‘My thanks, Jack,’ she said hoarsely, concealing herself behind the door, the full horror of what might have been suddenly registering with her. ‘I have not spoken of it, but I deem it was Hal who attacked me in my own house before the lightning struck,’ she added.
A groan from the man on the floor drew Jack’s attention and he knelt beside him. A curse escaped Hal. ‘How could you torment Anna in such a way, you cur?’ demanded Jack.
‘She has bad blood in her. Murderer’s—adulterer’s—witch’s blood,’ snarled Hal.
‘You lie!’ cried Anna, wrapping the bed coverlet about her and coming out into the passage.
‘Enough of this,’ growled Jack. ‘Get back inside your bedchamber, Anna. I’ll deal with him.’
She gripped his arm. ‘Get him out of my sight. I don’t want to ever see him again.’ She returned to her bedchamber and closed and bolted the door behind her.
Jack yanked Hal to his feet. ‘Take a word of advice from me, you cur, and stay away from Anna,’ he growled.
Hal cursed him. ‘Who are you to give me advice? You know naught of Anna or what went on here years ago.’
‘Whatever happened, it is no excuse for your behaviour towards a lady, so just do what I say,’ warned Jack, ‘or I will kill you.’
‘You just want her for yourself,’ accused Hal.
Jack didn’t demean himself by denying Hal’s words, but his eyes were cold chips of ice. ‘Take my advice and leave. Owain is not going to be pleased with you when he hears of this.’
Hal glared at him. ‘You’ll regret your interference in my affairs.’
Jack laughed. ‘You are a fool if you would threaten me.’ He drew his sword and dug its point in Hal’s large stomach. ‘Now move!’ He spun him round and now the point was in his back.
Still cursing him, Hal did as he was told, stumbling along the passage. Jack brought up the rear, determined to see him off Rowan Manor, relieved to be leaving in the morning. Twice he had embroiled himself in Anna’s affairs. There must not be a third time.
Chapter Three
Anna stepped away from the other side of the door and sank on to the bed. She felt deeply embarrassed that for a second time Jack had rescued her from the attentions of a man who had levelled such terrible accusations at her. Some men might have believed there was an element of truth in them, especially when one of her accusers had known her since her birth. She felt sick with the fear that her mother truly had committed adultery with a French lover and that she, herself, was a bastard child. Had Jack overheard that earlier part of Hal’s accusation? She thought not—surely he would have interfered earlier if he had done so.
Anna closed her eyes tightly, trying to recall the name of the Frenchman. He was a Comte and his name begun with a D…d’Azay! That’s what Hal had called him and she could not deny there had been a ring of truth in his voice. Besides, she did not believe that Hal could have conjured up a French aristocrat for her mother’s lover? If he had wanted to simply blacken her name, surely it would have been more believable to name an English or Welsh man? Anna did not want to believe in this French aristocrat lover, but she did. Which meant Owain and Kate and others had lied to her. It pained her that they had kept the truth from her all these years, but it did not hurt as much as the realisation that they were not kin to her. Their blood did not run in her veins. She was no real member of their family. She was alone. Truly an outcast.
She shivered and climbed into bed and snuggled beneath the covers. Tears trickled down her cheeks. How could she stay here, knowing that she did not belong? She certainly had no intention of returning to Fenwick and was uncertain if she would ever go back there again. Obviously Hal and Will were in cahoots with each other and determined to destroy her. She felt deeply hurt that two men she had trusted could behave so wickedly towards her. Did they really believe the accusations levelled at her? Or had they spoken in such a way purely to undermine her confidence and strength of will to help them get what they wanted from her?
What was she to do? She felt desperately unhappy, worried and confused. How could she make a sensible decision whilst in such a state of mind? Oh, God, why did you have to take Giles and my son from me? Was it because my sins are manifold due to my having been conceived in an adulterous relationship? What is your purpose in punishing me? Howcan I absolve myself from this sin? Or is it my parents’ sin that needs absolving and only I can do it? She desperately wanted to know and was reminded of the psalmist in Holy Scripture who cried to God from the depths of his being to be rescued from the pit of despair.
There came a knock on the door, causing her to start up. Who could it be this time? Jack? Her emotions immediately ran riot. Was there some truth in Hal’s accusation that Jack wanted her for himself? He had not denied it. Perhaps he believed what Hal had said and deemed she would welcome him into her bed?
Her head began to throb.
‘Lady Anna, it’s Megan. I have your sleeping draught here.’
Anna’s relief was overwhelming and her suspicions that Jack might be devious faded. She tumbled out of bed and hurried over to the door and opened it. ‘Do come in.’
The maid viewed her with concern. ‘You looked flushed. I hope you aren’t about to come down with a fever.’
‘No, no,’ said Anna, taking the steaming cup from her and breathing in its fruity, herby fragrance. ‘My mind is in a whirl, that is all. So much has happened today that many thoughts are playing round and round in my head.’
‘You’ve been through a bad time, my lady, but now you’re home, matters will sort themselves out.’
Anna had known Megan all her life. Was it possible she would know if her mother really had had a French lover? She could not blurt out such a question to a servant, but maybe there was a way of finding out without asking a direct question. ‘Master Hal has said such dreadful things to me about my mother since my return that I amat a loss what to do about it.’ Anna climbed back into bed and told the maid to sit down. ‘I fear that certain truths have been kept from me. Sir Hywel, perhaps he was not my—’
‘Ha!’ exclaimed Megan, sitting down on the chest at the foot of the bed. ‘Master Hal couldn’t keep his mouth shut—begging your pardon, my lady, for speaking disrespectful of him.’
‘So it’s true,’ said Anna, her heart sinking.
‘Aye, my lady. Lady Gwendolyn was crazy with love for the French Comte.’
‘She was!’ Anna’s spirits lightened in an amazing way.
‘Aye. Not that he was her first love, but he was her last.’
‘She never loved my—my father, Sir Hywel?’
‘No-oo. He married her when he shouldn’t have. He was almost old enough to be her grandfather.’ Megan lowered her hand and smoothed the coverlet with a steady hand. ‘But then Lady Gwendolyn was a beauty and thought she deserved position and power.’ She lifted her head and smiled at Anna. ‘Now, you drink that potion down. There’s naught like a good night’s sleep to help you see things clearly. Master Owain and Mistress Kate love you dearly.’
‘I deem you’re right, Megan,’ said Anna, her smile false. ‘I am certain that in the morning I will see everything in a different light. Thank you.’
‘God grant you rest and peace of mind, Lady Anna,’ said Megan, getting up.
Anna watched her leave and, placing the cup on the chair by her bedside, went and bolted the door. Then she returned to her bed and drank the sleeping potion. Was her father alive or dead? If alive, was he living in France? Did he have a family? Had they known about her mother? Was he aware that he had a daughter? If so, was it