Lord of the Blade (31 page)

“Let me,” he suggested, unlacing the ties
and pulling her clothing over her head. His hands were shaking
also, but not from fear, instead from want. She stood before him
bedraggled and naked, but still looking as beautiful as the
princess she was to him. He wondered about the amulet and also her
identity. He wondered about the secrets she kept.

“I await you, my lord.” Her naked body
glowed in the firelight.

He quickly removed his own clothing and
picked her up into his arms. He carried her to the tub and stepping
inside, he laid her back in the water. Her hair floated atop the
surface, the rose petals to scent the water clinging to her hair
and skin.

“You are beautiful,” he told her, not able
to keep his eyes from her.

“And you are mad,” she told him with a
giggle. “I am broken and beaten and covered in dirt, grease and
blood.”

“I don’t care. You are alive and unharmed
and to me that is the most beautiful thing in the world.”

They took turns bathing each other, kissing,
fondling and basking in the security of being together, safe and
alive. Then they made love over and over until the water became
cold. Then, still naked, they drank wine as they dried themselves
by the fire. Finally, they’d clothed themselves and lay upon the
bed, holding one another and talking softly.

Devon basked in the pleasures Corbett had to
offer, but yet she couldn’t help but wonder which girl he’d chosen
for his wife. She decided not to ask who he’d marry on the morrow,
but rather to try to find out once more if he loved her as she did
him.

“I love you,” she said, leaning back against
his chest. She felt his body stiffen, but he didn’t respond. Even
in the throes of passionate love making, he’d never once told her
the three little words she wanted to hear. Finally, not able to
cope, she decided to ask him outright. Unfortunately, he started
talking at the same time, and then they both stopped and
laughed.

"You go first," she told him, hoping he
wanted to talk about his feelings.

“All right,” he said, sitting up straighter
in the bed. “I wanted to know what happened atop the cliff
today.”

Devon groaned inwardly. That wasn’t at all
what she’d expected.

“You were there,” she said. “You know what
happened.”

"That is not what I mean. You deliberately
told the baron tonight that Gilda accidentally fell from the cliff,
but yet I saw her trying to kill you."

Devon squirmed uncomfortably in his arms.
This isn’t how she wanted to tell him she was a titled woman.

"It wasn’t a lie,” she explained. “It was an
accident. She lost her footing and went over the edge of the
cliff."

"Why was she trying to kill you?"

Another question she didn’t want to answer.
“I…I am not sure.”

He took his arms from around her and put his
feet to the floor. “I think you are sure but don’t want to tell me.
God’s eyes, Devon! The woman tried to murder you. It could be you
at the bottom of the cliff right now. Tell me what happened and
quit trying to protect her. She's dead for heaven’s sake."

"I am not trying to protect her." Devon
stood and paced the room.

"Then who are you trying to protect?"

Who indeed. Devon began to ask herself the
same question. Perhaps herself, or mayhap her newfound cousin. So
many lives had been altered because of power and riches. Kenric's
poor dead betrothed and her family for one. Or all the men who’d
died needlessly today. Suddenly she wondered if being a titled lady
really mattered.

"Why did Boltoff say that you were his
future fortune?" Corbett walked across the room, his hand in the
pocket of his surcoat.

"He knew you would try to rescue me,” she
feebly explained.

"He talked about
Kenric
paying a high
ransom for you, not me. Why?"

"I am sure he must have meant you," she
dodged the truth.

"Oh, are you?" Corbett reached into his
pocket and pulled out her good luck charm. He held it up for her to
see.

"My amulet." She reached for it, but not
before Corbett could pull it away.

"What is this dragon engraved on here?" he
asked. "I have a feeling this is a little more than just a good
luck charm."

"Where did you find it?"

"The raven brought it to me." His eyes
blazed with the reflection of the fire. "Why don't you tell me
where you were when he stole it, as we have avoided the issue that
you disobeyed my orders to help in the kitchen. A foolish move that
ended up almost costing you your life."

When she didn't answer, he angrily threw the
amulet across the room.

"All right," he finally responded, after
taking a few deep breaths to calm down. "Since you seem not to want
to answer any of my questions, mayhap I can show you how 'tis done,
by answering yours. What was it you wanted to ask me?"

Oh, God. How could she possibly ask him if
he loved her at a time like this? She had always known she had
awful timing, but this had to be the worst.

"I…I am not sure that it matters anymore,"
was her only reply.

"Nay," replied Corbett, "I guess nothing
matters now, does it? If you cannot give me even the least bit of
information that would clear you from your charges, then I have no
other choice but to bring you to trial on the morrow as was
originally planned."

Devon's heart leaped, as this had been the
last thing she would have expected him to say.

"My accuser is dead, so shouldn’t the
charges be dropped?"

“While Gilda is gone, Malcomn still
lives.”

“He is unconscious.”

“Aye, but I am sure he will hold his charges
when he awakes. Unless you know otherwise, please tell me.”

She knew once Malcomn awoke he would spill
her secret. Well, let Corbett find out from him, because if he
still wanted to convict her after what they’d just shared, then she
didn’t know if she really wanted to be with him anyway.

“Do what you must,” was all she said.

"You give me no other choice," he answered
softly. "You refuse to answer any of my questions, so how am I
supposed to justify your actions when you cannot even do it
yourself?"

"I don't know."

"Give me a reason to believe in you."
Corbett walked up to her, taking her hands gently in his, begging
for her cooperation. "Let me see through your stubborn lies by
giving me one simple explanation of truth. Tell me, Devon. Tell me
what I want to know so I can clear you of the charges made against
you. Be honest with me. Let me know there's a bit of truth behind
your lies after all."

Lies? Is that what he thought she was doing?
If anyone was lying it was him by raising his walls so high he
didn’t even know what was in his own heart. She would go to her
trial - as a servant. And be treated the same as anyone else.
Mayhap this life as a servant was horrible in her opinion, but at
least she knew where she stood. Nothing was as pretense as the way
the nobility carried on. She would not back down just to give
Corbett the reasoning he needed to stop her conviction for
something she had never even done.

"There is no reason," she bravely spoke the
words. "If you cannot look into your heart to see the truth and
carry out the actions of your own conscience, then no, Lord
Corbett, there is no reason I could possibly give you that should
make any difference if I go to trial or not."

"So be it. You will go to trial in the
morning."

"And if you should decide to convict me, my
Lord?"

"Then you will serve your sentence," he
replied opening the door to leave. "And don't think about escaping
again," he warned. "For although I will be sleeping in the great
hall, I will be having not one, but two guards posted at your
door."

With the slam of the door, she knew it was
all over. She stooped to pick up her amulet from the floor. Holding
it to her chest, she sobbed bitterly. She could not shake from her
mind the way he had held her so tightly in his arms after her near
death on the cliffs just a few short hours ago. How could this man
now act so cold? How could he be a lover and friend one minute, and
her persecutor and judge the next? No matter what hardships she had
been through so far, nothing could compare with the way her heart
now ached. Walking to the bed, she could not bring herself to lie
on it if Corbett was not at her side. Sinking to her knees on the
rug by the fire, she laid down to sleep the same way she had that
first night that she'd spent in Corbett's chamber.

Chapter 25

"Good morning, Devon."

Ruford opened the shutters of the solar
window. The bright morning sun streamed into the room creating an
aura around the monk. The sounds of chirping birds floated into the
room on the crisp morning air. The smell of freshly baked bread
announced the fast had been broken.

"Good morning," responded Devon. "For a
moment I almost thought I was back at the monastery."

"The monastery never had beds as luxurious
as the one you are lounging in."

His words shocked Devon, for up until now
she had not even been aware that she lie only in her chemise,
wrapped in a fur coverlet upon Corbett's bed.

"What is the matter?" smiled the monk. "You
act as though you knew not where you spent the night."

Devon thought of how she had purposely
avoided Corbett's bed, yet here she was.

"Is just now the first you have entered the
solar?"

"Of course," answered the monk. "I come at
Lord Corbett's request."

Corbett. Just his name as it floated from
Ruford's mouth, sent a surge of mixed emotions flurrying through
her body. Could it be possible that Corbett had returned during the
night and removed her clothing before placing her in his own bed?
He had done it once before without her noticing. And she had slept
so deeply from her exhaustion that the walls could have come
tumbling down around her and she probably wouldn't have
noticed.

"Did Lord Corbett come back to the solar
last night?"

"I don’t believe so."

Devon realized how silly she was being. She
must have removed her own clothing and crawled into Corbett's bed
half asleep and just didn't remember.

"May I suggest that you start dressing for
the trial?” said Ruford. “Lord Corbett has already started hearing
the pleas of the many accused peasants, and he has ordered me to
bring you to him at once."

Reality hit her hard. She had almost
forgotten he still expected her to go to trial. She knew none of
this would matter once Malcomn awoke and told everyone she was a
noble. Still, if Corbett was going to be stubborn, then so was she.
She glanced over to where her soiled cotehardie lie in a heap near
the fire. She was sure she would be a wonderful sight as she stood
before Corbett waiting for his decision.

As if reading her mind, the monk walked over
to the table, picking up a bundle before returning to her side.
"Lord Corbett wants you to wear these." He handed her the bundle.
"He said even a servant should look halfway presentable if they are
going to occupy his castle, even if 'tis only a trial."

She retrieved the bundle, wrapped in a
thick, dark linen, and neatly tied with leather lacing.

"Thank you." She smiled at the man, having
no intention of wearing the clothes. If Corbett only thought of her
as a servant, than she would look like one, even if it meant
wearing her torn and soiled cotehardie to prove her point. "How is
Lord Malcomn, this morning?" She had hoped he hadn’t spilled her
secret just yet.

"His wound is healing nicely. And he has not
taken to the fever, so if he ever wakes up, I am sure he will be
fine. Heartha and Leahla did a wonderful job caring for him last
night."

"I am sure they did," she tried to sound
casual. "So then he has not regained consciousness yet?"

"Nay," Ruford answered, "but hopefully will
in time to witness Corbett announcing his bride today."

Her heart sank and she kept her eyes fixed
on the package. "So, today he will choose a wife?"

"He's told me, he's already chosen. And by
the order of King Edward himself, he will make the announcement
right after the trial."

Devon didn't want to hear any more. And she
didn't want to be anywhere near the great hall when the
announcement was made. She couldn't bear to see the happy face of
the noble who would become his bride.

"I will be waiting for you just outside the
door,” Ruford told her. “Do hurry, for Lord Corbett is not in a
patient mood this morning."

"Of course," answered Devon softly.

The door closed behind the monk and Devon
bit her lip in order not to cry. So Corbett would announce his
bride and she'd probably be sentenced to the dungeon. If only he'd
known a noble woman was sleeping upon his own floor.

She squeezed the bundle of clothes in her
hands, then angrily flung it at the wall. A loud squawk startled
her as the raven flew to the bed and landed near her feet. She had
not been aware of its presence, and now felt concerned that she had
almost smashed the poor bird with the bundle she had just thrown
across the room.

"I’m sorry," she said to the raven. "Next
time make your presence known instead of sneaking around like a
predator of the night."

She flipped off the covers and lowered
herself to the floor. After washing quickly with the water from the
basin, she ran her fingers through her hair, for lack of a
comb.

"Please hurry, Devon." Ruford's muffled
voice came from beyond the closed door.

"Let him wait." She talked to the bird as
she slowly picked up her mangled clothes and tried to make heads or
tails of the mess she was going to wear. "Where is my amulet?" she
asked the bird as she dressed. "I am sure you have stolen it again,
and I demand you give it back."