Leland went with his cousin to rescue them.”
Niall ran his fingers through his hair. “Oh my. I’m sorry about your sister. Kiely was attacked too, Milady…shortly after the king departed. Did you not receive the warning message?”
Airell drew in a ragged breath. “No, not yet. Do you know who has done this?”
“We believe it was Fergus’ army. They only wanted a prisoner we had been keeping in the tower.”
“Why would they want a prisoner?”
Lady Sibeal leaned forward, green eyes intense. “She’s my mother, Your Majesty. Lady Kyna of Aoife. It pains me to say it, but she betrayed us all, myself included. My mother has always sought power above all and we believe she has made a marriage agreement with Fergus.”
Airell sat listening to the entire story of how Lady Kyna poisoned her husband and then tried to have King Leland marry her daughter. When he didn’t agree to it, she had arranged for Fiona and her daughter to be taken, but that plan was foiled by Leland when he rescued both of them. However, now it seemed he was getting his revenge. When the story was done, she leaned back and released a weary sigh. “So, Fergus has outsmarted us all this time around…and on two fronts, it seems. He must have planned it out for quite a while.”
Lady Gwyneth's Hope (Ladies of Ardena Book 4) Page 8
