Rexanne Becnel (31 page)

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Authors: The Bride of Rosecliffe

BOOK: Rexanne Becnel
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A tear ran down the woman’s pale cheek. “
Owain took her
.”
“
I’ll kill the bastard!
”
“No! Please. I beg you
.
I stole the babe
away
to bring her to you. Now you must spare my husband’s life.
”
Again she held the child out to him, but Rand backed away. Was this really his child? How could he be sure?
The baby waved its arms. In the leaping light of the bonfire she was an indistinct creature. He raised his eyes once more to the woman who held her. Belatedly her other words registered. She was Owain’s wife.
“
Where has he taken her?
”
“
You must promise to spare him.
”
“
Spare him! For all I know he has killed her!
”
She shook her head and more tears spilled onto her cheeks.
“He would not kill her. He has always wanted her more than he wants me. But he is my husband, not hers! You must take her away from him so that he will be mine again. I brought you your child. I can help you find your woman. Spare me my husband. ’Tis not fair for her to have you both, while I have no one.”
In the end he promised.
He could not risk Josselyn’s safety any longer. He did not share Agatha’s confidence that Owain would not hurt
Josselyn. So he promised not to kill Owain. Then Agatha again held the child out to him.
Rand had not ever held a babe before, and panic swept through him, the likes of which he’d never before felt. He might crush her, or drop her, or somehow frighten her. But despite his fear, he took the child in his arms. A girl child. His child.
“Isolde,” he murmured. She looked up at him, her eyes dark, her tiny face serious. Was she truly his?
God, he hoped so!
It was an illogical reaction but one he could not deny. He wanted this warm little thing to be his. His and Josselyn’s.
He left Isolde safe in the hall with two guards and a maid to tend her. He rode now with three men into the ebony night, beneath grim spruce and somber oaks. Owls called into the darkness. Their frightened prey scurried along the forest floor.
He hunted Owain like the owls hunted the rodents of these hills. Unlike the mice and rabbits, however, Owain could become the hunter as easily as the hunted. And if he were cornered, there was no predicting what he might do to Josselyn.
They traveled through the night slowly, stopping often. Dawn found them in a chilly glade, just below the crest of a hill. They could smell smoke. It was faint but it was distinct. Someone was nearby.
Though Jasper objected, they left him with the horses. The other three crept to the top of the hill, keeping low in the gorse. The scent was stronger.
“If that’s him, then he’s a fool to have a fire,” Osborn muttered. “Or else confident that no one has followed him.”
“Or else setting yet another trap,” Rand replied.
Over the hill they slowly crept. A horse blew out a breath and they froze. Then a man staggered out of a copse not a stone’s throw from their position. Raising his hauberk, he
relieved himself against a tree trunk. He was one of Owain’s men, and Rand nodded to Osborn.
In a moment Osborn had him. Throat slit, body eased silently to the ground. No cry of alarm, save that of a bird that was startled away.
Rand made his way nearer the camp. Where was Josselyn?
“I count five horses,” Osborn whispered. “Good odds for us.”
Then a curse sounded, followed by a slap and a woman’s cry, and all thought of caution fled. Josselyn needed him and Rand responded. He surged forward, drawing his sword as he ran, and burst into the campsite, screaming for blood.
Owain stood over Josselyn. Her gown was torn; her face bore the imprint of his hand. At Rand’s bloodcurdling cry Owain spun around, grabbing for his own weapon.
Josselyn scrambled back from Owain at the first shout, unmindful of the stones that cut into her palms. Rand had come for her!
But as he rushed Owain and their swords hissed murder in the air, her elation turned to horror. Dear God, protect him, for Owain was a madman!
Where they found the strength to fight she did not know. Neither of them could have slept much, especially Rand. But they fought with single-minded intensity, parrying, feinting, each aiming with deadly intent to kill the other.
Owain fell slowly back and Josselyn rose to her knees.
Beyond them two other battles raged, and the air resounded with grunts and curses. Then someone screamed and went down.
Osborn lay crumpled in the trampled grass, his blood painted on Conan’s blade. Without pause, Conan turned and lunged at Rand.
“Behind you!” Josselyn screamed.
By a hairsbreadth Rand missed being decapitated.
When he lurched aside, however, his boot skidded on the wet grasses and he went down. Conan was on him at once,
stabbing with his lethal blade while Rand fought him off from his back.
Osborn was still down, and Alan fought his own battle. So when Owain rushed Rand for the kill, Josselyn did not pause to think. She launched herself at Owain, throwing him off stride, then clung to his back like an enraged cat.
“Bitch! Traitorous whore!” he screamed when she clawed at his eyes. But it bought Rand the time he needed. Somehow he shoved to his feet, parrying off Conan’s renewed blows.
Meanwhile, Owain yanked Josselyn off his back. It felt like her arm came out of its socket. But instead of thrusting her aside, he jerked her up, holding her before him like a shield—and held the point of his dagger perilously close to her throat.
“Throw down your sword!” he yelled. “Throw it down or I’ll gut her where she stands!”
Rand hesitated. His eyes locked with Josselyn’s—just a fraction of a moment—before they fastened upon Owain. But there was a wealth of emotion in the connection they made. He’d come for her. He’d fought for her.
Did he love her?
She wanted to believe he did. But she did not want him to lay down his life for her.
Rand held his sword on Owain’s henchman, but stared at Owain. “Just release her and you can go free. But harm a hair on her head and you’re a dead man,” he added in an astoundingly calm voice.
Owain laughed. Behind them Alan and the other Welshman still fought, but Owain’s man was tiring and beginning to falter. “Call off your man,” Owain ordered Rand. He pricked Josselyn’s neck and she gasped. A trickle of blood started, hot and ominous, down her throat.
“Hold, Alan. Hold!” Rand shouted. Once more his eyes connected with hers. His chest heaved from his exertion and yet Josselyn again sensed that calm about him. Despite their hideous predicament, he would not lose his head. That
knowledge was the only thing that kept her from falling apart.
She could be no less strong for him, she decided. So she forced a small smile, a private smile to her lips, that she prayed conveyed to him just how much she loved him.
“Throw down your weapons,” Owain ordered. He was shaking with rage; she could feel it. “Throw down your weapons or she’ll be the one to pay.”
“No,” Josselyn whispered. Once Rand’s sword fell they were all as good as dead.
But Rand’s attention was on Owain. “I’ll put down my weapons when you let her go.”
“Now!” Owain screamed, pricking her neck again.
Rand dropped his sword. So did Alan.
Owain began to laugh. “So. I have you both now. You and your whore. This will be even better than I imagined. Tie them up,” he ordered his men. “Let him watch as I make good use of his whore. And if he objects, cut out his tongue. If he fights, take off his hands.” He laughed again, then holding Josselyn by the throat, he forced her head back and licked the bloody trail on her neck. “I’ve waited a long time to have you,” he hissed in her ear. “Make it worth my while, bitch, and I might yet allow you to live.”
Josselyn’s gaze had not veered from Rand, and somehow she knew what she must do. No words passed between them, but somehow she knew. Owain held her weight against him, so she simply let her legs buckle.
When she collapsed, Owain staggered backward, and his hold on her momentarily loosened. At the same time Rand lunged at Conan, and Alan tackled the other man. For a moment Josselyn thought she’d twisted free of Owain. But he grabbed at her hair and jerked her off her feet.
“I warned you. I warned you!” Owain screamed.
She saw the dagger flash. She braced herself for the blow.
Isolde. Rand
… That was all the prayer she had time to say.
Then a shriek rent the air and Owain collapsed on top of her.
They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, and his weight crushed all the air from her lungs. She was trapped beneath him. She could hardly breathe. But somehow she knew she wasn’t dead, and she struggled to free herself.
Then she heard a new voice—an English voice—and the sounds of renewed combat. Owain slid a little aside, and she looked up to see Jasper holding a sword on Conan, and Alan holding the other Welshman at bay. Rand heaved the inert Owain aside. A dagger was buried to the hilt in his neck, and she shuddered, both horrified and relieved. Jasper had come just in time.
Then Rand pulled her up and enveloped her in his arms, and she clung to him as if she’d never let him go. He was so solid and warm, while she could not stop shaking.
“It’s over. It’s over. You’re safe now,” he murmured against her hair.
She raised her head and caught his face in her hands. “And you are safe,” she whispered back. She stared up into his eyes, unable to hide any of her emotions from him. “I would have died if anything had happened to you.”
Then reality, ugly and frightening, stole into her happiness. “I must find Isolde!”
“I have her in a safe place.” He smoothed the hair back from her face.
“You do?” Her relief was so acute it hurt. “Thank God. Thank God!”
“Rand! Osborn is in a bad way!” Jasper called.
After that all their attention focused on Rand’s fallen friend. Josselyn stanched his bleeding with a crude poultice of wild hyssop and the torn hem of her kirtle. Jasper and Alan made a litter for him, while Rand clasped his friend’s hand.
“Hold on, Osborn. This is not your time. We’ve many a fight yet to share.” He kept up a steady stream of reassurances and exhortations. Though Osborn did not respond,
his breathing slowly eased and Josselyn was certain he heard.
Not until his wounds were bound and he was loaded onto the litter was she able to address Rand once more. “Where is Isolde?” she asked as he led her horse to her.
He stared down at her. “At Afon Bryn. I hold the town.”
“I need to see her.”
“We cannot travel very fast with Osborn.”
“Yes.” She took a steadying breath and searched his face. He’d come for her, despite all his doubts. It was time now for her to bare all her emotions to him. “I know we must go slowly. But you do not know, Rand, how I long to see my child resting finally in her father’s embrace.”
When he did not respond, she bit her lower lip and wrapped her arms nervously around her waist. “You must believe that she is yours,” she continued earnestly. “I would not lie to you about that. I would not—”
“I believe you.”
Her breath caught in her chest. “You do?”
Slowly he nodded. His eyes were the clearest gray, a dark color yet filled with light. “I do. But you must know that I will return her to you on one condition only.”
“Whatever it is, I will agree—just so long as you do not send me away from you.”
Their eyes locked. She held her breath and prayed. Then he let out a slow sigh. “I could never send you away from me,” he said in a voice gone hoarse with emotion. “This past year … The past few days …” He shook his head. “I love you, Josselyn ap Carreg Du. I was a fool not to realize it long ago. I want you to marry me. I only hope that I have not been so big a fool as to lose you forever.”
“You could never lose me,” she confessed in a voice choked with emotion. “I love you too much for that.”
She stepped nearer him, wanting to hold him and be held by him. But he held her back with a hand on each of her shoulders. “Don’t say that out of gratitude,” he demanded gruffly.
Above everything else he’d said, that was what brought tears to her eyes. He wanted her to love him for himself, because he loved her for herself. Thickheaded fool! Didn’t he know she already did?
Her tears spilled over at the same time she started to laugh. “I love you, Rand. And I want nothing so much as to marry you—but not out of gratitude! If you believe nothing else, believe that.”
Then she kissed him, sealing her vow and his, and he kissed her back.
They stood beside the horse and kissed one another in plain sight of everyone. It took coarse male laughter to break them apart.

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