Chapter 2
Standing in a shallow wooden tub, Alex poured a bucket of water over his head to rinse out his hair, which he had scrubbed with some foul-smelling soap to remove any vermin he may have picked up in prison. He raised his arms and squeezed the excess dampness from his hair, then accepted the linen towel his friend Rand handed him. He rubbed his skin till it tingled, then stepped from the tub and wrapped the damp linen around his hips.
The wooden bench Rand sat on creaked as he leaned back against the bathing room wall. “I don’t understand. How is it you are alive? We searched—I searched for many moons to find any trace of you, any word that you were alive. We even offered a reward for information regarding your disappearance. A man finally showed us your grave. I saw your body, what I thought was you, anyway. The face was unrecognizable, but the body was dressed in your clothes and could have been your double in every other aspect.”
Alex felt a blow to his stomach and took several deep breaths to control his rising fury at this latest evidence that his imprisonment had not been accidental, but been a well-planned scheme to get rid of him. While in prison, he had garnered some information that revealed there was a traitor in their midst, that the attack on him and his subsequent captivity was plotted by one of their own. And now he knew someone had gone to great lengths to make sure everyone thought he was dead. Rand had been his best friend since their days fostering with Rand’s grandfather, Earl Richard of Cornwall. But Alex did not want to discuss his suspicions with him until he had a chance to confide in King Edward.
It took effort to control his anger, but he relaxed his tense shoulders and explained matter-of-factly, “I don’t remember much, really. I had wandered a short distance from camp for a bit of solitude, wanting to think without distraction. I must’ve been very preoccupied, because I did not hear my attacker approach. What I do recall is feeling pain explode in my head, and next I woke in the bowels of a Saracen fortress.” Alex began to dry his hair with another towel.
Rand blanched and then dropped his gaze. A moment later, he looked up, eyes glimmering with guilt. “I should have been there to protect you. We made a vow to protect each other with our lives, but I failed you. Can you ever forgive me?” His voice ragged, tortured.
Alex braced his hand on Rand’s shoulder and squeezed once. “You’re not responsible for my capture and imprisonment, Rand. Nor do I blame you. But if you need my forgiveness, you have it.”
“But I was—”
“Nay, Rand. My stay in prison is in the past, where it belongs. I managed to escape and now all I long for is to begin my life anew as a free man.” And see that the traitor responsible for my captivity pays with his life, Alex thought, jaw clenched tight.
Rand nodded, his shoulders shuddering. Then his gaze cleared, and leaning forward, Rand rested his forearms on his thighs, probing, “How did you manage to finally escape?”
Alex waved away his question and reached for the pair of hose on top of a pile of clothing next to Rand. Rand had pilfered the garments from his own wardrobe for Alex to wear until he could make other arrangements. Alex had rushed from Briand Castle to Westminster the moment he learned of Kat’s marriage and therefore had naught but the clothes on his back. Rags, really.
His hose tied, Alex pulled on a linen sherte and an unadorned calf-length blue tunic over that. “There will be plenty of time for me to answer all your questions later, Rand. Right now, I have more important matters on my mind, and I don’t want to keep my wife waiting any longer.”
Rand’s eyes widened, incredulous. “Your wife? Now you claim Kat your wife?” He shook his blond head pityingly. “You may bet Kat shall disagree with your claim. Indeed, you are going to have an uphill battle trying to convince her of that. After I returned from Crusade, she did not speak to me for a whole year because I kept my silence about your intentions.”
He did not delude himself into thinking it would be easy. Indeed, frustration gnawed at him. Alex rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the painful knot at the base of his neck. With his abandonment, he had destroyed all trust between him and Kat. If he was to succeed in his endeavor, he had to prove to Kat that he could be trusted. And he could. Alex would rather tear out his own heart than hurt her again.
But he had no idea how to begin without losing all pride in the process. He did not think she would be satisfied until he crawled to her on his hands and knees and begged her forgiveness. And even then she would just laugh in his face.
Rand stood up and paced away, shoving his hand through his shoulder-length hair. “As you may imagine, it was quite a shock when you barged into the chapel. ’Tis still hard to grasp you were never dead, but held in a Saracen prison all this time.”
Alex gritted his teeth, seething with jealousy. “Not nearly as shocking as returning home to learn I was considered dead and my wife about to become a bigamist, not to mention an adulteress.”
Rand dropped his gaze, cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at him. When his eyes alighted on a stool, he reached for it and plunked it down before him. “Sit. I shall remove that foul-looking beard so you do not frighten the ladies.” Then he retrieved a small leather case on a table by the bathing room door.
Alex was not fooled. Rand was hiding something. “Very well.” Alex sat and Rand draped a towel over his shoulders. “But afterward, I want to know what I said to make you as skittish as a virgin bride.”
Rand’s eyes widened, then dropped once again to the task at hand, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. At the first scrape of the razor on his neck, Alex flinched and the blade nicked his skin. A bead of blood rolled down his neck.
“Be still. Do you want me to slit your throat?” Though Rand’s voice was stern, his eyes were sympathetic.
Alex relaxed and looked away, hating that he had revealed so much. Any sign of weakness and his enemy would gain the upper hand. For now the man responsible for his imprisonment was unaware Alex had evidence his attack was no random act. And he intended to keep it that way. He needed to keep a cool head and remember he was no longer at the mercy of his cutthroat captors. His slavery was a thing of the past, not his future.
When he finished, Rand grunted in satisfaction, removed the towel, and handed him a mirror. Alex hesitated, not knowing what he would see reflected back. He had not seen his image since before his capture and who knew what imprisonment had wrought on the outer surface?
Rand turned away, placing his shaving items in the bag. When he raised the mirror to his face, Alex blinked, startled by the stranger staring back at him. His face was leaner than he remembered, sharper, his cheekbones jutting out in stark relief. Grooves edged his unsmiling lips, which were compressed into an uncompromising, almost grim mien. The scar on his chin gave him the appearance of a man dangerous to cross. Where once his eyes had sparkled with mischief, now the blue glittered coldly with determination, and creases etched the corners.
Alex stood and thrust the mirror at Rand, then turned and strapped on his borrowed sword and scabbard. “Now, I would hear what you are keeping from me,” he demanded. When he faced Rand again, he thought he had prepared himself for the worst, but how wrong he was.
My wife is an adulterous whore.
His temples throbbed, blood roared in his ears. Alex stood on the threshold of the banquet hall, searching for his wife. His initial shock had turned to icy rage. He stood rigid, afraid he would shatter into a thousand pieces, or smash someone into a thousand pieces as the horrible implication reverberated inside his head.
To have come so far, only to learn…
Rand’s words replayed in his head.
“Mind you, they are simply rumors. I will never believe it of Kat. But I believe it best you be forewarned, for you will no doubt hear them yourself.”
Alex stiffened. “Just spit it out, man.”
Rand paced. “When you abandoned Kat so