A Daring Sacrifice (25 page)

I took a closer look at the knights that charged down the cobbled street. At the front rode a tall knight with two imposing knights on either side. The single white cross painted on the shield of the tall knight in the center chased away my dread.

“The Noblest Knight,” I whispered. The Duke of Rivenshire. The brother of the High King. And the two friends Collin had spoken of—Sir Derrick and Sir Bennet.

I'd dispatched a letter to the duke the same night I'd convinced Bulldog to help me with the revolt, but I hadn't expected that the duke would really come or that he'd have time to gather his most valiant warriors.

I wanted to release a cheer. But Edgar yanked me backward with him, his knife unrelenting against my throat. He must know that he couldn't defeat the duke and his army of ruthless, well-trained soldiers. They'd earned the reputation of being the best in the land.

Was Edgar planning to hold me hostage? Or would he kill me now anyway?

He dragged me farther back to the edge of the scaffolding, to the ladder.

Once again my gaze collided with Collin's. Whatever happened, I could rest assured that my uncle would be defeated. I'd survived the battle long enough to know that Collin would live. And that my people would finally have peace and security.

Collin shook his head, his eyes pleading with me not to give up yet. Then, before I knew what was happening, he sprinted toward the town wall. He dropped to a roll and out of sight.

The duke entered the market square with his sword drawn, his enormous horse snorting—evidence of the hard ride he'd made to arrive in Wessex. As he drew nearer, Edgar positioned me in front of his body.

I shuddered. He was planning to use me as a human shield. And there was no telling what else he'd do to me in order to ensure his safety.

An arrow ripped through the air. The hiss of it came close to my shoulder, but at Edgar's cry, I knew the sharp tip had pierced him instead, in the arm holding the knife to my throat.

A glance in the direction of the town wall told me that Collin had located the bow and arrows of a fallen archer. And now he was using the weapon to free me from Edgar.

I held myself absolutely still just as another arrow sliced past me and punctured Edgar's throat. He gave a gurgled cry as his eyes widened with surprise and then resignation. He started to sway, but before I could move, he fell against me and plunged his knife into my chest.

The tip sliced deep and a scream of agony ripped from my lips. I writhed at the burning fire that tore through me. But the weight of my cousin's body against mine pushed me backward. Suddenly, I felt myself fall over the side of the scaffolding, smashing into the ground with a thud that took away my breath. Then black oblivion hit me and delivered me from the pain.

Chapter
20

My eyelids fluttered open. A lacey white canopy the
color of angel's wings greeted me. I seemed to be floating in the softness of a cloud with warmth enveloping me.

Had I died and gone to heaven?

I squinted to see through the crack in gauzy bed curtains to the room beyond, to the tapestry on the wall. It was strangely familiar—the outline of a white pony in a field of red poppies.

Where was I?

With a start, I moved to sit up. But the motion caused my chest and right shoulder to burn in agony. I moaned and fell back.

A maid was immediately at my side, pressing a cool cloth against my forehead. A short man with gray hair fell into place next to the maid, and he was pouring a spoonful of foul-smelling liquid onto a spoon.

They both gave a start at the sight of me staring up at them.

The man smiled gently and the tension in his shoulders eased. “Lady Juliana, you're awake.”

“Yes, 'twould appear that I am.” I tried to regain my bearings, to make sense of where I was and all that had happened. All that I remembered was Edgar stabbing me and then falling off the scaffolding.

“Where am I and how long have I been unconscious?”

The maid brought a sliver goblet to my lips and lifted my head enough so that I could drink. Spiced ale filled my mouth and made a warm trail to my stomach.

“You've been sick for quite a few days, my lady,” the man spoke kindly, touching the bandage upon my shoulder and the wound below. “We weren't sure you were going to survive, and so you're making us all very happy right now to see you're awake.”

I decided he was likely the physician who had tended my stab wound. “I thank you for saving my life. I owe you much.”

“No, my lady,” the man said while shaking his head emphatically. “I'm honored to tend you. We are the ones who owe you our gratitude.”

The door of the chamber opened and heavy footsteps crossed the room. Before I could react to make sure I was presentable, the physician stepped aside and I found myself staring up into the kind face of the Duke of Rivenshire.

“My child,” he said softly. His face was regal, his hair lined with silver, and his bearing king-like. Even so, he wore humbleness like a cloak and the gentleness in his gaze probed me like that of a father.

“Your Grace.” I tried to push myself up so that I could bow to him as I knew I ought.

“Stay where you are, my lady,” he said. “You've suffered a great deal, and I would have you recover fully so that you can take your rightful place as ruler over your land.”

I closed my eyes for an instant as overwhelming relief swelled in my chest. Ruler over my land. Was it possible that we'd won the battle? I opened my eyes again and swallowed the lump lodged there. “What has become of Uncle and my cousin?”

The duke's eyes crinkled at the edges, and I didn't know if it was with sadness, anger, or both. “Edgar is dead and Lord Wessex is in prison awaiting his sentencing—that is, if he lives. His wounds have festered.”

I nodded and sank back into the plush pillows that cushioned my body. It was finally over. My people could live in freedom again. At that thought, tears pressed at the backs of my eyes.

With a deep breath, I pushed aside the emotions. “I thank you for coming to my aid, Your Grace. You and your men came at just the right time.”

“I only wish we could have come sooner and spared you so much agony.”

Over the duke's shoulder, I glimpsed one of his knights, a handsome dark-haired man with equally dark eyes. Where was the other? And Collin?

“This is Sir Bennet, my lady,” the duke said in answer to my unspoken question.

The knight bowed but kept a respectable distance.

“My other knight, Sir Derrick, has returned home with haste to his bride. And I have put the rest of my men to work building homes and finding lodging for all of the peasants Lord Wessex had displaced. I hope you don't mind.”

Hope burst through me. “Oh, Your Grace. I'm eternally grateful. I cannot begin to express it.”

He smiled. “It's the least that we can do to help you.”

At the thought of my companions having homes—real wattle and daub homes with thatched roofs to keep them warm in the cold months to come—my throat constricted with the need to cry out my relief.

“I'm sure you'll do much more for them once you take stock of your possessions and land,” he continued. “But for now, at least they will have shelter and food.”

I glanced around the chamber again. Something about the room stirred buried memories. “Where am I, Your Grace?”

“Don't you recognize it?”

I studied the tapestry of the white pony again. Understanding began to dawn in the deep recesses of my mind. I took in the
white canopy and bed curtains, familiar arched windows with a stained glass circle forming the top pane.

“You're home,” he said tenderly.

Home? Was I really back in the chamber that had belonged to me when I'd been a little girl?

“I'm only sorry I was so far away those many years ago, and unavailable to help your father defend his land. He was a good man.”

“I wish I'd learned to follow his example sooner.”

“You're learning now. And that's what matters.” A flurry of gruff whispers came from the direction of the door. “I think the word has spread that you've woken,” the duke said with a widening smile. “And there are many who would like to see you.”

He waved his hand toward the newcomers, motioning them into the room.

Slow, hesitant footsteps crossed toward the bed. The duke stepped a respectable distance away and I found myself gazing up into Thatch's face, his blond hair sticking on end like usual. The bruises on his face had begun to turn a lighter purple.

“Thatch,” I said softly, my eyes filling with tears again at the image of Bulldog lying in a pool of blood in the marketplace. He'd sacrificed himself so that his son could have a better life. The boy gave me gaping smile. “It's good to see you awake, Juliana—I mean, your ladyship.”

I waved away his proper address, but I couldn't make my voice work past the sorrow clogging my throat—sorrow that I'd lost such a good friend. “You had to worry us like you usually do,” he said. His arms were still heavily bandaged, but he held himself with a new maturity.

“I'm sorry about Bulldog,” I whispered, my voice thick. A tear trickled out, even though I worked to hold my grief back.

Thatch's brows shot up. “Oh, don't worry about him. He can take care of himself just fine.”

At that, another body pushed past Thatch to stand at the edge of my bed. A gruff face appeared above mine. “Young missy, I ought to take a switch to your backside for all of your crazy stunts during that battle.” Bulldog's voice was rough, but the gentleness in his eyes reached out to caress me.

“You're alive?” Tears blurred my vision and the lump in my throat pressed with achingly sweet relief. “I can't believe you survived.” Only then did I notice the thick bulge in his tunic where he wore a bandage against the wound in his side.

“I'm too stubborn and mean to die.” His eyes brimmed with tears.

My smile wavered with the need to weep in his arms. We'd been through much together. And I loved him like a father.

He reached a hand to my cheek and brushed at my loose tear. “Besides, someone's got to be here to boss you around and keep you out of danger.”

I laughed shakily and then captured his hand into mine, squeezing his fingers and the nub of his thumb. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded, and his eyes shone with a mixture of pride and love. We'd done it together. We'd finally accomplished what my father had set out to do. And it had taken more courage and sacrifice than either of us had realized we'd need.

The door of the room then banged against the wall with a force that left the walls trembling. “I heard she's awake,” came a loud voice.

Collin?

My heart quivered with both anticipation and nervousness at the thought of seeing him again. I licked my lips and combed my fingers through my loose curls.

Collin's hurried footsteps neared the bed. Bulldog stepped away and pulled Thatch with him. As he nodded at Collin, his expression filled with the utmost respect.

Collin ducked between the lacy bed curtains and underneath the canopy. “Juliana?” He was breathing heavily, as if he'd run quite a distance at top speed. His tunic was covered in dust and straw, his hair in disarray, and he had several days of scruff on his jaw. His green eyes were bright and filled with an ocean full of worry.

Even in disarray, he'd never looked better, and my heart pattered harder. “I see you've cleaned yourself up a tad since the last time I saw you.”

At my light tone, he paused. Then he grinned and flicked a piece of straw from his arm. “Just a tad, although I was quite sorry to lose the dungeon stench, especially since I knew you liked it so much.”

Happiness spread from my heart throughout my body like the warmth of heating stones.

“And you've recovered from your abuses?” I asked, noting the purple bruise around his neck where the noose had almost strangled him.

“I've a few bumps and bruises yet, but nothing that can't heal.” His smile grew. I knew he was minimizing his aches and pains to keep me from worrying. “I'm only sorry I didn't arrive earlier to spare you the dragging through town.”

“Yes, that would have been sweet of you,” he said. “But I do have to thank you for the very nice job you did slicing the noose.”

“You're quite welcome.” I loved bantering with him. And I couldn't imagine going the rest of my life without these exchanges. But would
he
want to spend his life with me, after I'd rejected him once already and sent him away?

As if sensing the turn of my thoughts, he lowered himself to his knees beside my bed. “I don't know whether to throttle you or thank you for coming back and rescuing me.”

“You saved my life. So I thought it only fair that I save yours.”

“That was so considerate of you.” He grinned. “And now that I've saved yours once more, I guess I'll need to go out and find another way for you to rescue me.”