Chapter Thirteen #4
Sean nodded, slowly. “I would be surprised if he did not. I have shown him that I no longer mindlessly obey and that I will kill in order to refuse him his wishes. I have revealed my true self.” He shook his head, hanging it in a rare display of emotion.
“Nine years, Gilby. I have ruined nine years of hard work, blood, sweat and pain.”
Gilby was listening seriously. “Then if that is the case, you must flee. Do what you must to sabotage the Tower defenses, but leave this place and take your wife with you. You are much more valuable to us alive than a dead martyr.”
Truth be told, Sean already had a plan in place to sabotage the Tower’s defenses.
It had been decided long ago between him and The Marshall; as far as Sean still knew, as he had not been told differently, the allied army had orders to approach and attack from downriver; the fires to the north were only a diversion.
Sean’s plan focused the Tower’s army on the north wall and well away from the river.
Sean scratched his head, feeling some need to confirm that the plan, as it was intended, still held. “That is why I need to find out where the Marshall has gone,” he told the old man. “Though I am still at the Tower, things are not as they once were. The situation has changed.”
Gilby moved for the door. “Let me find Father Simon. Perhaps he knows something. I will return.”
Sean put his hand on him. “Nay,” he said. “I will go. I move faster and more undetected than you. Stay with your patients until I return.”
“Are you sure?”
Sean did nothing more than nod his head, his gaze moving to Sheridan’s pale, sleeping face. Gilby watched the emotions play on the man’s face.
“You cannot blame her, you know,” the physic said quietly.
Sean looked at him. “Blame her? For what?”
“For ruining all that you have worked for.”
Sean’s brow rippled with confusion. “Is that what you think? That I blame her?” he shook his head with more emotion than Gilby had seen from him in a long time.
“Good Christ, Gilby, that woman has saved me. She has saved me from myself and if I die tonight, I die the most fulfilled man who has ever lived.”
Gilby didn’t say another word; he didn’t have to. With a lingering glance at his wife’s slumbering form, Sean quit the room in swift silence.
Guy was still sitting in the antechamber near the warming hearth.
Given the fact that the man was worse off than Sheridan, he had done a remarkable job of not complaining.
He sat quietly, listing to one side to favor his injured ribs, and watched de Lara blow from the room.
When the door slammed, he turned to see Gilby standing in the bedchamber doorway. Their eyes met.
“Where is he going?” Guy asked.
Gilby knew he had heard the conversation in the bedchamber. There was no use denying what the young man had heard; besides, events were already happening. Even if de Braose knew Sean’s true identity, it was of no matter. No more harm could be done.
“To secure a safe and peaceful England,” the physic said, moving towards Guy. “You have been jostled a bit this night, young de Braose. Let me take a look at those ribs. Careful one does not break free and impale a lung.”
Guy lifted an eyebrow at the encouraging thought but dutifully sat back in the chair and allowed the old man room to work. He watched the physic closely as the man began to poke at him.
“I heard what you said,” he muttered.
Gilby was busy examining him. “What did I say?
“You called Lady Sheridan de Lara’s wife. Was that just a scare tactic for those soldiers so they would not harm us?”
Gilby did look at him, then. “It was the truth. I was witness to the marriage.”
Guy stared at him a moment before looking away, barely flinching when Gilby caused him pain. At the moment, his disappointment and shock had him quite distracted.
“When?” he managed to ask.
“Tonight.”
Guy pursed his lips and looked away. “So de Lara is the victor,” he grunted when Gilby tightened the bindings on his ribs. “I should have removed her from the Tower when I had the chance. I should have taken her out of this place when Jocelin agreed to the contract and never looked back.”
Gilby secured the binding. “It was not meant to be.” He cast a long glance at Guy. “Sean was always to be the victor, young de Braose. You could have taken Sheridan to the ends of the earth and Sean would always be first in her heart. Never you. ’Tis time to accept the truth.”
Guy was in pain, disappointed and exhausted.
He’d spent far too much energy on the struggle to survive over the past few days and this latest blow had his strength finally crumbling.
So the lovely Lady Sheridan was not to be his; the discouragement was tangible.
He should have been extremely bitter but he found he was just heartsick.
He had fallen in love with the lady more than he’d realized.
She wasn’t a possession to be had. It was more than that.
Gilby watched Guy slump against the back of the chair, closing his dark eyes. The old physic’s gaze lingered on the man, inordinately strong for one so slender and seemingly weak-looking. But the loss of the lady had taken his toll on his constitution; Gilby could see it draining before his eyes.
He wondered if that was all he would see drained before this night was out.