Noble Hearts 03 - The Courageous Heart (39 page)

He entered her firmly and without warning. She cried out with the heady surprise of his invasion and felt his wicked smile against her neck. He thrust again, hard and quick, like he was sheathing a sword after battle, and again. Each sudden, deep thrust left her gasping for breath. He had teased her this way, with hard thrusts that left her defenseless again
st his pleasure
,
in the most mischievous moments of their first affair. Each stroke left her shaken and desperate for more.

He couldn’t keep up the pace of his teasing. His wild thrusts steadied to a deep rhythm, moving with a steadiness that had him groaning and panting for more. She dug her fingers into his back, riding the force of his pleasure.
He was there, in her arms, with her in the fullest way possible.
The magic of knowing how he was losing himself, of feeling his control loosen more and more as he
melded with
her carried her to the height of her own passion. All she wanted was to be like this with him forever.

Her body shimmered into its release as unexpectedly as his invasion had begun. She sighed aloud, clinging to him as waves of passion rippled through her, chasing everything away but the reality of Ethan. He enveloped her, the unrestrained movements of his body striving for completion carrying her away. Before her orgasm rode itself out his moans grew pitched and his hips jerked harder against hers. With a long sigh he slowed, back and shoulders growing looser in her arms until he collapsed with exhaustion beside her.

A deep peace spread through her
,
body and soul. For several long heartbeats she lay entwined with him. The moist heat of their bodies blended as limbs
jumbled together.
Sh
e couldn’t have pulled apart from him if she’d tried. She didn’t want to try. She was home.

At length Ethan shifted, twisting to his back. She snuggled against him, ignoring the heat of their closeness. Her eyelids grew heavy and she let herself relax towards sleep.
After so much time hoping and so many years alone
she could finally let go
.

A jolt shook her out of her reverie before she knew how much time had passed. She tensed and lifted herself on one arm.

“What is it?” Ethan responded to her sudden wakefulness with groggy concern.

“There’s a tavern on the bridge, London Bridge. I went there
days ago
looking for information wearing the Bandit disguise, but I found Matlock and Pennington
instead
.”

“
Matlock and Pennington?” Ethan sat, fully awake.

She nodded. “If he and Matlock didn’t take Aubrey and Madeline to Pennington’s estate he must have taken them there.”

Her heart pounded.
How could she have missed it?
She knew she was right.
She reached to throw the bedcovers off.

Ethan stilled her hand. “We’ll go at first light,” he told her, firm but gentle. “London Bridge is not a place to go in the dark.”

“But they’re there, I know they are. We can’t wait. The trial is hours
away
.”

“I know you want to fly to them,” he said, pulling her into his arms and laying down with her. “Our failures today were because we didn’t prepare before rushing off. At first light we will wake Simon and David and let them know and we will plan our mission.”

Joanna hesitated, breathing in short gasps. The warmth of Ethan’s body only went so far to calm her. “We have to reach them before the trial,” she said.

“We will,” Ethan answered. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips, and nestled her close. “I promise you we will.”

She wished she believed him. Every beat of her heart wished he was being true to his word. He went loose and his breathing evened out while Joanna remained tense and wakeful. His promises had fallen short before. As tenderly as she wanted to believe him, she couldn’t. Not when the lives of the people she loved almost as much as him were at stake.

As soon as she was certain Ethan was asleep she pulled herself out of his arms, moving slowly
so as not to wake him
. She dressed quickly in her underdress, gathering her kirtle and shoes in her arms before tiptoeing out of the stable. The courtyard was hushed in the night. The moon far across the sky and the ambient sounds of the city were quiet.

The inn was deep in sleep as well. She cut through the kitchen and up to the room that she and Madeline had been sharing with the children. She gasped at the sight of Rebecca, asleep in the chair beside the bed that Wulfric now slept on instead of Madeline. Rebecca held a sl
eeping Meg as she snored away.

As fast as she could in the dark, Joanna threw open the lid of the trunk
she
had rescued from Pennington and searched for the Bandit disguise.
It was hard to find with just the moonlight to guide her, but find it she did. She pulled the chausses on, disposed of her dress in favor of the shirt, and shrugged into the vest.

“What on earth are you doing, dear one?” Rebecca’s question had Joanna jumping out of her skin.

She rolled to a crouch as she laced up the vest. “I think I know where Aubrey and Madeline are,” she recovered enough to answer.

Rebecca put Meg in the cradle on the floor and lit the candle on the small table beside her. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know,” Joanna finished with the vest and searched in the trunk for the boots now that there was light. “I can’t wait. Crispin and Jack’s trial is
today
. I need to either find and save Aubrey and Madeline before then or….” She swallowed.
There was still time to kill the king.

Rebecca watched her with anxious eyes. “If you must go then you should wake your Ethan and ask him to come with you.”

“I tried,” she said, pulling on the boots. “He wouldn’t go. He said London Bridge is no place to go in the dark.”

“London Bridge!” Rebecca exclaimed in a whisper. “He’s right.”

“And he’s not
my
Ethan either,” Joanna ignored her.

Rebecca chuckled. “I beg to differ on that one. Where did you just come from, my dear? It’s no secret to anyone here.”

Joanna blushed. “I’ll not deny that I love him,” she confessed, focused on the laces of her boots. “I always have loved him. Since I was a girl first placed in his house. He was my first kiss and my first lover.” She stood, settling her feet in the boots but not looking at Rebecca. “But he left me once, he gave his heart away, and as much as I want to believe he will help me fight this battle, I can
’t.”

With a quick sigh she pivoted to search in the trunk for the Bandit cloak.

“My dear.” Rebecca stood. “Your Ethan is a changed man. I didn’t know him before, but I’ve known him for two years now. He became someone else entirely when you showed up. That man is someone strong and true, someone to be proud of. He is someone who would move heaven and earth to help you if you asked him.”

“I did ask. He said no.” She swirled the cloak around her shoulders.

“
Was that a no? Or was it counsel
against
doing something foolish
.”

A voice in Joanna’s heart told her Rebecca was right. Wanting to go into battle with a plan was different than saying no. “You don’t understand.” She surged towards Rebecca, holding her arms. “I can’t stand still and let
my friends
die,” she pleaded with the woman. “Crispin is a good man and Aubrey is a strong, beautiful woman. They love each other and they deserve to be together. Jack has come so far and struggled so hard for what he has and Madeline risked so much to be with him. Their love deserves to go on as well. I can’t let anyone destroy that. I can’t let evil destroy love.”

“Even if it means sacrificing yourself
.” Rebecca nodded in understanding that fell short of approval.

“My whole life I have sacrificed myself for love,” Joanna told her. “For once I want to make that sacrifice for love that actually has a chance of flourishing.”

“But you and Ethan-”

“No,” Joanna cut her off. “I love Ethan with all my heart, but I can’t stake the lives and happiness of others on that love. I have to do something.”

Before Rebecca could argue further with her Joanna turned and fled from the room. She had a mission to accomplish. Time was running out.

Chapter TwentyTwo

London Bridg
e was eerie in the moonlight.
Clouds skittered across the sky, moving shadows
along
the half-constructed buildings and their completed peers. In the dark it was hard
for Joanna
to judge whether the bridge was being built up or slowly crumbling down.

The tavern was dark. A few faint patches of light from candles or fireplaces flickered in upstairs windows, in other buildings as well, giving the bridge a menacing air. Joanna slipped up to the tavern door and tried its handle.

To her surprise, it
wasn’t locked
. She swallowed and let the door open inch by inch, careful to
keep it from
creaking
. When there was just enough space for her thin body, she squeezed through and
into the darkened common room.

A pair of men sat at a table in the far corner, their heads together, speaking in low murmurs. Another man sat alone
in a chair near the great, dying fireplace, his back towards her. A barman leaned against the counter, eyes closed.

Joanna prayed they hadn’t seen her. She inched to the side and looked up the stairs. Pennington and Matlock had
been in
a room near the top of the tavern before. She was sure that was where Aubrey and Madeline would be now. Since there didn’t seem to be any guards prowling the place she jumped towards the stairs.

“Stop!” Matlock’s low voice rang through the hushed room.

The blood froze in Joanna’s veins.
The two men whispering at the table jerked their heads up.
Matlock stood from the chair by the fire. She cursed
and
leapt for the door, managing to turn the handle and open it a few inches
.
Matlock caught her and
slammed it shut again.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. His eyes were dark and bloodshot, his jaw clenched. The fury that poured off of him went far beyond anything she had seen in the man before.

“I’ve come for Aubrey and Madeline.” Her words were bold but
her voice shook as she spoke.

“I’ll be damned if I let you or Pennington or anyone rob me of what is mine!” Matlock growled.

“Madeline isn’t yours,” Joanna insisted, mouth dry, “She’s Jack’s.”

With a roar Matlock swung his fist at her. Joanna dodged
and fell
across the stairs. Matlock stumbled, his hand hitting the wall. He staggered around to glare at her. She scrambled
away.

She took her chance, dashing up the stairs to the second floor. Matlock lunged after her, catching the hem of the Bandit cloak. With a
strangled
gasp Joanna fell backwards, knocking into
him
. He caught her and balanced precariously over the banister.
Then with a grunt he slammed her against the wall.

“They all turn against me,” he said, panting as he pinned Joanna with a hand at her throat.
His breath smelled of ale.
“My good for nothing daughter, that snake Pennington, even that little murderer.”

“Roderick?” Joanna choked. She grabbed Matlock’s hand to pry it away from her throat.

Matlock lifted his chin to show her a fresh cut along his neck. “That little prick turned on me. He’s got my daughter and her friend up there and he won’t let me near her.”

Joanna’s pulse raced. Her mistress and
L
ady Madeline were at the tavern after all. She’d been right. She craned her neck to look up the stairs. “Aubrey!”

“No you don’t!” Matlock silenced her. He pulled her away from the wall and threw her down the stairs.

Joanna stumbled, fighting for her balance. She grabbed the banister to keep herself upright, and bolted for the door as soon as she had her feet under her. This time she was able to open it and shoot out into the night.

Matlock was on her heels. He caught her by her arm and jerked her to a stop. Joanna cried out as her shoulder wrenched.

“Why in such a hurry?” Matlock may have been drunk, but he had enough strength still to make Joanna cower. “Don’t you want to save your countess and that bitch, my daughter.”

“Yes,” Joanna breathed. She glanced around in the night, looking for any sign of help, any sign of Ethan. Against the odds, her heart expected to see him running to her rescue.

Matlock laughed, low and menacing. “He’s got us in his bloody trap.” He shook her arm. “There’s only one way either of us is going to get out.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She yanked her arm but couldn’t break free of his grip. “Let me go!”

“What?” Matlock’s voice took on a mocking edge. “Don’t you want to finish your deadly deal and set your mistress free?”

Joanna stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the reason why we’re both here in the first place, my dear,” he imitated Pennington’s affectation. “The reason that dragged the both of us away from our homes and into this hellhole.”

“I still don’t-”

She was cut short as Matlock jerked her into a walk. “Enough talk,” he said, marching her towards the north side of the bridge and Thames Street. “We’re going to finish what we came here to do. And then you and I will pick the bones to decide who gets to give my daughter her just reward.”

“Ethan. Ethan.” He heard his name in an old, familiar voice. It echoed through his dream like a homecoming. “Ethan.”

“Go back to sleep, Toby. The battle isn’t ’til morning.”

“You have to go after her,” the voice continued. “Keep her safe. Ethan.”

A twist of fear spread through him. His friend’s voice was all wrong. The cries of battle that haunted his dream were wrong. He flailed in the darkness, searching for an anchor. “Joanna?”

The shaking finally roused him. “Ethan, wake up,” Rebecca urged him. “Joanna has gone.”

His first few waking moments were fuzzy. He reached across the bed. When he found it was empty he snapped to alert. “Where is she?” He twisted to find Rebecca staring down at him, a candle in her hand.

“She says she knows where Lady Madeline and her mistress are, a tavern on London Bridge. She said she had to go right away to rescue them.”

Ethan’s heart leapt to his throat. Regardless of Rebecca in the room, he threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. “When did she leave?” he demanded.

“Not more than ten minutes ago,” Rebecca answered
, eyes averted
as he scrambled for his clothes on the floor. “I dressed and came to tell you as soon as I could.”

Ethan swore as he pulled on his chausses. “Why didn’t she wake me?” He cursed his clumsiness and threw his shirt over his head.

Rebecca sighed. “I believe the past is making it hard for her to trust you, my dear.”

Ethan sent her a wary look as he tucked his shirt into his chausses. Her comment stung far harder than he wanted it to. “The past is exactly that, Rebecca. The past.” He grabbed his tunic from the small trunk
at the foot of his bed
.

“It’s not me you’ll need to convince,
son,
” Rebecca told him with a sad expression.

He pulled the tunic over his head. “I know.” He sat on the bed to
yank
his boots on. “Nobody knows that better than I do.”

As soon as his laces were tight he rose and shot across the room and down the stairs.
The sense of purpose that filled him was greater than anything he’d felt before.

“Ethan, wait!” He turned to watch Rebecca make her way down the stairs, anxious to run to wherever Joanna needed him. “Take one of David’s swords with you. I’m afraid you’ll need it.”

He wasted precious minutes going with Rebecca to fetch a sword from hers and David’s private rooms. If Joanna had been foolish en
ough to rush off without him….

No, he stopped himself. She wasn’t foolish. She was brave to a fault. She was devoted to those that she loved. She was heedless of her own life. She was just like her brother.

“I’m going to wake David and that man Simon to let them know where you’ve gone,” Rebecca told him as she walked him to the inn’s front door. “You’ll need their help.”

The streets were still black with night as Ethan ran towards London Bridge. He didn’t know the area well. There were a number of taverns and shops and houses on the Bridge. Joanna could have been in any one of them.
He lunged towards the first door with a sign swinging over it and tugged at the handle. It was locked tight. He took a closer look at the sign. It was an apothecary’s shop. He left it, dashing to the next building.

The second door was locked as well and the third. “Joanna!” he shouted, his cry echoing in the
hushed night. “Joanna!”

He tried the next door. That one swung open, but the shop on the other side belonged to an untidy dressmaker who had forgotten to lock their door.

He dashed across the street to a row of more likely-looking establishments. The first was a tavern, but its door was locked. “Joanna!” he cried, banging on the door.

When nothing happened and no one answered he moved on to the next house. That door was locked as well. Time was wasting. Every moment that Joanna was lost in the dark was another moment that brought him closer to losing her. That wasn’t an option.

“Joanna!” he shouted again, fear infusing his voice with anger. “Where are you!”

“Quit your shouting!” someone yelled from an upstairs window on the dark street. “Some of us are trying to sleep here!”

Ethan ignored the voice and sprinted on to the next house. The door of that tavern was open. He burst inside only to find a dim common room with two men sitting at a table and a sleepy barkeep glaring at them.

“Have you seen a girl,” he asked. “About this tall,” he held up his hand, “long blonde hair, named Joanna.”

The three men in the room sent him stares that were anything but friendly and helpful. “There was a boy and a man,” the barkeep drawled, “but no blonde girl.”

Ethan nodded and shot back into the street.
The next tavern up the street was locked. The other buildings appeared to be shops. Even the church built in the middle of the bridge was closed up and silent. He stood in the middle of the road, panting as though his lungs were on fire. It was his soul that was on fire without her.

He rubbed a hand through his hair and called out, “Joanna!” once again. She couldn’t just disappear like this. She couldn’t leave him without any word or explanation.

A whisper in the back of his mind told him that he deserved it. This must have been a fraction of the way she felt when he left her to fight a pointless war that brought nothing but the destruction of innocence. He pushed the voice away. The past was done. He had the future to think about. But without Joanna the future was nothing.

He swallowed his fear and his longing and tore off down the street the way he’d come. If she wasn’t on London Bridge after all there was only one ot
her place she would have gone.

Matlock had
n’t
sobered by the time he dragged Joanna to the Tower gate
but he was far from being
dull
. Joanna recovered her wits enough to puzzle out a plan. It was still the middle of the night, not a hint of light in the sky. There was no way the guards would let them in the Tower. When Matlock was turned away she would make a run for it.
The shadows along the Tower wall could hide her until she got far enough away to cut towards the city.

“Wake up you mangy dogs!” Matlock bellowed when they stood before the gate. He kept a firm grip on her but she readied herself to make a break. “Wake up and let me in!”

A lone guard wandered out of the guardhouse on the other side of the gate. Even in the black of night Joanna could see the incredulous glare the man gave Matlock.
“Come back in the morning,” he snapped.

“You will let me in now!” Matlock demanded.

“By whose authority,” the guard questioned by rote, crossing his arms.

Matlock reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out a small parchment to show to the guard. Joanna couldn’t make out more in the dark than that it contained a few words and a large seal. Whatever it was, it changed the guard’s tune.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he begged Matlock’s forgiveness and rushed to unlock the gate.

The gate swung open enough to admit the two of them. The plan Joanna had been working on fell apart. “No!” She tried to resist, but Matlock’s grip on her arm tightened as he pushed her through and into the Tower. “No!” her cry grew more pitched.

The gate clanged shut behind them
like prison bars
. Joanna searched wildly beyond it for any sign of help, any sign of Ethan. All she saw was darkness.

“Get a move on!” Matlock cursed at her and shoved her away from the gate towards the yard and the White Tower. “You want to see your loved ones freed, don’t you? The usurping earl and his peasant dog?”