Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)
Page 22
“Summon Azarel. She must examine Juliana’s injury again.”
Tye had glowered. “Mother is doing that. I will return shortly with the healer.” He’d stormed out, and the door had slammed and locked behind him.
“Juliana,” Edouard said again, then dragged his hand through his hair. She hadn’t yet stirred. What if she never woke?
He dropped his head into his hands. Guilt squeezed his conscience. If she perished, he was to blame; he couldn’t bear to live with that agony. “Please, bring her back to me.”
A soft inhalation snapped his gaze to her face. Her eyes were still closed, but a frown puckered her brow. A low groan broke from her, and then her eyes flickered open.
“Juliana!”
Her unfocused gaze fixed on him. Her stare sharpened before she pushed up to a seated position, hair falling around her shoulders. Her expression, though, remained filled with uncertainty. Her body shook. She still looked unnaturally pale, and, he realized, she avoided looking at him.
The joy within him dimmed. “Are you hurt? Tye said you had a headache.”
With a shaking hand, she swept fallen hair from her face. “My head feels a little better.”
“Good. Tye will be bringing Azarel here soon to tend you.” Trying to keep the roughness from his voice, Edouard asked, “What happened to you? Did Tye and Veronique catch you trying to find a way to free me?”
“Nay.” Her gaze slid to his pallet, and a blush stained her face. She seemed to be struggling with an inner dilemma, some kind of awkward memory . . .
And then he knew.
“Look at me, Juliana.”
She heaved a breath. Her shoulders stiffened, as though she planned to refuse. Slowly, her head tilted, and her stare met his. In her guarded gaze, he saw the Juliana he’d met long ago.
The woman he’d hurt more than once.
He sensed the turmoil battling inside her: the resentment from their past dealings, versus the need to ally with him to escape and survive. How he hoped he hadn’t lost the trust he’d earned from her in the past days and that she’d still consider him worthy of friendship.
Before he could venture to break the silence between them, she said, “I remembered, Edouard. Tye took me outside to the wall walk, and all of my memories flooded back.”
He managed a smile. “I am glad. I know ’tis what you wanted.”
He’d hoped for a hint of a smile in return. Instead, tears slid down her cheeks. “I, too, thought I would be delighted. What I recalled . . .” A tremor shook her. “’Tis too important to keep to myself. You must hear the truth, Edouard, so you can tell it to your lord father.”
You will live to tell him yourself, Edouard silently vowed, before he said, “You know who wounded you days ago?”
“Aye, but ’tis only part . . . of what I must tell you.”
“Go on,” he coaxed.
“Tye took me to the passageway by the solar. I felt on the verge of remembering something horrendous. ’Tis when the headache started. He took me up to the wall walk. I later realized I had used those same stairs the night I was injured. Outside, my memories began rushing back. I saw again”—she paused, as though rallying her strength—“the treachery I had witnessed nights ago. ’Twas awful, Edouard. The horror, the fear, the sense of danger . . . I knew I couldn’t let Tye see that I had regained my memories, so I pretended my headache was severe. Then Veronique came toward us, and I knew she would see through my ruse. Panic overtook me, and I . . . fainted.”
“Tell me,” Edouard said. “What treachery did you see?”
“Mayda’s murder.”
“God above!” He could only imagine how ghastly it had been for her to see her best friend killed. “I am sorry, Juliana.” As she wiped at her eyes, he added tersely, “’Twas Veronique’s doing, aye?”
Sorrow etched Juliana’s features. “Nay. Landon murdered Mayda.”
“Landon?” Shock forced Edouard to drop down on his pallet. Surely Landon wasn’t corrupt; he’d tried to spare Edouard from Veronique. “How can that be? You and I attended Mayda and Landon’s wedding. They seemed very much in love.”
“I know.” Shaking her head, Juliana said, “Their marriage, happy at first, unraveled over the months. He and Mayda constantly argued. Mayda and I had hoped that the newborn would help to revive their love, but Landon wanted a boy, and Mayda gave birth to a girl. As if that were not unfavorable enough, Landon invited Veronique and Tye to live as guests in the keep. Veronique and Landon soon became lovers.”
“That deceitful bitch,” Edouard muttered.
“Landon and Mayda fought the night she died,” Juliana went on, each word heavy with anguish. “’Twas a terrifying disagreement. When I caught their angry voices coming down from the wall walk, I sensed Mayda was in grave danger. She had feared, since Rosemary’s birth, that Landon might try to harm her and the babe. I thought she was imagining that, but when I heard them fighting, heard him say how he desired Veronique, I knew Mayda had spoken the truth. I hurried up to the wall walk with the baby. I tried to call out to Mayda, to bring her back to the solar to nurse Rosemary. But Mayda did not hear me. Landon struck her again—”
“Nay,” Edouard whispered. Landon had hit his wife more than once? What kind of beast had Landon become, to hurt a woman?
“—and, just as Mayda saw me, Landon hit her hard enough that she fell against a merlon. She tried to regain her balance, to save herself. In his rage, he shoved her again, and she”—Juliana’s voice wobbled—“fell off the battlement. To her death.”
His innards twisted with the pain binding together Juliana’s account. Damnation, how helpless he felt. How he longed to offer her the comfort of his embrace, but she likely wouldn’t accept it. “I am sorry,” he finally said. “Truly sorry.”
Nodding, Juliana said quietly, “I did not know Veronique was also on the wall walk, until she appeared, gloating over Landon’s actions. They had both, however, seen me. In that moment, I realized I was the only other witness to what had befallen Mayda. If I died, the truth about her demise would die, too. So I ran. Oh, Edouard, I tried to keep my promise to Mayda, to keep Rosemary safe”—a moan tore from her—“but Veronique’s thugs trapped me. They grabbed me, and forced me to turn my back to Landon. The last thing I remember of that night is the blow of his sword.”
Edouard scowled. “They thought you were dead. Until I found you in the river, and, fool that I am, brought you right back here.
Self-condemnation darkened Juliana’s expression. “Mayda should never have perished. I should have acted sooner to get her attention. I should have shouted to distract Landon. Anything. I failed her, and now she is dead, and Rosemary will grow up without her mother.”
“Juliana, I vow you did all you could to save Mayda. Veronique obviously wanted Mayda killed and manipulated Landon so he would accomplish the deed for her. If Landon hadn’t succeeded, Veronique would have found another way to have gotten rid of Mayda.”
Juliana dried her eyes on the edge of her sleeve. “She was my best friend. I should have—”
“Should have,” he cut in. “You cannot allow yourself to believe that, Juliana. The guilt will eat at your soul, day after day, if you allow it.”
Her wet lashes flickered. Anger defined the line of her jaw. Did she not believe he knew of what he spoke?
“I know,” he said, drawing on the torment he’d tried to suppress, “because I have lived with guilt ever since that day at Sherstowe, when you fell into the well.”
Her eyes sparked. “When you pushed me in!”
Shaking his head, he sighed. “When you leaned forward, trying to rescue your sketchbook, I grabbed hold of your waist. I meant to pull you out, but Nara kicked my boot and dislodged my balance. My falling against you caused you to tumble in.”
Shock glistened in her gaze. “You dare to blame the mishap on Nara?”
He refused to break her stare. “I do. Kaine witnessed what happened. Ask him, if you do not believe I am telling
the truth. Better yet, ask Nara.”
***
Juliana held Edouard’s determined gaze. He didn’t look away. Not the slightest trace of guilt stole into his warrior-tough expression, not even when he blinked, and a sickly sensation wended its way through her.
All these months, she’d despised him for being reckless. She’d believed him wholly responsible for the frightening plunge into the well that had endangered her life.
What if he wasn’t to blame?
“If you knew Nara had caused me to fall in,” she said carefully, “why did you not tell our fathers that day? Why did you choose to keep silent?”
He shrugged and his lips formed a crooked grin. “I dared not cause offense. My sire made it clear to me that he wanted an alliance between our families, for important reasons. ’Twas simplest for me to take the blame, especially when the day ended up a disaster.”
How noble of him—and true to the character of the man she’d grown to know.
’Twas just like selfish Nara to not worry about putting her own sister in jeopardy. She’d likely been trying to win Edouard’s attention.
Fighting rising anger toward her sister, Juliana said, “I truly believed you had put my life in danger. And then, with the bet . . .”
“I would never intentionally put any woman in peril, Juliana. Especially you.”
The unevenness of Edouard’s tone sent a raw pain racing through her. He looked so solemn, and the honest emotion in his words touched deep in her soul, finding all the secret desires she’d harbored for him, along with the anguish of his betrothal to Nara.
“In the end, my sister’s antics came to fruition,” Juliana said quietly, memories of that night at Englestowe filling her thoughts. “She got her wish for a betrothal to you.”
“Aye. ’Tis my duty to marry her.”
He didn’t sound at all pleased; in fact, he sounded as though he disliked the commitment. Did he not want to marry Nara? Before Juliana could ask him about it, though, he said, “I am sorry for all the anguish I have caused you, Juliana. Every moment of it.”
She tried to hold back the blush stealing into her face. Did his apology include almost kissing her? Oh, but she found a secret pleasure in that memory. One to which Nara could never lay claim.
He must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he said quietly, “I do not intend to dismiss the issues in our past we have not yet touched upon. However, Azarel and Tye will soon arrive, and there is one vital matter we must discuss.”
She frowned. “What matter?”
“You were right to be afraid to let Tye and Veronique know you had regained your memories. ’Tis crucial that you keep pretending you do not remember the past. You must act no differently than when you left this cell earlier today.”
As Juliana’s gaze instinctively flew to the door, she said, “Veronique may already suspect. The way she looked at me, before I fainted—”
“Then you must convince her otherwise.”
“I know, but—”
“Do you recall when you were in the well, and I called down to you? When I promised to get you out?”
“I do remember.” The warmth of that memory stirred within her. “Your voice was very calm and reassuring.”
He grinned. “I am glad to hear you say that. In truth, I was terrified I wouldn’t be able to get you out before you drowned. The danger involved seemed to give me the strength to accomplish what had to be done. Juliana, I know you have endured a great deal,” he said, his voice gentling, “but you are the only one who knows in detail what took place at Waddesford over the past months. You must survive, so that Veronique can be brought to punishment for her part in Mayda’s death and the other atrocities she has committed here. The truth of Landon’s involvement, too, must not be forgotten.”
“You are right.”
He glanced at the door, then back at her, his expression becoming grave. “I realize you may no longer want to be in my arms. However, Tye and Veronique have endeavored to force us together. He will be suspicious if he sees you are not seeking comfort in my embrace.”
Oh, God. To be in Edouard’s arms now, after all she remembered . . . After recalling how intensely she’d craved his kiss . . .
Nay. Survival, for both of them, was far more important than indulging such thoughts.
Faint voices carried from outside the door.
His lips parted, as though to give a warning, but she was already scrambling across the planks. His left arm slid around her, drawing her against his side. She ignored the crush of her breast against him, his enticing scent, and how part of her rejoiced in once again being close to him.
Just as she tried to control the racing of her pulse, the door opened.
***
“You are a fool, Tye. Juliana is trying to deceive us.”
“Are you certain?”
Releasing a furious breath, Veronique came to an abrupt halt in the bailey and glared at her son, who’d been walking at her side. Was he acting witless on purpose? Or had his senses become befuddled by Juliana’s pitiful dramatics earlier?
“I saw the look in her eyes before she fainted,” Veronique muttered. “She was afraid, not overcome by pain. I vow she remembered the night of Mayda’s murder. Once Juliana wakes, I mean to find out.”
Veronique scrutinized the folk working nearby. Where was Azarel? None of the servants she’d sent to find her had returned yet. The healer shouldn’t be hard to locate.
Still sensing Tye’s stare, Veronique scowled at him. He didn’t, as she’d hoped, take his leave.
“Juliana does have a bad wound, Mother. What if she did faint because of a headache? Forcing her memories when she is fragile—”
“Is exactly what I will do. I have been more than patient with her. Now I will keep up the relentless pressure, till she has no choice but to surrender the information we want.”
Impatience chafed at Veronique. After what had transpired on the wall walk, she should be consulting her bones, not wasting moments with Tye. The bones would help reveal what would come to pass with Juliana.
Tye was still standing before her. “What is wrong? Do you no longer want your father’s legacy? Has her beauty weakened you—?”
“Of course not!” He glowered. “You know how much I want to kill Father.”
“Then you will bring Juliana down to the garden, where she and Mayda spent many afternoons together. Once I have found Azarel, she will look at Juliana’s wound there.” Veronique’s gnarled hand curled into a deformed fist. “Tell Juliana that I suspect she remembers all. If she still will not admit it . . .” She smiled, her palm heating with the remembered hardness of a knife hilt. “I will start the killing.”
A KNIGHT’S PERSUASION
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Seated on a stone bench in the garden, Juliana linked her hands together in her lap and tried not to heed the clamminess of her palms. “Why did you bring me here?”
On the opposite bench, Tye sat with his legs parted, elbows braced on his knees, leaning slightly forward. Sunlight bled through the overhead boughs of the apple tree and cast bright splotches over him and the grass stretching like an unruly carpet beneath their feet. His posture, while somewhat relaxed, reminded her of a predator awaiting the right moment to lunge and ensnare. “You spent afternoons here with Mayda,” he said, indicating the area with a flick of his hand. “Does this place not rekindle any memories?”
She fought the sickening misgiving that had rooted within her ever since Tye had returned to the tower and told her to come with him. You must act no differently than when you left this cell earlier today, Edouard had warned. He was right.
Tye had watched her intently as he’d escorted her through the castle, out the forebuilding door to the sunlit bailey beyond, past the stables and kitchens, to this part of the keep. Still, she sensed she was being scrutinized, her gestures analyzed for signs that she had, indeed, regained her memories.
Juliana worked to keep her express
ion of wary disinterest—an expression he’d expect to see from a captive who couldn’t remember her past—while her pulse became a hard drumming against her ribs. Daring to tuck a wayward skein of hair back behind her ear, she looked about the overgrown garden enclosed by a low, mortared stone wall.
To her right, the dirt space of the bailey blended into grass thickened with weeds. To the left, shadows and sunlight defined straggly beds of flowers, herbs, and vegetables. Her gaze slid farther back to the neglected rose bushes. Mayda had loved to pick the rose blooms and set them in vases about the solar, but toward the end of her difficult pregnancy, she’d been abed more often than not . . .
Beware, Juliana.
Forcing frustration into her sigh, she looked back at Tye. “I wish I did recall this place. ’Tis very peaceful. I can see why I could have come here with Mayda.”
“But you do not recall any of your days spent here? Things you and Mayda may have talked about?”
The urge to quickly look away leapt inside Juliana. She had to stay focused. By keeping Tye fooled, she might be able to find a way to free Edouard. Castle folk were going about their duties in the bailey; if she could convince Tye to walk her through the area on the pretense of jostling her memories, she might be able to make contact with one of the servants she considered a friend. She must try.
Discreetly easing the painfully tight clasp of her hands, she slowly broke Tye’s stare and took another glance about the area. Recollections, tinged with sadness, teased her senses. Mayda had preferred the bench where Tye sat, because she could see the activity in the bailey. Days before Rosemary’s birth, while Mayda rested, Juliana had visited here alone and sketched the empty bench dappled by sunshine. The light had cast a speckled pattern that had complemented the peppery surface of the stone . . .
“Juliana?”
She jumped, a purely instinctive reaction. Had she betrayed herself?