by Mary Wine
“I do not mean to have us sleeping in separate chambers.”
He lifted his own goblet to his lips but watched her over the rim of the glass. He was judging her once more, reading her face for clues as to her thoughts.
“Most noble unions do not share a chamber, my lord.”
He lowered his goblet and frowned at her. “We are in private, Bridget.”
She took a sip from her own wine to cover her indecision. To allow his name to slip across her lips seemed so intimate. This action opened the door to other, even deeper intimacies that were dancing through her mind. Never once had she spoken with a man while in a bed, and she was having difficulty recalling exactly why she needed to keep him away.
Her body held no reservations about welcoming him closer. “I will have to have more time to become accustomed to addressing you in a familiar manner.”
“Hmmm.” He took another sip from his wine but lost a great deal of his judgmental expression. “I suppose that is to be commended. Your lack of comfort in the company of a man.”
He reached out and laid a hand on top of her knee. “I will enjoy giving you ample opportunity to become at ease in my company.”
She jumped, the wine sloshing up toward the rim of the goblet. A quick motion from her wrist rotated the cup enough to avoid staining the sheets. Curan chuckled, rich male amusement filling the chamber while he took another sip from the goblet.
“That is, if I survive this week.” He stroked her knee and up over her thigh as hunger began to flicker in his eyes. “I confess that the temptation is driving me insane.”
His gaze settled on her lips, and the sensitive skin tingled, warming beneath the attention of those dark orbs. She wanted to taste his kiss, wanted to have it combine with the sweet taste of the French wine …
“You should go … now.” Bridget looked away and drained the remaining wine in one, long swallow. The sweet elixir burned a path down her throat and pooled in her belly like liquid fire, but it was nothing compared to the need licking at her.
The hand resting on her thigh squeezed. “I want to stay …”
Her body liked that response. Excitement flared up, burning away at her resolve to refuse to celebrate their union. Once she had lain with him, Lord Oswald would reject her.
She liked the sound of his words, full well, and the firm grip on her thigh told her that Curan enjoyed it, too. She lifted her face to make eye contact. She felt it right down to her toes. His dark stare was piercing and consuming, making it impossible to ignore how much she wanted exactly what he craved, too.
He growled and pushed up to his feet. His lips pressed into a hard line while his grip around the silver wine chalice threatened to destroy its delicate shape.
“You are being more logical than I am, and yet I am not sorry I came to this chamber tonight.” He moved over to the table and refilled his goblet. This time he tossed the wine into his mouth, draining the liquid in two quick swallows. He paused for a long moment before leaning over to blow out the candle.
She instantly felt alone, yet watched. A shiver raced along her back as she strained to hear his steps in the dark room. Instead she felt his fingers sliding along her hot cheek.
“You tempt me beyond measure, Bridget, yet that is nothing to lament.”
He pressed a warm, wine-flavored kiss against her lips that she eagerly returned. But he pulled away, leaving her with only the sound of his breathing to know that he still remained near.
“Are you quite certain you will not take your place beside me in my bed tonight?”
Her fingers gripped the bedding. “There is no doubt.”
No doubt that her parents had forbidden her this man.
She heard him sigh, a soft sound that betrayed his disappointment. It wasn’t arrogant or demanding such as she expected from him. But it cut her deeper than any words he had spoken.
“Until dawn, sweet Bridget.”
Until I discover a way to leave you … or cast my fortune to the wind and embrace what I really long for …
Such was a tantalizing idea … rich with the promise of pleasure and even affection.
She heard the door softly open and close behind him. The scent of candle wax drifted into the bed curtains, making her eyes burn with unshed tears for what was not to be.
“So, you’re the bride Curan spent so much effort contracting.”
Bridget turned in surprise but more so for the way her temper flared. Before she even turned around she knew who was in the chamber now. A small lantern hung from the woman’s gloved fingers, casting a welcoming glow through its costly glass sides.
Lady Justina was even lovelier up close. Her complexion was flawless and her eyes the blue of a summer day. Her lips looked like new spring berries, and she knew how to carry herself well. She looked down her nose, clearly judging Bridget.
“Yes, I am.”
Justina blew out a little snort. “You needn’t take such a tone, Bridget. After all, I have traveled a great distance to assist you.”
“What do you mean?”
Justina sighed. “Your father was most concerned when he heard that Lord Ryppon had left court with his full contingent of men. He made no secret of the fact that he intended to claim you on his way north. Since you had not arrived yet at court, your father feared that you might be caught before you could obey his summons.”
So her mother was correct. Her father had changed his mind about her match with Curan. The walls suddenly felt thicker and even more impossible to escape, while her need to do exactly that grew.
“I fail to understand what manner of help you bring me.” Bridget lifted her hands to indicate the walls around them both. “You are as much a prisoner as I, now that the gate is lowered for the night.”
Justina’s eyebrows rose slightly. She pressed her hand against the door to make sure it was closed before moving closer. Her voice lowered when she spoke once again.
“I know Amber Hill. There are two escape routes built into the walls in case of the castle being overrun. Your father sent me here to make sure you do not celebrate your wedding. Lord Oswald is not a man to disappoint. Thank God you sent Curan away even if you had to lie to do so.”
Bridget felt her gaze lower for being caught. “How did you know I wasn’t suffering my courses?”
“You did not ask the housekeeper for more linen. She will report such a suspicious thing by tomorrow, for Curan is her lord.”
Bridget snorted with frustration. “I am not accustomed to being dishonest.”
She slapped at the bedding but suddenly looked up at Justina.
“Did you say escape routes? Ones that would lead outside the curtain wall?” She should have considered such. A border castle would be exactly the place for such a consideration to be built into it, under the strictest of silences, of course.
“Yes. I left most of my escort outside the walls where the passage leads. They will take you across the border to your cousin Alice and then on to a Scottish port where a ship will take you south. You must not try to ride for London. Curan will run you down on the road. His men can travel much faster than you.”
“Of course they can.”
Justina was correct about the housekeeper, too. By tomorrow, she would not be able to hide that she was very fit indeed to take her place in Curan’s bed. Her father was wise to send Justina, and yet she felt tears burning her eyes. Bitterness filled her mouth as she looked around the chamber and stared at the bottle of wine left on the table.
“There is no time for you to sleep. You must go now while Curan is engaged with his officers. They will meet for only a half hour; they do so every night before he seeks his own bed, and I do suggest that you slip out while he is busy. The man has a keen sense and does not leave the running of his men to others. He walks the walls himself. Besides, I do not hesitate to think he will return here once again. He is drawn to you.”
As you are to him.
Justina pulled Bridget’s surcoat from where it hung
near the fire. “Come.”
There was an urgency that cut through her grief. Bridget rose from the bed and began dressing. Justina helped with hands that were quite steady despite the tone of her voice and the way she kept looking at the chamber door.
“I will distract the guards at the escape gate while you slip through. Head south by the moonlight and your father’s men will be there to help you.”
All too simple.
Bridget lifted the lid of her trunk and pulled the small bag of coin from it her mother had given her. At least she need not fear who would be taking her to Alice. Her father’s men would be trustworthy.
Justina took the two plump pillows at the head of the bed and stuffed them beneath the coverlet. She pushed at the lumps they made until they looked like a person curled up in sleep. She lifted one pane of glass in the lantern and pinched out the candle. The chamber became dark, but Bridget heard the woman walking across the wooden floor.
“Come on, your eyes will adjust. We dare not risk a light to draw attention to us.”
Justina opened the door a mere sliver and looked out into the hallway.
“Synclair has the same keen senses Curan does. The man is always appearing when you do not expect him to. I had hoped that Curan would give him his leave to return to his holding, but I saw him on the walls.”
Justina opened the door slowly to ensure that the iron hinges remained silent. With a wave of her gloved hand, she motioned Bridget out of the chamber. There were few candles burning in the hallways, and that suited her mood. Bridget cringed when they came close to one, the orange and scarlet light illuminating her and Justina and casting their shadows onto the stone walls. Tension tightened across her shoulders, and her mouth went dry. She wasn’t sure if she feared being discovered or succeeding in her flight. It would be so simple to fail. Even Curan’s anger would be easier to bear than the cold separation from him forever.
Justina had not lied to her. The woman knew her way through Amber Hill very well. Envy rose in Bridget because it proved that the housekeeper had not lied when she told her that Justina had been intimate with Curan.
Justina knows her way about Curan’s flesh, when you are to be denied such a pleasure …
Her jealousy returned to mix with the tension that filled her. Never had she felt so unhappy.
“There, do you see them standing near the wall with no light? The gate will allow you to move away from the curtain wall without being seen from on top of it. There is a small tunnel cut through the earth on the other side. Very clever roofing has been placed there with soil and rocks placed on it to cancel it. Once I have the guards’ attention, slip through and move quickly.”
“What will you do if Curan discovers me missing too soon?”
Justina drew in a stiff breath. “I will go to him as soon as you are away.”
Bridget felt her blood freeze. Justina stared straight back at her, a knowledge in her eyes that was devastating. Justina reached out and gripped her upper arms, shaking her.
“You must go, Bridget, just as I must help you escape. Neither of us dare disappoint Chancellor Wriothesley. The man holds terrible power, and he uses it. Do not be foolish enough to think there is any mercy in him. I assure you, there is not.”
For just a moment, Justina lost her composure. Her eyes became pools of yearning, and her lips took on a pinched look. Bridget felt pity for the woman, for though not many years separated them, Justina seemed much older.
“Don’t move until both guards are occupied with me.”
Justina shook off her melancholy and restored her sweet expression. She squared her shoulders and pushed her cloak open to reveal a low-cut dress. The swells of her breasts were in clear sight. She didn’t flinch or cower but walked down toward the guards with a sure confidence that reminded Bridget of Marie. There was a clang of metal against metal as the guards moved, and their armor shifted quickly with the motion.
A soft chuckle came from Justina.
“Do forgive me, good sirs. I was simply taking some of the night air and meant no harm. It is a lovely night. I confess that I enjoy the dark hours more than I should.”
Justina’s voice was soft and husky. She appeared to float on delicate steps, the moonlight glimmering off the creamy swells of her breasts. She leaned forward, just the correct amount to display her charms, and the guards became her disciples. Both men moved toward her, and she fluttered her eyelashes while twirling back a few paces. Her cloak and skirts spun up, giving the men a tantalizing glimpse of her ankles and calves. Her laughter floated upward.
“The moon is so large. I simply cannot help but long for May day. I want to dance and sing and enjoy the spring.”
She began singing a catchy tune while grasping the hands of one guard and leading him around and around in dance. His comrade was eager for a chance to touch her as well, and crowded closer, taking him even farther away from the post the pair had been assigned to watch.
Just as Marie had shown you with Tomas …
Bridget shivered as she ducked through the gate. The tunnel leading through the thick curtain wall was pitch-black. The air within it was dank and stale. Thankfully there was no mud beneath her feet because even rain didn’t make it past the first few feet. The ground was dusty and dry, so hard beneath her shoes because it had not seen the elements since construction of the wall. High above her head were men diligently guarding the castle, but she slipped beneath their boots as easily as a ghost.
Panic tried to steal her courage, but she resisted its icy grip. Pushing herself forward even as the stone walls felt like they were stretching out longer, Bridget kept her feet moving. She had to rely on herself and her family. Curan wasn’t her family, not yet. Her heart ached for how close she had been to having the man to husband. There was no doubt that she would prefer him to Lord Oswald.
She pushed onward until her eyes detected a faint glow of starlight. The brightness grew more enticing as she hurried to reach the end of the tunnel. She hesitated at the exit. The trees and plants grew thickly around the tunnel end. Gooseflesh rippled down her limbs as she searched the darkness.
“Mistress Newbury?”
It was a mere whisper, but Bridget flinched. Tension held her body so tight, the sound felt as loud as thunder. The impulse to edge backward toward the protection of the castle lord was strong.
A shadow emerged from the darkness. The moonlight cast its glow on the blue and green colors of her father’s retainers’ uniforms.
“It is Captain Brume, mistress. Sent by your father so that you would know his will.”
Brume. One of the oldest captains in her father’s guard. She had grown up knowing the man. He drew close enough for her to see his long beard. In the poor light, his face remained a mystery, but the soft whistle he blew was something she recalled very well.
“Come away now, mistress. We don’t want to be discovered. There is a ship waiting for you up the coast of Scotland. We’ve a fair bit of land to cover.”
More shapes moved in the night. Bridget felt her heart freeze as cold as the patches of snow on the hills of Scotland. To be sure, she was away now, the night providing the perfect cover again.
Only this time, it was helping to ensure that she would never see Curan again.
Time was often so cruel.
It twisted like a dull knife into the mind, while a person waited for punishment to begin. Justina did not sleep, could not have closed her eyes if Chancellor Wriothesley had ordered her to. All she would have done was pretend to do as bid. Her lips twisted into a bitter line. Always she pretended. There was only one thing that was real in her life, and that was the thing that she played her role to protect.
Her son.
She allowed herself to think of his face when he smiled. Brandon was six now and his mind inquiring about everything. Every letter he sent was clearer, his spelling and command of the quill becoming more practiced. She smiled at the memory but felt it shatter when steps sounded outside her chamber. Sure
and hard, they announced the arrival of one of Curan’s men. There was no knock upon the door; it swung in, telling her that her guilt was already known by her former lover.
“Lady Justina.”
Synclair’s voice was grave, but Justina expected such. She turned to look at the knight and stared at the harsh accusation being aimed at her. The sun had risen, and she’d heard the bells begin ringing across the walls. Bridget was well and truly away now, and Curan was no fool.
“Lord Ryppon would have words with you.”
Synclair was not alone. More knights waited in the hallway, their expressions grave. Justina sighed and moved toward the escort awaiting her. They fell into step around her, reminding her all too clearly of the way Queen Catherine Howard had been escorted to the boat that took her to the tower after running down the palace hallways to beg her husband for mercy. In spite of that event being many years in the past, Justina recalled it clearly. She had been there, in the palace to watch it, of which Chancellor Wriothesley reminded her often.
He threatened her with the same fate if she dared to disobey him.
But she would not have betrayed Curan for him, hadn’t taken the man as her lover because she was ordered to, either. She had been drawn to the man the first time he cut into her with his dark eyes.
Today, those eyes were filled with hard displeasure. His hands were hooked into his belt, the fingers white from gripping it so tightly.
He glared at her, harsh reprimand etched into his features. “Where is my bride?”
Each word made her flinch. His men surrounded her, and she lifted her chin. There was power in his stare, but she refused to crumple. Maybe it was because she had been intimate with him, she didn’t know, but there was still a trust deep inside her that refused to believe that he would harm her.
There was no other man alive she felt such a thing for.
He snorted but flicked his fingers, and she heard his guards retreating. Only Synclair remained, his eyes burning into her back.
