Impostress (2 page)

"I can't see a bloody inch in front of my eyes. Where the devil are you?"

Either way, she couldn't abandon Elyn. She dropped to her knees quickly. Fingers scrabbling the forest floor, she found a rock and palmed it. A poor weapon, but the best she could find. "Over here," she said, tripping over a stick and picking it up with her good hand. 'Twas little against the menacing beast, but she would bludgeon him with it if given half a chance.

Crouching, she waited as the hoofbeats approached.

"For God's sake, show yourself!" Elyn's words seethed with anger, and Kiera, making a sign of the cross over her chest, slunk from her hiding spot to a small clearing, where within seconds, Elyn arrived upon her sleek jennet. Small and compact upon her mare, she was leading the ghostly dun horse by the reins of its bridle. "Come on, let's go!" she ordered furiously as she spied Kiera crouching in the shadows. "There is not much time. The beast who attacked you is not yet dead. He could survive and follow us!"

That warning spurred Kiera to the pale animal. "What were you doing out here?"

"Saving you," Elyn snapped as her horse minced and danced nervously. "What were
you
doing?"

"Nothing."

"Dressed as a pauper—don't tell me, it was that stupid horse. You stole Obsidian again, didn't you?" She glanced around the night-shrouded glen. "And where is he? Where's the damned steed?"

"Lost," Kiera admitted miserably.

"Lost? How do you
lose
a prized stallion?"

"He threw me."

"Oh, wonderful. Father will flail you within an inch of your life."

"Don't remind me," Kiera sighed. She knew her punishment would be severe. Even if the steed was found unharmed.

"How did you get him out of the stable? Orson would never ... oh, don't tell me. Joseph helped you, didn't he?" She sighed audibly. "Foolish boy," she muttered under her breath, then, with a glance at Kiera, said, "Come on. There's nothing more to do. No time to waste. Let's go!" Elyn slapped the reins of the outlaw's horse into Kiera's frigid fingers while trying to control her edgy mare.

"Did you shoot him? The outlaw, I mean?" Kiera asked, eyeing the bow and quiver slung over Elyn's back. Her sister didn't immediately answer, but 'twas folly to think anything else. They were alone in the forest. Alone with a cruel man who could be a rapist or worse. She shuddered.

"Of course I shot him," Elyn finally admitted, her words clipped with anger. "There was naught else to do. The bastard. Holy Mother ..." She caught herself and turned to her sister. "Now, Kiera, either you ride with me or I'll leave you here."

"What about ... ?"

"The outlaw?"

"Aye."

"I think he can damned well rot in hell."

" 'Twould be too good for him." Despite her useless arm and the fact that her skin crawled at being anywhere close to the vile outlaw, Kiera managed to climb upon his tall steed. As soon as Kiera was astride, Elyn kicked her mount. The jennet bolted, running fast as the wind, swift dark legs eating up the wet ground. Kiera followed after, clinging to the saddle's pommel and feeling the spray of mud as her own horse splashed through the puddles and bogs on this crooked path. She only prayed the horrid man who had attacked her didn't awaken and call to his horse. This stallion might heed his master's call and turn round.

Kiera shuddered at the thought. But the truth of the matter was that some animals obeyed better than that miserable beast Obsidian. She felt a pang of regret at the thought of the horse she loved so dearly. Biting her lip, she silently prayed that her fathers stallion wasn't hurt and would somehow return to Lawenydd unscathed.

The path angled sharply and the forest gave way to the wide fields surrounding the castle. Elyn drew her horse to a stop, waiting for Kiera at the edge of the woods. Moonlight gave the wheat stubble a silvery sheen. Far in the distance, rising on a cliff overlooking the sea, Lawenydd stood, six square towers seeming to disappear in the inky sky.

Kiera tugged on the reins, forcing her mount to slow. The big horse responded, tossing his yellowish head and breathing hard.

Elyn was glowering at her. "Father will kill us both," she said, her features, so similar to Kiera's own, pulled into a dark scowl. Nearly sixteen, Elyn was the eldest by a year and a half. Kiera was next. Four years later Penelope had been born.

"You saved my life," Kiera said, not worried about their father's anger. Llwyd of Lawenydd was a blustery man who adored his wayward daughters and would punish them, yes, but in the end forgive them. But Elyn had truly delivered Kiera from a terrifying fate. At the thought of her attacker, Kiera trembled. Had not her sister arrived when she had, if her aim had not been true ...

Elyn threw her a hard look. "You were foolish."

"Yes, I know, but I owe you my life."

" 'Twas fortunate that I was there."

"Aye." Kiera studied her sister's frown. "What were you doing in the forest?"

Elyn hesitated, as if searching for the answer. "Looking for you. 'Twas lucky I found you. As for Obsidian, let's hope he's smart enough to return to the castle."

"I can't thank you enough," Kiera said, glancing at her sister. "I—I want you to have this," she added in a rush as she yanked the necklace from around her neck. Pain surged through her, but she ignored it. Urging her horse forward, she dropped the crucifix into her sister's hand. "Please, take it, and know that to repay you, I'll do anything you ever ask."

"But Mother gave this to you. Before she died."

" 'Tis yours now."

"Hush. This is silly. Kiera, you don't have to—"

"Yes, yes, I do. Please, Elyn. I ... I'm indebted to you for life," Kiera insisted, overwhelmed. "And ... and whenever you wish the debt repaid, just give the necklace back to me and I'll remember this vow. I'll do anything for you."

"Anything?" Elyn asked, shaking her head as if Kiera was talking nonsense.

"I mean it. Whatever you ask me to do, I'll do it, Elyn You saved my life. Of that I have no doubt. None. Now, please, take this and remember to ask me to return the favor. Please." She pressed the crucifix with its fine gold chain into her sister's gloved palm.

"Mayhap I should have my punishment from Father laid upon you," Elyn said, and for the first time Kiera saw a flash of a white—a bit of a smile—upon her sister's face.

"Yes!" Kiera lifted her chin proudly. "Ask him."

Elyn laughed a little, though the sound that rippled over the moonlit fields sounded hollow. "Nay. You'll suffer enough at his hand. I'll save calling in your debt for later, when I need a favor. Now, come on, we're already in trouble. Let's not make it any worse."

"What will happen to ..." Kiera nodded toward the woods.

"The man who attacked you? And Obsidian?" With a sigh, Elyn blew a strand of hair from her eyes. "Any form of torture would be too good for the outlaw and we should let him rot and die, but I suppose we'll have to tell Father the truth. All of it. The horse will have to be found and the thug attended to before being imprisoned.

" 'Twould be a blessing if he were to be caught and left forgotten in a dungeon, would it not?" Elyn said, then glanced sadly up at the sky. "A blessing."

"Yes." Kiera shuddered. "I hope I never see him again."

"Me, too," Elyn said vehemently, in anger—or pain? She spurred her horse and the bay whirled, then shot forward across the silvery fields. "Me, too."

Castle Lawenydd
Winter 1286

"You
can't
be serious." Kiera was dumbstruck at A her sister's request. "Have you gone daft?"

They were walking swiftly through the outer bailey, past the squealing pigs and bleating sheep. Wintry sunlight pierced through a thin veil of high clouds, and the smell of the sea gave a briny tinge to the odors of cook fires, burning tallow, and dung from the stables.

"You can't expect me to stand in for you ... to pretend that I'm you and take your wedding vows!"

"Shh," Elyn whispered harshly as they slipped through the gates to the inner bailey, where displayed upon the chapel, the bans announcing Elyn's marriage to Baron Kelan of Penbrooke caught in the winter breeze. "Did you not promise to do anything I asked when I saved your life?"

"Yes, but—"

"And when I tried to talk you out of it, did you not insist?" She pulled Kiera around the corner of the carter's hut to a path between the garden and a wagon with a broken wheel. The spokes had splintered, and the wagon bed was tipped as it rested on its axle.

"Aye." Kiera nodded. "But this is madness! I cannot marry a man promised to you."

"You're not marrying him," Elyn insisted, her full lips pulled into a knot of concentration. Her eyes, a shade of green identical to Kiera's, pleaded. "You're just taking the vows for me. You know as well as I do that what is important in this marriage is not me, but my name and position as firstborn." Elyn sighed. "If only the estate were not entailed upon me because we have no brother to be the heir. It's not fair. Father has just sold me to gain access to the river that runs through Penbrooke to further trade."

"And you expect no one to tell the difference?"

"The chapel is poorly lit, and my veil is heavy enough that your face will be indistinct. You will whisper the vows and you will be dressed in my wedding dress."

Kiera laughed nervously. "But the guests—"

" 'Tis a small ceremony," Elyn insisted. "And rushed! So rushed. Because the groom's mother ails, I am to wed so that I may hurry back to Penbrooke to see her before she dies. God's teeth, there is no time to do anything else!" She sighed as if all the misery of the world lay upon her shoulders. "If there is any bit of a blessing in this, it is that Father knows I am unhappy about the marriage. He is afraid I will embarrass him in front of his friends, so there are few who will be there."

"But those that are will see that I'm not you!"

"Nay, I've thought of that," she said, though she seemed vastly worried. "Most people, even our relatives, have trouble telling us apart. Remember we sometimes fooled Father, and now he is nearly blind with age, his eyes as white as milk these past few years. Hildy nearly raised us, so she won't give me away, Penelope will consider it a grand joke, and the priest is from Penbrooke. Father Barton or Bartholomew or something. He's never met me."

"What about the baron?" Kiera asked, not believing for a second that this plan had a chance of working. 'Twas idiocy of the highest order. "You know, the man
you're
supposed to marry."

"He's never laid eyes upon me."

"You're certain?" Kiera was disbelieving and looked to the sky where a hawk was circling. "Could he not have seen you at a tournament or at a neighboring castle during the Christmas Revels or—"

"Shhh! No! There is a rumor that Kelan was disowned by his father for a time because of his wild ways, and only recently regained favor. I've heard the guards call him the Beast of Penbrooke when they think no one is listening. He has never attended proper functions."

The carter rounded the corner, a dog limping behind him, and Elyn tugged on the sleeve of Kiera's tunic. "Come along," she said, smiling and nodding her head as the carter greeted them, then set to his task of removing the broken wagon wheel.

Elyn guided Kiera through the herb garden, where a few patches of thyme grew heartily within the clumps of rosemary and sage. The sisters sat on a bench that had once been their mother's favorite spot to work on her embroidery in the warmth of the summer sun.

"Penbrooke won't know you're not his bride," Elyn insisted as Kiera dug at a clump of weeds with the toe of her boot. "All you have to do is say the vows and beg off from the festivities, claim a headache. Everyone will believe it's a case of nerves. Then the next morning I'll return and take my place as his wife. It will not matter that it is you who has said the vows, for the marriage contract hinges on my name, which is all that is important in this mercenary union. I will be married to the man." She shuddered at the prospect, and Kiera understood why. Elyn hated the thought of being wed to a man she didn't love.

But then another thought occurred to her, a horrid thought. Kiera suddenly lost all interest in the stubborn weeds. "Wait a minute. The next morning?" She gulped. "You've not mentioned the wedding night. What am I to do when the lord comes to my chamber and expects me to ... to ..."

"You mean, when he expects to bed you?"

"Not me.
You,"
Kiera pointed out.

Elyn rested her chin on her fists. Her green eyes narrowed on a winter bird flying past. "You don't have to sleep with him ... well, yes, you do have to do the sleeping part, but not the other."

"And how am I to accomplish that?" Kiera hissed. "I don't believe a headache or a case of nerves will be enough of an excuse on my wedding night."

"Of course it won't. Besides, he has to think that you are—or I am—a virgin. There must be blood on the linens."

Kiera shot to her feet. "Blood on the linens? Oh, now I know you've lost your mind. How could I possibly see that the sheets were stained without... without—well,
you know."
Horrified, she glared at her sister. If it wasn't for the gravity of Elyn's expression, she would have thought that her older sibling was toying with her, pushing a bad joke beyond its limits. "This is a daft plan. Daft! You must have left your mind in the stable, because it's certainly missing! I think you best find it and soon."

"Just listen." Instead of anger, now Elyn seemed scared. She wrapped her fingers around her sister's wrist, touching that very spot that had broken on the night that Elyn had saved her life. A tiny bit of old pain shot up Kiera's arm. "I cannot marry the baron because I can't come to him as a virgin."

Kiera's skin prickled with dread. She pulled her hand away, didn't want to think of that fateful night and her hasty, though heartfelt, vow to do anything Elyn asked. "Why not?"

"I've already given myself." Her cheeks, beneath her freckles, reddened.

"To Brock of Oak Crest?" Kiera demanded, knowing the answer before it passed Elyn's tongue.