by Diane Darcy
Her heart jarred in her chest as she remembered the worst part of the story. “I ran into three men, and hailed them, thinking they’d help me. But they attacked.”
All of the women in the room gasped at this.
“You never told me any of this!” Gillian said.
“Well, it was too difficult to remember. I guess I feel safe here. Anyway, just when I thought that my ... virtue …” she drew out the word, “was at stake, Wallace came out of nowhere, and killed them all. He chopped off one guy’s head. It was horrible, and I thought that because I’d run away, he’d harm me as well, but instead, he was gentle and kind, and he basically saved me.”
She glanced around at the ladies, raptly paying attention. “That was the night I started to fall in love with him.”
There were hands placed over hearts all around the room.
“He held me close throughout the night, acting a perfect gentleman, making me feel safe while I calmed down. The next day he kept his arms around me and let me fall asleep against him. By the time I woke up, safe and protected, everything had changed and I knew he was mine.”
All of the women sighed.
Cara even found herself affected by the story when she hadn’t thought she would be.
“So, when did he kiss you?” Gillian asked.
Every eye in the room was upon her, and strangely, though she wasn’t a shy person, she suddenly dipped her head, feeling bashful.
She cleared her throat and picked up a fresh cloth, this time starting with the queen as she wiped away the mask. “He took me home, introduced me to his mother and sisters, and it was a few days later.”
Glancing up at the rapt faces of the other women, she realized she’d sort of made him out to be a hero.
Which he sort of was to her.
Emotions, both unexpected, and surprising, raced through her.
She liked Wallace, a lot.
He was moody, intense, and set on a course for vengeance, from the wrong century, and exactly the type of guy she shouldn’t be falling in love with, but that didn’t seem to matter, did it?
As she finished removing the queen’s mask, she felt fluttery, and remembered his teasing look, as he’d invited her to join him under the covers.
Even with everything going on, even though it was entirely the wrong place, the wrong guy, the wrong century, she realized that she actually, really, truly was falling in love with the guy.
“What is it?” the queen asked.
Cara set down the cloth, and clasped her suddenly shaking fingers on her lap. “Oh, my gosh.”
“What?”
“I think ... I just realized …” Cara pressed her hands to her face. “I think I truly am falling in love with him.”
At that, all of the women in the room laughed.
Cara felt the heat of a blush rising in her cheeks, and then she started to laugh too.
She helped the queen to sit up. “You know, he’s a good man, and he does deserve a second chance. I didn’t mean to, but I cheated him out of it, and if he could get another shot at the joust, if he could win, then his family would be willing to pay taxes on the property again were he to regain it.”
The queen looked startled, and then thoughtful. She nodded toward Cara’s makeup station and said, “Let’s finish up here, and then we shall see, won’t we?”
Cara immediately got back to work, wiping off Gillian’s’ face, lightening the conversation, and then back to make the queen beautiful, determined she would look her very best for tonight’s festivities.
Maybe this would help, and maybe it wouldn’t, but Cara would push the issue no further. She’d said what she intended to say, and now, could only hope for the best.
Chapter 30
When the doors opened, Wallace stood, only to see the last person he ever wished to lay eyes on, coming down the stairs.
Lord Paul Dinsdale, sycophant, coward, murderer.
Though he tried to control it, Wallace could feel the lines of his face tighten, his mouth curling into a bitter grimace. “What do you do here?”
Dinsdale, still muscular, his dark hair fading to gray, wore a fine tunic and cape and carried a cane. He chuckled. “Why, partaking of the entertainment on offer. I could think of no better amusement than to come down here and see for myself the caged cub.”
Wallace’s hand curled around one of the bars and closed tight until his hand turned white. He willed the other man to come closer, so he could strangle the life from him in much the same manner.
And why not? If it would free his family from this cursed man’s conniving. Mayhap the king did intend to see him hanged for the offense of truth. If so, he might as well die for a just cause.
But, Dinsdale didn’t come closer; instead, he paced a short distance, glancing about the dungeon, and its implements, with a small smile upon his lips.
It tugged at his scar.
It was easy to see he imagined the weapons of torture used against Wallace.
He controlled his expression, affecting a bored demeanor, unwilling to let the man get to him.
He released the bar and took a step back, crossing his arms and widening his stance.
Dinsdale faced him, his gaze raking up and down. “Wallace,” he said, insulting him by refusing to use his title. “You are so much like your father that I find it unpleasant to look upon you.”
“Then leave, and spare yourself the sight of me.”
Dinsdale gave a slight shrug. “Your father could only be killed once, and I found that the swiftness of his death left me feeling ... unsatisfied.”
As if his father had also been a mere amusement. One that failed to entertain.
It took everything within him to hold, to keep from lunging through the bars to grasp the other man.
If he would just come closer.
He tried to hold his tongue, to deny Dinsdale any satisfaction, but the words flew from him. “You murdered my father. You poisoned him beforehand, and left him unable to defend himself.”
Dinsdale’s lips quirked, and he shrugged. “So say you.”
Wallace’s jaw clenched and he could feel heat rising up his neck, and loathed showing the man any emotion whatsoever.
Dinsdale glanced at the empty tray Wallace had eaten from earlier. He glanced back at Wallace, his gaze sly and suggestive. “Enjoyed thy meal, did you?”
Wallace’s insides chilled, as he took the man’s meaning. “You threaten me with poison?”
Dinsdale laughed. “Again, you rant like a madman, seeing plots where none exist.”
Wallace could practically feel satisfaction oozing off the other man. He thought he’d won, yet again, and indeed, from where they both stood, it looked as if he had.
But that left Wallace with naught to lose by killing the other man, exacting his vengeance, and keeping his family safe.
If that was the only road open to him, Wallace would take it, and endure an eternity in hell, rather than leave this world knowing this man and his plots endangered those he loved.
Dinsdale laughed again. “Look at you. All simmering rage, and impotent to do aught with it. I understand your betrothed lost a fortune in jewels while she slept. Were you not in the tent with her as well? Can you keep nothing? Not your titles, your property, or even your lady’s jewelry it seems. Whatever you own seems to slip through your fingers, does it not?”
He would not give Dinsdale the satisfaction of asking if he’d taken it.
Favian came to the small window often, kept him informed and ran any errands Wallace asked of him. He had considered sending the boy to search his room, to see what he could find, but in the end could not risk his charge when he was unable to offer his protection.
Wallace scoffed, and shrugged his disbelief. “Easy to imply you have the piece when everyone knows it is missing. You will not catch me falling for such tripe.”
Now it was Dinsdale’s face turning red, his color rising hot, and Wallace felt like he had a little of his own back. Now, to take
the man over the edge.
He grasped the bars loosely in his hands, gaining even more satisfaction when Dinsdale took a step back.
The other man’s chin lifted, and Wallace could see the clear regret that he’d given ground.
“Do not think for a moment that I do not understand what this is all about.”
“What are you saying?”
“Lady Helena. She married my father, and you have been pathetically obsessed with a woman you can never have, ever since.”
Wallace gave a snort. “You yap at her heels, as if hoping for a kick when you can have naught else.”
Emotion struggled on the older man’s face.
“It is said thy lady wife drinks like a sot, while my own mother is strong-willed, could rule as well as any man, and has a backbone made of pure, solid steel.”
Wallace shook his head. “Sir Rupert must take after his mother the same way that I take after mine.”
Dinsdale surged forward to strike Wallace’s hands with his cane, and Wallace reached through the bars to grasp the other man’s head and slam him forward into the sturdy iron.
Dinsdale fell to the ground and rolled away, even as Wallace tried to retain his grip, tearing at clothing, reaching and grasping even as the other man escaped.
Panting, covered in grime and hay, Dinsdale slowly rose to his feet, a red marks darkening his forehead.
Wallace stayed on the ground, letting the other man see the satisfaction on his face, hoping to goad him yet again.
Dinsdale was breathing hard as he brushed off his cape and tunic, straightening his belt. “They say a female never forgets her first love. I wonder how often your mother yearned for me when she was with another.”
Wallace schooled his face to blankness.
Dinsdale gave his cape one last swipe, then picked up his cane and placed both hands on its grip. “The king has agreed that the Lady Amelia is to marry my son, Sir Rupert. Let your mother know our lines will finally merge. She might be quite pleased.”
Using the bars, Wallace heaved himself upward, “Nay, I forbid it! We will not carry the taint of gutless weakness and cowardice in our line, and she certainly will not marry into the family that murdered her father!”
Dinsdale openly gloated. “’Prepare yourself. The king has given his blessing, and considered the idea a sound one. The Wolfsbane properties will carry Wolfsbane blood in the future, and the matter is settled.”
Wallace hit the bars with an open palm, making them tremble. “I will see you dead first!”
Dinsdale laughed with open contempt. “Who knows, it might amuse me to give your sister a pretty necklace as a bridal gift from her doting new father. Or perhaps I will wait until she’s gifted me a Dinsdale grandson.”
Wallace struck the bars again with impotent rage. “You admit you stole it?”
Dinsdale turned and walked up the stairs, his back to Wallace an insult.
Without so much as glancing around, he said, “And as for seeing me dead, I sincerely doubt you shall ever get the chance.”
“I will kill you!” Wallace said violently, as Dinsdale left the dungeon, the doors closing behind him.
He’d never felt so helpless in his life.
Chapter 31
When Cara finally went inside the tent to get ready for bed, she was exhausted from being on all day. The fun party girl who made everyone beautiful was definitely dragging.
The girls were already asleep, but Lady Helena had a small candle burning on a metal plate, and though she was lying in bed, she sat up, looking so hopeful that Cara’s heart clenched.
“How did it go?”
Cara took a breath, and let it out slowly as she set her supplies off to one side. “All things considered, I think it went well.” She slipped out of her dress. “I spent most of the day with the queen, and she looked beautiful for this evening’s entertainment. She told me she was well pleased.”
“I saw her. She did look beautiful,” Lady Helena whispered.
“She did.” Cara had teased Queen Eleanor that she’d be getting lucky tonight with the king, looking as she did. The queen had laughed, blushed, and Cara hoped she was right.
“I’m sorry for not helping your girls get ready earlier, or sitting with you, but the queen wanted me with her, and I couldn’t say no.”
She finished getting her dress off, and slipped the nightgown over her head before she looked at Lady Helena. “I made the offer to pay the taxes again if you get the property back.”
Lady Helena’s eyes widened in the darkness and she clutched the blanket, sucking in a shaky breath. “I never thought I would be glad to hear such a statement, but I am. We will work it out if we get the chance.”
Lady Helena seemed to hesitate. “I heard rumors around the castle that you are quick becoming a favorite. I do not know how you did it.”
Uh ... by walking a tightrope? Dance, monkey dance? Cara bit back a hysterical giggle, and used a damp cloth to wash her face. “Didn’t you know? Charm is my superpower,” she said, self-deprecating.
Lady Helena laughed softly, and agreed. “It is. I am glad to have you on our side.”
Yes, she was on their side. Not only because she liked this family, but it was also reparation and they both knew it. If she hadn’t come here in the first place, they’d have everything back already, and Wallace would not be sitting in a dungeon.
It wasn’t exactly her fault, but sometimes it felt like it was. Wallace’s loss, the stolen necklace, just everything. Cara sighed. “Did Wallace get supper? Does he have blankets?”
“Aye, I made sure. Let us get some rest and we’ll see what the morrow brings.”
Cara agreed and snuggled in between the two girls.
She settled down, feeling suddenly weepy, wishing she was back to the easy problem of, should she stay here and marry Wallace? Or go back home to her own family?
Wallace, who should be in here, trying and failing to seduce her, making her laugh, not lying in a dungeon awaiting the king’s pleasure.
She’d broken history somehow, and needed to fix it. Wallace was honorable, strong, brave, sweet. He was the best man she’d ever known, and was not meant to end the villain of the piece.
She sent up a silent prayer, please, please, that the queen talked the king into another joust. That Wallace would win in front of everyone, clear his name forever, and get back what was his. That she could somehow make a difference.
It wasn’t just about his property and reputation anymore.
His life might actually depend on it.
They woke late the next morning and Cara, well rested and optimistic once more, helped everyone get ready for the wedding. It would take place in late afternoon, so they didn’t have to hurry.
She was glad to feel more herself today.
They put on their finery, clothes Cara had altered before their journey, and she was thrilled with the way everyone turned out.
Already she’d seen ladies copy the scarf in Dori’s hair, and the leather ties around Amelia’s gown.
Today, Amelia looked beautiful, her shortened dress split on both sides, the flowing scarf around her waist, matching the ones at her elbows, and sleeves puffing up top. The rest of the material hung below her hands in the fashion of the day.
Dori’s ruffle at the back of her dress was adorable, sleeves tight until they also hung, the knotted scarf around her neck tucked into her bodice.
Add in hair and makeup and, once more, they were sure to stand out.
Lady Helena brought bread and cheese to eat while they finished getting ready, and it was a good thing because just as she added the finishing touches to Lady Helena’s makeup, a servant came by to inform them the queen had need of Lady Cara.
She glanced at Lady Helena. “That’s my cue.”
Gillian must have been coming to meet her, because she intercepted her on the way to the keep. “You look nice,” she took in the bright red gown Cara had borrowed from wardrobe on that fateful day. “Are you ready
for this?”
Cara laughed, hefting her bag of supplies. “Of course, I live for this, this is my normal. Every day is a production.”
As they walked by the dungeon, the doors swung up and open and banged on the ground. Before she could help herself, Cara rushed forward but was stopped by the guard coming up the stairs. “Wallace?” she yelled down.
“Cara?” Just hearing his deep voice say her name had her drawing in a breath, tears springing to her eyes. She tried to get past the guard but another came forward and quickly shut both doors. “Move along.”
Gillian pulled her away. “Come on, there’s nothing you can do here, and we can’t keep the queen waiting.”
Cara’s lips trembled, and the sinking feeling in her gut left her feeling shaky as they made their way up the stairs and down the hall to the queen’s chamber.
Before they arrived at the doors, Gillian stopped her in the hallway and hugged her for a long while before pulling back. “Chin up, smile on, don’t falter now.” Using her thumbs, she rubbed under Cara’s eyes, fixing her smeared makeup.
Gillian was right, they’d had a good day yesterday with the queen, and she couldn’t blow it now.
She smiled, and if she wasn’t quite there yet, she would be. “Fake it, till you make it?”
“Exactly,” Gillian said.
They moved toward the doors, and the guards opened them as they arrived, and they walked into madness.
Ladies talking and chattering in two languages at a hundred miles an hour, many in a state of undress as they had maids helping with their clothes, their hair, and some of them were even dabbling with makeup.
Cara smiled widely and felt the tension drain out of her. Last night she’d been worn out after a long day, but this was her area of expertise, her field of operation, and where she felt most comfortable. She could totally do this.
She clapped her hands. “All right, ladies, start your engines!” she said cheerfully.
Though none of them, except for Gillian, could possibly know what she meant, the excitement level increased.
