Authors: The Knight of Rosecliffe
Rexanne Becnel (24 page)
But what of his English ally? What of Simon LaMonthe?
Rhonwen had no answer for that. No solution. First she must find Rhys. After that … after that she would do everything
in her power to turn him away from Rosecliffe. Somehow she would stop him. Somehow.
in her power to turn him away from Rosecliffe. Somehow she would stop him. Somehow.
Half a day later, Rhonwen leaned stiff-armed against a lime tree, fighting for breath and for calm. She must not panic!
But it was hard to remain calm when the sun was past its zenith. She’d not come upon Rhys. Had she gone wrong?
She caught her breath, listening. The wind had risen, though the sky remained bright. Only thin, hazy clouds obscured the sun. There were no signs of an impending storm. Yet everything felt somehow askew. She knew it, as did the small creatures of the forest.
Perhaps Rhys sensed it as well. Perhaps he’d called off this mad plan. She hoped it was so, but she did not believe it. So she listened and after a moment she heard it, the boom of the surf against the rocky shore. She’d not gone wrong. If Rhys came along the coast, she must meet with him soon.
She pressed a hand to her aching side. She was no longer hungry; that pain was long gone. But she was tired. Her feet ached. Her hands were scraped and the stitch in her side was a recurring aggravation. But she must go on. So she took a deep breath and started forward.
It was then she heard it. A twig snapped.
She halted; her heart pounded with a new urgency. Was it Rhys or one of his men?
Something hit her shoulder and she whirled around. A pebble ricocheted to the ground and her eyes darted wildly about. It must be him, tossing small rocks at her. Teasing her as he’d always done.
“Rhys?” she called. “Come out. Don’t tease me, for I have come a long way to find you. Rhys? Rhys!”
Something moved to her left and she jerked to see. When there was nothing there, she jerked around again—
And came face-to-face with Jasper.
Jasper tossed the remaining pebbles at Rhonwen’s feet. She had expected Rhys. That came as no surprise. Who else could she have been running to?
Yet the undeniable proof of her betrayal still caught him unaware. Like a low blow in a camp brawl, it nearly doubled him over. He sucked in a painful breath.
“You were expecting Rhys,” he said, relieved at the even tenor of his voice. “I’m afraid, Rhonwen, that you are destined ever to be disappointed by that one.”
She backed away, but her eyes remained fixed warily upon him. Her color was high, he noted. Her plait had begun to unravel and shredded bits of leaves and twigs clung to the dark tangle. The hem of her gown was muddy and torn, and her shawl was tied in a lump around her hips. All in all, she was ragged and disheveled, more an earthy wood nymph than the fine lady Josselyn would make of her. But to Jasper’s eyes she was beautiful. Beautiful but treacherous, and never again to be trusted
She’d betrayed him in the worst way a woman could, and she’d played him for a fool. But he would never be fooled by her again.
He advanced on her, reining in any sign of either fury or pain. This time she would pay for her duplicity. “Did you
truly think you could escape Rosecliffe Castle so easily?” he taunted. “Tumble me once or twice and you could befuddle me sufficiently for you to escape through the postern gate?”
truly think you could escape Rosecliffe Castle so easily?” he taunted. “Tumble me once or twice and you could befuddle me sufficiently for you to escape through the postern gate?”
He laughed derisively, but he knew the truth. Her plan had worked. She’d come to him so sweetly, so willingly, with words of love upon her lips. And he’d believed every word. He’d been a fool to offer her marriage, and an even bigger fool to believe she’d changed her mind. But then, he’d been a colossal fool from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.
Even when he’d awakened to find her gone he’d been unable to admit the truth. He’d torn the castle apart searching for her. Then he’d found the postern gate unbarred, and he’d finally been doused with the cold reality of what she’d done.
“You were a sweet mouthful,” he continued. “But I’ve tasted innumerable women. You were just one more among them.”
He hurt her with that lie. He meant to do it and when she gasped and raised one hand to her throat, he knew he’d succeeded. It didn’t ease his pain, though. If anything, it increased it. But he brutally ignored his own aching heart and pressed on.
“He’s not here, Rhonwen. It should be plain by now that Rhys is not going to rescue you. And I’m not going to let you go.”
“Why?” Her voice was thin and shaky. He could barely hear her in the chaos of the rising wind. “If I mean so little to you, why will you not just let me go?”
Then, like a startled doe, she turned and fled.
Though caught unprepared, Jasper was swift in his pursuit. She was small and fleet of foot, despite her weariness. But he was stronger and he was driven by the devil, it seemed. He caught her shoulder, but she twisted away. Around an oak, then skidding down a hill, she lengthened her lead. But he hurtled a felled tree trunk that she had to climb over. He was gaining on her. Then he launched himself at her and caught her around the waist.
With a shrill cry followed by a grunt, she went down, though he managed to cushion her fall. But that did not end
their battle. When he shifted his position, she swung at him, catching the side of his head with her fist. But Jasper was impervious to her blows. With a jerk he rolled over and she was suddenly trapped beneath him.
their battle. When he shifted his position, she swung at him, catching the side of his head with her fist. But Jasper was impervious to her blows. With a jerk he rolled over and she was suddenly trapped beneath him.
Just as suddenly she ceased her struggles.
They lay in a newly green bed of ferns, locked in an intimate embrace, made obscene by all the wrong emotions. Fear and rage were all wrong. Jasper knew it and yet could do nothing to change them. She was afraid of him and he wanted to strangle her.
He drove his fingers into her hair, locking her head in place. His breath came in hard gasps. Her chest heaved and fell in an equally violent pattern.
He wanted her. God, but he wanted her! He would have married her, had she agreed. But now—
“Let me go, Jasper. Please,” she begged him quietly. “The world is coming to an end. Newlin said so. Please, just let me go.”
“The world is coming to an end?” He snorted derisively. “’Tis only a storm. We’ve weathered worse.”
“No, no!” Tears started in her eyes, but he would not let her look away. He wanted to see her pain. He needed to.
“Something terrible is going to happen,” she whispered. “Please, just listen to me.”
“What? What is going to happen?”
“I don’t know, not exactly.”
“That’s because it’s already happened. I’ve got you back and your precious Rhys can‘t—or won’t—do anything about it.”
He glared at her and saw tears slip down her cheeks and disappear into her hair. A smudge on one of her cheeks showed the clean trail of two of those tears.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered, then rolled off her. He yanked her to her feet and swore again. Then he started up the hill, dragging her behind him.
They’d nearly reached the crest of the hill where he’d first found her, and he’d nearly gotten his anger under control when Helios whickered. At once Jasper stilled. He pushed Rhonwen
down, and simultaneously wrapped a hand around her mouth as he drew out his sword.
down, and simultaneously wrapped a hand around her mouth as he drew out his sword.
“Keep quiet,” he hissed in her ear. “Keep quiet and I might not put this blade through your beloved Rhys’s black heart.” She nodded, but that only deepened his rage. Damn her for loving Rhys ap Owain!
He crept forward, not daring to let go of her. She moved alongside him, but she clutched at his tunic with one hand, and wrapped her other hand around the wrist of his hand that muzzled her. He could almost believe she clung to him, for there was no longer any resistance in her.
But there was no time for that sort of speculation. He strained to hear, but Helios was silent. Nothing else was, however. The trees groaned and birds called out in agitation. Nightcatchers and ravens and kestrels. A rabbit bolted practically from beneath his feet.
What in God’s name was going on? The day was bright, yet in every other way a storm seemed to threaten.
“Jasper,” Rhonwen managed to say, though his fingers muffled her. “Jasper.”
“Shh.” He forced her to kneel behind a boulder near the crest of the hill. Someone was nearby. Several someones. Though Jasper had parted ways with his men an hour before, he was not certain it was them. He craned his neck to see.
“Save yourself,” Rhonwen whispered.
The hairs on the back of Jasper’s neck prickled and he spared another glance down at her. Why would she say that? Did she know something he did not?
Had he, in his rage, hunted her into Rhys’s lair—into a trap? Then an even worse thought blindsided him. Had she lured him into that trap?
Had that been her role at Rosecliffe all along?
His right hand tightened around her mouth, the left on the hilt of his sword. If his world was to end this day, he would take his share of Welshmen into the hereafter with him.
“ … can’t be far …” a Welsh voice carried above the increasing winds.
“Fan out. Find him,” another answered.
So, it was as he suspected. Jasper steeled himself against any hint of fear and glanced about, searching for the best position from which to make his stand. The undergrowth was still thin and the forest bright. To run would not get them far. But even as he studied the slope of the hill, the sunlight began to fail. Sunshine and shadows evened out to gray.
He peered back over the hill and saw a small band of men. One of them held Helios’s bridle. Rhys ap Owain!
His options were now clear. Stand and fight—and probably die, for he was not likely to defeat so many. Or run and hopefully elude them. He looked down at Rhonwen. There was little time.
“Come with me.” He released her, allowing her to run or cry out or whatever she wanted to do. It was madness to trust her, but then, he’d been a madman from the first day he’d spied her beside the river. “Come with me, Rhonwen, while there is still time.”
She stared at him as if unable to comprehend what he asked of her. “I … I cannot.”
“You can.”
“ … to the river. You two, come with me …” The voice drew nearer. Rhys’s voice.
Jasper flexed the wrist of his sword hand. If he did not leave now, he’d have to fight Rhys. Though he’d been prepared to do that all along—indeed, he welcomed the chance to meet his foe in battle—suddenly he did not want Rhonwen to witness that confrontation.
“Go, Jasper!” She pointed down the hill toward the river.
“Go, please. While you still can!”
But Jasper did not want to go, not without her. The wind blew her hair back and molded her moss-green gown against her slender body. Had ever a woman pleased him so—or tortured him more?
He stepped forward to catch her hand and somehow convince her. But an enraged cry halted him.
“FitzHugh! Touch her and you will die!”
“No!” Rhonwen gasped.
“Get away from him, Rhonwen,” the Welsh rebel ordered triumphantly.
“Please, Rhys. Don’t do this. He—”
“Do as he says,” Jasper interrupted her. He held his sword up and pointed the razor-sharp blade at his nemesis. “Go on, Rhonwen. Get away from here.”
“Jasper. Rhys.” She pleaded first with one and then the other. But Jasper circled away from her, and with a gesture from Rhys, two of his men caught her arms and dragged her away. “No! Don’t do this! Don’t kill him!”
Who did she mean? Jasper wondered as he took his opponent’s measure. Whose life did she hope to spare?
A tree branch creaked above him, then cracked and crashed down between him and Rhys. He jumped back, as did his adversary. Perhaps the storm would come to his aid, Jasper hoped. He glanced up to gauge the storm, but he saw no clouds to speak of, only a fitful haze. A strange foreboding ran down his spine, and despite the men who surrounded him, he searched the heavens.
What he saw chilled him to the core. “God’s bones!”
Rhys glanced up, then stared wide-eyed at the sky. He too cursed, though in Welsh. One by one the other men craned their necks, then fell back in horror, pointing up at the sky and blubbering in fear.
Jasper was dumbfounded by the vision in the sky. Then he recalled Rhonwen’s remark. Newlin had foretold the end of the world. Could it be true?
Around them the light began to falter. It was midday. The sun hung high in the sky. But it was disappearing before their very eyes. “God save us,” Jasper muttered. “God save us all.” Bit by bit the sun was eroding, disappearing, and with it the heat and light it afforded. The very light of the world.
“’Tis as was foretold,” one of the cowering men shouted. “
When noon comes black as beetle’s back!
” The man turned and bolted. Another of his comrades followed suit. Helios whinnied and reared, then tore away from the terrified fellow holding him.
When noon comes black as beetle’s back!
” The man turned and bolted. Another of his comrades followed suit. Helios whinnied and reared, then tore away from the terrified fellow holding him.
Was it the end of the world? Jasper wondered. Then he
searched for Rhonwen. If it was the end of the world, running would save no one. Better to die alongside the woman he loved than to die alone.
searched for Rhonwen. If it was the end of the world, running would save no one. Better to die alongside the woman he loved than to die alone.
Ignoring Rhys and the increasing dark, he darted toward Rhonwen. Cursing, Rhys came after him. But Rhonwen eluded Jasper. “Get away. Get away!” she screamed at him. Then she ran into Rhys’s arms.
Jasper hesitated, staring at her, stunned. Rhys hugged her a moment, then tried to set her aside. But she clung to him, preventing his pursuit, and finally Jasper reacted. Taking advantage of the dark and the confusion, and Rhonwen’s interference, he flew down the hill, in the same direction Helios had gone.
He ran, dodging and twisting, through brush and whipping branches, through darkness and wind. But every pounding step drove home the bitter truth. She’d chosen Rhys.
She’d chosen Rhys every time she was presented a choice. He paused behind a rocky outcropping, winded, and dropped to one knee, fighting for breath. How many times must he be faced with the truth before he would recognize it? How many times?
He glanced around, straining to hear any sounds of pursuit. The wind had eased somewhat, but it was nearly as dark as night. Then his eyes fixed on a movement. A rabbit crouched beneath a nightshade, not two paces distance from him. Too frightened to run—or too wise. Jasper peered up at the sky, searching for the sun above the strangely shadowed forest.
It was gone. It was gone, and only a faint halo burned into the heavens marked where it once had been.
He made a sign of the cross. He’d prepared himself to die by the sword, but to witness the end of the world?
Then, as he squinted, the edge of the sun reappeared. He blinked and shielded his eyes with one hand. What was happening? Was the sun coming back?
He did not waste time judging the answer. If the sun was gone, all was lost anyway. But if it was coming back, he must act quickly. He pushed to his feet and the rabbit dashed away.
Heartened, he continued on, more careful now of his direction and the trail he left.
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