The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” he muttered against her ear as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. “I love you, Madeline.”

  “I love you Jack.” She closed her eyes and let go to the joy of his quickening thrusts. Her body hummed higher and higher, the pleasure of his passion driving her on to sensations she’d never felt. And when the pulsing core of her burst into waves of bliss that she would never have dared to imagine she sang his name with a contented sigh that spread through her fiery body. “Jack!”

  His wordless response blended with the energy of his thrusts. He cried out and surged into her with a few more powerful strokes before calming, his body going limp. He let out a breath and relaxed, withdrawing and settling half on top of her. She didn’t want to let him go, didn’t care if he was too heavy, she still wanted him to cover her. They lay there without speaking, catching their breath and holding each other. Nothing and no one would part them now. All of the worldly forces of Lydia, her father, money, and power could try, but they would never come between the two of them again.

  After many long moments of just lying there, stroking the side of her face and her hair and staring at her in peaceful awe, Jack’s brow wrinkled. “Are you gettin’ as cold as I am?”

  She laughed, snuggling closer to him and rubbing his arms to warm him. “I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again.”

  He laughed, joy making his eyes shine, and kissed her with settled passion. “You know what else?” he teased her, nipping at her lips between words.

  “What?”

  “I’m hungry.” He swung his leg around, sitting and bringing her with him. “Good thing we got a feast waitin’ for us.”

  “Good thing.” She grinned, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him. He was the only feast she wanted.

  He hummed in heated surprise and kissed her back. “Give me a couple minutes an’ we can come back for desert, mate.”

  She let him go with an exaggerated sigh. He hopped off the bed and rushed to examine the dishes that had been brought up while she returned to the tub and dunked her head in the water to rinse the rest of the soap out. When she was done she found a towel and scrubbed until her hair stood out in spikes all over her head.

  “It’ll be nice when it grows out,” she said, joining Jack at the table, ignoring the fact that they were both stark naked.

  “Oy!” He stared at her with a stricken look. “What are you goin’ on about! I like your hair just the way it is.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, an’ if the two of us are gonna be beggars in the street after tonight then you’d best keep lookin’ the part.”

  The thrill of her plan with Simon and Crispin swirled around her again. She sent a coy glance to the plate he’d set in front of her and picked up a slice of buttered bread. “Are you really happy not being a noble anymore?”

  “Yes,” he replied without hesitation, taking up a goblet of wine and drinking.

  A thread of worry wound around her gut. “Are you sure? You really hated the job?”

  He set the goblet down and wiped his mouth. “Bein’ a nob is for the birds,” he nodded. He stuffed a piece of chicken in his mouth with a thoughtful expression. “Though I did like helpin’ people.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah. Most of the rest of the nobs are right pricks when it comes to the way they treat their villagers, at least the ones I’ve seen. It was nice to be able to stand up for ’em a time or two.” He shrugged and continued eating. “Maybe I’ll still get to do that as bailiff.” He chewed for a moment then stopped. He swallowed and his expression turned glum. “I’m gonna miss Kedleridge though.”

  The grin returned to her face. “It’s a lovely village, isn’t it.”

  “The best in all Derbyshire,” he sighed. “In all of England, if you ask me.”

  “And your orchard is lovely.”

  “Yeah.” He sent a wistful look to the dried apples on the edge of his plate. “It’s Simon’s now. Guess it always shoulda been.” His face darkened. “And Lydia’s.”

  Hearing her name shot a jolt of wicked triumph through Madeline’s heart. She wondered if Simon had broken the news to her yet. “I wouldn’t worry too much about Lydia if I were you.” She reached casually for her wine and took a sip.

  “If I hear that she’s treatin’ the folks at Kedleridge with a heavy hand….” He finished by stabbing a potato with his knife.

  “I think she’s going to have other things to worry about besides tormenting the good people of Kedleridge.”

  “Like fancy clothes and parties and spending all of Simon’s money? Oy, I owe him one for falling on his sword to save the rest of us.”

  Her lips trembled with the effort of keeping the smirk off her face. “I don’t know how many clothes she’ll be able to buy or how many parties she’ll be able to attend on a steward’s income.”

  “Yeah, but Simon’s not a steward anymore, is he.” Jack was slow to catch on. She arched an eyebrow at him. He stopped mid bite. “Is he?”

  Madeline selected an almond from her plate and popped it into her mouth, chewing slowly but not saying anything.

  Jack put his fork down and stared at her. “Madeline,” the light of expectation filled his eyes as he coaxed her, “what were you an’ Simon shootin’ each other those looks for?”

  Her grin widened. She leaned her elbows on the table. “I told you to have faith in me to rescue you from the situation.”

  His eyes grew. “What did you do?”

  She shrugged and sat back in her chair. “Anyone with pen and ink can scribble words on a parchment. It’s Lydia’s fault if she didn’t stop to question it.”

  His jaw dropped. “You’re joking!” She shook her head. “You didn’t!” She smiled and blushed with satisfaction to the tips of her toes. He continued to gape at her. “Are you sayin’ that declaration was a fake?” She smiled. “So … it wasn’t from Prince John? I’m not dispossessed?”

  “No, my lord, you are as much Lord John of Kedleridge today as you were yesterday.”

  His face went slack. He stared at her in disbelief, eyes shining. “Does Crispin know about this?”

  The sheer joy of his reaction wrung tears from her eyes. It was a wonder it had taken her so long to break down. “I rode all the way to Matlock to bring him back,” she wept. “My father tried to murder me in the process but I knew I had to bring Crispin back to make Lydia believe it was true.”

  “An’ Simon? Does he know?” Jack stood and pulled her into his arms.

  She nodded. “It was both of our idea.”

  His arms trembled around her. “So I’m still a nob an’ we got Lydia to hand over the money an’ I got to marry you too?” She nodded, beyond speech. “Dear God, Madeline, I love you!”

  He swooped in to kiss her, gathering the rosary from her chest in one hand and holding it and the side of her face. Madeline had never imagined happiness like this was possible. She had everything she’d ever wanted right there in her arms and no one could take it away from her.

  “Right, I’m ready for desert now.” Jack lifted her from her backside, her legs straddling him, and walked with her to the bed. She laughed as he tossed her across the damp covers and crawled over top of her. She wanted him so desperately that her body prickled in anticipation. “An’ this time,” he hummed between kisses, “I’m gonna make sure we take as long as we can and then some.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lydia stretched in the morning sunlight that poured through the window into the grand bedroom of Kedleridge Hall. Her limbs were loose and warm. The bliss of getting everything she ever wanted made her feel like she could climb a mountain or ride Simon like a warhorse all day. She stretched out a hand to the other side of the bed, intent on waking him and repeating the sport of the night before. It’d taken some convincing, but once she’d lured him into bed he was as hot and demanding as she’d remembered.

  He wasn’t there. She opened her eyes and looked f
or him. He was out of bed shrugging into his drab black tunic as though someone had died.

  “Come back to bed,” she cooed, throwing back the covers to reveal what he was missing.

  “I have work to do.”

  She rubbed herself to entice him. “But I want you, Simon.”

  He glanced away, grabbing his belt from the dresser and fastening it around his waist. “Last night was a mistake.”

  “How could it be a mistake when we’re husband and wife?”

  A bare flush stained his otherwise pale face. “I love Charlotte.”

  Lydia’s stomach clenched. “Charlotte is dead.” She swung her legs around and sat. “Forget about her. Think of all the marvelous things you and I will do. I’m not too old to give you children. Good children, not sick ones like she did.” She spread her legs and stroked herself again. “All you need to do is come over here and give it to me.”

  “Don’t be vulgar,” he hissed. He crossed to the small table beside the fireplace where the letter from Prince John declaring him lord of Kedleridge sat. He snatched it up and carried it over, throwing it at her. “You’re a blind fool, Lydia.”

  Cold worry cut through the lazy gratification she was trying to enjoy. “What are you talking about?”

  “Take a look at it,” he demanded. “What do you see?”

  She picked up the parchment from the bed and glanced at it. “I see our future, Simon. I see everything I’ve ever wanted and more.” She tossed the parchment aside and slipped off the bed, swaying towards him.

  He pushed her arms away when she tried to touch him, marching past her to hand the parchment to her again. “Read it.”

  She sent him an irritated frown. “I don’t know why you’re being like this,” she huffed.

  The letter was clear. The prince wrote that information had come to light and he had reversed his decision. Jack was dispossessed and Simon was declared the new lord.

  “What do you see?” Simon demanded.

  She let out an exasperated breath. “It’s a declaration, that’s all.”

  “You’re so blinded by your own greed that you can’t see a simple ruse?” He grabbed the letter and held it in front of her. “There’s no royal seal, Lydia,” he drawled. “There’s no insignia or embellishment at all. You were in such a hurry to screw me, to screw Jack and Madeline and all of Derbyshire, that you didn’t stop to ask one simple question.”

  The bottom dropped out of Lydia’s stomach. Her face and hands went numb as she grabbed the parchment and stared at it. Simon was right. There was no seal. The signature was elaborate but she had no way of knowing if it was authentic.

  “What are you saying?” She balled the side of the letter in her fist and glared at him.

  “I’m saying that you’re an ambitious fool who married the bastard child of a housemaid.”

  Hot rage pumped through her. “What is this then?” she shook the letter at him. “Where did this come from if not Prince John himself?”

  For once Simon didn’t try to hide his emotion. He smiled at her with grim satisfaction. “It was written by a former nun with a good hand and a will so powerful that she would stop at nothing to save the man she loves.”

  “That bitch!” Lydia screamed. She tore the useless parchment, fury buzzing through her. With a second scream she launched herself at Simon to slap him as hard as she could. He caught her arms and held her in a vise-like grip. “You knew about this! You knew!”

  “Lady Madeline came to me for help,” he seethed, squeezing her wrists until she yelped in pain. “I would do anything for her, even marry a scheming whore. Charlotte would have wanted it that way.”

  “You bastard!” she panted, yanking to get away from him. He let her go and she stumbled back. “How dare you! You’ll pay for this!”

  “No doubt I will,” he nodded.

  She charged at him again. He stepped aside and she tripped into a table. She wheeled around and shook her fist at him. “Don’t think you can get away with this! That money is mine! All of this is mine!”

  “What money?” He met her eyes with impassive strength. “As far as I can see you have little more than the clothes on your back.” He scanned her naked body and smirked.

  Cold terror twined with the hatred that boiled through her. She glanced around. Her clothes from the day before lay over the trunk at the end of the bed. She lunged for her dress. “You will not get away with this!”

  “I could arrange for a small house for you on the outskirts of the property,” Simon dismissed her as if ordering a maid to clean the privy. “Although I doubt Lord John and Lady Madeline will want you living anywhere near them.”

  “You bastard,” she spit, tugging her dress on. She was too angry to see straight, let alone fasten the ties. “I’ll have your blood, Simon McFarland! And Jack’s and that little bitch’s too!”

  “You’d best hurry.” Simon turned away from her, opening the door to the hall. “The lord and lady of the manor will be home soon and this room needs to be thoroughly washed.”

  She screamed and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a pitcher, and threw it at him. It shattered on the doorframe. He didn’t even flinch as he walked away. For a moment she stood where she was, chest heaving, crying in frustration. She couldn’t let them get away with this. They would pay.

  Fury pushed her on. She finished dressing, stomping into her boots then charging out into the hall and down the stairs. A pair of servants were polishing the furniture in the main hall. They glanced up at her with curiosity, whispering. On instinct she looked for her guards, but no one was there. They’d all gone.

  The village of Kedleridge was humming with activity as she rushed out into the morning. Sounds of construction and conversation filled the air along with the smell of sawdust and earth.

  “Roderick!” she cried out, searching up and down the wide street. “Roderick!” She had no idea where her nephew had gone when they had left for Derby the day before. He hadn’t gone with them. She wasn’t sure whether he was planning to stay in his father’s house or not. “Roderick!” If he had chosen to stay in Kedleridge there was only one place he would have gone.

  She picked up her skirts and ran into the orchard. The sunlight filtered down through leafy boughs full of budding fruit. She batted away the low-hanging branches that got in her way, wanting to rip and tear the whole thing down. When a bee zipped past her as she neared the apiary she jumped back with a gasp and changed direction. The last thing she needed was their venom added to her own.

  “Roderick!” She found him in the tiny graveyard beside the apiary, lying on the grass, arms outstretched, cheek pressed to the ground above his mother’s grave. Lydia clenched her fists. Even Roderick would choose her dead sister over her. “Roderick, we’ve been tricked!” she shouted, trembling.

  “What?” he pulled himself out of a stupor and rolled to sit up.

  It wasn’t good enough. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to stand. “Your bastard father and that bitch Madeline faked the letter from Prince John. Jack is still the lord. They stole my money!”

  Roderick’s eyes flew wide with shock then narrowed in hatred. “He’s not the lord after all? After everything I’ve done for him he’s still not the lord?”

  The madness in his eyes told her just how to steer him. “No! Your wretched, ungrateful father is still trying to cheat you of what you deserve!”

  “I’ll kill him!” He shot past her, face flushing dark red.

  “No!” She grabbed him and wrestled him to a stop before he could charge into the apiary and on to the orchard and the house. Her heart beat to her throat. “You can’t kill him yet!” She cursed herself for the part of her that still wanted to see Simon spared.

  “Let me go!” Roderick struggled. She wasn’t going to be able to hold him for long. “I’ll rip his filthy, cold eyes out!”

  “We’ll kill all of them!” She scrambled to form and plan and stop Roderick’s mad fury in one. “We’ll get our money back too.�
��

  “Where is it? Where did they put it?” He calmed.

  “Windale,” she remembered. Sir Crispin had ordered it to be taken to his home, just over the hill. Where it could be properly guarded. “Shit. He has half an army guarding it.”

  “So? We have an army.”

  She shook her head. “They’ve been paid and gone.”

  “They can’t have gone far.” The light of reason amidst Roderick’s madness made her hair stand up. “They have families in the forest. They were talking about setting out to find work or continuing on in the woods as outlaws.”

  “Yes.” Her hope renewed. It was dampened just as quickly. “There aren’t enough of them to overcome the earl’s men.”

  “Then we need to find more.” Roderick started towards the apiary again.

  “Don’t go that way.” She steered him to leave in the opposite direction. He changed course without question. “We need more men and we need them fast.”

  “We’ll find them,” Roderick ground his teeth into a vicious smile.

  Lydia didn’t know where. No one had an army for hire sitting in their backyard.

  She blinked and paused in her steps.

  “What?” Roderick asked.

  “I have an idea,” she hissed. Mercenaries. That wretched Madeline has said herself there were some right around the corner. She grabbed Roderick’s arm, head spinning as the plot formed in her mind. “You go to the forest and tell the men I need them again. Tell them there’s more gold in it for them. Tell them to join me along the Derby Road where it meets the river Derwent.”

  “Why? What’s there?”

  She met his eyes, the sure spark of the coming storm in her eyes. “It’s halfway between here and Matlock.”