Midnight Eyes Read online

  Robert didn’t take it personally. Judging by the level of fear that was trapped in the stone walls of the castle, they were probably wishing themselves out of existence at the same time.

  It didn’t take a genius to realize that there was something wrong here, very wrong.

  Robert felt himself preparing for battle as they waited outside the throne room, to be announced to a monarch who had always waved aside such formalities. The apprehension lodged like a solid block of ice in his stomach as the realization dawned that he would be very lucky to ever leave this place alive.

  Robert closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Unbidden an image of Shadowsend filled his mind, its dark rooms and unsteady stairs suddenly a comfort. Thoughts of the Keep were swiftly followed by thoughts of its lady. In his imaginings she smiled at him and, strangely, the tightening in his gut started to ease.

  Slowly he opened his eyes and straightened his shoulders. He was ready. William might be a dangerous opponent but, for the first time in his life, Robert had something worth fighting for.

  He walked with quiet confidence into the throne room behind the guard, his gaze sweeping over the scene carefully, all the while assessing the situation.

  He was startled to see the blond, almost feminine beauty of Roger Colebrook lounging comfortably against the throne and then for a moment Robert was almost blinded by the cold rage that boiled to life at the sight of the other man’s triumphant smile. The urge to go and forcibly remove that smile was almost overpowering. For an instant Robert’s mind came alive with images of the kinds of death that he had witnessed, all the deaths he himself had inflicted, but now, every half forgotten face was replaced with Roger’s.

  There were really so many very messy ways that a man could die but none of them quite messy enough to suit Robert’s mood. He couldn’t help but feel that Imogen’s life of pain deserved a spectacular justice, and he itched to give her just that.

  It was an enormous act of will that kept him from striding over to the man and strangling him with his bare hands and he mastered his dark desires only by reminding himself that it would be a futile attempt. The guards protecting the king protected Roger by default. They would stop him long before justice had extracted its due.

  Robert gritted his teeth in frustration and promised himself silently that justice would still happen soon. Roger couldn’t hide behind the king forever, and the second he was alone and unprotected Robert would make him pay for every drop of pain he had brought into Imogen’s life.

  Robert dragged his gaze away from Roger; he had to if he was to stay in control. He couldn’t afford to let the murderous rage consume him. He shifted his concentration to the man who sat slouched on the throne and was taken aback by the changes that six months had brought about in William. If it hadn’t been for the red flame of his hair and face Robert doubted he would have recognized him at all.

  William’s eyes, once expressive and, often as not, angry, were now empty and cold, sunken into a face pulled taut by unseen stresses and marked by new lines. The man appeared to have aged twenty years in mere months.

  Even more surprising was the way that he visibly carried arms and even wore a heavy hauberk, despite the fact that he had an ample supply of guards to protect him. William looked like a man in mortal fear for his own life and Robert didn’t think he was going to enjoy finding out exactly what this had to do with him. He fell on one knee slowly and lowered his head. “Your Majesty,” he said formally, and awaited permission to arise.

  It was a permission that didn’t come. Keeping his head down, he heard William get heavily to his feet.

  “So the bastard returns at last,” the king said slowly, coming to stand directly in front of him.

  “As Your Majesty ordered,” Robert said quietly.

  William gave a hollow shout of laughter. “Oh, Robert, you almost sound like a loyal subject when you talk like that.” He paused before adding tightly, “Almost.”

  Robert didn’t flinch when he felt the cold edge of a sword touch the back of his neck, but the chill spread through him.

  “You see, Robert, you sound loyal only to those not privy to your machinations and, unfortunately for you, I am all too aware of what you’ve been getting up to.” Robert felt the sword blade move slowly over his skin, and the sharp flair of pain as it drew blood. It trickled slowly down his neck and was absorbed into the weave of his tunic.

  “My loyalty is not feigned,” Robert said with a deliberately bored voice. “I have no plans other than to live in peace and quiet on the lands you have graciously given me.”

  The blade was suddenly gone and Robert quickly lifted his head. There was no point in fawning any longer, he decided, refusing to grimace at the pain the gesture cost him. William leaned on the hilt of the sword with the point pressed into the rushes. His eyes glared narrowly out of his red face as he shook his head wearily.

  “Now, now, Robert, I don’t like being lied to. Your plans have come to naught because I now know everything. I know all about your bargaining with my brother, Henry. I know you plan to assassinate me so that he can claim my throne as his own. I know it all, and it is all treason!” He lifted the sword and slammed it hard against the stonework of the throne steps. Sparks flew and the sound of it rang out around the room like a bell.

  Robert didn’t flinch and his level gaze served only to infuriate William further. He raised the point of the sword up to the center of Robert’s unprotected chest. “The only thing I need from you,” he ground out, “is the name of every other traitorous cur on this accursed isle so that I may then destroy them at my leisure. If you tell me, I might even relent and let you die quickly.”

  And that was that, Robert thought with a detachment that didn’t surprise him. This was how his life would end, not on the battlefield but in the deadly viper pit of court intrigue. He was found guilty of crimes he hadn’t committed and had now only to await a certain death. Well, that being the case, he would be dammed if he’d kneel subserviently a moment longer.

  He rose gracefully to his feet, noticing with amusement that William took a hasty step back, his eyes darting around the room. Robert shook his head. It had actually come to this. William was truly afraid of an unarmed man. If it wasn’t so bloody sad, Robert might have laughed aloud at the absurdity of it.

  “Sir Robert, I didn’t give you permission to stand,” William yelped, his red face blossoming into an alarming shade of purple.

  “I didn’t ask for your permission. I find I can no longer kneel before a man who thinks me capable of treachery. Besides,” Robert added dryly, “I don’t believe you have given me permission to assassinate you either, but I’m believed capable of that.”

  William quickly retreated to the relative safety of the dais, then stood up stiffly, trying to regain some of his dignity. “You have just proved by your own actions that you do not respect my throne.”

  “The throne’s fine,” Robert mocked softly, “it’s you I’m finding hard to respect at the moment.”

  William’s jaw tightened and Robert felt a small satisfaction at the other man’s anger, as he glared and grimly continued with his pronouncement. “Therefore you leave me no choice but to strip you of all your titles and possessions. You will be held prisoner, under sentence of death, at my pleasure.”

  Robert closed his eyes for a second, surprised by the pain that shot through him. Shadowsend receded into the realms of distant memory. He had been allowed to live a precious dream, but now he must wake to the harsh realities of life.

  He had lost everything, yet oddly it felt almost like none of it had been his to lose.

  He opened his eyes and gazed narrowly as Roger stepped forward and confidently reached out a hand to touch the king’s arm. That Roger lived was the one regret he would take with him to the grave and beyond.

  William covered Roger’s hand with a beringed one of his own and nodded his head. “Oh, and while you await execution, the running of your estates will revert to my beloved
Roger, as will the guardianship of your wife.”

  The blood flew from Robert’s face. “No!” he yelled as he took a hasty step forward, not caring that the guards unsheathed their swords.

  William raised a brow. “I don’t see any other possible solution. You should be grateful. Most traitors’ wives are not treated so well.”

  “Your Majesty, you can’t just hand her over to her brother,” Robert said, able to plead for Imogen where he hadn’t been able to do so for himself. “She is of an age and the lands were left to her in her own right. Do with me as you will, but give Imogen her freedom. It is all I ask.”

  Liar, an insidious voice whispered in his ear. You would also ask for her happiness; you would have her given freedom and light.

  But those things were not even the king’s to give.

  For the first time in his adult life, Robert found himself praying blindly to a God he had never believed in: God, let me go to my grave knowing that my love is living a life free of fear and pain. Let me know that she is smiling and strong.

  The King smirked. “What? Give Lady Deformed freedom from her own brother on the say-so of a traitor? I think not. She will have to be kept under close watch just to make sure that you haven’t polluted her with your treason. Who better than her own, loyal brother?”

  “I wouldn’t leave a dog in Roger’s protection,” Robert said through gritted teeth. “Imogen has suffered enough at this…this…thing’s hands. She deserves better now, goddamn it.”

  “Such ardent devotion,” Roger said with a sly smile. “Anyone would think you had fallen in love with Lady Deformed.”

  “Don’t call her that!” Robert roared and searched his mind frantically for some way to shield Imogen from these evil men. He stepped toward the dais without really knowing what he was going to do, but knowing he would do it well.

  His eyes blazed with murder and saw nothing but the object of his hatred smiling mockingly down at him. He didn’t notice William’s frantic call for the guards to restrain him, Robert’s only focus centered on Roger.

  It took five men to stop him stalking toward the throne, six to bring him back to his knees. He struggled only because they stood between him and his goal. His mind didn’t even register the pain that flashed through him as a mailed hand slammed into his jaw. They eventually subdued him, holding his arms tightly behind his back so that he couldn’t move.

  “Remove him to the dungeons.” William smiled tightly and his hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.

  Robert started to struggle with renewed vigor. “William,” he bellowed, ignoring the king’s shout of outrage, “don’t be blinded by lust. Roger may be your lover, but he’s only using you in his sick, twisted games. The man’s a snake. William—”

  One of the guards aimed a blow at his stomach, knocking the wind out of him but he couldn’t let it stop him.

  “William, set Imogen free. Don’t bind her to that sniveling, twisted little bastard. He will hurt her. Don’t hurt her anymore, for God’s sake…” He had never before begged for anything in his life, but for Imogen he was not surprised to find that he had no dignity left.

  He never saw the sword hilt that rose and came slamming down onto the back of his head. He barely even felt the pain as unconsciousness claimed his mind.

  As the floor seemed to rise to meet him, all his awareness was focused on the fact that he had failed. He was abandoning Imogen to all she feared and he realized, his heart weeping with despair, that there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

  He had failed her.

  Roger watched with satisfaction as the guards dragged Robert’s unconscious body from the throne room.

  It really had worked out far better than he could have hoped.

  It was clear for all to see that the fool had actually fallen in love with Imogen. It was too perfect! Why, Robert had even been prepared to abandon the dignity he wore so well, to plead with the king on Imogen’s behalf. That bespoke love in any language.

  And such devotion must surely be returned.

  Imogen’s heart must have opened wide to let her warrior in, and that left her more vulnerable than she had ever been before. That was all Roger needed.

  She was now his.

  He had only to tighten the chains a little and he would have her on her knees begging, promising him anything, everything he wanted. All to save her beloved warrior.

  Perfect.

  She would finally be in his absolute control. She would be humiliated, just as he had been for all those years as his parents’ forgotten son. She would be forced to submit to his will. She would obey him, regardless of what she may think, feel or want.

  And that was the perfect revenge he had spent long years working toward.

  He suddenly felt William’s gaze on him and he forced his lurid fantasies to the back of his mind. There would be time enough for him to indulge in them later. Right now, he needed to concentrate on pacifying the man who was central to all of his plans, who guaranteed their success.

  He couldn’t afford to become overconfidant. A frown briefly marred the perfection of his face as he looked at Robert’s retreating form.

  His plan would need a little tweaking, it would seem. As satisfying as it was to see Robert brought low by a woman, his extreme level of passionate devotion might prove to be something of a problem. It was that kind of devotion that removed chains and defied kings.

  So he would have to die. Soon.

  A pity, really. Roger had intended to keep him alive for a while yet. The mere threat of his death dangled in front of Imogen would soon bring the bitch to heel. However, it would seem that alive, Robert might create more problems than he was worth.

  No, he would have to go, and that didn’t really present a problem, Roger thought with a small, satisfied smile. Imogen was now under his own benevolent guardianship, so her husband’s life or death was a formality.

  “I told you he was dangerous,” Roger murmured as he leaned toward William’s side. “The sooner he is dead, the safer you will be. And I want you to be safe.” He dropped a teasing kiss on the strong column of William’s neck.

  William narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, for once entirely unmoved by Roger’s seductions.

  “There is something not right here,” he growled suspiciously.

  “The only thing not right is that he lives to threaten you.” Roger shuddered dramatically. “I for one won’t sleep easy till we are rid of that man. When will you give the order?” Roger didn’t bother to hide the gloating tone in his voice.

  “After I work out what the hell is actually going on here.”

  Roger’s eyes narrowed irritably. Now wasn’t the time for William to start thinking. The last thing Roger needed was for William to actually work out what was going on.

  Still, he knew better than to press too obviously, so he just shrugged his shoulder indifferently. “Your decision, I suppose.”

  William turned and pinned him with a hard look. “My decision always.” A thread of steel ran through his voice. “Never forget that I’m your king and your master. Confine your manipulations and games to others. I would be more than a little displeased if I found you taking advantage of my preference for you.”

  “As if I would,” Roger said with an almost-credible wide-eyed look of innocence. Then he deliberately flashed an engaging smile.

  “Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you,” William grumbled, but drew Roger into his arms nonetheless.

  “Because no one can make you feel like I do,” Roger murmured huskily and then pressed a passionate kiss on William’s lips.

  As the kiss deepened and lusts flared in William, Roger’s mind detached itself and began coolly considering his situation.

  He needed to destroy the least bit of suspicion about his motives for desiring Robert’s death. William’s compliance was vital if he was going to succeed. He had to succeed. There was no room for failure now.

  Imogen was his.

  Consciousness returned
to Robert all at once. One second he was sinking weightlessly in the painless dark, the next every cell of his being was screaming in pain.

  Obviously, the guards had gone about their job enthusiastically, he thought wryly with a sharp, painful intake of breath. He lay as still as possible in the straw that scarcely covered the cold stone and began to rationally calculate the damage, trying to stop himself from passing out again with the pain.

  Judging by the fire that engulfed him with every breath, they had fractured a few of his ribs, so they must have kicked him; and the relentless pounding of his head no doubt came from its violent encounter with that sword hilt. The other pains were only minor in comparison. He glanced down at himself, stripped bare but for a cloth to cover his loins, and grimaced at the sight of the bruises and cuts that now decorated his body.

  Nothing fatal.

  All in all, he supposed he should be grateful that it was only superficial damage. He felt only a little worse than the time he had been run over by a herd of stampeding warhorses, he thought with a dark smile, then winced as the cut on his lip reopened.

  He struggled into a sitting position, then, with a deep, steadying breath, tried to stand up. He was quickly forced back to his knees with a thump by the chains on his wrists. The bastards had deliberately shortened them. It was impossible for him to stand to his full height.

  He clenched his jaw tightly and waited for the pain to pass.

  Brilliant, he thought bitterly, William really was determined to keep him on his knees. He eased his legs out and tried to settle down in the straw. He wrapped his arms tightly around his ribs to hold them still, and then leaned his head back against the cold walls.

  He closed his eyes to see if he could find some comfort in sleep, but the taste of failure was still too bitter on his tongue. Despite all his best efforts he had delivered Imogen directly into the hands of her enemy. He allowed himself only a few short minutes to dwell on self-pity, guilt and regret, letting them consume him, then he carefully shook himself free.