My Rebellious Heart (7 page)

She reacted unthinkingly. Her hand shot out and delivered a stinging slap against his cheek; the sound split the air like a crack of thunder. "And you, sir, dal y with me once too often!"

"Shana!" Barris stepped forward and laid a restraining hand on her arm. His heart lurched, for her blow had been surprisingly strong. For an instant the unmistakable urge for retaliation blazed in the earl's eyes. The next second, his features were shuttered and hard. Though he held himself perfectly stil , Barris could scarce ignore the impression of great strength held under steely control.

Barris pul ed Shana close to his side, settling a protective hand at her waist. He'd kept his silence up until now, gauging the earl closely, hoping to gain some clue as to why he would lie.

"You claim you are innocent," he said at last. "But Lady Shana has told me her father saw the pennon carried by the attackers."

"Aye!" she put in. "Blood-red with a two-headed creature of the deep!"

Barris had yet to take his eyes from Thorne. "Wel , milord? Does she describe your pennon?"

A smal crowd had gathered near the stairs. "That' s the one, al right," someone shouted. "

'Twas just as Lord Kendal said!"

"He needn't deny it," shouted another. "We

know he's the one—he and his men struck down our own!"

Thorne paid them no heed. "The pennon is mine," he confirmed flatly. His gaze slid back to rest with cool deliberation on Shana. "But it occurs to me your father sought to transfer blame to me for some unknown purpose. Or mayhap you were attacked by some of your own. 'Tis wel known," he went on, "how you Welsh squabble among yourselves."

Shana's ire came flooding back. "My father was not one to plunder his neighbors," she cried.

"He did not rule his lands with lance and shield, but with a firm and gentle hand. He was a simple man who wanted only to be left alone to tend to the breeding of his sheep, and his honor would never permit him to blame someone without just cause!

"Nay," she went on, " 'twas you who swept into Wales with a sword in your hand. Only you and your men chose not to fight on a field of battle! They came to kil and maim—and for no other reason! Merwen is no fortress—we have no moat, no towers or palisade. Those who died here had no chance to take up arms against you! So tell me, my lord earl, what kind of soldier preys against the weak and defenseless?"

"Believe what you wil , princess. It matters little to me, for I myself know the truth."

"The truth? I wonder if we shal ever know the truth," Shana said bitterly. "Indeed, I wonder if you knew Merwen belonged to my father—if this was some vile plot of King Edward's to eliminate Llywelyn and al his kin."

"That may or may not be," Barris said slowly, his gaze locked on the prisoner. "But now that we have him, what are we to do with him?"

For the space of a heartbeat, all was quiet. Then a thunderous clamor rang out. "He deserves no

mercy after what he did here," came a shout, and then another. "Kil him and be done with it!"

A resounding din filled the air. "Aye, kil him and have done with the scourge!"

Sir Gryffen cleared his throat. "Forgive me, milord, but methinks there's been bloodshed enough already. Is there truly a need for more? Can we noi hold him prisoner until this strife with England passes?"

"I fear it will never come to an end. The English have their fingers 'round our neck and they'l not let go." Quiet as his voice was, Barris was fiercely intent. "And Merwen has no dungeon, Gryffen Had I the means to detain him myself, I would do so, but Frydd is no more a fortress than Merwen. 'Twould be only too easy for him to escape and re-turn with more troops." He pondered a moment. 'To let him live is a death sentence for the rest of us."

"Better him than us," proclaimed a knight from the doorway.

Throughout, Thorne held himself very stil . A

chill swept through to the very marrow of his

bones. He did not delude himself. He knew ful

well what they intended. It was murder they wers about. His murder.

Barris glanced back at him. "I'm afraid we have no choice," he said tonelessly. "The earl must die."

Through a haze, Shana heard her own voice, though she was not aware that she spoke. She heard herself whisper, "When?"

Barris hesitated, yet his purpose did not sway. "Edward hasn't forgiven the Welsh for their part in supporting Earl Simon at Evesham." He nodded at Thorne. "Now we have one of his most trusted and loyal lieutenants, something I'll wager the king wil not take lightly, should he ever find out. Most likely he would come down on our heads harder stil . Edward must never know he

was here," he stated with blunt finality. "What if he should send his army after him? Nor can we take the chance that someone has followed him here. Nay," he said with a shake of his head, "the sooner our guest here is gone, the better."

Barris gazed at the earl while he spoke. The Englishman was taking the news of his impending execution remarkably well, he decided. A flicker of admiration ran through him, but mingled within was a distinct sense of unease. The earl's lack of emotion was somehow disturbing, his features carved in rigid, stoic lines. Only his eyes betrayed him, leaping like silent lightning, as if he were a predator who awaited the right moment to pounce on his prey.

Again Barris's gaze came to bear on Shana. He was moved to pity for he suspected she had not realized it would come to this. He pulled her aside and reached for her hands. They were ice-cold. "Shana," he said softly. "There is no other way but to see him executed. Merwen has lost too many lives already. I'll not risk any more." Especial y yours, he added silently.

Shana gave a tiny shake of her head, duty and resilience faltering. She swal owed painfully, her eyes coming up to meet his. "Then let it be done," she whispered. "Just ... let it be done."

He squeezed her hands in gentle encouragement and released her. He turned to accompany her from the hal , but the pair had scarce retreated more than a step before the earl's voice rang out.

"Wait!"

They turned. The earl's gaze encompassed them both, piercing and unwavering. "I demand to see a priest."

Barris's eyes narrowed. "As I see it, you are hardly in a position to make demands." When the earl said nothing, he smiled thinly. "A priest, you

say! Why, milord, do you mean to tel me you wish to atone for your many sins?"

Thorne neither confirmed nor denied it. "I appeal to your mercy, milord, milady. Is it not enough that you've sentenced me to death? Or would you send me there without God's blessing?"

There was naught of entreaty in either his voice or his face as he boldly confronted them.

Barris scowled. "You gave no such consideration to those you kil ed here," he said sharply.

"Yet you dare to expect such leniency from us?"

Thorne regarded them unblinkingly. "I wish a priest," was al he would say.

Sir Gryffen stepped forward. "Father Meredith was killed in the fray," he said quietly. He looked to Shana. "It would be wel into the night before I returned, but I wil ride to the monastery at Tusk for a priest if you wish, milady."

Shana's eyes sought Barris, who did not miss

the silent plea there. She was as pale and drawn as he had ever seen her, he thought with a twist of his heart. Her features told more clearly than

words the strain these past days had wrought. He had no choice, he realized wearily, but to accede to her wishes.

'

His lips tightened. He spared the prisoner a long look, his features unusual y hard. "You wil have your priest," he said curtly. "Were it up to me, I would have you dispatched this very hour. But know this, Lord Weston, once you've made your confession the deed wil most certainly be done—and with al haste." One of the knights stepped forward. Barris jerked his head toward the earl. "See that he is locked up again."

Shana could not watch the knight lead the earl away. She made her way to a bench near the wall, all at once feeling dizzy and shaky. When she gathered the courage to lift her head, she found

Barris eyeing her in a way she had never encountered before, his expression enigmatic. She drew a quick breath. It spun through her mind that she was staring at a stranger.

He tipped his head to the side, and when he spoke, the pitch of his voice was very low. "You think me cruel, don't you?" "Cruel?" she echoed. To his surprise, a sad, wistful smile touched her lips. "You are demanding, aye. And never have I seen you so—so forceful. But I do not think you cruel. I think you merely do what you must," her smile withered, "as do we al ."

He swore beneath his breath. He started toward her, his only intent to vanquish the shadows from her face, but at that instant, the sound of pounding hooves resounded in the courtyard.

Shana had scarce risen to her feet than a young boy scurried through the entrance.

He rushed toward Barris. "Milord! One of your men is here. He has with him a message of grave importance!"

Shana glanced at Barris sharply. "I wil come with you ..." she began.

With a hand on her shoulder, he held her in place. "There is no need. Stay here, love. I promise I'll not be long." His tone brooked no argument. For the second time in as many minutes she found herself unable to banish the notion that this man she knew so wel was one she scarce knew at al .

She began to pace the length of the hall As he'd promised, he was not long. Shana held her breath as he strode to her; there was an air of urgency about him that she neither understood nor liked. Once again he took her hands.

"I must leave forthwith, Shana."

"Leave ... to return to Frydd?"

Barris silently cursed himself. So much had happened these past days ... the attack on Merwen ...

the massing of English troops at Langley. He despised himself for leaving Shana to cope with her father's death alone, but in his heart he knew she would manage. In her own way, she was strong, as strong as any man.

"I do not go to Frydd."

She cried his name in protest. "Barris, you've been gone a fortnight already. You've only just returned—"

"I know, love. But as you said only a moment past, we do what we must."

His words were both determined and regretful. She searched his face almost fearful y, struck by the certainty that something was not right. "Where do you go?"

He seemed to hesitate. "The countryside has been rife with discontent for months now, Shana. Our people are tired of kissing the feet of the English."

"I ... I know. A sennight past my father received a messenger from Llywelyn, seeking aid and support to rise up against the Crown. My father sent my uncle's man away with his bags ful of coin, and pledged men should the need arise." Comprehension dawned in a rush. Merciful heaven! No one hated the Englishmen's constant interference in Welsh affairs more than Barris. Would Barris heed the cal of the warrior—the cal to arms? She was suddenly terrified for him.

She drew a sharp breath. "Tel me, Barris! Did Llywelyn ask the same of you? Has this message to do with my uncle—and England?"

He laid his hands on her shoulder. "Aye," he admitted. "Our people hate how England has once again dropped its heavy hand on our shoulder. Many a small landowner is now penniless and destitute because of Edward's quest to line his coffers."

She moaned her distress. "What heroics do you practice? Do you seek fame and glory by making war on England?"

" Tis not fame and glory I seek, but independence for our people, Shana. You, of al people, know how strongly I feel about this! That is why I go to join Llywelyn and offer my services and support."

"And what if he masses an army? Wil you throw in your sword as well?"

"I wil serve in whatever way I can," he said simply.

She caught her breath. "Barris, I fear for you— for us both!" She beseeched him desperately.

"I've already lost my father. I could not stand to lose you, too!"

"Shana, I can no longer stand from afar and watch King Edward crush our country with his fist. But your fear is misplaced, for 'tis your safety that concerns me before al else. I wil do naught but worry if you stay here at Merwen. That is why you must leave—immediately."

"Leave! Barris, if I go anywhere, I go with you!"

"Shana, have you listened to naught that I have said? "Tis not possible!" He gave her an impatient little shake.

Shana was stunned at the blackness of his glare—and at what he asked of her. "You want me to leave Merwen," she whispered. "Nay, I cannot. This is my home."

"You must. Merwen has come under attack once already. I do not want you here if it should happen again."

"Surely that is hardly likely." "We cannot be sure of that." He cut her off abruptly. "The point you made earlier is a valid one. What if King Edward does indeed plot to kil Llywelyn and al his kin? What then?"

Shana fel silent. Though such a plot was surely unlikely, she found she could not completely discount the merits of his argument.

"I want you safely out of harm's way," he went on. "You've an aunt in Ireland, as I recal ."

"Aye," she said slowly. "Alicia, my mother's sister."

"Then promise me you'll make haste to Ireland as soon as possible. If I could, I would see you off myself, but alas, I must depart within the hour." When she said nothing, his grip on her shoulders tightened. "Promise me, Shana. Promise you will leave on the morrow, for I'll not rest easy until I know you are safe."

Her nerves were wound tight as a spool of yarn. Al at once the fatigue and strain were too much. She felt weary to the bone, too tired to argue. "I wil go," she said numbly.

Approval flitted across his handsome features. He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "Tell me true, fair princess," he murmured. "Am I truly a hero to you?"

Shana's throat was achingly tight. "You know you are," she whispered helplessly. . "Then let this hero depart with a memory sweeter than the promise of spring." This was the old Barris, the Barris she knew so wel , charming and dashing, the rogue irresistible who plied her with soft-spoken words of love and promise. His mouth met hers. Always before when he had kissed her, his kisses had been careful y restrained, never daring to trespass beyond the boundaries of her innocence. But Shana was loathe to see him go; she clung to him shamelessly, her lips a sweetly tremulous offering. Barris made a sound that was half triumph, half despair. The pressure of his mouth on hers deepened to fervent intimacy; pleasure, warm and heady, swept along