An Uncertain Choice

I knew Trudy wouldn’t agree to my descent into the dungeon, which was another reason why I’d waited until the darkest hours of the night to make the trip, after my nursemaid’s snores filled my chamber.

Bartholomew disappeared around the winding steps, taking the light with him, thereby leaving me in growing blackness. I stumbled after the old guard before I let fear keep me from doing what I knew I must.

As much as I wanted to turn around and run back to fresh air and the safety of the upper levels, there was something driving me that I couldn’t ignore. I had to see Derrick.

And if I was honest with myself, I knew my desire to see him went beyond my promise to the duke.

I cared about him. And I’d believed he’d begun to feel the same way about me. I had a driving need to discover the truth before I moved to the convent.

Even if it didn’t change the outcome of becoming a nun and fulfilling the Ancient Vow, at least I would have peace in knowing the answer.




I leaned my head back against the stone wall, heedless of the webs and dust that caught in the dirty strands of my hair. I rubbed my hands over my arms, attempting to bring warmth to my chilled flesh.

Even though it was mid-summer, the heat didn’t reach into the underground pit. And it certainly couldn’t touch the cold emptiness of my heart — ?a coldness that had gripped me since the moment I’d looked into Rosemarie’s eyes and seen her mistrust and confusion.

I wasn’t sure what pained me more: the knowledge that she could believe me capable of the misdeeds, or the fact that I’d lost her.

Of course, maybe I’d never really had her to begin with . . .

I released a pent-up breath, the foul, dank air swirling around me.

If only I’d stayed true to my earlier conviction that I didn’t have the right to win her heart. If only I’d worked harder to keep my distance from her.

But even as the thought pushed through me, anger chased it away. It wouldn’t have mattered which of us had won her heart, as the outcome would have been the same. One of us would have ended up in chains.

I wasn’t quite sure who had murdered the sheriff and who had threatened Bennet and Collin, but I had a suspicion that somehow the abbot was behind it all. His last threat had been clear — ?if I wanted to keep Rosemarie from getting hurt next, I needed to willingly hand myself over.

I’d been afraid the duke would resist, that he’d force the abbot to free me. But thankfully he hadn’t protested too strongly. The duke knew me too well. He realized I’d do anything to ensure Rosemarie’s safety and that there was no way he’d stop me from handing myself over to the abbot if it meant I’d protect her.

What wasn’t clear was why the abbot wanted to keep Rosemarie from getting married. For whatever reason, the man of God seemed to think Rosemarie would be better off spending her life in the convent.

Maybe she would. At least there, she’d be safe.

But what did the abbot have to gain from her living there? The question wouldn’t leave my mind. Certainly he stood to gain something. Otherwise, why bring the competition to an end?

A scuffling sounded in the hallway outside my cell. Other than the jailer who brought me food several times a day, and the visits from my squire when the guards would allow, the rats were my only companions in the deserted dungeon.

I could at least count my blessings I was being fed. And that the jailer had scraped the muck from the cell and strewn the floor with fresh straw. Even though he’d been a gruff man, he hadn’t abused me, at least not yet.

A creak at the far end of the hallway pushed me up from my spot on the floor. I stared in the direction of the doorway as it began to open, letting in the light that had become all too rare over the past two days. Wariness quickly sprang to life and my muscles tensed.

I knew it was night based on the delivery of my last meal and the fact that the jailor hadn’t visited me again. Anyone else coming in the middle of the night would surely only bring trouble.

The door opened completely, and the light of a torch spilled into the dungeon, illuminating my cell and the empty one across from me. I flattened myself against the damp wall and wiped my grimy hands across my eyes. When I looked again, I saw an angel.

It was Rosemarie following behind her guard. Her hair was loose and floated around her head like a halo. The glint of the flame turned the strands to pure gold.

My chest tightened with a sudden surge of desire to hear her voice, to stand near her, and to know she was safe.

“Derrick,” she whispered, searching the opposite cell.

Although my noble self prodded me to stay hidden in the shadows, to let her go once and for all, I couldn’t resist pushing away from the wall and moving to the center of my cell. All I wanted to do was see her face one last time.

At my movement, she gasped and spun. “Derrick.” Her voice had a breathless quality, and did I detect just a tiny amount of joy? Was she glad to see me?