The Countess and the Cavalier (Hearts in Hiding 4)

But he’d not reckoned on the brute strength and determination of a wronged Puritan who’d had a bloodlust to kill the man his wife had loved for eight years. Silas was like an automaton as he swung his sword with cries and grunts of fury, missing Charles by increasingly less at each thrust.

With a quick return thrust and parry Charles regained the ascendant and triumph was already thrumming through his veins when Silas returned with an almost superhuman grunt, raising the flat of his sword and swinging it in an arc through the air. It collected the blade of Charles’s weapon, the force of it wrenching it from Charles’s hands, knocking Charles backwards and leaving him alone, pushed up against the castle wall and defenceless, as he faced his bloodthirsty adversary.

“Victory is mine!” crowed Silas, the sweat running down his cheeks in riverlets of grime. “Elizabeth is mine!” He raised his sword high above his head.

Charles registered the curl of his lip and the cold cruelty in his eyes of his greatest foe as he faced his inevitable death. A quick dodge to one side provided minimal opportunity of escape but he had to anticipate where the blade would fall.

Blood and sweat were blinding him. He tried to concentrate. He was fighting, not for his life, but Elizabeth’s. Her life would be torture on earth if she survived as Silas’s wife. Charles had tasted the delights of which he had dreamed for eight long years. He was not about to let the possibility of enjoying them forever go easily.

He twisted his body an inch further into the corner. So this was it. An inch either way, a little luck and his greater agility were all he had to save him from mortal injury.

Silas was grunting from his recent efforts. Charles was surprised he did not strike but Silas was toying with him, savouring his opponent’s inevitable death if the curl of his thin lips was any indication.

“Beg for your life, Cavalier!” he snarled. “I want to hear you beg!”

“And give you the satisfaction when you’ll kill me anyway?” Charles wiped the sweat from his eyes.

It was all over. Every second that passed was a second closer to the final destruction of his hopes and dreams. Not minutes before he’d truly believed that he and Elizabeth had a future. That he could overcome all that stood in their way. Determination and love could triumph over the bloody war that pitted Puritan Elizabeth and her brutal, possessive husband against Cavalier Charles.

“Every man is greedy for more of what life has to offer. You were greedy for my wife’s charms. Surely you’re just as greedy for a few more minutes to dwell upon her creamy thighs.” Throwing back his head, Silas jerked forward and delivered a gob of spittle. “I heard her moaning before I entered the room. She was complicit in this charade, and I was the fool but she’ll pay for your lustful intent, Trethveyan, you mark my words.” He sliced through the air with his blade. “She’ll pay for it - not with her death - though that’s what she deserves since she’d destined to burn in Hell. No, she’ll pay for the rest of her life because every moment on this earth will be torment for her. I’ll see to that!”

Pre-warned from last time, Charles jerked aside to avoid another gob of spittle and as he did so, glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye. His first instinct was to heave a sigh of relief that Elizabeth was not only alive but capable of rising to her feet. His next hope - that she might take this opportunity to flee for her life - was truncated by the fear that she was about to step into a situation she was quite unprepared for.

Oh God, she was sliding her body across the floor, making for Charles’s discarded sword which lay half way between where she’d fallen and where Charles was now cornered. One slight noise and Silas would swing round and run her through with one feint. Charles’s weapon was far heavier than she could possibly imagine. She might raise it but she’d not have the force to deliver the blow that was necessary to best Silas.

He tried to avert his eyes. Any indication that his attention had been claimed by movement from behind him would be fatal.

“Aye, she moaned beneath me, Drummond, but she convulsed with pleasure as I drove into her. The reality was sweeter than the dreams I’ve harboured for eight long years.” If he could whip up Drummond’s rage to the point where he drove his sword home, then Elizabeth might have an advantage. She could either flee without the noise alerting him, or if she was determined upon her futile plan, at least inflict some damage which would buy her time.

Charles was under no illusions that his own life needed to be factored into this. He was as good as dead. But if he could save Elizabeth he would meet his death, happily.

“Foul dog!” Silas lashed out, glancing the side of Charles’s face with a cut that sent his blood peppering the flagstones. “You think she hasn’t moaned when I’ve possessed her? Moaned because I’m more a man than you’ll ever be with your pretty blonde curls and your mincing manner. You Cavaliers!” He spat again. “I’m a man who knows how to keep a woman. I won Elizabeth and my stamp is upon her forever. Every night of our married lives I’ve reminded her of her duty to her husband and she’s borne it as a good woman should. Now you’ve ensured that her suffering will be eternal. Does that gladden your traitorous heart?” He snorted. “I thought not.”

Charles closed his eyes. He could do nothing for the moment except bide his time. Elizabeth was creeping closer. She was nearly upon his sword. Oh God, it was futile. The scrape as she tried to raise it would have Silas swinging round and the game would be up. The best Charles could hope for was to time his lunge for the same moment in order to invite the blow that might otherwise go to Elizabeth.

“You possessed her and she was obedient because she had no choice.” Charles kept his voice deliberately low to lure Silas forward. It worked. “But she loved me. She told me so and she risked everything to follow her heart. What triumph is there in imprisoning the unwilling?”

“She respected me and until you came on the scene and lured her into sin, she obeyed me as a good wife- argghh!” With a scream, Silas dropped his sword and clutched his neck. Charles leapt to his feet, pushing Elizabeth back as her wounded husband swung round with an indiscriminate blow that would have knocked her head in.

Gasping, Elizabeth put her hands to her face to witness the damage she’d inflicted with the small knife she’d snatched from the table and kept hidden up her sleeve.

Charles saw the raised tendons on Silas’s mottled throat and between his fingers the hilt of the cheese knife, protruding. A stream of blood coursed over his shirt.

“Run!” Charles shouted, reaching for his sword at the same instant Silas reached for his own, stabbing viciously at Charles who adroitly sidestepped it before driving it, with a grunt of victory, through Silas’s chest.

* * *

“I will escort Lady Drummond to the village where she will be conveyed onwards.” Charles stared unsmilingly at his superior. It was little consolation that this would be Reynolds’s last command. Rumours of his unhealthy proclivities had circulated for some time but now that it had compromised the king’s interests, Charles had not been surprised at Reynolds’ dismissal.

No doubt, Reynolds had been expecting it, too, but he was obviously determined to make Charles suffer for his own deficiencies. Word of Reynolds’ lascivio

us and disrespectful treatment of Lady Drummond had got back to court and since Elizabeth’s aunt was married to one of the king’s favourite couriers, he was about to face the music.

Elizabeth stood before Charles now. She wore the crimson gown given to her by her aunt. The aunt who now waited with an unqualified welcome for her at court and whose patronage would ensure Elizabeth was well treated until the mourning twelvemonth was at an end.

With the pearls strung through her hair she looked every inch the fine court lady. A magnificent addition to Trethveyan Manor, thought Charles, with a surge of loving pride.

Reynolds looked mulish. “You’re needed here, Trethveyan,” he said, peevishly. “She can go with an armed escort.”