Dragon's Daughter

by Catherine Archer

  Without another word, Sir Fredrick motioned to the men. Though Christian fought them with every ounce of his strength and will, they dragged him away.

  Rowena worked throughout the night.

  In one part of her mind she was aware of the fact that this man, who she now believed was her uncle, had murdered her father. He had in fact also attempted to murder her in order to gain the lands that he was now too physically debilitated to hold.

  Sir Fredrick came and went, ever watchful, as the castle women fetched the things Rowena needed to tend the earl. At first Frederick kept a careful eye on her, but as he saw that the potions she gave him seemed to ease the earl’s breathing, his expression became less suspicious and more openly fearful for his master’s life.

  The earl himself spoke to her very little. Even when the medication began to alleviate his suffering she saw in those burning eyes the knowledge that the end was near.

  Not long after dawn Sir Fredrick and his men returned with Christian, who was held tightly as before. Her anxious eyes ran over him and she saw that in spite of his continued anger and frustration, Christian had not been harmed. He said, “Are you well, Rowena?”

  Before she could reply, Sir Fredrick roared, “Do not speak!” He motioned two of the men forward to where she was clearing away the clutter from the latest dose of medication for Lord Kelsey. “Take her.”

  They grabbed her arms as Lord Kelsey said, “What are you doing, Fredrick? I need her.”

  They released her.

  Fredrick frowned. “Warleigh has arrived with his army.”

  Rowena heard Christian’s indrawn breath of surprise and looked up to see the satisfaction in his blue eyes as they met the earl’s.

  The earl took a deep breath, visibly collecting himself as he gasped out, “It will avail you nothing, Greatham. I shall fight him.”

  Christian cast a scathing gaze over him, then the men who held them. “With what army? These few fools who have remained loyal to you in spite of your inability to lead them?”

  Rowena gasped as Sir Fredrick’s hand went to his sword hilt and he took a step forward.

  Christian smiled, his blue eyes cold with contempt. “The only reason you would even consider coming near me is that these men are holding me.”

  Knowing that it was nothing short of suicide for him to taunt the other man, Rowena moved toward him, but halted, swaying, as a wave of weakness took her. The last days had left their mark.

  Distantly she heard Christian cry, “Something is wrong. Rowena? What have they done to you?”

  She wiped her hair back from her brow, attempting to meet his anxiety with reassurance, yet her voice was husky with exhaustion as she said, “Nothing. They have done nothing. I am only tired.”

  Wildly Christian strained against the men who held him. He broke loose, but they caught him before he could reach her. Christian’s eyes burned with hatred as he looked down at the wasted man in the bed. “You are evil, evil in flesh. Sick as you are, all you care for is the need to hurt others.”

  Sir Fredrick made a curt motion and the soldiers dragged him back from the earl. Unheeding, Christian looked at Rowena. “You are unworthy to breathe the very same air as this woman whom you have used so callously. No matter that she has every reason to hate you and wish you dead, she labored to save your miserable life. She has done so in spite of the fact that your minions continue to treat her as if she were nothing.”

  Ill as he was, Kelsey spoke with confusion. “You question the loyalty of those who love me. Yet this girl—” his watery gaze swept her “—has no reason to hate me beyond the fact that you do.”

  Rowena could bear no more. Her own anger and frustration rose inside her, giving her strength. “I have every reason to hate you. You have let your knight beat and hold Christian prisoner without compunction. You killed my father and thought that you had killed me, too.”

  Christian cried out, “Nay, do not—”

  Even as he did so the earl waved a weakly dismissive hand. “I have never laid eyes upon you, girl.”

  She leaned over him. “You have indeed, Uncle, you have indeed. The last time was the very night you took this keep.”

  “Are you mad, Rowena?” Christian cried, again breaking free. Yet even as she turned to him, Sir Fredrick brought the butt of his sword down on the back of his head.

  Christian crumpled to the floor.

  She cried, “Nay!” running to fall on her knees at his side. As best she could, Rowena gathered him into her arms, her heart aching at the sight of his still white face. She closed her eyes with relief when his breath stirred the hair that lay across her cheek.

  From the bed came the earl’s faint protest. “It is not true. I watched my brother’s daughter fall down the stair when I…”

  Still holding Christian close against her, Rowena looked around at the earl, who had risen up on his elbow, his face the color of whey. “It is true. ’Twas not me you killed but the nursemaid’s little one. You would never have noticed her, for she was beneath you, but we both had red hair.”

  He nodded to Sir Fredrick. “Bring her.”

  Sir Fredrick grabbed her arms from behind, and though she struggled with all her might to keep her hold on the man she loved, he pulled her roughly to her feet. She continued to struggle as he forced her back to the bed. For a moment she did manage to break free, and he grabbed her shoulder, tearing her gown as he dragged her to his master.

  “Release her. She can go nowhere,” Lord Kelsey instructed his knight. “They are helpless.”

  In spite of the fact that this was all too true, Rowena held her head high.

  The earl’s eyes bored into hers, his gaze wild. At last he said, “Aye, there is the look of The Dragon about you, so overtly proud, yet—”

  Sickened at his assessment of her father, Rowena turned toward the wall, and heard the earl gasp. With surprising speed he rose up, gripping her with talonlike fingers, and pulled her toward him as he stared at her bare white shoulder, making her skin crawl where his gaze touched her.

  The next thing she knew she was being pushed away. The earl sagged back against the pillows. “Dear God.” He wiped a shaking hand over his face.

  It all happened so quickly that Rowena did not know what to make of it as she sought to hold her torn gown over her.

  It was Christian’s voice that questioned, “What is it, Kelsey? What have you seen?”

  Her heart soared with the knowledge that Christian was all right. Yet she could not acknowledge her joy, for she realized that something of great import had just occurred. “What indeed have you seen?” she asked the earl.

  The old man’s gaze met hers. “The birthmark. The one on your shoulder. Your father had one…. It is very distinctive.”

  Rowena staggered with shock, even though some part of her had known what he would say. Dear God, it was true. She was Rosalind of Dragonwick.

  Christian felt the same shock that held the others immobile, but knew he could not afford himself the luxury of indulging it. He rose up from the floor and fell upon Sir Fredrick, grabbing the sword from his belt. He held the blade to the knight’s belly. “You will release us.”

  Sir Fredrick recovered quickly, calling to his fellows. “Do not let him go, no matter what he threatens to do to me.”

  It was the earl who held up a trembling hand. “Nay, do not thwart him. They are to be released.”

  “But my lord!” Fredrick pleaded.

  His master looked at him with unseeing eyes. “I said let them go.”

  Rowena moved closer to the earl, her gaze questioning. “Why? Why would you do this? Surely it is not for love of either me or my father.”

  He looked up at her, his expression empty, his voice weak. “Because even whilst you believed that I had killed your father and attempted to kill you, you helped me. Tended me with care and gentleness.”

  “You were helpless and ill. How could I do anything else?”

  “And that is why you shall go free.
” His voice grew stronger then. “Not only will you go free but you’ll receive what is rightfully yours. Dragonwick and all that came with it shall be yours.”

  “What of Isabelle?”

  His face crumpled. “Isabelle would have nothing from me. And I have only myself to blame.” A fit of coughing took him then and he reached up to claw at his chest in helpless misery.

  Rowena took up the bowl of medication that still sat beside the bed. She tipped the bowl to the earl’s mouth.

  “Rowena?” Christian questioned, still keeping his hold on Sir Fredrick.

  She sent him a look that pleaded for understanding. “It is my duty.”

  He sighed. Would he love her as he did if she were other than who she was? For he knew that he did love her, as the night loved the stars. He had always loved her. What this meant he was not sure, for he knew that he deserved no love in return from her. He had hurt her and used her most ill.

  All he could do for Rowena was give her what she desired most. Her old life. He addressed Sir Fredrick. “You will give entry to Lord Warleigh and his men.”

  The knight cried, “You have no say here!”

  The earl gasped out, “Do as he bids you.” He looked at Christian with tormented eyes. “If she will but come, pray beg Isabelle to attend me this one last time. Though I will not blame her should she deny me.” Again that skeletal frame was wracked with a fit of coughing.

  “Let us go, Sir Fredrick,” Christian ordered. Again the knight hesitated, and Christian raised his brows in warning. He was prepared to use the sword if he did not comply.

  Casting another sullen glance at the man in the bed, the man he had always obeyed without question, Sir Fredrick swung toward the soldier who stood beside him and grabbed the sword from his belt. “I cannot obey. Cannot give the keep over to them.”

  Still holding the sword he held at the ready, Christian prepared for a descending blow. The clash of steel on steel rang out even as the earl called, “Nay,” then fell back in a spasm of coughing.

  Christian ignored everything but his opponent, who came at him like a man possessed. To say that Christian was sorry it had come to this would be a lie. Sir Fredrick had indeed harmed many he loved, and would continue to do so if he was given the least opportunity.

  He could not be given the opportunity.

  Christian fought carefully, conserving his strength as the other man launched attack after attack. Christian knew that though rage fueled him, he had twice taken heavy blows to the head in the last hours.

  In the end Fredrick’s will to destroy was his undoing. Christian took a side step to avoid a double-handed stroke that was clearly meant to cleave him in twain. As he did so he realized the other man had left his side completely exposed. He brought his blade up and around. It bit deep.

  His eyes growing round in shock, Sir Fredrick dropped his sword. He clutched at his side, then fell forward and lay still.

  For a moment, Christian could hardly believe he was dead. And unexpectedly, he felt no rush of satisfaction or triumph. He felt nothing but pity.

  “Dear God, Fredrick…” the earl murmured. “Why would he not heed me?” He sounded weak and plaintive.

  Christian looked to where Rowena was watching him with relief and concern. He turned away from her, for he suddenly longed for more. Yet he knew he was not entitled to more.

  He motioned to the guards. “Take him.” He glanced toward the earl, who lay silent, his face shrunken with grief and illness. “He will be given a proper burial.”

  Even as they moved to obey, he called one of them to him. “Come with me.” They went to the castle gates. The man in the tower seemed shocked at the command to open, but when the guard nodded, he did as he was told.

  Within minutes Simon and his men were pouring onto the castle grounds. Seeing Christian, who had moved to stand upon the steps of the keep, they galloped forward, drawing up their mounts at the last moment.

  Christian’s father was with them, and ran an anxious gaze over him. “You are well, my son?”

  “Aye, I am fine, Father.”

  Simon glanced about them warily. “What has happened?”

  “Kelsey has identified Rowena as Rosalind and named her as his heir. I have just fought Sir Fredrick and won.” He was in complete empathy as he saw the disbelief not only on Simon’s face but on his father’s. Christian could hardly credit what had occurred, and he had been present.

  “Good St. George!” Simon exclaimed.

  “Aye, and what is more, Kelsey may be dying at this very moment. He is asking for Isabelle.”

  Simon frowned. “I do not…” His gaze met Christian’s. “Think you he means her ill?”

  Christian thought for a long moment, then shook his head. “I think not. He is…changed.”

  “Kelsey?”

  Christian nodded.

  He thought of Rowena and his realization that he loved her. He had no right to speak of that love. He had treated her so badly, telling her over and over that his guilt over his father was more important to him than was she. To declare himself now would only make matters worse, for any affection she might have ever felt for him was certainly crushed.

  It was impossible.

  “Christian?”

  He collected himself with some difficulty. “You must decide what you will do, but I think there would be no harm meant Isabelle. She may well regret it if she is not given the opportunity to decide if she will or will not come.”

  Simon nodded. “I will go for her myself. You and your father will see to things here?”

  They both bowed. Christian then ordered Simon’s men to take up positions about the keep, including the gate and the watchtower. They met with little or no resistance.

  He also sent two of Simon’s men to watch over Rowena in the earl’s chamber. He did not go there himself, for he knew not what to say to her now that all had been revealed. He did not wish for her to imagine that he expected anything of her.

  It was because of his thoughts of Rowena that Christian took his father aside to talk with him for a moment in one of the vacant bedchambers. “Father, I have something to say to you. I know this will come as a shock but I feel I must do this in spite of my promise to be a better son.”

  His father frowned.

  Christian took a deep breath. “After I have taken Rowena back to Scotland I mean to stay on here for a time. Once things have been set in order I will then be free to come to Bransbury, but this is something I feel I must do, not only for The Dragon, but for Rowena.”

  His father shook his head. “Why would this interfere with your promise to be a better son?”

  Surprise made Christian hesitate, but only for a moment. “Because you need me at Bransbury.”

  “I would love to have you at Bransbury. You have been sorely missed in the past years, but I do not need you.”

  “I thought you were disappointed with me for staying away for so long. For neglecting my duty.”

  The elder Greatham sat down heavily, his eyes tearing. “I have not been angry with you, my son. I thought that you were angry with me for not preventing your mother’s death.”

  Christian put a hand on his shoulder. “I never blamed you for that. It was she who did not heed your warning about the dream you had had of her death. I only wished that you could have comforted me, as I missed her so very dreadfully.”

  His father sighed. “It seems we have both been mistaken in the other’s thoughts. Let us not make such mistakes in the future.” He stood. “I bid you do as you need in the matter of Dragonwick. There is much to do here.”

  Christian embraced his father, and was embraced in return.

  Rowena had told him that he did not owe his life to his father. He should have set aside his guilt and spoken of this from the beginning. What a fool he had been!

  Now it was too late. She would never forgive him for the way he had treated her. He had no right to expect it.

  When Simon returned he not only had Isabelle with
him but Lady Jannelle as well. Now that Rowena had pointed out that something was going on between his father and the dark-haired lady Christian felt a fool for not having seen it.

  His father fairly hovered over the gentle dame, seeming far more vigorous than Christian had thought. Though his limp was as evident as ever, there was a virility in the way he carried himself that Christian had not noted before. And she seemed to hang on his every word, her concern for his worry over Christian’s capture most apparent.

  He had indeed been a fool.

  From beside the bed where the dying earl labored for each and every breath, Rowena watched as Isabelle approached. Though her head was held high, there was obvious trepidation in her gaze. A wave of love came over Rowena and she held out her hand. “My sister.”

  Isabelle’s lavender eyes lit with happiness for one brief moment as they joined hands, then her attention fixed on the man in the bed. Rowena continued to hold her hand as Isabelle looked down into the face of the man who had brought them both such pain.

  Yet all Rowena could feel was pity for the earl. Because of his greed for power and wealth he had hurt and betrayed the very person who had meant him only good.

  Isabelle’s face registered shock and horror as she looked into the sunken, gray countenance. She whispered, “Fa—Lord Kelsey.”

  He opened his clouded eyes and they filled with tears the moment he saw her. “Isabelle.”

  Rowena began to back away, to give them a moment of privacy, but the other woman held tightly to her hand and she grew still. Isabelle swallowed hard. “You sent for me.”

  He drew a deep breath, though it obviously pained him to do so. “I…thank you for coming. I deserve nothing from you. I want only to say that I am sorry for what I have done—” his gaze flicked briefly to Rowena “—to all of you. You who were my brother’s heir shall have what was rightfully yours. But as you seek to rebuild these lands you will not think of me. It is only now that I am dying that I realize the only thing that would have mattered was to have someone nearby who would grieve my passing.”