He must stop thinking about her! Sympathy could weaken a man and result in death. During his captivity, he had immersed himself in bitterness and hatred and used any method necessary to ensure his survival. He was not proud that there had been a time when he’d had to act in ways that now made him feel ashamed. Anna would certainly not approve of his behaviour.
Anna had no sooner left the parlour than she encountered one of the servants in the passage outside. She was a pleasant-faced woman with greying brown hair and soft hazel eyes.
‘I was coming to tell you that your bedchamber is ready, Lady Anna,’ she said. ‘There’s hot water if you wish to cleanse yourself from the dust of travel. Your baggage has been taken up. It is a pleasure to see you back here at Rowan.’
‘Thank you, Megan,’ said Anna absently. The maid had worked on her half-brother’s manor as long as she could remember.
‘I’m so sorry your house burned down. Yet perhaps it’s fate that has brought you here.’
Anna was too weary and full of aches and pains to bother asking her what she meant by those last words. ‘Goodnight, Megan. I’ll manage to undress without help.’
‘But there is something I must—’ began Megan.
‘Not now.’ Anna left her behind and made her way upstairs to the bedchamber that had been hers all her growing years.
A branch of candles had been lit and stood on a small table. It was a well-appointed room and its window looked out over the vegetable garden and the paddocks where Owain’s fine brood mares and stud horses grazed. She wondered whether to bother unpacking the few clothes she had managed to save from the fire. Perhaps just her night rail and toiletries for now, she decided. She gazed at the bed and wanted to collapse on it and sleep for hours and hours, but first she must wash. At least her gloves had protected her hands and they were reasonably clean still.
There was a tablet of Kate’s special lavender oil soap on the stand and a thickly woven drying cloth. No doubt it had come from Bruges and had been delivered to this household by a carrier who had worked for Jack.
She undressed, throwing her smoke-impregnated gown into a corner of the room. She stood naked a moment, inspecting her bruised arms and scratched breast. A shadow darkened her eyes and a tear fell on her cheek as she remembered those terrifying moments in her bedchamber. Whose face had been behind that devil’s mask?
Should she do as Jack had said and tell Owain everything that had happened that day? Forewarned was forearmed; if her half-brother was to represent her and challenge Will at the local court, then perhaps he should know that, besides accusing her of adultery, Will had said that she was a murderess and witch, as well. Due to the difference in their ages, Owain had been more of a father to her than a brother. Both he and Kate deserved her honesty, but the accusation against her mother continued to nag at her.
Anna sighed, taking her night rail from a saddlebag. She sniffed the garment and discovered that it, too, stank of smoke. Should she dress again and go and ask Kate might she borrow a nightgown? Perhaps not. Anna was in no mood for a heart to heart with the woman who had been as a mother to her. She felt guilty for feeling the way she did, so instead she thought of Jack.
His refusal to talk about his time spent in captivity spoke to her of great suffering. How would she have coped with being a slave? Of course, wives were to some degree considered chattels by their husbands, but this could not compare with slavery such as Jack had experienced. Giles, who had been almost twice her age, had adored and spoilt her. She missed him still, but time had lessened her grief. He had left her well provided for, and even if she were to remarry she would not lose by it. She was only twenty-three, so still young enough to bear children. The thought caused her a mixture of anguish and hope. Although something had died inside her when she had lost Joshua, she knew that she still had more love to give. But not now—not yet.
She put on her night rail and then unpinned her redgold hair so that it rippled down her back. As she combed it, her mind drifted over all that had happened that day. Would she ever be rid of the images of Will’s hissing voice accusing her of adultery and witchcraft, of that devil’s mask, her house aflame, poor Marjorie dead and Jack plucking her from danger? Shewondered what thoughts lay behind those fine steely blue-grey eyes of his. She wished she might help him. After all, he had come to her aid when she was in dire peril.
Anna finished combing her hair and then knelt by her bedside and prayed for mercy, forgiveness, guidance and protection from evil. She was just about to climb into bed when there came a knock. For a moment she thought of pretending she was asleep, but curiosity sent her over to the door.
She pressed her ear against the wood. ‘Who is it?’
There was no answer.
The knock came again.
‘Who is it?’ she repeated.
Again no answer, but she could hear heavy breathing. Her heart began to thud. What should she do? Perhaps it was the children playing games with her? She flung open the door, only to be confronted by an adult male holding the devilish mask up to his face. The light from a nearby wall lantern shone on his flaxen hair. She caught her breath as he lowered the mask and the face behind it looked even more terrifying in the flickering light.
‘Well, so-called sister of mine, have you never wondered why your hair is the colour it is?’ Hal sneered. ‘Your mother, Gwendolyn, had a lover!’
Anna started backwards, feeling sick inside. She could not believe that a person she had known all her life could treat her like this, even though they had never been the best of friends. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she croaked.
‘Believe what you want, but it’s true. Owain and Kate lied to you. You’ve bad blood in you, Anna.’
‘Why do you torment me so?’ she whispered.
His mouth twisted in an ugly smile. ‘Because you were born in sin. Your father was a Frenchman, the Comte d’Azay, and you’re his daughter.’
Anna felt as if ice suddenly encased her heart. ‘It—it can’t be true,’ she stammered, although there had been a time when she had asked Owain whether they had kin with red-gold hair. He had hinted that her great-grandmother had hair the same colour as hers and she had believed him.
‘That’s silenced you, hasn’t it?’ sneered Hal, his eyes alighting on the curtain of hair that rippled down over her breasts.
‘Leave me alone,’ she gasped. ‘I would have naught to do with you.’
‘By the devil, you’re lovely.’ He spoke in a hoarse voice and reached out a hand towards her.
She noticed the teethmarks on his wrist and that was proof enough for her that Hal and the man who had attacked her in her bedchamber really were one and the same person. ‘How dare you! Haven’t you hurt and insulted me enough?’ she raged, knocking his hand aside.
‘Insult you? I’m the only one in this family who’s told you the truth.’ Hal sounded quite indignant. ‘The rest have been living a lie for years. You’re no kin to the ap Rowans. Your mother bewitched and killed my father with an enchantment. You’ve inherited her power and cast a spell on me. If you won’t break it, then you must accept the consequences.’ He lunged at her.
Anna backed into her bedchamber and tried to slam the door shut. He was too quick for her and, brushing her hair aside, seized the neck of her night rail with rough hands and tore it. She screamed.
‘Shush, shush,’ he muttered, placing a hand over her mouth. ‘We don’t want anyone coming, do we?’
‘God’s blood! What do you think you’re doing?’ bellowed a familiar voice.
Hal was dragged away from her. Anna sagged against the doorjamb and watched him struggle in Jack’s hold, cursing him and blaming her for being a witch and a Jezebel for the way he had acted. She watched as Jack closed his mouth with a punch to the jaw and sent him crashing into the opposite wall before he slumped