Scoundrel of Dunborough (20 page)

She couldn’t die. She must not, or his heart would die, too.

When he had Celeste cradled in his arms again, he lifted the reins. He was about to turn his mount toward the road when he paused and grimly said, “Fifty marks to the man who catches Lewis, and my eternal gratitude.”

* * *

Lizabet and the rest of the household were waiting anxiously in the courtyard when Gerrard rode through the gate with Celeste in his arms. He quickly told the maidservant to prepare her bed and warm the chamber.

He half expected Celeste to rally enough to tell him she wouldn’t sleep in the castle as long as he was there.

She didn’t. She didn’t wake at all, not even when Gerrard handed her down to Ralph and one of the other men. Nor did she wake when he took her in his arms again and carried her inside.

That frightened him most of all.

After he’d laid her on the bed, and Lizabet and Peg had come to tend to her, he went back to the hall and found Ralph waiting. Gerrard sent him to fetch the apothecary with all haste, then threw himself into a chair and leaned forward, his hands on his knees.

And began to pray.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“T
here he is! There on the bridge!” Hedley called out.

The other soldiers within range of his voice joined him as he ran to the mossy stone bridge over the rushing waters of the river that fed into the Ure.

“Stay back! Keep away!” Lewis shouted in warning. His hair was wild and full of bits of leaves, his cloak torn and muddy. His hands gripped the stone railing as he leaned over it, anxiously scanning the trees along the bank, where the soldiers had congregated.

Verdan started forward, until Arnhelm held him back. “Best not.”

“But the reward—”

“Is already Hedley’s,” Arnhelm replied, addressing his brother, as well as the other men who’d joined them. “I don’t like the looks of that lad, and the river’s deep. Let me try to talk him into coming quiet.”

“The river or the noose, what’s it matter?” Ralph asked. “He’s dead either way.”

“It’s not our place to pass judgment on him,” Arnhelm reminded the sergeant at arms. “That’s for the lord of Dunborough.”

“Go on, then,” Ralph replied. “See if you can get him off the bridge. The rest of you, stay here unless he runs.”

Most of the men were willing to obey, and those who weren’t would have had to get past Ralph, so they grudgingly stayed where they were.

“Lewis!” Arnhelm called, stepping out of the grove of trees. He threw his sword onto the bank and held up his empty hands. “It’s over, lad. Best come back with us and seek mercy.”

Lewis laughed, a high-pitched, sickening sound. “Mercy?” he scoffed. “From a son of Sir Blane?”

“Better one of them than their father,” Arnhelm noted, walking slowly toward the bridge. “You ain’t done murder, after all. Sister Augustine’s all right.”

“So instead of being executed, I might merely be imprisoned for the rest of my life and left to rot or starve to death.”

Arnhelm was at the foot of the bridge by then. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” He raised his voice. “Don’t the rest of you? Any son of Sir Blane won’t be merciful. They don’t know how.

“Keep back!” he ordered Arnhelm. “If you come any closer, I’ll jump!”

The soldier dutifully retreated a few steps. “You don’t want to do that.”

“How do you know what I want? I wanted Esmerelda, yet the slut would rather risk her life meeting with Gerrard. I wanted Audrey until she proved to be a worthless whore who deserved to die. I thought Celeste was different. Better. Purer. What a fool! All women are sluts and whores.”

“Could be you’re right. Come back and you can tell everybody in Dunborough that.”

Lewis regarded the soldier with outright disgust. “I may be a fool when it comes to women, but I’m not stupid. I’m not going to let you take me so Gerrard can have the satisfaction of torturing and killing me.”

He began to climb onto the wide stone railing.

“Lewis!” Arnhelm cried, starting toward him.

“I told you to stay back!” the young man exclaimed as he stood on the ledge, the cold north wind blowing his cloak around him like a fluttering flag.

He looked over at Arnhelm, who dared to take a few steps closer.

Tears slid down Lewis’s cheeks. They might have been from the wind, though, for his voice was proud and defiant. “Tell my father that I’ll see him next in hell!”

Arnhelm rushed forward to try to grab the youth before he fell into the swirling water below.

He was too late.

* * *

The flames in the central hearth of the great hall flickered in the darkness. Shadows shrouded the corners of the vast chamber and stretched out behind the pillars. Dusk had turned into night, and the few men and servants lingering there talked quietly among themselves. They cast occasional glances at Gerrard on the dais, a cup of untouched wine at his elbow.

Norbert, pale and shaking, crept into the hall. His cloak was soaking from the rain that had started to fall and his boots were thick with mud. He came forward slowly, keeping to the shadows, but Gerrard saw him nonetheless. “What do you want, Norbert? Your horses? One is in the stable, the other with my men.”

“S-sir, I’m so... I beg your pardon, s-sir,” Norbert stammered, his eyes wide with dismay. “Sister Augustine, how is she?”

“Alive. The apothecary is with her.” And had been for what seemed an endless age.

“I’m glad she’s... I’m glad,” Norbert replied.

“And now you can go. I never want to see you again.”

The chandler didn’t move.

Trying to keep a rein on his temper, Gerrard got to his feet. “Did you hear me, man?” He pointed at the door. “Go!”

Norbert winced, yet made no effort to leave. Instead, he fell to his knees and held up his hands in supplication. “Have mercy, Gerrard!” he cried. “He’s my only son, my only child!”

Gerrard regarded the man steadily. He would never, as long as he lived, forget the sight of Celeste on the ground, her clothes torn and muddy, dried blood on her lip, her hands cut and bleeding and her long hair tangled with leaves. “Your son has sealed his fate. He will be caught, imprisoned, tried and, I have no doubt, executed for what he did.”

Norbert covered his thin face with his hands and wailed as if he were the one doomed to die.

Gerrard had heard cries of anguish before, when his father had passed judgment. Lewis did deserve to die for what he’d done, but Gerrard was not Sir Blane and his heart wasn’t made of stone.

He came down from the dais and raised the grief-stricken man to his unsteady feet. “Your son has committed a serious crime, Norbert, and he must be punished. That cannot be denied. Perhaps God will forgive Lewis if he repents before—”

“Sir!”

Their expressions grave, their cloaks and helmets dripping, Arnhelm and Verdan marched up the center of the hall.

“We’ve got Lewis, sir,” Arnhelm said grimly. “We saw him on the stone bridge where the road forks, and he saw us. I tried to talk him into coming back but, well, he jumped. He’s dead.”

Norbert shrieked as if he’d been impaled, then fell to the floor. “Oh, no! Forgive me, my son, forgive me!”

As the chandler’s wails became choked sobs, Gerrard took the soldiers aside. “Where is Lewis now?” he asked quietly.

“Took us a while to find his body,” Arnhelm answered. “We did at last. It... He’s in the stable, sir.”

“Take Norbert to his son.”

* * *

After Arnhelm and Verdan helped Norbert from the hall, Gerrard started to go back to his chair on the dais, then changed his mind and headed to the stairs leading to the bedchambers.

What was happening in Roland’s chamber? Was Celeste seriously injured? The apothecary had been with her for so long...

Gerrard went up the steps and peered down the corridor. All was quiet, with none of the bustle usually found when there was a seriously injured person being tended. Was that good, or...not?

He ventured along the hall, pausing outside the door of his father’s bedchamber, a room that had been forbidden to him and his brothers all their lives.

A room he had never wanted to enter, even after his father had died.

He opened the door and stepped across the threshold. A broken shutter allowed moonlight to shine across the floor and fall onto the bed. It was still covered with dusty linen and surrounded by equally dusty bed curtains. A heavy brazier, ashes in its bowl, stood nearby. His father’s chest of clothing had likewise been left untouched and was covered with a thick layer of dust.

So much for the man who had terrorized him and his brothers. Who had meted out harsh punishments and cruel judgments. Who had used women as toys for his amusement.

Given the way he’d thought to use Audrey, was he really any better?

Tomorrow, after selecting an escort to take Celeste to the convent or wherever else she wished to go, he would leave Dunborough and ride to DeLac, as he’d planned. He would refuse Roland’s offer and seek his fortune elsewhere.

With a heavy sigh, but his decision made, he left the chamber.

And came face-to-face with Celeste.

He gasped and took a step back. It was like encountering an angel. Not only was her presence unexpected, but she wore a plain white shift and her hair fell long and loose about her, just as it had when she was young and innocent. When they both were.

But she was no young and innocent child. She was a woman who had been abducted, injured and upset, and she should be in bed. “What are you doing here? What about your ankle? Where’s the apothecary?”

“He’s gone. He went down the servants’ stairs with Lizabet and Peg.” Celeste raised the hem of her shift and held out her bandaged foot. “He put something on it and wrapped it well. It’s much better, and so am I. All I need is rest, he says, and I was resting, until I heard the door to that chamber open and thought it must be you.” She clasped her hands together, her eyes as pleading as a penitent’s. “I want to thank you, Gerrard, for saving me.”

“You’ve done so already. Now you should go back to bed.”

“Will you still be here in the morning?”

“Until the dawn at least.”

“Then you will go.”

“Yes.”

She raised her cut and bruised right hand and placed it lightly on his chest. “Don’t.”

He swallowed hard, for her touch set his blood running hot and full of need, a need that she would never fulfill. “It is for the best.”

And then, because he couldn’t keep the words from being spoken, he said, “Besides, you will soon be gone.”

Her eyes glistened in the light from the torch in the sconce nearby. “Only if you tell me to go.”

His brows lowered, for he scarcely dared to hope that he had heard aright. He could more easily believe her words were the product of his own fervent longing.

* * *

Celeste drew in a long, quivering breath as she looked into his confused, dark eyes. She was taking a great risk, yet in her heart, she knew not speaking would be worse, no matter what the result. She had discovered what she truly desired, what would make her happy and content, secure and peaceful, and it was not life in a convent. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Gerrard, to love and cherish him, come what may, and, God willing, bear his children.

“I mean,” she said, stepping closer, “that I will stay here if you ask me to. Or I will go with you if you ask me to. I want to be with you, wherever you go and whatever you do. I love you, Gerrard. I’ve always loved you, even when you cut off my hair.”

His eyes widened. He couldn’t have looked more astonished if the gates of heaven had opened before him.

That expression lasted only a moment before doubt darkened his handsome visage. “Do you truly mean that, Celeste? I want to believe it, but perhaps what you feel is merely gratitude.” He lowered his head. “After all, I’m not a good man. I have lied and cheated and sinned. I am not nearly good enough for you.”

She reached out and took his hands firmly in hers, now more certain of her feelings for him than she had ever been about anything.

“You
are
a good man, Gerrard,” she assured him. “Perhaps you wandered from the path before, but you’ve changed. You’re the man I always hoped and dreamed you would be, in spite of your upbringing. You’re a man I can admire and respect, as well as love.” She smiled then, and let him see the fullness of her heart.

Then she raised herself on her toes and kissed him.

Instead of responding, he stood stiff and still, and she feared she’d made a terrible mistake, until with a sudden sigh of exultation, he gathered her into his arms and clasped her tightly. “I will never let you go again! I love you, Celeste. I’ve loved you from boyhood, and long before I truly knew what love could be.”

He kissed her passionately, his embrace telling her better than his words how much he loved her, and that she hadn’t been wrong to hope that he cared for her.

He broke the kiss and, still holding her close, whispered in her ear, “I loved you even when you broke my collarbone. I’ll always love you. If you would be my wife...”

“Yes!” she cried, happy beyond measure, until a harsh reality intruded into her joy. “Are you sure, Gerrard? You’ll be marrying the daughter of a merchant, and one who’ll have a very small dowry, or perhaps nothing at all once Audrey’s debts are paid.”

He grinned. “As if I cared about that! Good God, I should have gone to that convent and proposed to you years ago.”

“We would surely have encountered opposition from your family then.”

“There’s no one to oppose us now,” he noted, pulling her back into his arms and pressing featherlight kisses on her cheeks.

“What about Roland?” she asked breathlessly, not quite distracted by his kisses, or the ache beginning in her ankle. “You might not care about my rank or lack of riches, but your brother may.”

Gerrard laughed then, a rich, lovely sound that lessened her worries at once, although not as much as what he said next. “He can’t protest my marriage over a lack of dowry. His own wife lost most of hers in a fire and came here with just the clothes on her back and a bag of coins. And I’m no lord or even a knight.”

Gerrard’s words lifted Celeste’s spirits and she held him close, her face against his chest. “If only my father really
had
left a treasure in the house, as he always said he had. Then I would have more to give you.”

Gerrard pulled back, a confused frown wrinkling his brow. “
Your father
said there was a treasure?”

“Every time he shouted at my mother. He would claim there were gold and jewels hidden in the house, but she would never have any of it. I thought Audrey had found it, until I learned she was in debt. I’ve been searching for it ever since I came here, to no avail.”

“Is that why I saw a light in your house for so long last night?”

Now
she
was confused. “How could you—”

“That tree near your south fence is not a comfortable perch for a watchman.”

“You were
there
?”

“All night,” he admitted.

“Oh, Gerrard, my love!”

“I couldn’t have slept anyway, thinking you were alone and unprotected.”

“And yet there are those who say you care nothing for anyone save yourself.”

“Not anymore,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her again.