Passion's Twins (14 page)

“But?” Rowena prompted.

“I’ve no desire to rob you of the adventure.”

Rowena, her voice squeaking, echoed, “
Adventure?
Serenity has lain empty for months!”

“Except for our bastard half-brother’s illegal occupancy,”
Gareth interjected, “Serenity has gone unoccupied for years.”

“Precisely my point.”

“Except for a few missing slates, the castle roofs are
sound,” Vinn drawled.

Willa frowned, her heart in her eyes. “He inspected them
himself. I nearly died from fright before he came down safely.” Laughing, she added,
“And the wells still hold sweet water.”

“She inspected those herself,” Vinn said, a scowl knitting
his brow. “I had to tie her lest she insist on going down to test the waters
for herself. Luckily someone found her a bucket so she could draw the water.”

“The stables are in good condition.” Pippa spoke for the
first time.

“I’d—we’d gladly loan you a few grooms and lads,” Banan
said, a warm smile for Pippa on his face.

“And Rowena—should you choose Beaufort,” Edina offered,
“will inherit a staff set in their ways. ‘When Queen Beatrix ruled Beaufort
Castle, we always dined at sunset.’”

The perfect mimicry of their stuffy steward’s voice made
even Basil and Beatrix chortle.

Rowena proved herself as adept at mimicry as her sister.
“‘’Tis unseemly, moreover, that sunset occurs at different hours. Someone—King
Basil perhaps?—yes, King Basil must decree that, no matter the season, sunset
must occur at precisely the same time.’”

When the merriment brought another footman to the hall, the
laughter increased. A maid peered over his shoulder and looked as if she’d
wandered into chaos. And wanted out—immediately! But she stood her ground. And
her companion—bless his stalwart footman’s heart—asked, “More beverages, Your Grace?”

Yvonne nodded. “In fact—since we already planned on
celebrating tonight—set up the trestle tables outside the bailey. Then ask the
musicians to set up here in the great hall. We’ll dine outside and dance…” She
shrugged.

Gareth added, “If I could but recall my Latin lessons… The
proper phrase will occur to me. Sooner or later.”

“Most likely while swiving, m’lord.”

“I believe my queen is drunk,” Gareth said to the group.

“Then dance with me until I am sober,” Yvonne retorted.
“Don’t spoil the sport, Gareth. ‘Tis time to let the women make their own
decisions. And
past
time to let your brothers make theirs.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Pfft! I am always right. I am Queen of Marchonland.”

“Until Pippa becomes regent at any rate. Until we leave for
Puttupon where you shall always be queen of my heart.”

“You needn’t carry me, Gareth. I’m not so drunk as that.”

“Oh? I think you are drunk to perfection.”

“Perfection for what purpose?”

“Swiving, my queen. Swiving.”

“Ohhhh, Gareth, you’ve quite swept me off my feet.”

“And I intend to keep you there.”

Two by two the other couples disappeared up the stairs to
their quarters in one of Marchon Castle’s four towers. Standing as if they had
grown roots, Rowena and Edina stared at their feet. Gerard and Edgar gazed at
the highest rafters in the ceiling.

Kerrie, as if afraid of being seen, crouched behind
Alexandre’s wide shoulders.

“I imagine Serenity’s rafters are full of spiders,” Edina
murmured.

“Those the nesting birds haven’t eaten,” Gerard agreed.

“I
hate
spiders.” Rowena shivered. “All those legs
moving along like they’re crawling over someone’s grave. Ugh!”

“I’ll protect you.” Edgar circled her waist and snuggled her
to his side.

“Are you saying you’d rather live at Serenity than at
Beaufort?”

“I am content to leave our living arrangements to you. So
long as we remain—”

Drawing Kerrie to his lap, Alexandre whispered, “This
situation is becoming dangerous.”

Kerrie nodded as she watched Rowena’s expression change
from morose to fury.

She jerked free of Edgar’s arm, saying, “So you refuse to
take even the smallest responsibility for our future! What would you do all
day, Edgar? Sing while our people risk their lives to clean the spiders and
other crawly creatures from our rafters? Ride while our crofters labor to build
dams we need to water our crops? Practice with your sword and battleaxe while
our knights—assuming we can hire any—patrol our borders and keep Serenity safe?
Pah! If that is the kind of man—”

“Enough.” Edgar’s soft command surprised Rowena to silence.
Running shaking fingers through his hair, he tugged on the strands until they
stood on end. He strode the width of the hall then its length until he returned
to Rowena’s side. As if sensing she would recoil from his touch, he clasped his
hands behind his back. Legs braced as if prepared for an enemy’s mortal blow,
he met her condemning gaze.

“I said those things to Edina while she pretended to be you.
I deliberately repeated your name until I knew your sister wanted to shove my
boots down my throat. I forced her to quiz me like a tutor trying to impart a
single drop of knowledge into a pile of desert sand.” He glanced at the toes of
his boots then met Rowena’s gaze once more.

“I failed to provide any information Edina did not ask from
me. Of that I stand guilty and without remorse. But if you think to cry quits,
break your vow to marry me, think again. Long and hard,” he added over his
shoulder as he strode out the doors and into the bailey.

“Have you nothing to say?” Edina demanded of Gerard.

“In Edgar’s defense? No. He has acquitted himself with
honor.”

“B-But,” Rowena turned her pleading gaze to Gerard, “who
will tell me the truth about Edgar?”

“Edgar.” With that Gerard too quit the great hall.

* * * * *

“I knew the lad had courage,” Kerrie said.

“Of course you did,” Alexandre agreed, knowing how hard she
had fought against liking the princesses.

“Basil still has not consented to the marriages.”

“One step at a time, my love.”

“I don’t trust him. In truth, I am quite certain he’ll do
something to delay their weddings—if he doesn’t forbid them outright.”

Alexandre stroked her cheek. “Sweeting, you must trust
Yvonne to make matters right. Two things work in her favor. One, she is our
daughter with all our innate skills. Two, she is Queen of Marchonland. No one
here dares to defy her.”

“Basil will try,” Kerrie muttered, looking sullen.

“Try,” Alexandre repeated, “but not succeed.”

“We can but hope.”

“Trust our daughter, Kerrie. I do.”

“Then so must I.”

* * * * *

Aida’s Tower Guest Quarters

When Edina finally left her alone, Rowena paced the solar
until she thought would wear a rut in the stone floor. She should go to Edgar,
apologize for doubting him. Even before today’s debacle, she’d sensed a greater
depth to him than he allowed others to see. But after all that had passed
between them—the tricks she’d played, the doubts she’d harbored until he faced
her squarely—would he believe her?

If he didn’t… She’d make him see the truth. See that she
loved him. And what he’d said about crying quits gave her hope that he loved
her too. He wouldn’t make it easy for her. She recognized he too had his pride.
But if she had to, she’d camp outside his tent and match his every step.

Racing down the winding tower stairs, ignoring people
milling around in the great hall, she sped through the crowded bailey and over
the drawbridge. Breathless, she arrived at the tent Edgar shared with Gerard.
Before fear of rejection could overcome her resolve, she rushed inside.

“What do you want, Rowena?” Edgar flicked an uncaring glance
in her direction then turned his back on her.

“I…wanted to see you, talk to you. Please, Edgar, no matter
how much you despise me, please hear me out.”

His shoulders heaved as if they bore a burden far too
weighty for him to carry. “Just now I cannot look at you.”

“Just now I cannot bear your eyes on me. ‘Tis easier—like confessing
to a priest who cannot see my face if you will—to say this to your back.”

“I’m no priest, Rowena.”

“But I am a penitent, Edgar.” Sighing, she sat upon the low
stool at the foot of his only chair. Gerard apparently had had his belongings
moved to Marchon Castle. She hoped that, having forgiven her, Edgar would sit
in that single chair and draw her into his arms. Unable to discern what held
his attention, she asked in a small voice, “What are you doing, Edgar?”

At length—just when she feared he would never answer—he
said, “Vinn provided a list of critical requirements to make Serenity
self-sufficient. I am assessing how those requirements might need enhancing. I
am also assessing how best to defend the keep within. Wherever you decide to
live, Serenity will be safe.”

“And if I choose to remain with you at Beaufort? What then,
Edgar?” Would he foreswear his vow to marry her? Or did his words, his concern
about Serenity, mean he intended to keep her?

“Then Edina and Gerard will implement my proposals for
Serenity.”

“And if I choose Serenity?”

“The choice is yours, Rowena. It matters little to me where
I live. So long as I am able to train, to ride, to
sing
…I am happy.”

The bitterness in his voice made her choke back her tears.
“I wish…I wish you would share in this decision, Edgar. Would you find it
easier to command an army of your own making? Or would you prefer leading an
already established force?”

He went utterly still. “I have trained green squires and
pages, turned them into fit men-at-arms and knights. I have led seasoned
knights into battle. It matters not which I prefer. Despite all efforts—despite
all their training or who trains them—some will die. We can but pray most will
survive.”

“Do you, like Gerard, sit on Gareth’s Advisory Council?”

“Aye.”

“Does Gareth solicit your advice?”

“Sometimes.”

Rowena huffed a sigh of pure frustration. She could hardly
blame Edgar for making this encounter as difficult as he could. But could he
not at least offer a crumb of unasked-for information?

“About what?”

He turned as if surprised to find her still in his tent.
Sitting on a stool, her knees scrunched to her chest, her arms holding her
knees in place.

“What about what?”

“About what does Gareth solicit your advice?”

“Oh. This and that.”

The tiniest hint of laughter in his voice gave her hope that
his stubbornness weakened. Summoning her own obstinacy, surging to her feet,
she strode to his side.

“Edgar, please! Your Royal Highness of Puttupon, I would
hear from your lips, and only yours, what role you fill in Gareth’s kingdom.”

“Very well, Princess Rowena of Beaufort.” Taking her hand,
he led her back to his chair then settled with her on his lap. “I come to you a
landless bridegroom yet not a penniless one.”

Laughing, she pecked his cheek and leaned her head on his
muscled shoulder. “I’ve never enjoyed riddles, my prince.”

“Too bad because you’ll solve this riddle. Or suffer the
consequences. How much do you know about Yvonne’s father Alexandre?”

When her thumb and index finger separated a scant distance,
Edgar slowly expelled his held breath. Prepared, braced for her scorn, he said,
“You do know he was a merchant?”

“A trader, aye.”

“
Trader
is an apt description,” Edgar agreed.

“Meaning?”

Edgar pecked her cheek, hastening to say, “Garr—my
father—thought Alexandre a fool. A canny fool, but a fool nonetheless.”

“Pray continue.”

“I thought Alexandre a genius. He invested wisely and
accrued wealth beyond even my father’s never-ending lust for ever-greater riches.”

When Rowena’s shoulders fell, Edgar knew he had lost her.
And yet… He could not—would not!—set her free to choose another.
Mine,
Rowena. You are mine!

After what seemed like an eternity, Edgar said, “You
will
cry quit.”

“I shall not!” Rowena cried out as if wishing the entire
encampment to hear her words. “King Garr trafficked with a merchant trader,
aye?”

“Aye,” Edgar agreed, caution overriding other emotions.
Would Rowena, princess royal, renounce his father? Renounce
him
because
he too had trafficked with a merchant? Would she, his very life, put a dagger
through his heart?

“May I assume you—?”

“No, you mayn’t. I was too young to invest. Besides, I had
no coin. But Gareth and Gerard—”

“Invested in Alexandre’s ventures?” she hazarded.

“And soon reaped a fortune. They agreed to share their
wealth with me. Eventually they learned that I am better at choosing profitable
ventures than they are. I have even trekked with Queen Kerrie’s confidant
Farid.”

“Where did you go? And why does no one talk about this
Farid?”

“We traveled here and there.”

“Edgar,” she warned, as if sensing he was about to make her
pull hens’ teeth. Again.

He laughed. Sobering, he said, “As to why nobody talks about
him,” he shrugged, “perhaps Willa and Pippa do not remember him. Yvonne was old
enough to recall him but…grief over her mother’s death may have driven him from
her mind.”

“Hmmm. Tell me about your travels.”

“That, sweeting, is best left for cold winter nights. For a
blazing fire and a warm bed.”

“Whose bed, Edgar?”

“Ours,” he replied, touching her faint scar.

She spun away, her skirts flaring. “Then you can hire our
army! You can protect Serenity.” Spinning back to him, she smiled, pure joy in
her eyes.

Catching her in his arms, his lips hovering above hers,
Edgar whispered, “Or Beaufort. The choice, Rowena, is still yours.”