Lords of Darkness and Shadow (94 page)

“Sir Sean and I have an understanding of betrothal,” she said as considerately as she could. “Jocelin was not aware of this when he spoke to you. He did not speak with my permission.”

“But he spoke on behalf of your father, who has asked this of him,” Guy said. “My lady, I mean no disrespect, but surely you are aware of Sir Sean’s… loyalties.”

“I am.”

“And yet you would still marry him?”

“I would marry the man, not his politics.”

“But they are one in the same. You are heiress to the House of St. James, one of the king’s strongest opponents. To marry the king’s personal protector would be to forever ostracize your family from her allies. You would be alone, ruined. It would be political suicide.”

She knew that.  Seeds of doubt began to take root. Perhaps she was being too selfish in only thinking of herself.  But looking at Sean, the way the man made her feel, she could not imagine living without him for the rest of her life.  Still, she could not shake the feeling that all of this might only be a passing infatuation. She’d only known Sean a matter of days and already she was willing to risk her family’s future because of her own selfish wants. Confusion and distress, coupled by the residual effects of the drugs that Gilby had given her, weakened her normally strong resolve.

Sheridan took a few steps back, grasping Sean gently by the arm.  She pulled him back, almost to the door, so that they could speak privately. Her lovely face turned to him, the light from the fading moon casting shadows on her features.  From her expression, it was obvious that there was much on her mind.

“When I look at you,” she murmured, “all I see is what I want, not necessarily what is right.”

He understood what she meant. He had been wrestling with the same thing for days. “And when I look at you, I am willing to forget everything I have worked for, everything that I am, just for the chance to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She smiled ironically. “What a pair we make.”

“Indeed.”

“But is it right? I mean, is what we desire the right thing to do? We both risk so very much.”

“I would risk my life for a chance to be with you, however small.”

She put her hand to his cheek and he clapped a massive hand over hers, holding her warm flesh against his. There was tremendous sense of longing in that sweet, brief touch.

“As sudden and irrational as it seems, I would as well,” she murmured. “But I have so much more to consider than just myself. There’s Alys.  There are my family’s holdings. When you demanded marriage of me, I…”

“Demand? Did you say demand?”

“Aye, demand,” she lifted an insistent eyebrow at him.  He grinned, and so did she. “I did not think of anything other than myself. Now I am forced to think of everything other than myself.”

“Are you saying that you would rather marry de Braose?”

“Nay,” she shook her head. “I would rather marry you.  But I am not sure if it is the right thing to do.”

He sighed, his gaze moving across the doorway, out into the yard, back into the corridor, finally falling on Guy and Alys.  After a moment, he refocused on Sheridan.

“I have only known you days,” he said quietly. “But in order to answer your question, I must trust you. Trust is not easily given, not in my profession. What I tell you must never leave your lips. If it does, I will die. Is this understood?”

He was serious. She nodded her head. “Aye.”

He took a deep breath. It was difficult for him. “I am not what you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Allied to the king, part and parcel to his madness. My position with him is well calculated.”

She still didn’t understand. “I am not sure….”

“I am a spy, Sheridan.”

It took a moment for the implication to sink in. Her eyes widened. “You… you spy for…?”

“For William Marshall. I have for almost thirteen years.”

Her hand flew to her mouth, covering the big “O” that had formed.  “Sean,” the hand came down so she could speak. “What are you telling me?”

He grabbed her by both arms, his grip firm and warm and powerful. “I am telling you that my true title is Viscount Trestylan. I have lands and holdings in the Welsh Marches that my family has held before the Norman conquest. But my devotion to my country is so great that I would risk everything to help the resistance against the tyrannical king, as my father did before me.  I chose to become a hated man because it is better to be at the right hand of the Devil than in his path.  Most of the information you and your allies have been fed has come directly from me.  I know all, see all. But in order to maintain the illusion, I have been forced into some unsavory choices and actions.  I am, therefore, very much an ally to the House of St. James.  When you marry me, you will indeed marry a collaborator. Only no one can know about my true loyalties until John is unseated and we have a new king upon the throne.”

Her mouth was back to forming the astonished “O”.  The expression on her face was something he would remember for the rest of his life.

“My God,” she breathed. “Is it true?”

“I swear upon my honor.”

“That explains why you lied to the king about the assembly of nobles you saw in my apartment that night. And it also explains why you saved Alys from his lust.”

“I saved Alys from him because I did not want you to be hurt. Had Alys been any one of the hundreds of other women passing through the king’s bed, I would have let him have his way with her. I would not have risked myself.”

Her hands threaded themselves around his fingers, tightening. “It… it is so difficult to believe all of this.”

“As it should be. I have worked hard to establish my reputation.”

“Who else knows of your true loyalties?”

“A select few, no more than I can count on one hand.”

Several feet away, Guy shifted, noise from his armor echoing against the walls. It reminded them that they were not alone and that time was very short.  As much as Sheridan wanted to linger on Sean’s revelations, she knew their time together was quickly coming to an end. She began to feel a sense of panic.

“What do we do now?” she asked. “I do not want to marry Guy.”

Sean could not leave with her. He could not marry her now. There were too many ingredients mixing into the great pot of chaos at the moment, creating a maelstrom of choices from which to pick. He had to choose the right course of action or all would be lost.

“I know you are unaware of the events of the past several hours, but suffice to say that an attack on London is imminent,” he explained softly, quickly. “De Braose is taking you out of the city, as most of the allies have already fled.  You and Alys must go home.”

“But what of you?” she wanted to know. “What are you going to do?”

He would not tell her of his potential orders to march on Kington, to engage the de Braose army even as he now faced off against one of their kin. Nor would he tell her of the rumors that he was to march on Lansdown. He knew, no matter what his orders, that he would not do that.  Now was not the time to rattle her brain with more information than she could rationally absorb.

“I shall stay here to ensure that London falls to the allies,” he said. “Then I shall go to Lansdown. And you.”

There was great fear in her eyes, not for the siege, but for Sean.  “I do not want to leave you.”

He smiled, kissing both her hands. “Nor I, you. But for your own safety, you must go.”

Sheridan’s gaze moved to Guy, standing silent several feet away. His sword was still drawn. “I swear that I will not marry him. I will commit myself to a convent first.”

Sean’s jaw ticked, feeling helpless to prevent anything from happening until his own tasks were completed. “I trust that you will hold both him and Jocelin off until I can come for you,” he said. “I am sorry I cannot be of more help than that. It would seem that I have my own problems to take care of before you and I can be together.”

She nodded, resigned and renewed. “I shall be strong, have no doubt. I shall look for you to return to me every day.”

He touched her face. He didn’t care if de Braose was looking or not; he kissed her so deeply that he lifted her off the ground.  All he cared about at the moment was the taste, the feel, the smell of her.  He was enraptured.

“My thoughts and affections go with you,” he murmured in her ear. “Not a day will pass that I will not hold you dear in my heart and mind.”

She was close to tears but held herself in check. “I am yours and only yours, for always.”

“Swear it.”

“I do. Oh, I do.”

He kissed her again, his thumbs on her cheeks. He drew in the sight of her, something to keep safe in his memory for the long separation ahead.  With a final wink, he took her arm and led her back to de Braose.

“Take her back to Lansdown,” his request sounded suspiciously like a command. “Make sure that she is well and safe.”

Guy still held the sword. He had witnessed the exchange between the lady and de Lara, though he’d not heard their words.  But the affection between the two was readily apparent. He had not expected this outcome but he did not question it.  As he went to take her arm, somewhat hesitantly, he was shocked to witness de Lara suddenly unsheathing his sword. It was like watching a bolt of lightning strike; flashy, loud, and nearly faster than the eye could track.

Men were rushing in from the courtyard, charging through the open door. It was dark and difficult to see the cluster of bodies filling the small stair well. But one thing was for certain; they were armed to the teeth and heading straight for de Braose.  Sean had his sword leveled defensively, swiftly striking down the first two men who came within close proximity of him. 

His primary concern was to protect Sheridan. In the darkness, it took him a moment to recognize the Royal guards and Gerard’s shaggy head somewhere in the middle of them.  He bellowed above the mob.

“Halt!” he boomed. “Lower your weapons!”

The guards haltingly slowed, obviously prepared for a row. They took their orders directly from Sean, rarely from Gerard, who had given the initial command.  They looked around in confusion as Gerard pushed forward through the group.

“What goes on here?” Gerard asked. “Where are the de Braose men?”

Sean shook his head. “Who told you that?”

Gerard looked around, seeing Alys, terrified, followed by Guy and finally Sheridan. His gaze lingered on Sheridan.

“Who’s that?” he pointed, ignoring Sean’s question completely.

“Answer me,” Sean said in a voice that would tolerate no disobedience. “Who told you de Braose men were here?”

Gerard looked at him. “Sentries saw young de Braose leaving with the St. James women. We came to stop him.”

“Why?”

“All of the allied nobles are leaving, Sean,” Gerard looked at him as if he should have rightly known this. “The king wants answers. De Braose will have them.”

Sean didn’t flinch, but already, he could see the far-reaching implications of what was about to happen. He knew, deep down, that news of the flight would reach the king.  There was no way he could have prevented it with all of the eyes in the Tower. He moved to where Gerard stood; a half-head taller than the man, he hissed at him through clenched teeth.

“What do you think I was trying to do, you idiot?” he snarled. “You come rushing in here like a stampede of cattle and destroy all that I have been attempting to accomplish.”

Gerard widened with understanding. “You intercepted him?”

“Of course I did, fool. Were it not for your intrusion, I would have answers by now.”

Gerard began to realize that he had apparently ruined what Sean had been attempting to achieve. He put his hands up, his expression lined with doubt. “My apologies,” his gaze moved between Sean and the three allies. “I should have known.”

“Aye, you should have.”

“The king wants to talk to de Braose himself.”

Sean couldn’t head him off with all of the men around them as witnesses. His clever try at redeeming the situation had been thwarted.  He was cornered and he had no choice.

“Then take him,” he said. “I will take the women.”

Gerard glanced back over at Alys, sobbing softly with fear, and Sheridan, looking ethereal and angel-like in the soft, misty gray garment she wore.

“Who is the blond?” his voice was low. “I have not seen her around.”

Sean could literally smell the man’s lust and it inflamed him like nothing he had ever experienced in his life.  But he held himself in check. He could not lose control, not now.  The situation was going awry and he had to focus.

“Sheridan St. James,” he replied. “Henry’s eldest.”

Gerard’s face lit up.  He flicked a hand at the guard, indicating for them to grab de Braose. “The king will want to meet her, don’t you think?” he winked at Sean as he turned away.

Sean actually considered killing him. He put the hand on the hilt of his sword and was fully prepared to do just that. But there were too many men around, too many witnesses, and he realized that he had spent far too much time in the king’s service where morals and conscience were not required. He had killed on behalf of the king, too many times, because it had been required of him in order to maintain his post.  He was not, by nature, a murderer. But he had been forced to do what was necessary in order to accomplish his mission.  He began to wonder if, after all these years, he was actually becoming what he pretended to be.  A cold-blooded killer.