An Uncertain Choice

“Unless my servants can uncover the truth first.” She drew her cloak about her. “I won’t let them rest until they’ve questioned every person in the land.”


Her declaration sent warmth pouring over me and I almost reached for her again. But she spun away, following her guard back down the passageway.

I pushed against the bars, the cold rusted iron bruising me. I wanted to call out after her not to leave me, that I couldn’t bear to be away from her again, that I didn’t see how I could go on in life without her.

The truth was, I loved her. Deeply and truly.

I hadn’t meant to fall in love with her, had tried not to, hadn’t thought I was worthy. But somehow, over the past month, it had happened anyway. Maybe I’d even fallen in love that first day I’d ridden through Ashby and watched her frantic efforts to stop the torture in the town square.

Whatever the case, I couldn’t deny the truth any longer. “My lady,” I called after her.

Already in the doorway, she stopped. In the faint glow of the guard’s light, she was achingly beautiful. In fact, she was so much more than I’d ever imagined she’d be — ?intelligent, kind, thoughtful.

Her bright blue eyes regarded me with expectation.

I swallowed hard but couldn’t get out the words I wanted to say, that I loved her more than life itself, that I didn’t want her to enter the convent.

But what good would it do to tell her when I was locked in the dungeon, with only five days left until her eighteenth birthday, only five days to make her fall in love with me, only five days within which to be married.

“My lady,” came the old guard’s voice, more urgent.

She lifted her brow at me, clearly waiting for me to speak.

“Stay safe,” I managed.

She nodded and then turned once more. In an instant, the dungeon door squeaked closed, taking the torchlight and all hope with it.

I released a frustrated groan that echoed against the stone walls of my cell. Then, weary, I rested my head against the bars, letting blackness settle over me.

Perhaps this was exactly what the abbot had wanted. Unable to prevent the duke’s courtship plan, and unable to keep Rosemarie from being attracted to the three suitors — ?to me — ?perhaps the abbot figured the next step was locking me away to keep me from winning her heart.

And with so little time left until her birthday, it looked as if the plan would work.

I could only pray the duke would bring back evidence that could set me free before it was too late.





Chapter

20




“I don’t like this one bit, my lady.” Trudy’s voice echoed through the deserted Great Hall. She smoothed out the wrinkles in my gown and draped it around my chair.

“We’ll be fine,” I said for the hundredth time since I’d awakened Trudy and dragged her from her pallet. “Everyone else is asleep. No one has to know except you and Bartholomew and the night jailer.”

“I say we should be abed.”

“But I can’t sleep.” Not only had the nightmares returned after my visit to the dungeon the previous night, but I couldn’t stop thinking of Derrick down in his dark, cold cell all alone. My heart ached every time I thought about him there.

Trudy’s graying hair poked out from the plain veil she’d hastily draped over her head. Her cheeks were splotched and red stained her throat, the sign of her frustration with me. “This is much too dangerous. What if he tries to harm you?”

“He would never hurt me.” Warmth wrapped around me at the remembrance of the words he’d whispered when I’d visited him — ?that he would never let any harm come to me, that he would lay down his life for me.

“Besides, we won’t be alone,” I continued, nodding to the chair placed a discreet distance from the hearth. “You’ll be here watching us. And so will Bartholomew.”

The side door leading to the kitchen opened a crack, and my heart flew forward at double speed. “Here he comes,” I whispered, twirling a long curl around my finger one last time before straightening in my chair and doing my best to look stately and beautiful.

“For the love of earth, rivers, and sky,” Trudy muttered under her breath. But thankfully, my faithful nursemaid took several steps back from where I sat at the table positioned in front of the hearth.

Bartholomew’s craggy face peeked through the door. He checked both ways before stepping into the Great Hall. He then tugged on the chains he held, and Derrick stumbled into the Hall after him, his wrists bound with the heavy links.

I gave a soft gasp. “You needn’t have chained him.”

“The jailer wouldn’t let me do it any other way.”

At the sound of my voice and sight of me, Derrick stood taller. Across the distance and darkness of the room, his gaze sought and found me, landing on me with an intensity that as usual took my breath away.

With his shuffling steps, my old guard brought him nearer.