An Uncertain Choice(61)

21




I PACED BACK AND FORTH ACROSS MY CELL. TEN STEPS TO the wall. Ten steps to the bars.

I’d worn a path through the straw to the point my boots now slapped the stone floor. The darkness was so black I was unable to see my outstretched hand. My skin was damp with the dankness of the cell. And my stomach rumbled.

My morning meal should have come by now. It was past time.

But the door to the dungeon hadn’t been opened all night or morning — ?except for the one time the jailor had shoved a drunk prisoner into the cell across from mine. The man had passed out, and from the heavy sound of his breathing I could tell he was still asleep.

I stopped at the bars and listened hard again, as I had many times during the long night. I strained to hear footsteps, jingling keys, anything to signal that Rosemarie’s old guard was coming.

But there was nothing. Only silence and the choppy breath of the prisoner in the opposite cell.

Why hadn’t Rosemarie sent Bartholomew for me as she’d done the other nights? The question pounded through me with such force my chest ached.

When I’d left the last time, she’d jested with me as she had previously that we would have to finish our chess game the next night. Of course, I’d purposefully neglected the chess game so that I would have some excuse — ?any excuse — ?to return to her for our midnight meetings.

Perhaps she’d decided it was too risky to send for me again? And I agreed. It had been risky. I dreaded to think what the abbot would do to her if he found out she’d been spending time with me . . .

I blew out a shaky breath against the cold bars, then spun and resumed my pacing.

Or what if she’d grown tired of me? But she’d seemed to enjoy our times together as much as I had. She’d laughed with me, spoken animatedly, and had been genuinely interested in my opinions. Her eyes had been alight, her expression open and eager, and her smile . . .

My heartbeat pounded with the strength of my warhorse in a battle. Her smile was beautiful enough to knock me senseless and make me do whatever she wished.

I almost groaned at the vision of her sitting across the table from me, the strand of her spun gold hair waving about her face, the delicate curve of her chin, and the lovely arch of her eyebrows above her wide eyes.

I hadn’t been mistaken at seeing something in those eyes whenever she looked at me, had I? Some growing affection?

She surely wouldn’t have sought me out if she didn’t want to be with me.

I jabbed my fingers in my hair and released a groan. I had the urge to pound the bars and break them down so that I could find her, fall on one knee in front of her, and beg her to marry me.

Although I had no right to ask for her love, although I was still a poor, landless knight with the accusations of crimes upon my shoulders, I knew I must ask her to be my wife. I’d let my past insecurities command me far too long. And I’d waited beyond endurance for the duke to return to clear my name.

Rosemarie’s birthday was on the morrow, and I couldn’t put off the future any longer.

With a surge of renewed will, I pounded my fists together. Yes. Today I would find a way to see her, even if I had to send a message to have her come down to the dungeon. I would tell her I loved her, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life making her happy, that I didn’t want to live another day without her by my side.

We could get married today. In the dungeon. Couldn’t we? Nothing in the exception clause to the Ancient Vow had said anything about where Rosemarie got married or under what circumstances — ?only that she did, by midnight on her eighteenth birthday.

Surely Rosemarie wouldn’t care that the duke hadn’t returned with the evidence to clear my name yet. I’d seen the trust in her eyes. She didn’t believe I’d committed the crimes.

Even so, my muscles tightened at the thought of asking her to marry me and at what her answer would be. If by some chance she agreed to my proposal, I wanted better for her than this cell. I brushed a hand against the slimy stone wall and listened to the scratching claws of a scampering rat.

Was I a fool to believe she’d return my love?

The echo of a door opening far above the dungeon was followed by footsteps. I blew out a breath, straightened myself, and waited by the bars. Finally.

After several long moments, the footsteps sounded in the passageway outside the dungeon, keys jangled in the lock, and the door squealed open. Through the light of the torch, I squinted and could make out the shape of the day jailer.

“Brought you something to eat, Sir Derrick,” the jailer said in a gruff whisper. “Even though apparently I’m not supposed to.”

Something in the jailer’s tone sent my nerves into a headlong charge. “What’s happened? Is Lady Rosemarie safe?”

“Oh, she’s safe as can be.” The jailer approached and slid a steaming mug through the bars. “Heard she left last night for the convent. Guess she decided to go a day early.”

Left for the convent? Every last bit of the frustration I’d been feeling since last night spilled out of me and left an eerie emptiness in its place. “So she just left. Without saying good-bye?”

“Rumor going around the castle this morn is that she thought it would be easier on everyone if she left without making a big fuss.”

I stared at the thick slice of bread on top of the soup mug, my appetite suddenly gone. So that’s why she hadn’t called for me to join her for our midnight game of chess.