shadow and lace (37 page)

Rowena tossed her hair back. Harsh bark cut into her shoulder as she came up against a tree. She forced herself to laugh, blinding herself to the pain she was causing him, biting back the truth about who murdered Elayne because she knew it would utterly destroy him.

"Shall you have me now, Gareth? Shall you bed me as you bedded all those other women who dared to look at you askance? Will you use your body as a weapon to silence me? Or will you close your eyes and pretend I am my mother? Have you been doing that from the beginning?"

He continued to advance on her. His lip curled in a snarl meant to be a smile. "I've already had you. And I must say you tumbled into my bed easier than most. I suppose you cannot help it with the blood of a whore flowing through your veins."

Rowena forgot she had been deliberately goading him. She forgot everything but the haze of red that drifted over her eyes. Her fist came around, slamming into his jaw in a blow that staggered him and would have fallen a lesser man.

Her every knuckle ached as if it had been shattered, but that could not silence the perverse triumph singing through her veins. The melody was sweet but brief. As Gareth caught her shoulders and pinned her against the tree, she began to ponder the consequences of her actions. To her surprise, he was grinning like a naughty demon spurned from the gates of hell. His face, stripped of light, was not the face of a loving man she had known once in another lifetime, but the face of a young man little more than a boy—wild with infatuation, sick with jealousy.

"You golden-haired little bastard. I always knew you'd be more trouble than you were worth."

His lips closed on hers. He pushed his fingers through her hair, drawing her head back until her mouth was helpless beneath the merciless assault of his kiss. The taste of his blood stung her tongue where her blow had driven his cheek against his teeth. Rowena felt herself drawn into the maelstrom of his dark desire as if every moment of her life had brought her to this place to be held captive by her love for this man.

She moaned as his tongue feverishly stroked the deepest recesses of her mouth. His knee slipped between her legs, nudging upward with crass finesse until her own fingers crept up to tangle in his hair. He drew back. There was no darkness on earth black enough to dim the luminous emotion in Rowena's eyes.

His breathing was harsh. "You are a fool, milady. You should have fled with your father." He caught her face roughly between his palms. "If I murdered your mother, do you not believe me capable of murdering you? Your fickle heart has cut me far deeper than Elayne's ever could." He stroked her trembling bottom lip with his thumb.

Rowena laced her fingers in his and drew his hands downward. She pressed his palms to the thundering pulse in her throat and held them fast, even when they jerked convulsively.

"Go on," she said. "Murder me if 'tis what you desire. You hated me when I was a babe. You hate me now. You can tell them I fled with Papa. There are leaves enough to cover my body. No one will ever know. I shall try not to struggle. There. Would it be easier if I closed my eyes?"

Gareth's fingers tightened slightly.

Rowena kept her eyes closed, steeling her body against the trembling that threatened to seize it. "Why do you hesitate? You were going to kill Papa, were you not? Can you deny it? You were going to condemn him without benefit of questioning or trial, just as you were condemned. I set him free. So should I not take his place in the executioner's hands?" Her arms crept down to her sides. She stood there, achingly passive in the power of a man who could snap her neck with a single flex of his broad thumbs.

Gareth's grip softened. Rowena's eyes fluttered open.

"Nay, sweet ladylove. The freedom of death will be denied you." His lips brushed her earlobe in a mocking caress. "These executioner's hands can think of a thousand pleasant things to do to you that they could not do to your papa. You will serve me well enough alive. I will see to that." His eyes sparkled with an odd light as he knelt at her feet and tore the hem from her skirt. "Give me your hands."

Rowena felt as if they were reliving a scene that had happened centuries ago. "There is no need."

"You've been running from me ever since you promised that the first time."

Rowena held out her wrists, and he twined the length of brocade around them.

"If I try to run, you could just hit me over the head with something," she mumbled.

"I prefer my women conscious," he said in clipped tones. "I hate for them to wake up tender and sated and not remember why."

Rowena felt a flare of genuine hatred. "An honorable nobleman, are you not?"

He jerked the bond, making her crash into his chest. He pulled her up until they were nose to nose. "You stole any hope of honor for me when you freed your father. 'Tis time I started living up to my reputation. If you give me another of your speeches on chivalry, I swear I shall gag you."

Rowena wisely bit back a retort.

They emerged from the forest to find Gareth's mount grazing in the meadow. The destrier lifted his massive  head. Despite his jarring size, he lacked the prancing nervousness of Folio and stood docile as Gareth secured f a rope around Rowena's snug bonds and mounted.

Without so much as a glance at her, Gareth nudged the horse into a sedate walk. Rowena supposed it was of no import to him whether she stumbled behind or lay down and was dragged back to Ardendonne on her belly. She prodded her feet into motion.

Ardendonne winked like a misty diamond studding a dusky crown, the parapets and towers silhouetted against the pitching clouds. She was shocked to find it so near. Folio's speed and her fear had led her to believe they had left it far behind. How could its glow remain so welcoming when her whole life had been shattered? The winds gusted, carrying over the rustling grasses a clarion's song, distorted by time and distance. She swiped a tear from her cheek with bound hands. When Gareth pivoted in his saddle, she was plodding behind him, her eyes locked on the ground.

He snorted. "Such a charming picture of persecution. I daresay you would look lovely gracing a cathedral window. Your demure stance and blameless eyes would melt the heart of the staunchest sinner."

"If he had a heart."

Gareth's tone was deliberately light. "If such a sinner had any dealings with women, no doubt his heart was cut out and fed to his lady for supper."

"Then God take pity on her, for she would have starved on such meager fare."

Gareth doubled the horse's pace. Rowena stumbled after him, too angry to regret her impertinence. She gave a start of surprise as his voice rang out in a lusty baritone.

Mortimer would have never dared sing of these amorous adventures of a wench named Rosaleen in mixed company. Rowena did not understand half of the lewd verses, but from the dark glances Gareth hurled over his shoulder after the most perverse lyrics, she had the discomfitting sensation that she would before this night was over. When she could no longer bear his gloating smirk, she joined in and bellowed out the next chorus with such enthusiasm that Gareth lapsed into brooding silence.

Her satisfaction was short-lived. The graceful arch of Blaine's bridge clattered under the horse's hooves. Wind and moon raked the lake into silvered peaks. The drawbridge loomed before them like a black tongue poised to draw them inside the yawning maw of the castle. Rowena shivered as they passed beneath the arch, all that was grace in Ardendonne's construction dying in the first stale breath of its debauchery.

The bailey reeked of stale wine, sweat and a potpourri of earthy smells Rowena did not dare to name. As Gareth dismounted, her gaze went of its own volition to the stable at the bottom of the hill. He tossed the reins to a squire she did not recognize. The boy's eyes widened as they fell on the rope which bound her to Gareth.

Gareth jerked on Rowena's bonds, paying her no more heed than if she were a recalcitrant terrier on the end of a leash.

"Have you… ? Where… ?" Rowena started, but could not find the words to finish.

"Did you expect to find your brothers' heads piked on the gate? Sorry to disappoint you. I've decided to stop holding them responsible for the willful acts of their relations."

Rowena choked out a sigh of relief. It was not nearly as late as she had imagined. The squires still rattled their dice on the cobblestones. The stuporous peasant had been replaced by a snoring herald.

The squires slyly nudged each other and muttered among themselves as those who were not blind drunk spotted Rowena and Gareth.

A knight stumbled out of the door, dragging a plainly garbed maid. He thrust her to her knees in front of him, his hands fumbling with the points of his hose.

Rowena hastily looked away.

"Before this night is over, I shall remedy your shyness," Gareth murmured.

Rowena's feet froze. She did not even feel Gareth's eyes on her as he turned to gauge the effect of his cruel words. She paled as her fragile illusions camecrashing down around her. Somehow she had convinced herself that there was nothing he could do to her that she could not forgive. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had even harbored the childish hope that he might forgive her, that he would laugh away her folly and draw her under his arm with a tender kiss. She swayed as a pain more piercing than grief speared her heart.

Wrapping the rope around his fist, Gareth reeled her in like a fish.

He steeled himself against the lost eyes she raised to his face. "Come, Rowena," he growled. "I am in no mood for dillydallying."

Her gaze darted wildly around the courtyard. "I cannot bear them staring at me."

"You will learn to bear it soon enough. I did."

He jerked the rope, but her feet stayed rooted to the cobblestones. He jerked harder, and she dragged her feet, her lips set in a mutinous line.

Gareth's entire countenance dissolved in a sweetness so profound that Rowena was terrified. He caught her shoulders and drove her straight back into the shadows until the stone wall dug into her shoulder blades. His hand cupped her head as he-bent her over his arm in a kiss so darkly passionate that even the most astute observer would have sworn they were lovers too long torn apart. A snicker from the squires was followed by a bray of laughter.

Gareth drew back. His arms stilled her frantic struggle with no visible effort. "I swear to you, my ladylove," he said between clenched teeth, "if you are so eager for my touch that you can go no further, then we will take our pleasure here like those others."

In counterpoint to his threat came a rustle in the ivy behind them, a man's groan thick with the muted agony of pleasure. Rowena's fingers tugged on his sleeves, and she pressed her forehead to his breastbone in a wordless plea.

Gareth shoved her roughly into motion, the cost of his cruelty betrayed by his harsh breathing and the stiff jut of his jaw.

His stride was sure and steady as he marched them into the hall. He ducked beneath the linked hands of the dancers in an unswerving path for the stairs. When Rowena faltered, he jerked the rope, ignoring the horrified gasps and offended glares from those not draped insensibly over the tables or each other. Rowena knew she must look like a hoyden. She had lost her slippers. Her hair hung in tangled disarray down her back. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of something smudged with dirt, which she could only assume was her nose. The ruby kirtle hung in lank tatters around her ankles.

She shrank into herself, believing their disapproval was of her. The last plucked note of the psaltery wavered in the air. A dwarf stopped pounding his tabor, and a steady murmur swelled to a hum.

"How dare he!"

"The poor child."

"Heartless wretch!"

"He may treat her like an animal on his own lands, but surely Sir Blaine will not allow it in the sanctity of his castle."

Gareth stared straight ahead, as if he had been struck blind as well as deaf.

They had reached the stairs when Blaine broke from the crowd and stepped in front of them. His expression held such kind concern that Rowena felt tears sting her eyes. Alise hovered at Blaine's elbow like a nervous wren.

The crowd held their breath, straining to hear Blaine's soft words. "For once, they are right, Gareth. I cannot allow this."

No one had to strain to hear Gareth's reply. "She stole my steed and gave it to another man."

Even Blaine winced and recoiled from those words. A horrified murmur went up from the crowd. Alise smiled.

Blaine went down on one knee at Rowena's feet and caught her bound hands in his own. "Sweet lady, say it is not so! Did you not know what a mount means to his knight? What the stallion was worth?"

Rowena forced a wry smile. "More than me, it seems."

Gareth interrupted. "If you will cease groveling at the thief's feet, we will proceed."

Blaine stood, his slender form possessing more dignity than Rowena would have thought possible. "Gareth, I beg you. Surely for the sake of our friendship, you could show mercy to this sweet—"

Gareth's words fell like thunderclaps in the hushed silence. "Felon. She stole my horse. Do I take her upstairs or would you care to hang her?" He thrust the end of the rope at Blaine as if it were of no concern to him which course was taken.