Midnight Eyes (29 page)

Robert only laughed again as he ducked his head under the water to get out the last of the soap. He stood up once he was finished and casually wrapped a cloth around his hips, letting out a deep sigh of satisfaction. “God, that’s good. I feel almost human again, which is novel after so long spent living like a caged animal.”

Gareth opened an eye and gave him an assessing once-over, taking in his faded bruises and weight loss. “Well, I don’t care what you think you feel like, you look a starved mess.” He closed his eyes and rolled over onto his back. “And that is no mean feat when you consider the obscene amount of food you forced me to watch you put away when you first got here.”

“Well, you had better keep your eyes averted as I intend to eat a lot more before this day is over. I aim to take full advantage of the king’s erratic hospitality after so much time spent in his less-than-inviting dungeon.” He smiled teasingly. “You’re getting squeamish, Old Man.”

“Old man?” Gareth murmured without opening his eyes. “I’m younger than you.”

“Only by twelve months,” Robert reproved as he began hunting for some clothes. “And as for how I look, a bit of good food and soft living should see that off nicely.”

“I wouldn’t get too ready for that soft living just yet if I were you, Boy.” Matthew’s face, when Robert spared him a glance, was the picture of gloom and despair.

“Why ever not? Surely I have done enough hard living for the time being?”

“Aye, that’s as it may be, but there seems to be one little detail you have overlooked.” Robert raised a questioning brow, his attention caught. Matthew looked down at the sword blade, its length glowing in the early-morning sunlight. “You seem to have forgotten that the brother still lingers on the scene.”

Robert laughed with relief and grabbed a deep blue tunic, pulling it over his head. When his face reemerged, his eyes glowed with an almost feral light. “You have got it wrong, Old Man. I haven’t forgotten that bastard for a second. I’m looking forward to sending him off to Hell with his head under his arm, but that’s not my idea of hard living. It will be a pure, unadulterated pleasure.”

“Will you want any help?” Gareth asked conversationally.

“No, the disposing of the big brother is a pleasure I intend to keep for myself. I am going to enjoy reaching down the son of a bitch’s throat and pulling off his balls.”

“Graphic,” Gareth murmured appreciatively.

“I liked it,” Robert demurred with false modesty.

“Like small boys playing at war,” Matthew said in disgust as he leaned the sword in the corner.

“You don’t like the plan? I kind of thought that he deserved it.” Robert paused a moment. “And worse.”

“It’s not a question of whether the worm deserves it or not,” Matthew growled with barely restrained impatience, “but what I’m questioning is why his painful demise hasn’t already been achieved. I happen to think you’re underestimating your enemy, and that is always a fatal mistake in my experience. Do you think he is now blithely waiting in his room for you to come and play creative executioner? Knowing that pond scum, he is already making plans while we speak.”

Robert shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what he is planning, I will beat him. He is not playing mind games with a terrified orphan anymore and, at the moment, that self-same orphan is my priority. Roger can wait his turn and, when the time comes, his opponent is going to be a grown man, not a child.”

“I was just saying it as I see it,” Matthew said with a quiet conviction that temporarily rocked Robert.

“You really can be an old woman sometimes, you know,” Gareth said with another yawn.

“Better an old woman than a dead hero.”

“Play nicely now, children,” Robert said with a slight smile, enjoying the familiar sounds of the two men arguing again. It was strange to confess, but he had actually missed it.

He sat on the end of the bed and put on Gareth’s boots that he had found near the hearth. As he moved his feet away quickly, he blithely ignored Gareth’s disgusted mutter: “Well, make yourself at home, do.”

Robert stood and spread his arms wide. “Well, I think I’m ready to go and tell my lady wife about her exile.” He smiled with relish. “And I even have it in writing and sealed by the king himself.”

“Well, you just toddle along and do that, but for God’s sake do it quietly. Some of us actually need sleep if we are to function normally.” Gareth cast a disgusted look at the glowing radiance on Robert’s face, then pulled a pillow over his head.

“And Roger?” Matthew asked quietly.

“I’ll see to him before we leave in the morning, never fear. But right now I need to be with my wife just to reassure myself that we are both alive.” He gave the old man a beatific smile as he left the room.

“Idiot,” Matthew muttered.

“Not an idiot, but a man in love,” Gareth said, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“That is the worst kind of idiot of all.”

Robert’s good humor lasted till he found Imogen’s chamber empty, then it evaporated as if it had never existed. A cold feeling lodged itself in the center of his heart as he took in the silent barrenness of her room and he knew in that instant that something was wrong. Terribly, utterly wrong.

He didn’t question for a second his certainty that Imogen was in grave danger. She was the other half of him and he could almost taste her terror as if it was his own. His hand went for the hilt of his sword before he remembered it was leaning against the wall where Matthew had put it.

He narrowed his eyes grimly and, acting on pure instinct, went in search of Roger Colebrook.

When Robert found his chambers were also empty and that all of his servants had been summarily dismissed last night, he found out the true meaning of fear. It filled his chest till he almost ceased to breathe; but even so, he refused to let panic cripple him. He knew that, great though his own fears were, they were nothing compared with what Imogen must be feeling.

She would be terrified.

He ground his teeth together as he tried to imagine how she was surviving her worst nightmare,
if
she was surviving. He had to get to her before Roger succeeded in destroying her utterly. He deliberately calmed down and methodically set about finding his wife. One of the guards on the gate thought that perhaps he had seen them leave on one horse, and he seemed to be under the impression that they had been heading toward the north.

Toward Shadowsend.

It was logical, but if he was wrong, valuable time would be lost, time Imogen would have to spend trapped in her worst nightmare. With that thought, Robert made the conscious decision to stop thinking. Every time he thought, he became paralyzed and he couldn’t afford for that to happen.

He had to act.

Robert tried to get an audience with the king, believing that at the very least William owed him something. He waited outside William’s chamber for what felt like a lifetime, pacing and sending message after message.

Silence was the only answer he got.

Now that William was sure of Imogen’s continued silence and Robert’s exile, he simply wanted them gone from his mind and from his castle. After three hours of frustrated waiting Robert realized that there would be no royal help forthcoming. He would have to act alone.

Strangely, that suited him, he thought grimly as he returned to Gareth and Matthew’s chamber, preparing mentally for the most important hunt of his life.

He didn’t spare Gareth a glance as he found his sword belt and slung it around his hips, welcoming the familiar feel of its cold weight.

Gareth sat at the bench and had been throwing dice idly until Robert’s abrupt entrance. He watched in surprise as Robert carefully slid his weapon into its sheath and mechanically adjusted the belt to the correct position.

“Am I to take it that the second reunion didn’t go according to plan, then?”

“There was no reunion,” Robert said emotionlessly as he reached for a dagger and slipped it into a band he put on his arm. “Roger has taken her out of the castle and seems to be heading toward Shadowsend.”

There was no need to add that he was preparing to follow them.

“What…how?” Gareth yelled, not even noticing the chair he knocked over as he stood.

“He must have been waiting for her when she returned this morning. The guard on the gate thought he saw them ride out about an hour after dawn.” Robert gritted his teeth. “The idiot actually had the balls to tell me that he thought that the lady had looked a little distressed. A little distressed, and he just let her go?”

“How many teeth did the man have after he told you that?”

“I left him his teeth. I broke the fool’s nose instead. Next time he sees a lady in distress, I can guarantee he will make further enquiries.”

Gareth suddenly had a horrible thought and he swallowed loudly. “You haven’t mentioned it, but did Imogen tell you anything important last night?” he asked earnestly.

“I fail to see what was said last night has anything to do with this,” Robert ground out, not wanting to think about the happiness he had found last night, not now.

“Damn! She didn’t, did she? If she had, you would see only too clearly what I am trying to ask.” Gareth took a deep breath. “Robert, Imogen is pregnant.”

Robert suddenly stood still, transfixed.

“How…?” he started stupidly, struggling to get his mind to function properly.

“The usual way, I suppose,” Gareth said with faint amusement.

Robert suddenly slumped down on the bed. It was too much for his mind to deal with rationally.

“I didn’t tell you about that to make this harder.” Gareth placed a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “But as you’re going after them, you need to be prepared for anything you might find.” He dropped his hand and stared into the distance, his voice filled with self-recrimination as he continued. “Coming all this way exhausted her, no matter how hard she tried to hide it and even before that, well, you know she had been struggling. I don’t know how much more stress her body can take. To be put through this now…” Gareth shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I just don’t know.”

For a moment Robert hid his face in his hands, then he lifted it and he stood up, his face scrupulously free of any expression as he finished dressing.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Gareth asked quietly.

“No!” Robert cleared his throat uncomfortably. “No, this is personal. I will hunt him down myself. What I do need you and Matthew to do is to get your sorry hides up to Shadowsend as quickly as possible. Gather up the men there and get them ready for war.”

“What war?”

“If I don’t find Imogen within a fortnight, I will go to Shadowsend myself, get the men and then tear this island apart stone by stone till I have found her,” Robert said grimly.

“William is not going to like that.”

“His likes and dislikes are no longer any concern of mine.”

Gareth nodded his head. “Well then, my friend, I can only wish you good hunting.”

Imogen couldn’t escape him. He was everywhere. He had effortlessly consumed her entire world till all that existed for her was his touch, his smell surrounding her with cold menace. He held her in front of him on the horse, like she was a child, enclosing her ruthlessly in his world so that she knew there was no escape.

Her hands clenched together tightly and she drew a deep, stilted breath, trying to close herself off from reality.

If she didn’t exist, then she would no longer have to feel the body that pressed hard against her back, trying to absorb her. But she did feel it and nothing she did was going to make it go away.

A shiver of revulsion raced through her body before she could stop it. He felt it and she knew sickeningly that he enjoyed it. He pressed her so close that she feared she would shatter and be merged into him forever, the very thought making her shiver again.

And that excited him more.

She could clearly feel the heat of his erection where it throbbed against her hip. His arms tightened painfully around her.

“Was that a shiver of anticipation? Can’t wait till I have you completely either? Well, we will just have to try and be patient. I have plans that I won’t let you ruin with haste,” he whispered insinuatingly near her ear, and chuckling deeply as she instinctively tried to move her body away from his. “Imogen, dearest, this is a saddle. There is nowhere for you to go.”

He casually dragged her back ruthlessly against him. “You will have to stay right here. With me.”

She struggled not to throw up as she felt him burning against her once more.

A single tear slid down her face and she hoped that he couldn’t see it. The last thing she wanted was for Roger to know of her weakness. If he knew, he would only get stronger, be able to destroy her outright.

Worrisomely, she wasn’t as frightened of that as she should be. If she let her body die, her spirit would be released from this dark world, but even as she longed for it, she turned her back on the peace it offered. She couldn’t give up, not this time. There was too much at stake. She didn’t move, fearing that Roger would guess her secret, but mentally she wrapped her arms protectively around her baby.

For the sake of Robert’s child she must survive this terror.

Every time the babe moved, Imogen held her breath, afraid that Roger would sense that movement, afraid that if he knew of its existence, then nothing on earth would stop him from tearing it from her.

He hadn’t yet noticed and she would do everything in her power to keep it that way, she thought fiercely. She would let nothing harm her baby, even if that meant her own desires had to be ignored.

Robert’s child kept her alive just as she kept it alive, and she smiled faintly as it occurred to her that already the child was taking after its father. It seemed that the pair of them were both conspiring and plotting to protect her in their own ways.

Her throat tightened painfully as memories of Robert filled her, and with those memories came guilt. She had left him while he was in danger. Roger had taken great relish in telling her that while he might have fallen from royal favor a little, Robert had never had any favor to start with. Roger had laughed as he had prophesied that, regardless of the truth, William would take advantage of the situation to remove Robert while he could.

It might have already happened; he might already be departed from this world. She mentally flinched and pulled her mind away from such evil thoughts. They would destroy her if she let them, and Robert wouldn’t want that for her or their child. He would want her to survive and to remember always that he loved her and teach their child about that love. She knew that with a certainty that defied distance and time, life and death.

She deliberately filled her mind with memories of the love Robert had given her in the prison cell and the love she had given him in return, and of the strength Robert had radiated even as he waited to die. It awed her that even at the point of death his only concerns were for her own safety and that she loved him.

No, she realized with amazement, more than merely loved. He completed her, was the other half of her soul, and so she had to live, to keep that part of him alive. He would always have existence in her memories and in the face of the new soul that their love had created.

For those reasons she must endure.

Another tear fell unchecked down her cheek.

She flinched as Roger wiped away the tear with the pad of his thumb.

“If you cry, my dear, I will be bound to think that you don’t want to be with me and might find myself taking offence.” He kissed her neck. She shuddered again, and he chuckled as he sucked brutally on the tender flesh as if he was trying to draw her fear inside of him. “And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” he asked tauntingly as he lifted his head.

She shook her head stiffly.

“Not good enough,” he whispered, his hand moving insinuatingly up her body. “I find I have a longing to hear you say the words. I have always found your voice most…soothing.” His hand moved to her breast. “Sooth me, Sister.”

“No, Roger, I wouldn’t want that,” she said jerkily and reached to snatch his hand away from where it clenched her breast painfully.

Roger chuckled and let his hand drop for now. “Much better.”

This time she managed to suppress the shiver of revulsion that started in the pit of her stomach, then carefully made her mind a blank nothing. She surrounded herself in an empty fog where she didn’t exist, Roger didn’t exist and pain didn’t exist.

She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, but so successful was she in constructing her emptiness that it was a moment before the fact that they had stopped moving registered in her mind. Roger lifted her down from the horse and she listened to him move around in the now-familiar routines of establishing their nightly camp as if it was all happening to someone else, not her.

She didn’t try to run away. She had nowhere to go.

She heard him move toward her and knew he bowed ironically before her with a courtly flourish before gripping her elbow and propelling her forward. “My lady, let me take you to the stream.”

She stumbled clumsily but soon recovered. She had quickly learned to do whatever he told her. He would enjoy too much suppressing a revolution and Imogen refused to give him any more pleasure.

He let go of her arm when they reached the stream and took a step back, but he didn’t leave. He never did.

He watched and waited as she relieved herself. She felt her soul shrinking under the weight of her humiliation. Her hands were shaking as she awkwardly followed the sound of running water and reached to wipe her face, her tears mingling invisibly with the water.

Her misery was so absolute that she didn’t even protest when Roger unexpectedly swung her up in his arms and carried her back to their camp.

He held her close, his breath a hot brand over her face as he slowly lowered her to the ground. He didn’t let her go. He held on to her upper arms with a bruising firmness as he watched her narrowly.

“You have put on weight,” he said blandly. “Haven’t you?”

She tried not to flinch but knew that her face drained of all color and betrayed her.

“I only just noticed,” he said as he carelessly removed her cloak and threw it on the ground. “Most strange,” he murmured to himself as his eyes raked her figure assessingly.

His hand moved down her arm and over to her breast. “You’re fuller here,” he said as his hand moved to the swell of her abdomen, “and here.”

Her mind fragmented. He knew! How had he worked it out? And when? Had he noticed as he had carried her, or had she done something at the stream that had alerted him?

Had she somehow betrayed herself?

Neither of them said a word as his hand continued to move over her. Words were not needed between them. They both knew what the other thought, knew what was going to happen. She knew he would not stop now until she was destroyed. He had no choice. The rules of the game had been decided so long ago that her betrayal had sealed her doom regardless of what either of them now might want.

Imogen was oddly relieved when the silence was broken by the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and actually welcomed the pain of his hand hitting the side of her face.

“Bitch,” he said through gritted teeth. “You let that bastard into your body, into
my
body, didn’t you?”

“He was my husband. You gave me to him,” she said calmly, despite the throbbing pain of her face. “What else could you expect?”

“I didn’t expect you to enjoy it.” His hand made contact with her face again, splitting her lip, filling her mouth with the metallic taste of blood. “You opened your white thighs and welcomed him into your body, greeted him with wet warmth, let his seed find a place in you. You’re a whore,” he spat out angrily.

The next blow brought her to her knees, but he couldn’t stop the laugh of triumph that boiled inside her. “You lose!” She threw back her head, and tears streamed down her face. “You lose because you thought everyone was a twisted half human like you, incapable of real emotions. You actually thought you could bring another person into your game and not lose control.”

She slowly got back to her feet. “But you did. You lost control at that moment, didn’t you? Robert wasn’t what you thought he was, was he?” She spread her arms wide tauntingly. “He had me, and I welcomed him. He came into my life and gave me back all of the laughter and light you had taken away from me. And, you know, the funny thing is, because of you I was almost too blind to see his goodness. Can you believe it? I almost let it slip through my fingers because you had destroyed my ability to recognize love. Almost.”

Her laughter rang out.

“In the end, however, he is stronger than you. You are nothing compared to him. So, yes, I let him into my body; yes, I loved him with all my heart and soul and strength. And you know what that means, don’t you? No matter what you do, I win.” The smile on her face was radiant. “I win because despite you I have loved and been loved in return.”

This time the blow knocked her to the ground, her head hitting a rock and stunning her.

“Don’t believe that for a moment, bitch,” he spat out, and aimed a furious kick at her prone body. “A baby is an easy enough thing to remove and once it’s gone, you will soon forget these futile notions of love. I won’t let that bastard’s spawn survive long. Your body is mine, will be mine again. That I can promise.”

He turned from her dismissively with an angry curse and she rolled herself into a protective fetal position, listening in silence as he started a fire and boiled the salted meat he had brought with them. He didn’t give her any when it was prepared, but began to eat with a noisy relish. Imogen didn’t care, too full of the truth she had yelled at him.

She had won. Despite all of Roger’s dark games she had managed to become a complete human, capable of love, not just a pawn in his twisted rituals and desires.

She truly had won.

Robert’s knees cracked as he knelt down to feel the ashes, their coldness mocking him. Damn! He was no closer to catching up to them than he had been yesterday; or the day before, or the day before that.

No matter how hard he pushed himself, Roger continued to remain ahead of him because he was not slowed by the need to track down his quarry. Robert was hunting them, using all of his skill and experience to follow them as they traveled slowly north, but that very hunting was slowing him down and every day that passed was another day Imogen spent living her worst nightmare.

Visions of just what Imogen might be suffering rose to torment him yet again. He clenched his hands in impotent rage and stood up quickly. He couldn’t let his anger consume him, not now, when Imogen needed him and all the skill he could muster.

He carefully submerged all emotion and cast an expert eye over the camp. They still had to be at least a day ahead of him, but with two people on one horse they weren’t moving as fast as he could if only he knew for certain where they were heading.

Though there was no sign of it, there was now no doubt in Robert’s mind as to their intended destination. It was only an unprovable gut instinct, but he was certain they were heading to Shadowsend, heading for the tower Roger had built all those years ago for just this purpose.

Years of hard-learned experience wouldn’t let him rely on instinct alone, but with each mile farther north, his certainty grew. He knew enough about Roger, from the little Imogen had revealed, to know that for Roger, rituals were important. Things had to happen in a certain way for him to enjoy them to their full. Roger wanted it this way, had been living for this moment for years.

But Robert couldn’t let what he
thought
he knew lead him astray.

He ground his teeth in frustration and was turning to mount his horse when something else caught his eye, a small detail he had almost overlooked. Written in the dust were signs of a physical struggle. A body had fallen to the ground while someone else stood by, a small dark spot, evidence enough that some blood had been spilt.

Imogen’s blood.

Robert’s teeth clenched and a muscle started to twitch in his cheek.

There was a cold purity to the anger that burned to life inside him, that turned to dust the last of his doubts. He climbed on to the horse’s back and galloped away from the scene of Imogen’s humiliation, not once looking back.

He was done with following. If he stopped trying to second-guess himself he could get to the tower before them.

Then he would wait.

The rational part of his brain warned him that if he was wrong, if Roger wasn’t heading to the tower, then Imogen would be lost. But he chose not to listen. It was time to put complete trust in his instincts. They alone would get him what he wanted most in the world: Roger Colebrook’s blood all over his hands. Never before had he ever been so grateful for his ability to inflict death. It made all of those dark years of the sword worthwhile.

He ignored the pressure he felt building behind his eyes and the thickening of his throat as he thought of Imogen. There would be time enough for emotions later.