My Rebellious Heart (10 page)

He had cursed her, reviled her ... and promised vengeance in return. And so it would be, she realized numbly. A cold hard knot settled in her stomach. When the earl set her upon the nag again, she began to pray. For courage. For salvation. For deliverance from this English bastard ...

But God did not hear.

t was mid-afternoon before their journey came to an end. Shana's lips tightened with every step that brought her closer to her enemies. Straight away lay the vil age, cowering beneath the shadow of Castle Langley. Resentment began to smolder within her. Many times her father had told her tales of the ravening Normans who had instal ed their lords in south and central Wales, that they might flaunt a visible pronouncement of their so-cal ed right and might ... and al on land wrested from the Welsh!

The late June sunshine showered warm and bright on her bare head. A shudder wracked her body; inside she felt as cold as the northern seas.

Shouts went up as they crossed the drawbridge. By the time they drew to a halt in the center of the bailey, a smal crowd had amassed around them.

"My Lord, we thought you'd never return!"

"No one knew where you went off to, milord! We'd begun to worry somethin' fierce!"

Thorne raised a hand. "Wel , now I've returned and I'm none the worse for it," he cal ed out.

Shana sniffed in disdain. How would he account for his absence? Would he admit the truth— that a mere woman was behind his abduction? Surely not, for that would prove too humiliating. No

doubt he would embel ish the truth to swel his ego and play down his own fol y.

She felt him leap to the ground. He turned and offered a hand of assistance. "Milady?" he murmured. The chal enge inherent in those night-dark eyes prompted Shana to weigh him critically. She was sorely tempted to imprint the bottom of her slipper to the impressive width of his chest. Her intent must have shown, for his expression grew chil . He did not wait for her consent but set his hands about her waist and swung her from the nag.

He paid no heed to the curious stares directed at her—at them both. Iron-hard fingers curled around her upper arm, directing her steps. Shana tried to wrench away from his hold, but he would have none of it. He marched her up the stairs and into the great hall. A low murmur went up as they appeared beneath the massive arched entryway. Then three men near the hearth on the far wall started toward them.

Shana's heart sank as she recognized Sir Geoffrey of Fairhaven. Worry was plainly etched on his handsome features.

"Milord!" A low exclamation came from the man who reached them first. He was tal , though not so tal as the earl, with even features and chestnut hair. "You should have left word with someone! We've been searching for you night and day, certain you'd met with some foul play."

Thorne's smile was rather tight. "I'd have left word had I been able to, Sir Quentin."

Sir Geoffrey's attention was on Shana. "Lady Shana! You took wearied. Here, come sit by the fire and—"

Thorne cut in abruptly. "I'd not be so inclined to pity her if I were you. I was led a merry chase al the way to Wales—by none other than the lady

here." He still held tight to her arm, like a falcon on a jess.

Geoffrey blinked, clearly stunned.

"I fear the lady was also remiss in her introduction. She cal ed herself Lady Shana," the earl made no effort to hide his scorn, "but she neglected to tel us she is also a princess of Wales."

"Wales!" The third man, possessed of a powerful build, spoke at last. "So we've a prisoner of war 'ere the war begins, eh? Ah, that al the enemy should be so fair! I'd gladly trade my sword for the keys to the dungeon." Unbridled lust flared in the cold blue eyes that traversed the length of her.

Shana's chin went up a notch. "Had I a sword," she stated calmly, "I'd gladly show you how it feels to be beaten."

The man let out a sneering laugh and glanced at Thorne. "Bloodthirsty little piece, isn't she?"

"Aye, Lord Newbury. That she is." Thorne was unwillingly amused. He glanced at Geoffrey.

"See her to my quarters, will you, Geoffrey, and post a guard outside. But beware if she deigns to smile sweetly at you, my friend." His eyes, cool and distant, touched the rebellious fire in hers. "Likely as not, she's plotting the moment she can stick a dagger in your belly."

"I'l bear that in mind." Geoffrey's smile was no more. He took her arm, his lips set sternly as he pul ed her away.

The noise from the hal grew faint. The man beside her was silent. The charming rogue she'd first met was gone, his warmth vanished. One glimpse at his rigid profile convinced her he was angry. A dozen explanations came to her lips; she dismissed them al , for what need was there to apologize to him? Yet when they final y reached the tower stair, the urge had become overwhelming.

He threw open the great oaken panel and word-

lessly gestured her inside. She stepped within and quickly turned; he reached to close the door.

She thrust out a hand. "Wait!" she said in a rush. "Sir Geoffrey, I—I must tell you ... I truly did not mean to deceive you."

"Princess Shana," he began, then raised a brow. "Is that truly who you are or is there more you neglected to tel me?"

"That is my name, though there is no need to cal me princess—"

"Ah, so there was some truth in the story you told me. However, milady, I was taught that the sin of omission is as great as the sin itself."

Shana winced. She sensed that, under other circumstances ... if he were not English and she were not Welsh ... she might have liked him. "I could hardly tel you who I was," she said quietly. "I regret that I had to deceive you, but if you wil let me explain—"

"Another time, perhaps, milady. I fear I'm not in the mood to decipher lies from truth."

With that he was gone. Shana was left staring at the massive door.

Silence surrounded her, as thick and enveloping as a dense curtain of fog. Her gaze traveled furtively around the empty chamber. A chil seized her. Why had Thorne ordered her brought here—to his chamber? She should have been relieved that she hadn't been thrown in the dun-geoi , yet she was not. His words rang in her mind like a death knel . 'Twas you who started this blasted quest for vengeance, but I wil see it finished. Rest assured, 1 will repay you measure for measure, by fair means or foul.

Terror winged through her, nearly robbing her of strength and courage. A servant knocked on the door, bringing a tray of food, but Shana could not force it down. Her thoughts wandered at wil and she could not stop them. Her heart began to race.

What form, she wondered frantically, would his punishment take? She had dealt a blow to his pride, a blow he'd not soon forget... nor forgive. Nay, he'd not be prone to leniency. Her mind conjured up a dozen horrible images. He might have her whipped or beaten, mayhap even executed. Or would he choose to torture her slowly, bring death to her little by little—he might even let her live in daily terror for her life! A tremor shook her slender form. Sweet heaven, which would be worse?

In desperation she spun for the door. She wrenched it open and threw it wide.

A shadow fell across her. A burly, red-headed guard blocked her way. Shana's gaze widened as it slowly trekked upward to the man's features. Lord, but he was a giant!

No trace of emotion crossed his features. "Is there something you wish, milady?"

"Nay," she managed to say.

In frustration she slammed the door shut. Even as her fists clenched at her sides, hot tears pricked her eyelids. She was caught here, like an animal in a trap. She began to pace the length of the chamber and back again, cursing Thorne de Wilde, cursing her own helplessness. At length she gave a despairing half sob and sank down in a heap against the wall.

It seemed that whatever fate was to befal her, for now she was destined to wait.

In truth Thorne had no wish to hurry the moment he would see her again. She roused too many emotions in him, emotions he wasn't sure he liked. Already she had tested his self-control severely. She was so smug, so damnably sure of herself. But a single word from her managed to touch off the fighting spirit in him, like a flame to tinder; he had no choice but to challenge her further. If he were wise, whispered a voice inside him, he'd

wash his hands of her now, while he was stil able. He-could entrust her to Geoffrey, or perhaps even turn her over to King Edward.

But Thorne knew he wasn't going to be prudent about this ... nay, not prudent at al .

A young maid brought food for him and Geoffrey. He ate sparingly, though he imbibed freely from a tankard of ale. He was relieved that Sir Quentin and Lord Newbury had left them alone. Sir Quentin was agreeable enough, but there was little liking between him and Newbury. He'd learned from Geoffrey that Newbury had been less than pleased that King Edward hadn't chosen him to command the forces here at Langley. Oh, no harsh words had passed between them as of yet. But Thorne suspected it was only a matter of time.

Geoffrey eyed his friend over his tankard. "I stil am not clear on precisely what transpired, Thorne. How on earth did the lady manage to lure you to Wales?"

Thorne snorted. "Lure me? She told me she knew a man who might lead us to the Dragon. I admit—she piqued my interest. I played along and agreed to meet with this man in the forest. And then she proceeded to see me ambushed—her guards very nearly took my head off!"

In spite of himself, Geoffrey smiled.

Thorne leveled a glare on him. "So you would laugh, would you! I tel you this, Geoffrey, I was outnumbered six to one. You'd have fared no better than I."

That was something Geoffrey did not doubt. Thorne was a formidable opponent, both on the battlefield and off. And the lady had the added benefit of surprise.

He frowned. "She was after none other than you, my friend. Are you sure you've never met

before—mayhap at court? Or mayhap you slighted her for another?"

"I never laid eyes on her until the day she passed through these gates. Nay, this is no lover's quarrel." Thorne gave a short, biting laugh. "The lady was out for blood. She believes I laid siege to her home in Wales. Her father was among those kil ed in the fray, and she's convinced I'm behind it."

"You! Why on earth would she think that?"

"Her father described the pennon the raiders carried—it was remarkably like mine. But either her father was mistaken, or else he wished to lay the blame on me for some unknown reason."

Geoffrey sent him a long, slow look. "Who was her father?"

"Kendal, younger brother of Llywelyn." Thorne shoved himself up from the table. "Christ, I'd almost forgotten the man existed! And now it seems his daughter would dearly like to see an end to me!" He began to prowl restlessly around the hal . "God, but her audacity astounds me! To think that a princess of Wales came here to seek me out, all the while concealing her identity!"

"You are not the only one who was duped," Geoffrey reminded him. "I was as much in the dark as you, Thorne."

"I had the feeling something was not right." Thorne spoke as if to himself. "But I told myself she was but a woman, and thus could do me no harm." His hand clenched into a fist. "But it seems she is as treacherous as her uncles!" Indeed, her uncle Dafydd had al ied himself with King Edward against his brother Llywelyn, only to turn tail eventually and rush back to Wales.

Geoffrey eyed him thoughtful y. "Do you think it true—that she knows the whereabouts of the Dragon? It would make our cause considerably easier if he were out of the way."

"I cannot say." His expression hardened. "But if she does, then by God, I shal know it!"

The lines on Geoffrey's brow deepened. He sat back slowly. "So what wil you do with her, Thorne? Keep her sequestered here at Langley?"

He nodded. "Beyond that," he added slowly, "the fate of the lady may wel depend on the lady herself." Unbidden, a vision of her rose high in Thorne's mind. He saw them as they had been in the forest, so close the sweet scent of her fil ed his nostrils; her lips hovering temptingly ... ah, so temptingly beneath his, her body slim and curved and lush.

He had felt the first stirrings of desire that very first hour, for only a saint could gaze on such beauty and feel nothing. He recal ed what he had said. There must be many, many ways in which a woman like you could please a man. A part of him dared him to see if it were true, while another part was appal ed that he could even think of her in such a way, now that he'd learned what a perfidious little bitch she real y was! So it was that his heart demanded he mete out a punishment that was swift and severe and deserving.

Something of his thoughts must have shown. Geoffrey's gaze sharpened. Thorne caught the look and smiled tightly. "She's a beauteous woman," he murmured. "You remarked on it yourself."

"Aye," Geoffrey agreed vehemently. "But I've never known you to take a wench against her will! God forbid that you should start with Lady Shana!"

Thorne's smile withered. "And why not?" He posed the question in a clipped, abrupt tone.

Geoffrey made an impatient gesture. Thorne was ever quick to anger when he thought someone cast aspersions on his parentage—or lack of it. "Don't be so damned touchy, man!

I mean only that I doubt you would find her wil ing."

Thorne's gaze narrowed. "You think you would fare better with the lady?"

Geoffrey did not hesitate to return his glare in ful measure. "I mean only to remind you that she is a lady, Thorne, no doubt gently born and bred. I doubt she'll take kindly to force!"

A dangerous glint had appeared in Thorne's eyes. "And may I remind you," he countered, his tone deadly soft, "that the lady sought to see an end to me—and very nearly succeeded. You must forgive me if I'm hardly inclined to absolve her so quickly."

"Thorne!" Geoffrey struggled to his feet. "For pity's sake, man—"