Vengeance 02 - Trust In Me (7 page)

But he hadn’t left yet.

Though embarrassed at her actions of the afternoon, she would seize this last opportunity to be with him at supper. Another memory for the long lonely years ahead, for she knew with all her heart she would never meet another man like Lord Trisbane.

Smiling to herself, she made her way to her father’s chamber and knocked softly on the door.

“Come.”

Her father’s confident tone reassured her, for he sounded like the father she missed so dearly. She entered the chamber to find him at his desk, a piece of parchment spread out before him, his finger tracing something he examined with care.

The tall windows cast the fading afternoon light onto the desk and silhouetted his upper body. He looked well. His white hair was brushed neatly, and he wore a clean saffron tunic. Relief filled her at the sight of him looking so much like his old self.

“What are you studying, Father?” Curious, she drew nearer and saw he examined a map.

“He went here first, then on to the next tournament,” he said as though continuing a conversation.

With a sinking heart, she swallowed her disappointment. “Who?” But she already knew.

“Gregory.”

Of course. Gregory. The lump in her throat burned.

The map showed England, Normandy, Brittany, Poitou, and Flanders. All countries that Gregory had traveled through at one time or another.

She’d known her father wouldn’t rest until Gregory’s murderer was found and punished. He’d even taken matters into his own hands when he’d thought William guilty. Convincing him of William’s innocence had been difficult. Yet after speaking with the captured knight, both she and Margaret had become convinced he had not killed Gregory.

“We’ll need a list of the other knights in the last tournament.” He finally looked up at her, but she knew he didn’t see her. “Surely that won’t be hard to obtain.”

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. She also wanted to find the man who’d killed her brother, but not at the sake of her father’s well-being.

His obsession with revenge for Gregory’s death had worsened his mental state. What had been a bit of absentmindedness had increased to only occasional moments of lucidity. At times like this, she missed Gregory more than ever – someone who understood her father, who could help reason with him and share this burden with her.

Should she encourage his efforts with the hope that if he found the guilty person and justice was served, he could at last start to heal from the loss of Gregory? Worry settled heavy on her shoulders. She would do anything to help and protect her father, but she just wasn’t certain what that was.

His attention returned to the map.

At least this interest would gain her what she needed for the night – for him to remain in his chamber. “Father, I’ll have Robert bring your supper so you can review this with him.”

He looked up at her, a frown marring his white bushy brows. “Why? I think we should eat in the hall so we can all discuss this.”

“Our visitors are still here.”

“Visitors? Excellent. Perhaps they can assist us in some way. When did they arrive?”

Elizabeth debated her options. While her father seemed quite coherent now, that could change at the snap of a finger. What might trigger the change, she could not say. Stressful situations often caused his confusion. She didn’t want anyone to see him at his worst. Nor did she want him to mention William’s capture.

With a heavy sigh, she tried the same thing that had worked last time. “These travelers don’t care for the hunt.”

Her father stared at her as though
she
were crazed. “What are you speaking of? Why does that matter?”

“It doesn’t. I just thought since they prefer to fish that you’d rather remain in your chamber. I can send Robert up with your meal and you can discuss the list with him then.”

“Elizabeth, one would think you’re trying to hide me from these visitors. What in heaven is wrong with you?”

Chapter Seven

Nicholas had listened at the door for only a moment, but that had been long enough. How could he have been so blind to Elizabeth’s deception? All the sweetness and innocence he’d seen in her were false. Her lies would end now.

Fury poured through him, and he pressed his knife firmly into Robert’s back. He would play the fool no more. “Open the door. Now.”

Robert hesitated, but the prick of the knife convinced him to move. He pushed open the heavy oak panel to reveal Elizabeth standing beside an older man. Crefton – Nicholas recognized him immediately from his visions.

“Aye, Lady Elizabeth,” Nicholas said.
“Why would you want to hide your father from me? What game do you play?” He kicked the door shut behind him.

Her stunned expression gave him a brief moment of pleasure.

“Lady Elizabeth, I fear – ” Robert grunted in pain as Nicholas adjusted his hold on him.

“No need for you to speak, Robert,” Nicholas advised.

“What is the meaning of this?” Crefton stood and took several steps toward them. “Who the devil are you?”

“Father,” Elizabeth said as she moved to stand in front of the old lord, “this is Lord Trisbane, one of our...guests.”

Nicholas shook his head, amazed at her composure. She’d play her lies through to the end it seemed. He cursed himself for the burgeoning affection he’d felt for her.

Shoving Robert aside, he returned his knife to its sheath and grasped the hilt of his sword. “I repeat: why do you want your father to remain in his chamber? Would you hide him from me?”

Her soft brown eyes darted from his face to the hand on his sword and back again. Worry mixed with fear in her expression. “I don’t understand.”

“Stop pretending you don’t know who I am.” He moved toward her and the old man, certain the steward was no threat.

“He is Lord Nicholas de Bremont, my lady,” Robert said.

Elizabeth gasped, seemingly horrified. Her face flooded with color.

Crefton glanced at Elizabeth, but otherwise showed no reaction to Robert’s declaration. The old man held the bluff much better than his daughter.

“William...is he...all right?” Elizabeth’s halting words refueled Nicholas’s anger.

“Nay, he is not
all
right
. You left him half dead at the gate of my keep!”

Guilt flooded Elizabeth’s face, erasing the remaining doubt that plagued him. She glanced at Robert, and Nicholas had his answer as to who had accompanied her to his holding to deliver William. Robert’s expression mirrored hers – guilty.

She stepped back to take her father’s arm. “Lord de Bremont, I am – rather we – are sorry for William’s ill health. We were certain he’d be better off in your hands than – ”

“Silence!”

She flinched.

“Do you think an apology makes any difference after what you’ve done? It means nothing. I will not listen to your lies. You have deceived me since my arrival.”

“That’s not true,” she protested, her eyes wide with fear.

“Who is this William he speaks of?” Crefton asked Elizabeth, his brow knitted with confusion.

Nicholas’s hand clenched the hilt of his sword. He wanted to draw it and run the man through. “Is your memory so short that you’ve forgotten the name of the man you nearly killed? My brother. Held in your dungeon without proper care – ”

“Nay!” Elizabeth cried out. “We cared for him as best we could.”

“It wasn’t good enough. Add that to the fact that you tried to seduce me to distract me from my purpose.”

She gasped at his words, color high in her cheeks.

“Do you deny it?” He moved to stand before her, perhaps to prove to both of them that he could be near her without lust coloring his actions. The scent of roses drifted up to taunt him, reminding him of the kisses they’d shared. A sharp pain filled his head as a vivid scene swamped his senses.

Elizabeth’s soft, warm body moved beneath his.

Her long brown tresses fanned over the pillow.

Passion – with a hint of something more – glowed in her face.

Her soft cry of release undid him.

He fought against the vision and the desire it brought forth. As his mind cleared, he tried desperately to convince himself that what he’d seen and felt was only his misplaced desire, not a vision.
It had to be
.

Damn his unruly mind. Damn Crefton for what he’d done to William. Most of all, damn Elizabeth for making him want things he wasn’t meant to have. “You knew who I was from the moment I arrived,” he ground out.

“Nay, I did not.”

“You knew.” He repeated the words. “Why else would you beg me to kiss you, try to gain my empathy, and hide your father from me?” He gestured toward Crefton, who stood motionless by her side, his expression oddly blank. “All because you knew my true identity.”

She shook her head as tears filled her eyes.

“You used all of your wiles to hide the truth from me.” He turned away from her in disgust then spun back as another thought occurred to him. “Did you torture William? Is that how he received his injuries?”

“Heavens, no!” She denied it as though appalled at the very idea.

“Why?” He stepped closer but didn’t touch her. Didn’t dare touch her. Why did
she
have to be the one who stirred his blood more than any other? “What could he have possibly done to you?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but he shook his head. “Nay. I would not believe you. Your father will explain.”

Nicholas studied her face, amazed that she looked so innocent even after he’d exposed her treachery. She said nothing as she looked at her father, her expression unreadable. What was going on in the mind behind that beautiful face? He tore his gaze from her and the temptation she presented and turned to Crefton.

“Lord de Bremont,” Robert
interrupted. “While the circumstances may show us in a poor light, the truth is that Lady Elizabeth – ”

Nicholas drew his sword and pointed it at the steward who had moved toward Nicholas as he spoke. “Not another word from you. Is that clear?”

Robert held up his hands, palms out, as he nodded and backed away.

Nicholas turned back to the old lord as he lowered his sword. “I would hear it from you, Crefton.”

Crefton cleared his throat. “You certainly deserve an explanation.” He looked at Elizabeth as though to see what he should say.

She nodded in encouragement.

“My son, Gregory,” he said, seeming to consider his words carefully, “meant the world to me.” After a long pause, Crefton looked up at Nicholas but gazed right through him. “He was supposed to come home with me.”

Elizabeth squeezed her father’s arm.

Crefton gave her a small, sad smile in return.

Nicholas gritted his teeth in frustration. He did not want to hear this story. “My lord, I appreciate that you’ve lost your son, however – ”

“Please, Lord de Bremont,” Elizabeth interrupted. “Let him finish.”

Nicholas looked from Crefton to Elizabeth then gave an impatient nod. What purpose did the telling of his son’s death serve?

“Aye. We shall finish it! And when we do, the guilty shall be punished!” Crefton’s face lit with a zealous fervor.

Nicholas stared at him, trying to discern if he spoke of William or a different subject entirely.

“Father,” Elizabeth said in a pleading voice, “can you explain what happened in Normandy?”

The strange light faded from Crefton’s expression. “Normandy?” He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head as though he did not want to speak of it.

“To Gregory,” Elizabeth prompted him.

“Why do you insist on this?” Nicholas asked her, his patience at end. “There’s no reason for it.”

“Gregory was killed in a joust in Normandy when his opponent failed to comply with the tournament rules,” she said in response.

“No blunted tip,” Crefton said in a sing-song voice. “Pierced his mail. Left him dead.”

The old man acted daft. Was this why Elizabeth had kept him hidden away or was this another trick?

“Dead. Dead.” Crefton’s voice cracked as he repeated the word, and he lurched toward Elizabeth who took his arm, steadying him.

“Father witnessed the entire event, including Gregory’s death,” Elizabeth continued.

Nicholas frowned. “You can’t think his opponent was William.”

She shrugged. “Aye, we did. Father and several other witnesses saw him. There was no question as to who was guilty.”

“My brother would never commit such an atrocity.”

“The guilty will be punished!” Crefton stood upright and began to pace back and forth in front of Nicholas. “He will rot in my dungeon. Damn him to hell for taking my son from me.” Suddenly, he spun to face Nicholas, his bushy brows lowered in fury. “He will be punished!”

Nicholas waited, but the old lord said nothing more. Instead, he turned to pace the chamber once again, muttering as he went. Nicholas glared at Elizabeth as he tried to rein in his temper. “If you think to deceive me with this act, you’d best think again.”

“Punished.” Crefton repeated with a decisive nod then stopped and looked around the room blankly.

“He’s confused. Surely you can see that.” Elizabeth’s large brown eyes begged him to believe her. “He doesn’t even remember that William isn’t here.”

Crefton tilted his head to the side as though trying to make sense of their conversation. “Izzie? What do you speak of?”

“You remember William, the knight you brought back from the tournament?” Elizabeth’s tone had changed completely. She spoke to her father as though trying to calm a child.

He considered the question, but shook his head. “What tournament?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment then drew a deep breath as she opened them and looked directly at Nicholas. “My father is not well.”

Nicholas scoffed. Did she expect him to believe this act? It had to be an act. The alternative was impossible.

“Truly. Since my brother’s death, he has not been himself.”

“And you think that matters to me? It doesn’t.” But it did. How could he exact vengeance against Crefton when the man behaved like this?

“Gregory, my poor Gregory,” Crefton cried. Tears ran down his cheeks as sobs racked his body. “He was supposed to come home.”

Nicholas braced himself against the old man’s grief.

Elizabeth put her arms around her father’s shoulder and hugged him tight. Tears in her eyes, she held Nicholas’s gaze. “Lord...de Bremont, I ask you to put yourself in our position – ”

“Nay. Put yourself in mine. William might be dead by now. Your father’s madness is the only thing keeping me from running him through.” Nicholas glared at the old lord, willing him to stop crying. He couldn’t stand to see his grief so clearly displayed.

“We pray for William’s recovery,” Elizabeth said.

“Your prayers are not enough. Last rites were said the day I left to find you.”

She bit her lip, and for a brief moment, Nicholas feared her tears might overcome her. A dull ache resonated in his chest. He cursed himself that her pain affected him at all.

Her gaze caught Robert’s, and the steward moved forward to assist Crefton to a chair.

After watching to make sure her father had calmed, she turned back to Nicholas. “I can only offer prayers and my deepest apology. I beg your forgiveness. We wronged William and therefore you as well. I am so sorry.”

The shaky ground under Nicholas’s feet shifted. He almost believed her. His plans for vengeance were fading as fast as the faint glimpse of lucidity in Crefton’s eyes. How could this be happening? It wasn’t fair. Not for William. “I demand retribution.” He made certain his voice held none of his own confusion.

After a pause, Elizabeth said, “I can offer you payment.”

“Money cannot solve this!”

“I propose three hundred pounds.”

“Nay!” he bellowed. His desire for vengeance had never been about money, not even for that large of a sum.

“Then what?” she asked.

He ran his fingers through his hair and, without thinking, spoke from his heart. “I want my brother back.” Immediately he regretted his words, knowing he’d revealed too much.

Silence filled the chamber for a long moment.

“As much as I’d like to, I can’t give William back to you.” She looked away, her tone much softer. “I tried that already.”

The reminder of what she’d done made him furious. “I demand that you and your father suffer as William has!”

She blanched at his words, tears falling at last. “Please. Not my father. I beg you. He has suffered enough. He can take no more. Allow me to pay for both of us.”

“How?” Nicholas asked bluntly. “What could you possibly offer equal to William’s life?”

“My own life, my lord. I offer myself.”