June Francis - Rebel Lady, Convenient Wife

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 to the floor.

Jack licked his bloodied knuckles and glanced at Anna. She fumbled for the torn silk to cover her bare breasts. He could not look away. Such perfect breasts. It seemed an eternity since he had found comfort and pleasure in a woman. Guilt twisted his gut and now he felt angry with Anna for making him desire her. Then he looked into her terrified face.

‘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?