Chapter Twenty - Two #2
His thoughts remained filled with a raven-haired vixen with violet eyes.
He wished he had listened to her misgivings about Burke.
How had he missed the signs and not known Burke was the same person as Godwin?
He'd been a fool, never realizing where Burke's mother came from.
Did Edward know Burke was distantly related to Llewellyn and Dafydd?
Royce hadn't, and he thought he knew everything about the man he'd named his close friend and captain.
He groaned. By sending his captain to scout the lands of Apshire, he'd unwittingly aided the rebel. Over and over, he tried to find clues he'd missed, but nothing came to mind. Or maybe he was just too weak and exhausted to see it now.
Once more, his thoughts turned to his wife. Was she safe? Did she truly carry his child? He ached to see her, though feared if he did, 'twould mean the worst. He had to free himself before she ended up here, chained beside him.
The throbbing in his cheek and jaw had faded slightly, but Burke had cracked a rib, judging from the fire that burned his gut each time he inhaled.
Tugging on the chains once more, he knew there was no hope. Burke would kill him, would destroy him slowly. He'd make Royce suffer first, as he believed he had suffered all these years. All because their fathers had made bad choices.
The door to the cell creaked open and Burke stepped inside, carrying a torch. He smiled as he neared Royce, holding the torch close enough so he could feel the heat on his bruised face.
"I hope you do not feel I am neglecting you. I have been busy making plans for my future as the Prince of Wales."
"You will not succeed. Wales is Edward's now."
"Edward will run like a beaten dog once he learns I have taken down his prized warrior." "Edward will crush you like an ant under his heel when he learns of this."
"I think not. I already have Lyndon, and this ruin. I'm well-equipped to take over the remaining border properties. With your men and Lyndon's combined, plus my loyal countrymen, I will be unstoppable. The Welsh shall have their revenge and will follow me as their new king."
"They followed Dafydd and he was put to death for his actions."
"Dafydd was an unfortunate incident. But now he cannot gainsay me. And when my queen bears my son, my succession will be secured."
"Your queen? Who would have you?"
"Lady Anne is my lover. It is my child she carries. As soon as I destroy Edward, we will wed in London."
"You're daft if you think you can defeat the king."
Burke laughed. The sound chilled Royce's blood. His captain had truly gone mad.
"I know I can. Look at how easily I took Lyndon from you. Once I claim Shrewsbury, I will set my sights on the king. He cannot hope to win."
"He'll kill you. If I don't first."
Another laugh. "I shall enjoy sharing word of your death with your wife. I am looking forward even more to sharing her bed. I suspect she's got quite a fire worth savoring."
"If you harm one hair on her head, I will see you suffer a fate worse than Dafydd's."
"You will be dead. Come the morrow, you will be hanged. And your head will rest on a pike outside Lyndon as word to all what happens when you try to crush the Welsh. And she will be mine."
The idea of Gillian helpless against this man consumed Royce. One of the things he loved most about her was her spirit. Burke would break her and...
Jesu, had he just admitted he loved her? Yes, yes, he had. A glimmer of joy poked through his rage, calming him. He loved her and somehow, he would return to her and keep her safe from this madman.
"You'll not succeed." A slight smile curved his lips. "Don't forget the panther is cunning and smart. And his mate is a wildcat who will strike you down."
"If it makes you feel better about your impending death, think what you will. But know this, the countryside will resound with cheers at your death."
"Never." The calm word shattered Burke's feeble composure. He landed three swift blows to Royce's stomach and left the cell, taking the torch and pitching the small chamber into darkness.
***
Scratching sounds and whispers reached through the half slumber that claimed Royce. Coming awake, he strained to listen.
"Down here!"
"Wait, let me go first. The walls of this place could collapse at any time."
"Hurry! Before he comes back."
Did he imagine Gillian's voice? He must have. She wasn't here. The hazy dreams fogging his brain lingered. He closed his eyes once more.
"This door, there's a lock!"
"God's bones, how will we find the key?"
Again, Royce swore he heard his wife's voice. He lifted his head, heart pounding. Surely he still slumbered. The draft crossing his face told him he was indeed awake. A flash of light from under the door drew his focus.
"His arrogance is our advantage. The key hangs here!"
That voice, laced with excitement, also sounded familiar, but the ringing in his ears kept him from determining who spoke. This time a strange moan, like a choked sob, came in response.
More rustling, a key turning. The door creaked open. Two shadowy figures, one holding a torch, stepped into the chamber. Vision blurry, Royce didn't dare accept what he saw.
Then hands touched his face, small, soft, feminine hands. Gillian's hands. A bolt of joy filled him. She stood before him, smiling and weeping at the same time.
"You're alive!" Her hoarse words sounded as if they choked her.
"How... Gillian..."
She covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't speak, we must hurry. Simon, get him down!"
Her hands continued to move over him. Simon handed her the torch and within moments had managed to somehow unchain Royce's arms from the wall. But the metal cuffs remained around his wrists. At least he could walk, somewhat.
"We must leave now, the smith at Lyndon will remove the rest." Gillian's brother seemed older somehow. What had happened in the time Royce had been in London?
Chained, weakened and sore all over, Royce had no choice but to lean on Simon.
The three made their way from the chamber to the corridor.
Gillian held the torch, lighting their way as they moved through the ruined keep.
Ere long, they'd reached the outer grounds, where several mounted knights waited.
"You must ride with Simon."
Gillian's order was sharp and steady. He smiled. Her strength and courage roused his pride. His Wildcat was a fitting mate for the Panther.
"Did you lead the men here?" he asked.
"Of course. They know I'm capable."
Unable to resist, he leaned over and pressed a firm kiss to her lips. She tasted of honey and spice and even in his weakened condition, he ached to take her. She responded eagerly, her hands cupping his face before pushing him away.
"We must go now!"
She turned away, mounting a horse while he allowed Simon to help him onto his stallion.
He cursed his weakness, but didn't resist the assistance.
When Simon climbed up behind him, he swore the other man chuckled.
A moment later, as the group raced from the ruined keep, Royce gave thanks for Simon's aid.
The ride to Lyndon passed in a blur. His weakness increased as they rode and he could do no more than lean against his brother-in-law.
He hated the feebleness holding him securely in its grip.
Suddenly, they were in the bailey, and his men were carrying him to the smith's forge.
Faces blurred before him, the heavy weight of hands holding him still bringing a moment of alarm.
Soft hands once more stroked along his cheeks, calming him.
"It might hurt, but there's no other way."
His arms were once again dragged above his head and held in place.
A moment later, shattering pain wrenched through his arms, the smith blasting his hammer to a spike laid against the iron cuffs.
Though still weak as a babe, he struggled futilely against the men restraining him.
At last, when the manacles fell away, the pain settled to a dull throbbing.
"Come. Fetch the physic."
Gillian's voice seemed a lifeline keeping him aware.
He closed his eyes once more, saying nothing as he was lifted and carried into the keep.
The comfort of his bed finally chased the remnants of worry.
Aware of Gillian sitting beside him, holding his hand, filled him with peace.
He wanted to open his eyes to look at her, wanted to tell her how he felt, but he had no strength to do more than breathe.
***
Gillian sat up, still unable to sleep. Royce slept heavily beside her, the herbs in the ale helping him get much needed rest. But she worried to see the bruises on his face, visible even through the beard that covered his jaw.
His lip had been split and one eye had swollen shut.
The physic had assured her in a few days' time, he would be well again, but she still fretted.
She gazed at him, the sliver of moonlight shining down.
A sudden kick drew a chuckle. Her babe grew every day, hale and hearty judging from his movements. Did Royce know? She caressed her belly and the baby quieted.
Warmth slithered along her spine. She looked at Royce, surprised to find him awake and studying her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like my horse trampled me."
"You'll be well soon. You must rest to recover your strength."
He smiled. He reached out to run his fingers through her hair.
She shivered, even as the heat within climbed.
The slightest touch could set her aflame.
They had been too long apart, but she didn't dare give in to her wants.
Royce needed to recover. Not only from the ordeal he'd suffered, but learning how deeply he'd been betrayed.
"And how do you fare?
She knew what he asked. She placed his hand over her burgeoning belly.
"Your son grows within me."