Chapter Four

O wen motioned for the warriors to be seated. Sedgeworth's lord had no clue his own vassal plotted against him. He was either blind, stupid, or arrogant. MacInness was right about his overlord; the man had no honor. 'Twas a black sin as far as Garrick and his brother were concerned.

Owen poured wine into two jeweled goblets and offered one to him and the other to Dunstan. The gesture was not lost on Garrick, the man appeared overly confident that Garrick and Dunstan were no longer a threat. For the moment, he was content to let Owen think so.

Garrick fingered the jewel-encrusted goblet, trying to assess its value while Dunstan sipped before drinking deeply. At Dunstan's nod, Garrick grew thoughtful. 'Twas as suspected, an abundance of wealth surrounded them at Sedgeworth Keep. But would some of that wealth come with Jillian when she came to Merewood as a bride? More importantly, would he be able to convince the king to reinstate her family's holding? For the sake of his family and their people, he prayed it would be so.

His thoughts turned once again to the daughters of the obviously wealthy keep. Perhaps a marriage could be arranged for Dunstan or even the wayward Roderick. He'd ask his brothers once Roderick was safe.

Sipping his wine, he watched Owen out of the corner of his eye. The man appeared relaxed, at ease. Time to put their plans into action.

"Where is Roderick?" Garrick asked, startling the man.

"What have you done with him?" Dunstan demanded.

When Owen spoke hastily, as if to reassure them, Garrick knew they'd unnerved the man.

"He is secured below stairs, where he shall remain until we have completed our business."

"You have him tied up?" He'd beat the pompous lord's smiling face to a bloody pulp once Roderick was free . "Where?"

Owen evaded, asking, "Do you want to know how your brother came to be in my dungeon?"

That last remark caught the undivided attention of both brothers. Garrick sensed his brother's turmoil. It matched his own. "Aye, continue," Garrick growled.

Owen smiled and Garrick frowned. Why was Owen amused?

"Your brother was caught in the upstairs hallway after scaling the walls of my keep. I know he attempted to slip unnoticed into one of my daughter's rooms, but so far none of them will admit whom he was trying to meet."

Garrick looked at Dunstan. As he and his brother tried to digest this latest bit of information, Owen continued, "My manservant caught him sneaking in through the window. Why my darlings would keep this information from me is beyond me."

Looking each man directly in the eye, Owen admitted, "I overreacted when I told them if no one came forward by this afternoon, Roderick would hang from the same gallows that the horse thief had."

Garrick's hands fisted at his sides as he cleared his throat to speak, "Did you truly mean to hang our brother?"

Sighing loudly, Owen shook his head, "I believed that the guilty party would come forward out of love for your brother. I had no intention of hanging a man for lusting after my daughters. How could I blame a man for that?"

His black eyes narrowed, and his voice took on an edge of steel, "However, my family's name has been besmirched. It must be redeemed." Owen's stare grew colder. "I intend to use Roderick as a means to an end, profitable for all." The look he turned on Garrick was calculating. "Mayhap for most concerned."

"What is to be done now?" Garrick demanded. "None of your daughters have come forth."

Owen's sneer could have been misconstrued as a smile. "How old are you, Garrick?"

Garrick's gaze raked over the man. Why in the name of God would Owen ask that? His brother gave a slight shake of his head and Garrick answered, "Eight and twenty come winter, why?"

"Dunstan?"

Garrick's gaze met his brother's. Again Dunstan shook his head. "Five and twenty, why?"

"Do you still own Merewood, or are you vassal to a Norman baron? Are you pledged in service to anyone?" Owen's rapidly fired questions fueled the surge of fury Garrick fought to suppress.

Rising to his feet, Garrick towered over the man. "Why do you ask? What is your plan?"

"I'll have your answer first, Garrick." Owen's smile hardened into a look clearly meant to intimidate. Raw power held Owen enthralled.

Garrick recognized the look well, he had used it often himself. The coarse insult, burning the tip of his tongue, slid down his throat, unuttered. It was too soon to wrest control of the keep from Owen. He had yet to receive word from MacInness—Roderick was not free. Without the Scot and his men to back him up, an open show of hostility would gain them nothing. Garrick had to appear agreeable until he knew for certain Roderick was safe.

Quickly weighing their options, he knew the success of their plans depended on Owen's acceptance of their reasons for coming. Sedgeworth's lord must never discover the duplicity they were about to engage in.

Garrick tamped down on his anger and answered, "Our father died in the Uprising. As the eldest, I have taken on the task of trying to salvage what is left of our family's holding. We have sizeable acreage to the north. Our crops are starting to produce again. The Uprising all but decimated our land. How is it that you seem untouched here?"

"I used my head, and I plan to remain untouched."

Garrick wondered, if his father had given in to William the Conqueror would he be alive today? "Our father would have done well to pledge his loyalty to the new king," Garrick said. "He may have lived had he not followed his heart and supported the Saxon people's doomed attempt to regain all they had lost."

With a glance at his brother he added, "At least I have been able to convince Dunstan and Roderick to do so. King William seemed pleased by our efforts; he only took three-quarters of our land." Instead of all of it.

Owen nodded and Garrick wondered at the speculative look in the man's eyes. Had Owen had heard of Garrick's reputation, and the rumor that he possessed the strength of three men? The one thing he did know was that Owen thought he had backed them into a corner. Garrick smiled remembering his back-up plan. All he had to do was send word to Lady Jillian, and she would free their brother while he and Dunstan kept Owen distracted.

"Garrick, I would be willing to discuss the terms of your brother's freedom." Owen's eyes hardened to thin slits of black. "I may be persuaded to let him go for a mere one hundred pieces of gold."

Relief, coupled with a feeling of dread, swept through Garrick as his plan came closer to becoming a reality, almost within reach. But gold? He had no coin! Where would he get it? "Your family's name has a price on it?" Garrick asked.

Owen stood and started pacing, "Actually my family's name is worth far more than a mere bag of gold." He stopped right in front of Garrick. "I'm willing to barter if we add an alliance between our families."

Momentarily stunned, Garrick tried to think of where he could get the coin then realized their plans would mesh. This would work so long as Lady Jillian was part of the bargain. Speaking quickly lest Owen name the wrong maid as his intended, "I would ask for the hand of your ward, Lady Jillian."

Owen sat down. Garrick fingered the hilt of his dagger and drew it slowly out of its sheath. He didn't lose eye contact with Owen, so he was certain the man didn't suspect he held the tiny but lethal blade at the ready.

At Owen's continued silence, Garrick became uneasy. He urged, "'Twould join our households. You would be guaranteed my defense of your keep, if the need arose. Our lands would prosper, and I would see to it that no marauding Rebels, nor Scots Reivers, would plague you."

Owen's feral black eyes darted back and forth. Garrick knew his suggestion of bride was not the one Owen expected him to make. He looked at Dunstan. Their gazes met and understanding flashed in his brother's eyes.

"When will you release him?" Dunstan asked in a low-pitched voice.

Owen turned to look at Dunstan. "Soon, very soon. But I need to carefully consider your offer." He paused, rubbing a hand across his chin, "My wife is very attached to young Jillian."

By a ball and chain. The man's wife would have to find another slave to beat her frustrations out on. Mayhap 'twill not be as easy as I'd hoped . Thinking of the gold and his choice of bride, he silently vowed, I'll not leave here without the lass. I gave my word.

It was time to ask for her help, time to seek out MacInness.

*

"Roderick?" Jillian's whispered words echoed in the silence. She called louder this time, "Are you all right?"

"Lady Jillian?"

Relief speared through her, and had her fumbling with the key. "I'll have you out in a trice."

The scraping sound of the key fitting the lock was magnified by the quiet.

Footsteps brushed against stone. He stood before her on the other side of the door. She watched his expression change from one of surprise to one of confidence.

"You've come to take me up on my offer."

Was he daft?

Jillian still could not believe he would go to such lengths to be near her. She had been blunt the last time, refusing his advances, yet still he pursued her.

"We don't have time for talk," she warned, opening the door. "Here put this on and follow me." Draping him in a black cloak, she put a slender finger to her lips. Turning, she led the way toward the darkest section of the dungeon and started searching for their way out. "'Tis supposed to be here, somewhere."

"What are we looking for?"

Jillian jumped at the sound of his voice just behind her. Roderick's warm breath was too close, it tickled the sensitive skin behind her left ear.

The man was making it impossible to concentrate. "Owen's secret bolt hole. Wait, over here…I've found it! I'll have you out of here and on your way before Owen discovers you gone."

Grabbing his hand, she forged ahead, "Quickly, there's no time for explanations. You don't know what Mistress Haldana plans for your brothers." Her belly roiled, thinking of the lady's plans. Roderick had to escape… now!

Leading the way, crouching low, she swiped at the cobwebs in her path. Lord, I hate spiders . Her hands shook, but not from the cold . What if they got caught? What would Owen do? What would Haldana do?

God help her, she could not think; her concentration scattered like dandelion seeds on the wind. Tamping down her fear, she thought only of the freedom awaiting Roderick at the end of the long, dark, and damp passage.

Outside the walls of the keep Roderick jolted to a stop, gripped her elbow, and pointed to the lone horse, "Are you not coming?"

"Why would I leave my home?"

His face darkened, "'Tis not truly your home. Maralyne told me everything." His voice gentled as he spoke, "Your father died a hero's death at Hastings."

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes as betrayal slashed through her. She had told Maralyne's younger sister in confidence. How had Maralyne found out?

"Loughmoe was beautiful," he continued, his words adding to her pain. "Rolling hills of green, broken only by stone walls. Sturdy cottages your father's tenants were proud to call their own."

Jillian could not speak as memories tore her apart.

Unaware of her turmoil, he continued, "Lady Eideanna would be proud, Jillian. You've taken hold of what life has given you and not complained. You toil from dawn to well past dusk." Taking hold of her work-roughened hands, he touched them reverently with his mouth as if they were the unblemished hands of a lady.

"Aye, Jillian, I know what awaits you here. 'Tis no secret, anyone with eyes could see how they treat you. Come with me. I'll take care of you and can promise you a life of leisure."

His words cut right to the heart of her worry. Would Garrick come to hate her for using him as her means of escape?

When she didn't answer, Roderick grabbed her by the arms. "Are you pledged to a man then?"

Her face flushed, the heat of it had her bowing her head to study her worn leather boots. "You know so much about me. Mayhap I should ask you."

He had the grace to flush at her pointed words.

Good. He should be embarrassed.

"Lady Jillian, forgive me. I meant no harm."

His apology came too late to make a difference. His look of admiration confused her. What did he admire her for, speaking her mind? Risking discovery helping him to escape? The stallion pranced before them. The same one the horse thief had tried to steal yesterday, but it was the swiftest one. Would Roderick know? Would he care? She shrugged. He did not have to trust her any longer. All the man had to do was lift himself into the saddle and ride hard for home.

He pulled her close. "Come with me, Jillian." He bent his head to kiss her.

Surprised, she braced her hands on his chest and pushed away from him. "Nay."

Shaking his head to clear it, Roderick seemed stunned that she would refuse him. It must be a new experience for him.

But instead of heeding her wishes, he surprised her by bringing his lips down to hers yet again. Anger and frustration combined within her. She lifted her knee and caught him in the thigh, and he grunted in surprise.

"Mayhap you did not understand me," she told him. "I said no. Just as I said no last night when you whispered promises of love through my chamber door."

Tears of frustration filled her eyes. "I'm not interested in your advances, Roderick of Merewood. Save them for Maralyne." Earnestly, she bit out, "You only see me as a conquest, an object of pleasure, not as someone to love, or someone to offer a home and someday children to."

Drawing her shoulders back, squaring them, she wiped the tears from her face. "But your brother Garrick has promised to offer for me and give me all of the things no one else will."

*

Roderick ignored the cramp in his thigh, watching her sudden burst of anger spend itself. The pain etching deep lines around her mouth bothered him. But when she turned and ran, he let her go. She was right. He had only thought of bedding her.

Thoughts of caressing her creamy skin had inflamed him to a fevered pitch that had him scaling the timbered walls of Sedgeworth Keep searching for toeholds the night before. Not even his brothers knew of his infatuation with Jillian.

He wondered why Garrick offered to wed the penniless ward of Lord Owen. She must be mistaken. His brother's dedication to rebuilding their home would never be swayed by a woman, no matter how lovely. His older brother was predictable to a fault.

He mounted and spurred the horse, riding hard for the shelter of the wood, so close to freedom he could taste it.

The roar of a battle cry startled him. He broke out of his reverie long enough to see a knight on horseback take aim.

Pain seared through his shoulder, immobilizing him. He looked down in disbelief at the arrow buried deep in his flesh. White-hot pain washed over him as blood flowed freely from around the wooden shaft of the unknown enemy's arrow.

Then his world went black.