A Daring Sacrifice (12 page)

“Yes. Of course.” Collin resumed looking up into the sky, his eyes wide, his face relaxed. “Don't you know that's why I kidnapped you? I needed a pillow for my midnight picnics.”

“Ah, the truth finally comes out.” I tried to keep my insides from quivering with the pleasure at his nearness, but they did anyway. And as hard as I resisted, I finally lifted my fingers to his hair and touched another strand.

He closed his eyes and leaned into me.

I let my fingers comb his hair gently across his forehead. The silky strands sent shivers to my belly. “I suppose you turn all the ladies you capture into pillows.”

“How'd you guess?”

How many ladies had he liked over the years? My hand stilled. “Do you make a practice of bringing all your lady guests up to the turret for midnight picnics?”

His eyes flew open and his gaze locked on mine with a swiftness and intensity that sent my heart pattering. “Are you jealous?”

“Absolutely not.” I started to move away.

He grabbed my hands to keep me from leaving. “I can admit, you're the first lady I've ever brought here.”

“I am?” I ceased struggling and only wished I could still my inward tumult as easily.

“You're also the first lady I've turned into a pillow.”

The tense muscles in my back relaxed.

“Happy?”

I smiled. “Maybe.”

“So now that I've confessed my abysmal love life to you, it's your turn to make confessions.”

“What would you like me to confess?” I gave in to the desire to twist a thin piece of his hair between my finger and thumb.

“Have you ever been in love?” Even though the question was spoken in his lighthearted tone, his eyes turned suddenly serious.

I wanted to tease him in response, to attempt to make him jealous. But what good would that do? “I've never even thought about falling in love. How could I?”

He studied my face for a long moment. I warmed under his scrutiny. Did he think I was pathetic?

“Tell me what happened,” he said softly. “Tell me everything.”

He peered at me with such sincerity, somehow I knew I could trust him. I swallowed the bitterness that always rose whenever I thought about my past. And then I told him. Everything.

I told him about the day my uncle—my father's stepbrother—had ridden into Wessex Castle with his son and his small army. How we'd believed he'd come in peace, until he'd entered the gates and surrounded us, forcing us to leave without anything but the clothes upon our backs. He'd promised to let Father live, as long as he took a new identity and didn't cause any trouble. At the time, I hadn't known that my uncle used me as his bargaining tool, had threatened to take me away from my father if he didn't do what my uncle asked of him.

For many years, my father and I lived in a remote village in obscurity, letting the rumors of his death circulate unchallenged. He'd lived as a peasant and worked as a blacksmith. As a young girl of only ten, I'd adjusted to my new life without difficulty and had even grown to love the people in our new village. I'd thought my father had been happy too.

Little had I known, all those years he'd secretly been planning an uprising, especially when Uncle's greed caused him to seek more wealth. Uncle had raised the taxes until the suffering grew unbearable. He'd taken away the homes and livelihoods of those who couldn't meet his increasing demands. And in their hungry desperation, many had started hunting on forbidden ground.

Uncle's laws tightened and the people's suffering increased. The desire for revolt swelled. As the rightful heir to Wessex, my father, had always treated his people kindly. He promised that if they helped restore him to his place of leadership, he'd do all he could to help ease their suffering.

The rebellion lasted for weeks. But in the end, Uncle's well-trained and well-armed soldiers overpowered the rebels. My father had been mortally wounded and had lain bleeding to
death upon the dirt floor of our thatched peasant home. By then I'd been almost a woman, a young girl of fifteen. My father's best friend and fiercest warrior, Bulldog, had finally tied me up and dragged me from my father's side kicking and screaming.

If I'd stayed any longer, Uncle's men would have captured me too. My fate would have been the same as Father's—cruel torture and death. Instead, Bulldog had promised Father he would take me to safety and protect me. Rumors were spread from town to town that I had died of illness shortly before my father's capture, and we'd prayed the deception would work. Bulldog had even created a false grave, in case my uncle should require some sort of evidence.

“I've been living in the forests ever since,” I finished. My shoulders slumped and my head bent, the defeat of the past weighing heavily upon me.

“So that means you've been living in the forests for two—almost three—years?” His voice was hoarse, and his face lined with fierce anger.

I nodded. “But I've survived. Bulldog taught me everything he knew. And now I'm stronger than most men.”

“And you've had to steal to survive.” He spat the words bitterly.

My loose hair fell over my shoulders and covered my face, hiding my shame. There were times, like this, when I knew my father wouldn't have been proud of the thief I'd become. Through all his trials and difficulties, he'd never resorted to thieving or breaking the law. He'd always insisted upon doing things the right way, in a way that pleased God.

But look where his noble ways had gotten him.

I tried to conjure the usual anger, to make myself hate my uncle and Edgar. But for some reason, with the heavens open above me, I couldn't summon the usual bitterness. I only felt empty. And sad.

With a sigh, I shifted away from Collin. But before I could extricate myself, he reached for my face and cupped his hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look down at him.

“You've been gravely wronged by your father's brother.” His eyes were hard. “Let me help you fight against your uncle and restore what's rightfully yours.”

I shook my head. Nightmares still haunted me, nightmares of my father's mutilated body, along with the horrors I'd seen soon after. Uncle hadn't with stopped at torturing my father—he'd also made a spectacle of burning to death all the other peasants he'd captured, all the brave people who'd participated in the uprising. I'd watched with Bulldog and Thatch from the confines of the forest, inwardly screaming as the agonized cries of so many friends and neighbors rose into the air. How could I bear to witness such a cruelty ever again?

“It's safer this way,” I said in a low voice. “My friends and I will be fine as long as my uncle believes I'm dead.”

Collin shook his head. “We can fight him.”

“No.”

“I can raise a large army. I can even call upon the Duke of Rivenshire.”

I started to pull away from Collin again, but he only drew my head down toward his so that my face was mere inches away. My hair hung like a curtain around us, shielding our faces but still allowing light from the brazier to glow upon us.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, digging deeply into my hair. His gaze dropped to my lips. And his breath grew ragged and brushed against me.

Suddenly thoughts about my past, all the pains and frustrations, disappeared. All I could think about was how close I was to Collin, how I could lower my face the merest fraction and feel his warm breath even more.

I liked the intense hold he had on the back of my neck. I liked the way his fingers had splayed on my cheeks, caressing my skin. And I couldn't keep from studying his lips, slightly parted—almost as if he was planning on kissing me.

The smallest amount of pressure of his hand on my neck bent me closer so that my lips had no choice but to brush against his. At the brief contact, a popping erupted in my belly, like dry wood in a firepit. When he lifted his head from my lap and pressed his lips against mine with more urgency, I was helpless but to respond. I let my lips move against his for an endless second.

At a clearing throat near the turret doorway, I gasped and sat back, breaking the connection with Collin. I scrambled to my knees, heat spilling through me in a confusing disarray.

Collin too hastened to put distance between us. He climbed to his feet and jammed his fingers into his hair—almost as if he were frustrated with himself. “I'm sorry.”

I rose to my feet, my chest heaving as I worked to catch my breath.

“I didn't mean for that to happen.” He cocked his head toward his steward by the door. “That's exactly why I'd asked my most trusted servant to stay. To act as a chaperone.”

I couldn't bear to look at the servant. I'd never kissed a man before. Never even thought about it. How had I lost all reason now? With Collin?

Collin nodded at the older man. “Thank you, William.”

The servant cleared his throat again. “Just doing what you asked me to, my lord.”

“I guess this will be our one and only midnight picnic,” Collin said with a shaky laugh. “I'm apparently not quite as self-controlled as I thought I would be.”

I nodded, growing more embarrassed by the second, and started toward the door. But I only made it a step before he grabbed my hand and halted me.

“Do you forgive me?” His face was haggard and his eyes pleaded with me.

“There's nothing to forgive, Collin,” I said, forcing lightness into my tone. I didn't want him to see how much his kiss had affected me, how much I'd liked it. “We were caught up in the emotion of the moment. That's all. Let's not make anything more of it. It meant nothing.”

He studied my face. “Very well.” Disappointment edged his voice.

I slipped my hand out of his and continued toward the doorway, unable to meet the gaze of the servant standing there. And I was unwilling to let Collin see my face again for fear he would know that the kiss
was
something. Something very special. It meant much more than I could ever acknowledge.

Chapter
10

I was losing the challenge.

I fingered the bulges in the velvet bag, the hard ridges of the gold coins. Then I trailed my fingers over the diamond necklace, against the smooth, glittering stones.

Only one day left, and I would be able to take the gold and the jewels and leave.

With a curt shake of my head, I pushed in the small drawer of the wardrobe, shutting the riches out of sight.

The night I'd arrived at the castle, I truly had believed I'd never stop loathing Collin. But after his kiss the previous evening, I couldn't deny the truth any longer. I liked Collin Goodrich. In fact, I liked him very much—so much that every time I thought about the midnight picnic and the warmth of his lips against mine, I wanted to swoon. And I was certainly not the swooning kind of girl.

It wasn't just the kiss that had me second-guessing myself. It was everything about the time with him: how he'd tried so hard to please me, to find something I'd enjoy; how we'd been able to talk openly; how I'd finally been able to bare my soul to someone, to share the deep pains of my past. He'd listened and understood me, and he'd even been angry over the injustices I'd suffered.

“William is here to escort you to the ball, my lady,” Mistress Higgins said behind me.

I straightened and smoothed the skirt of the loveliest gown I'd donned yet. When Mistress Higgins had held up the mirror after assisting me and fixing my hair, I almost had refused to look. But I'd finally given in to the need to see myself. I'd told myself only to scoff. But at the reflection of an elegant lady, I'd stared in amazement. I hadn't recognized myself in the dark, rich plum gown. Maybe for tonight—just tonight—I'd allow myself to forget about reality. Maybe I'd pretend that this was my life, that Father was still alive, and that Uncle had never come.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Mistress Higgins asked again, gently tucking one of my stray curls up into the high, elegant knot at the back of my head.

“You're a dear woman.” I squeezed the woman's gnarled hand. “You've been much too kind to me.”

“It's been my pleasure to serve you, my lady.” Mistress Higgins smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners of her perpetually wrinkled face. “Since your arrival, Lord Collin has finally been happy. You're apparently just what he needed.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” If only Mistress Higgins knew who I really was.

As I accepted William's arm, his eyes widened behind his eyeglasses. Although his expression gave nothing away, I couldn't keep from wondering how much he'd overheard of my conversation with Collin the previous evening on the tower. He'd been a fair distance away. And Collin had claimed the man was his most trusted servant.

Nevertheless, I should have used more caution in sharing so much about my past in his presence.

“My lady,” William said kindly, tripping over his feet as we started down the passageway that led to the Great Hall. “You look lovely this evening.”