Читать книгу The Heiress Bride - Susan Paul - Страница 11

It was late the next day before Hugh finally turned their horses off the main road. They rambled along a side road for a few minutes and then stopped. In front of them, still some distance away, stood an imposing, venerable monastery, that Rosaleen knew by reputation. In fact, though she had seldom been through this area of England before, she was well aware of where they were. It would have been impossible not to know, for this land belonged to Sir Alexander Baldwin, the Lord of Gyer, who was widely known as one of King Henry’s richest and most powerful barons.

“Is this where we’ll be spending the night, then, Hugh Caldwell?” she asked, turning to look at him.

He didn’t answer, but sat stiffly atop his steed, staring at the monastery.

“Yes,” he replied at last, his voice taut.

Rosaleen wondered at the change that had come over him during the past few hours. He had wakened in a good mood that morn; had, in truth, enjoyed himself greatly with teasing her over the fact that she had curled against him for warmth during the night. But during the last several miles he had grown quiet, and even short-tempered, answering her questions with sharp replies plainly meant to tell her that he wanted to be left alone, until Rosaleen had actually wished he would start teasing her again.

Earlier, when they had passed by the small barony of Wallewyn, he had become increasingly grim, and when Rosaleen had begged that they stop at that place and rest for a short time, he had practically growled at her.

“I’ll not step foot in that damned place again,” he’d said tightly. “Ever. We’ll keep on.”

Those had been the last words he’d spoken to her until this moment.

“It is early to stop yet. Should we not press on and spend the night in Gyer?”

He shook his head. “We’ll spend the night here.”

He looked so strange that Rosaleen felt a little afraid.

“Very well, Hugh Caldwell. We’ll stay here.”

He was silent again, gazing hauntedly ahead.

Rosaleen cleared her throat. “Will we be spending the night in the middle of the road, then? Or shall we go down?”

Hugh turned to look at her, and the fire in his eyes nearly burned her to a cinder. His hands were clenched so tightly around the reins of his steed that his knuckles showed white.

“We will go, my lady, but I want you to know that the only reason I even came within a day’s ride of this place is because of you.”

He spurred his horse forward and galloped toward the monastery, leaving a stunned Rosaleen to follow. Above them, Amazon, having been loosed to feed herself an hour earlier, circled and gave her fierce cry.

Hugh rode like a demon through the monastery’s gates, causing the monks working in the surrounding fields to look at him wonderingly. Rosaleen followed more sedately, smiling and nodding politely at the bewildered men, hoping that they wouldn’t turn them away because of Hugh Caldwell’s rude behavior. When she made the gates herself she saw that he had gone straight through the courtyard and into the stables. She rode in after him and was grabbed and yanked out of her saddle before her eyes could adjust to the building’s darkness.

Hugh set her firmly on her feet.

“Go and wait for me in the gardens. I’ll take care of the horses and meet you there.”

Well! thought Rosaleen. He treated her as though she were naught but baggage!

“I’ll not be ordered about like a servant, Hugh Caldwell! And I’ll not be tossed about like a sack of grain!”

Ignoring her, he took hold of the little mare and led her toward a stall. “Go wait in the gardens for me,” he repeated. “They’re just across the courtyard and through the half gate. You’ll find them easily enough.”

Rosaleen stood her ground, glaring at him. Hugh turned, saw her there and raised his eyebrows.

“Have you gone deaf, Rosaleen? I told you to go and wait for me in the gardens.”

“I heard you!”

“Then get out of my sight, woman, and do as I say. Go on, now.” He turned his attention back to the horses.

Rosaleen huffed loudly, then stormed out of the stables with as much dignity as she possessed. Ignoring the stares of the monks in the courtyard, she strode across it to the half gate, flung it open and slammed it behind her after she walked into the gardens.

“If he thinks that I came to the gardens because he bade me do so,” she announced aloud, “then he’s an even greater idiot than I first supposed!”

Making her way down one of several paths to a bench, she angrily plopped down upon it.

“I don’t care if he is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen,” she muttered. “He’s rude and ill-mannered, and he probably thinks he’s one of God’s blessings to women!”

A cool breeze brushed her face, but Rosaleen’s fury wasn’t tempered by it.

“He’ll be sorry when he discovers who I am.” An angry, feline smile lit her face. “And I only hope I’m there to see it! By my troth, I’ll make him grovel if it’s the last thing I do. When he realizes who it is he’s insulted, he’ll be on his knees, begging my forgiveness!”

So caught up was she in her vengeful fantasies that she didn’t hear the garden gate open again, or the sound of the careful footsteps that approached her.

“Wretched beast! Brother of a pig farmer! Thinking he can treat me, the daughter of an earl, without the least bit of common decency, as though I were naught but the lowliest whore! But he’ll come to rue his behavior, I vow. He’ll…”

“Careful, daughter, lest you say words you’ll one day regret.”

Hugh! Rosaleen thought, paralyzing with mortification. He had finished with the horses more quickly than she had imagined he would. Embarrassed beyond words to have been discovered talking to herself, Rosaleen flushed and slowly raised her eyes to look at him.

What she saw stole the breath from her.

“Hugh Caldwell!” she shrieked, shooting up off the bench.

He shook his head with confusion. “My lady?”

“How could you! Oh, how could you!” Rosaleen’s hands flew up to press against her hot cheeks. “Merciful God in heaven! Are you insane?”

For one horrible moment Rosaleen thought she would be sick, so great was her shock. She was only grateful that she didn’t faint.

He took a step toward her, holding out one hand.

“My good lady, whatever is the matter?” His voice was filled with concern. “Are you ill?”

She backed away from him in horror, as though he were diseased.

“Don’t touch me, you…you infidel! You godless pervert! Stay away from me!”

He stopped and held his hands palm up. “Of course I’ll not touch you, my dear,” he said very soothingly. “You mustn’t be afraid. I only wish to help you. All of us here—” he motioned back toward the courtyard “—only want to help you, good daughter.”

She truly thought she would swoon. “Sick. Dear God, you are sick! Oh, Hugh, how can this be? What can I do to help you?”

His expression changed slightly, and he raised his eyebrows in the manner that was now so familiar to her.

“What did you call me?”

“And your hair!” she wailed. “Your beautiful hair! How could you cut it so dreadfully? Oh, Hugh!”

He frowned deeply. “I think perhaps you’ve made a mistake.”

A sudden realization struck Rosaleen, and she stared at him anew, dumbfounded. “But it isn’t possible! I left you in the stables only a few moments ago. You couldn’t have cut your hair and changed your clothing so quickly. It’s not possible!” Another idea occurred to her, and she felt sick all over again. “Oh my God, Hugh Caldwell! I’m the one who’s gone mad! This is what’s happened to me after spending time in company such as yours. I’ve lost my mind!”

His gentleness vanished and Rosaleen found herself grabbed up by his strong hands.

“You’ve called me that twice now!” he said angrily, shaking her. “Hugh Caldwell! What do you know of Hugh Caldwell? Tell me!”

Stunned, Rosaleen peered into his face, searching in vain for some difference. There was none, save his hair and clothes. He was Hugh Caldwell, or Hugh Caldwell’s exact reflection.

“If you’re not him,” she squeaked beneath his stern gaze, “then I left him only a few moments ago in the stables.”

He dropped her so fast she actually fell on her posterior, but Rosaleen scrambled up and raced after him as he strode out of the gardens and toward the stables. He flung the stable doors open so violently that they banged off the walls, startling every living creature in the building, including Hugh Caldwell, who quickly looked up from where he crouched, brushing Rosaleen’s little mare.

His gaze locked with that of the man who stood in the doorway, and the brush fell out of his hand. He took one hesitant step, then two, toward Rosaleen and the man, and a tentative smile grew on his lips.

“Hugo,” he said very softly. He took two more steps and held out his arms.

“You,” the monk whispered, and with an animal sound launched himself at his brother. Hugh never even knew what hit him, Hugo’s attack was so violent and sudden. A blow to his left cheek sent him sprawling into a nearby stall, and as soon as he landed Hugo leapt upon him, his fists pummeling him again and again.

Rosaleen was thoroughly stunned. She had never seen such a sight or imagined anything like it. A monk, of all people, brawling like a common knave! She didn’t know what she should do, or what the precedent was for handling the situation. If it had been Hugh and some other common man, she would have dumped a bucketful of the horses’ water on them, but she didn’t know if throwing water on a monk was allowed by the Church, and she had too much consideration for her soul to endanger it by committing a sin in ignorance. Unable to think of anything more helpful, she simply ran around the fighting men, begging them to stop.

“No, no, Hugh!” she cried when he slugged the priest in the stomach, doubling him over before hitting him again to send him flying into a pile of hay. “He’s a monk! A monk, Hugh! You mustn’t hit him!”

“I know damned well what he is!” Hugh roared. “Stay out of the way, Rosaleen!”

He barely got the words out before Hugo slammed into him, sending the both of them sliding across the stable floor. This time Hugo ended up on top and quickly straddled his struggling brother, pinning him down.

“You rotten bastard!” he shouted. “I’ve been waiting ten years to do this to you, and I’ll not be denied my pleasure!”

“Oh, oh, oh!” Rosaleen wailed. “Father, your language!”

“Be quiet!” both brothers shouted at her.

“Well!” Rosaleen stamped her foot.

“Do you have any idea how I felt that morn when I woke and found you gone?” Hugo demanded angrily. “Do you?” He shook him. “Sixteen years we were together, never apart, sharing everything, and yet you snuck off in the middle of the night without so much as a word to met Not one damned word!” He lifted a fist and furiously slammed it into Hugh’s face. “You’ll never be able to imagine what that did to me! Never!”

“I’m sorry,” Hugh mumbled, groaning, shaking his head to clear it. “I’m sorry, Hugo.”

“Sorry!” Hugo repeated. “Ten years later and you say you’re sorry!”

“I never meant to hurt you. I never meant that, Hugo, you know that’s true. But I had to go.”

“You didn’t have to go,” Hugo told him. “You could have stayed and worked through the pain, as I had to do all alone once you deserted me. We could have worked it out together. But instead you chose to run, and you’re running still. Hugh Caldwell!” He spat the word out with disgust. “In all of ten years you never once came home.”

“No, I didn’t,” Hugh agreed miserably. “But I did write, Hugo, so that no one would ever worry about me.”

Hugo nodded grimly, shoving at Hugh’s shoulders. “That’s right. You wrote on occasion. And Lillis cried over every single missive, just as she cried her heart out for weeks after you ran away. She blamed herself, and nothing Alex or I or anyone else did or said could make her think otherwise. That’s what you did to her with your selfishness, brother.”

“Oh God,” Hugh whispered, his voice filled with pain. “I didn’t mean to hurt Lillis.”

Hugo laughed bitterly. “You didn’t mean to hurt me, and you didn’t mean to hurt Lillis, and I’ll assume you didn’t mean to hurt Alex or Aunt Leta or anyone else, but you did, Hugh. You did.” He moved off his brother at last and slowly stood. “Now, what are you doing here?” he asked coldly. “Why did you bother to come home?”

“Because of me,” Rosaleen murmured, horrified at what she had made Hugh Caldwell return to.

Hugo turned to look at her as Hugh lifted himself from the ground.

“And who, my lady, are you?” “Hugo,” Hugh said, gingerly rubbing his bruised jaw, “please meet Rosaleen. I don’t know her last name, so you’ll have to live without that. Rosaleen, meet my brother, Father Hugo Baldwin. Rosaleen’s in need of help, so I’m taking her to Alex. But I…wanted to see you first…so I thought we might spend the night here. If you want us to go, we will.” When Hugo glanced at him sharply, Hugh added, “I understand, Hugo. It hasn’t been so long that I don’t know your thoughts anymore.”

Hugo made no reply but turned his gaze once more to Rosaleen, surveying her first with the same anger he had directed at his brother, then with growing curiosity.

Rosaleen examined him in much the same way, just as angrily and curiously.

“Why, of course,” she said. “You’re twins. That’s why I mistook you for Hugh.” Unconsciously she inched toward Hugh until she stood beside him. Only then did she make a tiny bow. “Father Hugo,” she greeted dutifully, and stiffly.

“My lady.” He nodded at her. “If we have you to thank for bringing my brother home, then not only I, but my entire family, will be most grateful.”

“You don’t seem grateful to see your brother, my lord. Indeed, from your manner and speech I should think you’d rather string me up than thank me.” The words came out of her with surprising tartness.

Instead of being angry, as he had every right to be, Rosaleen knew, the monk surprised her by lowering his eyes. Slipping his hands into the sleeves of his plain tunic, he looked suddenly meek and defenseless. “I think, then, my lady, that you know nothing about twins. You are wrong when you say that I am not glad to see my brother. His return is the answer to a prayer I have prayed every night since the night I saw him last.”

“Hugo,” Hugh pleaded, reaching out to his brother once more. Hugo quickly sidestepped him and started for the door.

“I shall see to your lodgings.” His voice was stern again. “The evening meal will be served in two hours’ time.”

Their dinner passed more easily. Hugh and Hugo had silently agreed to at least be polite to each other, if not friendly. The three of them ate together in a small private chamber off the main dining area, so that they could converse without the restriction of the silence imposed upon the monks during their meals.

It was strange for Rosaleen to sit between two men who were exact copies, save for their hair and clothing. Even their voices sounded alike, so that she didn’t think she would be able to tell them apart in the dark.

“You’ve turned into something of a firebrand, Hugh,” Hugo commented. “We often get word of your adventures, even here at the monastery, though I generally hear of them from Alex whenever I visit at Gyer.”

Pushing his soup aside, Hugh chuckled. “I’ve turned into something of a firebrand? You’re one to speak, brother. Do you not remember all the mischief we got into when we were boys? Being a monk has affected your memory.”

Hugo laughed in turn. “I remember, Hugh. The brothers here won’t let me forget the time we loosed our dogs in the monastery’s hen yard. Father Bartholomew still becomes angered over it whenever we have chicken at table. And Alex won’t let me forget the time we kidnapped Lillis and brought her to Gyer as a prisoner. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her I think we might still be suffering punishment for that particular deed.”

“Trumpery!” Hugh replied, hefting a tankard of ale. “If we hadn’t kidnapped Lillis, Gyer would have ended up at war with Wellewyn. We saved the lives of hundreds of people.”

“You kidnapped your sister-in-law?” Rosaleen asked in disbelief.

“Well, she wasn’t our sister-in-law at the time,” Hugo explained somewhat shamefully. “She was the daughter of Gyer’s enemy, Jaward of Wellewyn. Truthfully, however, we didn’t know who she was when we first kidnapped her. We were playing highway thieves, you see, and were out to get any wayside traveler we could. If we hadn’t ended up capturing the daughter of our brother’s enemy, Alex probably would have strangled us.”

“Your brother is Alexander of Gyer, then?” she asked quietly, keeping her eyes on Hugh, who wouldn’t look at her.

Hugo gave her a strange look. “Of course he is. Did Hugh not tell you?”

Both Rosaleen and Hugh were silent.

“Ah,” Hugo said with understanding. “He didn’t tell you. Well, yes, Alex is our brother, just as Lillis is our sister. Did he tell you that?”

“Hugo!” Hugh growled.

“No, Father Baldwin, Hugh Caldwell has been very secretive regarding his true identity,” she replied tartly.

“I’ve been more forthcoming than you, Rosaleen no-name,” Hugh returned.

“Hardly,” Rosaleen scoffed. “I may not have given you my full name, Hugh Baldwin-Caldwell-whoever, but at least I didn’t lie to you.”

“I did not lie to you,” Hugh insisted. “My name is Hugh Caldwell and has been for the past ten years.”

“That’s impossible!” Rosaleen argued just as angrily. “If your brother is Alexander Baldwin and your twin brother is Hugo Baldwin, then I can only assume that your true name is Hugh Baldwin, isn’t that so, Father?” She looked to Hugo for aid but found that he had turned away.

Hugh, however, was looking at her so coldly that Rosaleen almost thought he might freeze her. “What I choose to call myself is my concern, my lady, just as your last name is yours. It makes no difference to you anyway, so leave the matter be.”

“Oh!” Rosaleen huffed furiously, throwing her linen napkin on the table. “It does matter to me, Hugh Caldwell! You led me to believe that your brother was a pig farmer, not the richest baron in all of England!”

Both brothers gazed at her with shock, and silence reigned in the little room for several seconds. Then Hugo began to laugh.

“You did what!” he asked Hugh.

“What foolishness is this, Rosaleen?” Hugh demanded. “I never told you that my brother was a pig farmer!”

Rosaleen, realizing what she had said in her anger, flushed a bright, mortified red. Hugo was laughing so hard it was difficult for her to speak over him.

“Well…I just assumed…I mean…your manners Hugh, are so…so…and I just assumed that you were…well…”

Her fumbling words sent Hugo off again, and he laughed so hard that he nearly fell off his chair.

“Dammit, Hugo,” Hugh said. “This isn’t funny!”

“Your m-manners m-made her th-think that Alex is a p-p-pig farmer!” Hugo howled with delight, slapping a hand on the table. “That’s th-the f-funniest thing I’ve ever h-heard! W-wait until I t-tell Alex!”

“You’ll tell Alex no such thing! I’ll not have it!” Hugh stated angrily. “And you, my lady—” he fixed Rosaleen with a heated glare “—should stop assuming that everyone else is like your uncle. Or does he even aspire to be a pig farmer? Mayhap I should think you were flattering me.”

Rosaleen returned his glare with one of her own, and it was on the tip of her tongue to reveal her true identity to him. He would certainly be no less surprised to discover that she was the daughter of an earl than she had been at finding her ungallant companion to be a member of the highest nobility. Unfortunately, now knowing the truth about Hugh, she could trust him even less than she did before. If anyone in the Baldwin family should discover that she was Rosaleen Sarant, the heiress of Siere, they would certainly do what they felt was their duty and give her over to her uncle. Rosaleen had never been formally introduced to the Lord of Gyer, but they had been at court at the same time during several important royal occasions in the past. She would recognize him, she knew, but would he recognize her? She could only hope and pray that he wouldn’t.

Both brothers waited for her to make a reply, and the longer she tried to think of what she must say, the more curious their expressions grew.

“Mayhap you should,” she finally answered, then, reaching for a piece of bread, she quickly changed the subject. “Please tell me how it is that you came to be a monk, Father Hugo. You are very different from Hugh that way, are you not, even though you are twins?”

“Oh, my tale is tame and dull compared to most,” Hugo replied with a grin. “I’d much rather hear more about you, Lady Rosaleen, and about why such a beautiful young lady must keep her identity a secret.”

“As would I,” Hugh agreed but, since he didn’t at all like the manner in which his brother was looking at Rosaleen, regardless that Hugo had taken a vow of chastity, he added, “but I would also be interested to know why you’ve gone into holy orders. If anyone had ever told me when we were boys that either one of us would end up in the Church, I would have laughed until I was ill. I was just about done in, as it was, when I had news of you from friends.” He popped a grape into his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “I couldn’t believe it! When I think of all the things we did together, I wonder at how you ever got ordained. Why, if the Church only knew about all the women you and I used to—”