Sharon Lanergan Read Online Free PDF

there?”
    Constance jumped, for Brian’s voice came from directly on the other side of the door. He was close.
    She touched the door. Spread her fingers out, almost as a caress.
    “‘Tis only I.”
    Only silence greeted her. She thought he would speak no more and would ignore her even if she did knock.
    Then the door slowly creaked open.
     
    Six months earlier, Loutrant Castle
     
    “I have brought your meal,” Constance whispered to the wretched prisoner. She glanced back over her shoulder at the leering guard, Owen. He closed the door to the cell with a large thud.
    The poor soul in the corner shifted on the stones. He made no other sound. Constance took a step forward. As bad as she had it, at least she was not being kept in such a horrible, dark place.
    “Sir?”
    He groaned. A ghastly, pain-filled sound.
    Constance hurried forward, her trepidation forgotten. She thrust the trencher on the floor and knelt beside the man.
    “You are hurt,” she whispered, noticing the freshly clotted blood on the corner of his mouth.
    “‘Tis naught but a scratch,” the man croaked out.
    “He did this to you, didn’t he?” Constance used the sleeve of her gown to gently wipe his mouth.
    The prisoner merely nodded.
    “For what reason?” Constance asked. She was afraid Loutrant had made good his earlier threat and had punished this poor wretch for her tears.
    “Loutrant needs no reason, Constance.” He pushed her hand away. “You should not help me. It will only anger him.”
    “I do not care. Where else did he hurt you?”
    “It does not matter.”
    “Of course it matters, sir.” Constance felt his forehead. Her fingers slid over a large lump. “He hit you here?”
    “I think that’s from when my head hit the floor, actually.”
    Constance gasped. “You poor man.”
    He grabbed her hand again. “Don’t. I do not want sympathy or pity. It will only make it worse for me.”
    “Worse? Why?”
    “I have forgotten tenderness, Constance. It no longer exists for me.” He squeezed her hand and then released it. “I do not want it back.”
    “Mayhap you do not,” Constance said, reaching for his hands and clasping them in hers. “But I have not forgotten it and I do want it.”
    “How long have you been his prisoner?”
    A hot tear spilled onto her cheek. “This is the fourth day.”
    The man raised his hand briefly and for a moment Constance thought he meant to touch her cheek, but he dropped it again.
    “When you have been here as long as I have you no longer know the days and nights nor the weeks and months. Even the years pass without your knowing.”
    Constance held her breath, waiting for him to finish.
    “And eventually emotions such as tenderness, love, happiness, laughter, they disappear. At first they are naught but a memory until even that is taken from you.”
    He laughed sharply, almost cruelly. Constance flinched.
    “It might be all right, except you never lose your anger or your fear. Or sorrow. They stay with you until they haunt you.”
    The man leaned his head back until it touched the wall and closed his eyes.
    Constance opened her mouth to say something, anything, she didn’t know what. But the door to the cell opened abruptly and Owen called for her to leave.
    ****
    Autumn, Fitzroy Castle
     
    Constance stared into the darkness of Brian’s room. She was not ready to enter his lair, but not ready to give up on him either.
    She felt his presence. He was there somewhere, beyond the door.
    Gathering her courage, Constance took the first step into the room. After all, she did not fear him, she reminded herself. He was not Loutrant.
    Once fully inside, she realized the room was not completely dark. One of the windows had the fur pulled slightly back.
    “My lord? Brian?” Constance called, uncertain of his whereabouts.
    “Here,” he said after a moment.
    She squinted, and saw him, just beyond the second window, only an outline. A mere shadow.
    “My lord,” Constance admonished, deciding