Midnight Eyes by Brophy, Sarah (well read books .TXT) 📕

so much a part of her that she would have long since stopped seeing the suspicion and hate that had built those thick stone walls. She would have seen nothing wrong in destroying an innocent man to satisfy another’s dark desires. With eyes that saw, she would have been blind to the gentleness and love that lurked under Robert’s armor.

And that would have been a tragedy indeed.

Imogen’s hands tightened compulsively as she heard the horses’ hooves strike the fortress’ stones. Suddenly, there was no room to retreat. She was now committed to do all that needed to be done. She stiffened her spine, and felt her chin rise aristocratically. It was as if generations of breeding were suddenly manifesting themselves inside her after years of absence.

That breeding was the only chance she had. It might not give her an ability to beg, but it would hopefully give her the confidence she needed to make demands of a king.

They halted, and Imogen’s horse pranced several times before being subdued by Gareth’s firm hand on the leading rein.

“Halt. Who seeks admittance to King William’s fortress?”

Gareth sat stiffly in his saddle and for a second allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of turning tail and getting Imogen the hell out of here. Only the certain knowledge that she would never forgive him if he did so stopped him from making realities of fantasies.

Grudgingly he called out, “It is Lady Imogen of Shadowsend and her retainers who seek admittance into the king’s presence.”

His voice sounded calm enough, but he also made sure that it was injected with just the right amount of confusion, as if he was asking how anyone could question Imogen’s right to approach the king’s gates.

Imogen smiled tightly at Gareth’s display of arrogant confidence. It was a side of the laughing man she had never noticed before, but to judge from the stunned silence that descended, it was very effective, for all its infrequent use.

She silently wished he would share a little of that arrogance with her. She was painfully aware that every eye in the castle’s outer bailey must now be trained on her. She knew she would be the center of their rapt attention, but she couldn’t let herself be cowered by it. Instead she sat serenely as if it all meant nothing, but that only served to titillate their audience further. The sound of many voices murmuring scandal started low and spread like wildfire. Imogen felt her face flush as the words Lady Deformed reached her ears.

“Sir Gareth, why am I waiting? We have declared ourselves, surely that is enough,” she asked imperiously, deliberately pitching her voice well over the rumble of the crowd. A hush fell, no one wanting to miss one moment of this surprise entertainment.

“I’m not sure, my lady,” Gareth said respectfully, but Imogen could hear the smile in his voice as he too began to play to their audience. “Perhaps you have stunned the poor guards with your beauty.”

She shrugged her shoulders, as if such extravagant flattery was only her due. “Surely they can be just as rapt when I’m inside the castle as when I’m outside in all of these draughts.” She knew by the sigh of satisfaction that rose around her that she was playing her part well.

If only she could believe the part, but it was all bravado and went only skin-deep. She was terrified that someone would shake themselves free of their surprise and recall that she was the wife of a would-be assassin.

Fear was becoming an all-too-frequent companion, she thought abstractly, her every sense straining to try and gauge if their bluff was working. When she heard the clank and rasp of the guards stepping aside to let them pass, Imogen thought she might actually faint from the relief that flooded through her.

She allowed her muscles to sag with it instead, but only for a moment. She quickly straightened in her saddle. They had overcome only the first obstacle and there were many more still to come.

Gareth brought the horses to a halt near the large oak doors of the main entrance, slid swiftly from the saddle and walked to Imogen’s side. He reached steadying hands around her waist and gently lifted her to the ground. Taking her arm, he nodded stiffly to the groom taking their horses to the stables, while trying to hide the sinking feeling in his gut as he watched their means of escape disappear around the corner.

His attention was brought back to Imogen as a shiver went through her body. He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. “You are doing well, Imogen, you acted just like a princess,” he whispered admiringly, then added with a sad smile, “Robert will be proud of you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Matthew slowly walked over to join them, looking around the courtyard in disgust. “And to think I had to work so hard to get out of here! I should have saved myself the bother if I was only going to throw myself back into the Devil’s teeth.”

Gareth flashed a grin at Matthew. “I’m glad you didn’t see fit to mention your recent adventures to the guards. If they recognized you as an escaped prisoner, all the hauteur in the world wouldn’t have got us in.”

“We would probably still be trying to explain it as they walked us to the scaffold,” Imogen murmured.

Matthew snorted derisively. “No chance of that. These idiots wouldn’t recognize the end of their own nose, much less the reappearance of an escaped prisoner.” He shook his head. “They are a rabble of ill-disciplined old women. Give me a month and I might just be able to whip them into a vaguely capable group of scullery maids, but only if the hard work didn’t kill them all first. It would take a lifetime to turn them into soldiers.”

“Should you be complaining about their lack of discipline when it was that self-same lack that let you escape in the first place?” Gareth asked with a raised