Part 23 (1/2)

Corbett's jaw tensed and he frowned in aggravation. ”You make no sense at all. You've reason enough to mistrust her. You know as much as I do about her connections to William and her dangerous knowledge of the king's affairs.”

”I know more than you do.” Dunn snorted. ”But only because I have my wits about me while you've clearly lost yours.” Then his tone changed. ”She's innocent, Corbett. I've not a doubt in my mind.”

There was a long pause as both men stared at the woman and child in the bailey below. ”She's a pa.s.sionate woman,” Corbett began. Then he halted and slowly shook his head. ”She fought me hard because she believed I was her enemy. She imprisoned you when she thought you'd killed her father. She fortified the entire castle against me because she was sure I'd planned Lord Barton's demise.”

His face started to relax at that memory but then he stiffened. ”If she is with William, then I have to believe she will do everything in her power to help him. And that puts her squarely against my king. And against me.”

”What if she is innocent?”

”Then that will be good,” Corbett replied slowly.

”Yes, perhaps. But I see you around her. She will not easily forget the strain of these past weeks.”

”I make her forget every night!” Corbett snapped, clearly annoyed at this turn in the conversation.

But Dunn was like a stubborn hound worrying a bone, and he would not let it drop. ”She was raised a lady and for her that will never be enough. Treat her like some favorite wh.o.r.e and you'll lose this chance to win her love.”

Corbett turned his head sharply to view Dunn. ”What has love to do with this? I married her for her inheritance. She knows that. Love has never been a consideration!”

Dunn did not reply to Corbett's vehement words. Instead, he turned his attention back to the task of checking the cranking mechanism for the drawbridge. But there was wry amus.e.m.e.nt on his face as he watched Corbett still staring down at his pretty wife.

That night Corbett did not come.

Lilliane lay awake in their shadowy chamber debating what she should say to him and how she should begin her overtures of peace. Perhaps she should broach the subject before they became too carried away by pa.s.sion. Perhaps he would be too exhausted afterward to take careful note of her words.

But then if she approached the subject too early, he might be too distracted by desire to really hear her.

It was a dilemma she debated long and hard with no firm conclusion. But when the fire settled to glowing embers, and the solitary candle sputtered and died, she knew he would not appear this night.

Had he grown tired of her? she fretted. Had the pa.s.sionate hours that had meant so much to her been only a momentary easing of his l.u.s.t for him?

That thought caused Lilliane's heart to tighten painfully. If he did not come ... She closed her eyes against that dreadful thought. But still she could not avoid it. If he did not come tonight ... If he never came again.

She sat up and thrust the heavy coverlet from her. The chill of the room seemed sadly appropriate, and for a moment she was tempted to crawl back into the warm coc.o.o.n of her bed. There she could bury her head and hide from the terrible reality of her life.

But Lilliane fought that cowardly idea and swung her feet down from the high bed to the cold stone floor. She would seek him out, she decided. He had not come to her so she would go to him. She would find him and convince him to come back to their chamber and then ... and then ...

How did you convince a suspicious man to trust you? Or an indifferent one to love you?

She did not know but she was too frightened of a future without Corbett's love to dwell on it. She would just find him and then she would decide what to do.

The castle was still and the silence oppressive. Save for the several servants who slept curled in the rushes before the hearth in the great hall there was no sign of life. It might have been the castle of the legendary sleeping princess that a long-ago minstrel had entertained them with. But in this version it was not a princess who slept, but the prince. And it was up to her to find and awaken his heart with the strength of her true love.

Lilliane was not certain where to begin. Corbett might have decided to sleep anywhere: in the stables on a pile of sweet-smelling hay, on a bunk amid the guards. Perhaps even in a vacant chamber in the keep. She bit her soft inner lip in frustration and wondered if perhaps she was pursuing a hopeless quest. What if she didn't find him? What if he became angry and sent her away from him? How would she ever face him-or anyone-again if he came right out with his rejection of her?

She s.h.i.+vered and a cold lump lodged high in her throat. She could not think like that, she told herself. She must simply find him and then deal with the consequences afterward. For she knew she could not go on in this suspended state any longer.

Outside the night sky was clear, brilliantly lighted by a silver crescent moon. Stars littered the night sky like sparkling gems strewn upon velvet of the darkest blue. The bailey was all silver light and ebony shadows with not a soul about. For a moment she feared that she would be seen, for then she would have to explain her nocturnal mission. But then she remembered that the guards' gazes faced outward. They sought no enemy from within.

Despite her silent search, Lilliane was unable to find her missing husband. Not anywhere in the stables, or in the kitchens or outside storage rooms. The visitors' chambers were as they should be, clean and readied for the coming guests, but vacant.

She was trembling with disappointment. Fighting back tears, she stood in the shadows before the soldiers' quarters. Did she dare to enter there? She took a step forward, then turned away in indecision. It went against everything her mother had taught her. But then she seemed unable to do anything right on that score. She had flagrantly disobeyed her father. She had barred her own husband from his castle. And now she crept through the night like some wanton, searching for a man who did not feel anything for her but occasional l.u.s.t.

Lilliane wiped away two hot tears then turned her gaze up to the sky. Dear G.o.d, she prayed as the brilliant stars swam before her eyes, please help me. Then her vision cleared and she stared at the crenellated silhouette of the look-over. Something had moved there. She squinted, trying to make it out. Had it only been a trick of the shadows, or perhaps her imagination? But then she saw clearly: a man lifted something to his lips.

Lilliane's heart lurched within her chest at the sight. Corbett had been so near, just another flight of steps above her while she lay worrying in her bed. It occurred to her that he must prefer his solitude to her company. But she refused to listen to such depressing thoughts.

The climb up the curving steps to the look-over seemed endless. Yet when she stood before the iron-hinged door, she hesitated. For a moment she considered retreating to the safety of her bedchamber. But other emotions far more powerful than fear drove her on, and after only a brief hesitation she forced the heavy door open.

Corbett was sitting between two high, pointed crenels. One leg dangled from his precarious stone perch. The other was c.o.c.ked as a rest for his arm. He held a round pewter jug in one hand, but he was not drinking now. He only sat there in silence, staring out over the moonlit countryside.

In that moment Lilliane recognized too clearly her husband's unhappiness. Had he been thus when he'd first come to Orrick? She could not say, for she'd not been able to see beyond his powerful image as a knight-and as an enemy. He had been the king's Bird of Prey, and she'd been the prize he'd set out to snare. Well, he had her now, but he'd obviously not found contentment in his victory.

That knowledge almost sent her running away in defeat. Would she ever be able to make him care for her? As she stared at his hard, unmoving profile, it seemed somehow impossible.

She turned away. At the door her fingers were clumsy as she fumbled with the lock. When Corbett spoke to her she shook her head hard, willing him to forget she was there and let her leave quietly with her shattered heart.

But Corbett was as uncooperative as ever, and with a simple command he made her go still.

”Come here.”

Lilliane's very heartbeat seemed to stop at his words. More than ever she wished to flee and avoid this further humiliation. But she could not break the hold he had on her that easily. Instead she bowed her head against the weather-beaten door as if it might lend her support.

”I said come here,” he demanded more harshly. This time she heard the slight slur brought on by the wine.

Still she did not obey but only stayed where she was, a pale, slender shape trembling against the dark stonework. When it was apparent she would not respond, Corbett left his place between the crenels and crossed the small enclosure to her. Then he turned her sharply and backed her against the rough door.

”Why are you here?” he barked. ”But that's a foolish question, isn't it?” His hands tightened on her arms before he released her. Then he braced one hand against the door and leaned nearer. She could smell the wine on his breath, and she knew he'd had much more than on the previous nights.

”You know, you disprove all my theories about women,” he began in an unexpectedly amiable tone. Lilliane watched him with wide, wary eyes. She was confused by his odd mood, which seemed to jump from pensive to angry to almost teasing.

”Wives are not supposed to be pa.s.sionate, you know. They only endure their husband's attention out of a sense of duty. 'Tis mistresses who are sweet and responsive.” He ran his finger along her cheek then began to toy with her hair. ”Too bad you could not have been simply my mistress. How much happier we might have been.”

”And you're not happy at all now,” Lilliane whispered.

”No more than you. We married because duty bade we must. But lovers ... lovers obey no such duty.”

”It was not your duty to marry me. No one forced you into it,” Lilliane reminded him reproachfully.

Corbett smiled grimly. ”There are many types of duty, Lily-”

”Yes, and having an heir-and something to leave that heir-was your duty,” Lilliane snapped, hiding her pain behind anger. ”How I wish you had picked someone else.”

Corbett's face was just inches from hers. His eyes appeared black as coal and as impenetrable as stone. She tried to turn away from his disturbing stare but his hand, still tangled in her loose hair, prevented her.

”Indeed, it would have been much easier if I could have. All I wanted was a proper little wife. What I got ...” He stopped then he pressed close to her. ”What I got was a fiery little temptress. Tell me, Lily, would you have consented to be my mistress only?”

”Oh, you are blackhearted!” Lilliane cried as she tried to twist away from the heated length of his body against hers. ”You have only one wicked thought in your head!”

”As do you!” He deftly stilled her frantic struggles. ”What reason brought you to seek me except l.u.s.tful ones? You can accuse me of no worse than you are guilty of.”