"Shut up!" Crispin wrenched his arm again. Ethan stomped on Crispin's foot.

"Ethan, stop!" Aubrey shouted, genuinely angry now and getting tired of his antics. She reached into her pocket and presented a small key, stuffing it in his pocket, "This the key to the cell Crispin will have you put in. He'll arrange for the guards to leave for ten minutes after midnight. You can escape."

"And then what?"

"Then you run. Find somewhere else to fight your battles. Start over." Her chest constricted at the thought.

Ethan gaped at her. He hissed then stopped struggling. "What am I supposed to do?"

Aubrey sighed in relief and dared to exchange a glance with Crispin. "Go along with Crispin and Jack. Put on a good show of resistance."

"Oh, it won't be a show. If I can escape I will, Jack or no."

"You won't escape," Crispin a.s.sured him. He grabbed Ethan's other arm from Jack and wrenched him into an uncomfortable kneeling position, motioning for Jack to go grab something. Jack returned with a heavy set of manacles to fasten Ethan's hands behind his back.

In spite of the chill autumn air the small tent was stuffy. Aubrey's part in the plan was about to be over and as the rush of action ebbed her knees threatened to give out. Not to mention her heart.

"Aubrey, are you well?" Crispin handed Ethan over to Jack and strode to her side. "You look pale."

"I'm fine." The sharp questioning in his eyes reminded her that she wasn't supposed to lie to him. "Alright, I'm not fine. But I will be. I just need some air."

He put a hand on her arm and shot a stony glance to Ethan before focusing on her. "Your part in this is over. If you want to go home I will understand." She glanced up at him, worry and questioning in her eyes. "Buxton will be watching you as much as Windale."

Knowing that, strangely enough, filled Aubrey with resolve just as the warmth of Crispin's hand on her arm filled her with purpose. "I can handle it." She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently before letting go and turning away.

The first phase of their plan was completed and they split to begin the second. Crispin gave Aubrey a head-start out of the tent and back to the dais. He watched the tent flap long after she pa.s.sed through, stomach in knots and heart on fire. The emotion in her eyes when she looked at Ethan was devastating. But he had a job to do before giving in to defeat.

He exchanged glances with Jack as he wrenched Ethan to his feet. They had agreed not to speak to each other while Ethan was with them but the sharp twinkle in Jack's eyes told him he knew what he was doing. They left the tent and dragged Ethan around to the gra.s.s in front of the dais. From somewhere in the crowd Crispin heard Toby exclaim "My lord!" He ignored it and pushed Ethan forward when he tried to find his man.

"My lord!" he called to Buxton. He sought for Aubrey and found her seated at the end of the dais, Pennington trying to talk to her. "You'll never guess who we found skulking in the shadows!"

Buxton stood from his chair, a delighted smile splitting his face. "Well, well! If it isn't our dear friend Ethan of Windale!" A deeper murmur went up from the crowd, and the lords and ladies on the dais all strained to get a look. They laughed and pointed as if another set of jugglers were being displayed to them. "Well, maybe not 'of Windale' anymore. Last I heard you were living in a ditch in Derbywood. Should we start calling you Ethan of Derbywood now, hmm?" Buxton turned a pointed look to Aubrey, rubbing his taunts in.

Just as Crispin had predicted, her part was far from over. "Ethan!" She leapt from her chair, stepping forward to the very edge of the dais in alarm as if she didn't know he had been captured. Ethan refused to look at her. Crispin knew their plan would be more successful if Aubrey played her part well, but the concern in her eyes for Ethan still felt like a death blow.

"Come now, Derbywood, is that any way to address the concerns of your former lover?" Buxton skipped down the steps at the front of the dais and out to where Crispin and Jack held Ethan. "Oh yes," Buxton called over his shoulder to the finely dressed onlookers who cast confused glances back and forth between Ethan and Aubrey and Crispin. "Didn't our lovely Lady Huntingdon tell you all that she and Derbywood used to be close?"

Crispin's stomach burned. Aubrey watched the pack of n.o.bles staring at her, face coloring. But Buxton wasn't done.

"What, not even going to look at your former beloved, Derbywood?" Ethan replied by spitting at Buxton. Buxton jumped back as the spit hit his boots, then growled and cuffed Ethan across the face. Then, as if nothing had happened, he returned to the dais with a laugh. "Bring him up here."

Crispin and Jack dragged Ethan onto the dais. On Buxton's orders the guards drilled a few hasty holes in the platform and threaded the chains that bound Ethan through them so that he was forced to his hands and knees like a dog at Buxton's feet. Crispin hung close to Buxton's side as well, ready to subdue Ethan if he had to, but also ready to check Buxton if he went too far. Aubrey paced at the other end of the dais. Her agitation was real. Crispin's heart ached for her but his part in the ploy was just beginning. He caught Jack's eyes and motioned for him to go to Aubrey. Jack nodded and scurried to the end of the dais by her side.

Buxton's sinister laugh snapped him to attention. "Isn't this interesting." He raised an eyebrow at Crispin, his toothy grin lascivious. "The sweet and charming Lady Aubrey and her two lovers. Do you think if we blindfolded her and put her in bed with one of you she'd know the difference?" He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Hmm, probably not. I hear Crispy here is the better lover. Or maybe she likes it rough. ... In which case Crispy would still be better." He cackled at his own joke. Ethan growled and yanked at his chains, unable to do more than rattle the floor. "Heel!" Buxton barked. "What do you think, Crispy?" Crispin was too furious to answer. He glared at his master. Buxton sneered. "You're no fun anymore." He lounged back in his chair and put his feet up on his new 'dog's' back. Ethan tried to shrug those feet off, but Buxton kicked him in the side. "Oh I like this."

Their attention shifted to the archery compet.i.tion beginning in the arena in front of them. Crispin had no interest in it. He stole a glance at Aubrey. His heart lifted when he caught her looking at him. It sunk when she glanced past him to Ethan. He stiffened his back and pretended to watch the contest. The crowd cheered but he had no idea why. He crossed his arms and checked on Ethan. His rival was staring at Aubrey. He refused to look to see if she returned his glance. Unbidden, he imagined Ethan's escape, Aubrey fleeing with him. He had handed them the means of running off together when he gave Aubrey the key to the dungeon cell.

He forced his breathing to remain steady. She wouldn't do that to him. She couldn't. He glanced to Ethan. Perhaps Buxton had been right. Perhaps he should have killed his rival after all.

"This is getting boring," Buxton sighed, standing and walking to the edge of the dais. He stepped on one of Ethan's hands as he went. "Come on!" he yelled across the field, "Speed it up, will you? We haven't got all day!" In fact, the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky.

When he turned back his eyes widened as if seeing Ethan chained to the floor with Crispin standing over him for the first time. A sick sparkle came into his eyes. "I have an idea." He marched past Crispin and his chair to one of the guards at the back of the dais.

Crispin heard Buxton's voice but not loud enough to make out what was said. The guard nodded and left the dais as Buxton returned to his seat and put his feet up on Ethan's back again, grinning up at him. He itched to get the day done with. The contest seemed to drag on forever. He glanced to Aubrey for the thousandth time. She continued to look at him as if asking for something. He wanted to go to her and take her away from the dais, this horrific display of Buxton's ego. He wanted to hold her and tell her it would all be alright, she would be safe and happy ... with him.

He didn't realize that the archery compet.i.tion had ended until the winner came forward to accept his prize. The crowd was cheering and even the n.o.bles looked well-pleased. Since everyone was looking somewhere else he searched out Aubrey and dared to smile. She smiled in return, still wringing her hands. The contest was over, the prize was awarded. Now all that remained was for Buxton to make one of his sycophantic speeches and invite the n.o.bles into the castle for a banquet. Crispin relaxed. It would be over in a matter of minutes.

"And now," Buxton stepped forward and addressed the crowd from the front of the dais, "I have one final surprise for you all today!" The crowd cheered. Every muscle in Crispin's body tensed. "Right here, in this very arena, straight out of ... some ... bard's ... tale or something.... A fight to the death!"

After a moment's hesitation another cheer went up, mostly from the guards and the n.o.bles on the dais and picked up after the fact by the peasants circling around the arena. Crispin looked for Aubrey again. He could only answer her nervous expression with a dark shake of his head.

Buxton went on. "We have here today two men in love with the same woman!"

The bottom fell out of Crispin's stomach. "My lord." He stepped forward to stop whatever came next.

"Your very own Sir Crispin of Huntingdon!" Buxton used Crispin's movement to make it look like he was coming forward as part of the show.

"My lord, no!" Crispin entreated, blood pounding.

"Lord of Windale and husband of Aubrey, Lady Huntingdon." He turned to Aubrey's end of the dais and nodded. A guard standing behind Aubrey nudged her forward. She stumbled out to the end of the dais, her eyes wide with alarm.

"My lord, I must protest!"

"The other," Buxton ignored him, "Is our very own Ethan of Derbywood, former Lord of Windale!" The crowd didn't know whether to applaud as two of the guards unchained Ethan and yanked him to his feet to bring him forward to the spot matching Crispin's on the other side of Buxton. "He also happens to be in love with Lady Huntingdon. Fancy that!" The n.o.bles on the dais and Pennington laughed. "So why not have them battle it out like men, eh? In armed combat! To the death."

"My lord," Crispin growled, "I ask you to recons-"

"You're on!" Ethan spat on the ground in front of Crispin's feet.

Crispin stopped dead. How dare Windale insult him by spitting at his feet. He had lived in this arrogant boy's shadow for too long, being made a fool of at every turn, having his money stolen, his pride stolen, Aubrey's heart stolen. He was a far better husband than Windale could ever be, a far better leader. The tight tether that Crispin kept on the worst part of himself snapped and his eyes flared with vengeance. He would wipe that self-satisfied smirk right off Derbywood's face. Without saying a word he turned and marched down the steps and out onto the field.

A swelling cheer went up from the n.o.bles on the dais and was followed by one from the crowd as Ethan shot onto the field after Crispin. Two guards stood in the field with a sword apiece, but nothing else; no armor, no shields. Crispin took the sword from the guard nearest to him and inspected it. At least it was a good sword. He turned to find his opponent.

Ethan was on him the second he turned and he barely had time to lift the sword in a defensive stance before the clang of metal against metal and Ethan's grunting anger crashed over on him. He countered by sweeping his sword around and attempting a blow at Ethan's side, his own fury bubbling in the form of strength and energy. Ethan deflected his blow and countered with another to Crispin's side. Their sword blades locked. Crispin growled as Ethan pushed against him. He held his ground, pushing back.

"I want you dead, Huntingdon!" Ethan bared his teeth.

"The feeling is mutual, Derbywood." Crispin used the length of his legs to his advantage and planted a foot in Ethan's gut, pushing him.

Ethan careened off balance. Crispin strode towards him, rage pumping through him, and as he raised his sword Ethan matched the motion and fought off the glancing blow. He punched Crispin's face and knocked him sideways.

Crispin saw stars and stumbled. He recovered enough to slash his sword up and across Ethan's body. Ethan jumped backwards in time to avoid most of the blow, although his tunic was ripped near the shoulder. He used all of his strength to slice at Crispin, was parried, spun around and came at him from the other direction. Sparks flew as their equal strength crashed their swords together.

Crispin grunted as he tried to thrust at Ethan's neck, unthinking, unfeeling, just acting. Decades worth of battle instinct overrode any sense or memory of the promises he'd made to Aubrey. Ethan dodged and hit his sword away. Crispin steadied himself and brought another heavy blow crashing down which Ethan was only just able to fend off. Their swords locked again. This time Crispin was faster. He brought the b.u.t.t of his sword up into Ethan's nose, causing it to spurt blood.

Ethan stumbled back and wiped his face on the side of his sleeve. "When you're dead," he circled Crispin, sword at the ready, "then Windale will be mine again. And Aubrey will be mine too."

Hearing Aubrey's name returned a thread of sanity to Crispin's mind and heart. "Aubrey," he repeated the name.

He dared to glance over Ethan's shoulder to find Aubrey standing in front of the dais, Jack holding her back. She was pale with terror. His chest constricted. Ethan took advantage of his lack of concentration and struck out at him again. This time his slash hit its mark as Crispin leapt out of the way too late. He cried out in pain and frustration and swung his sword to pound on Ethan's again, sparks flying from the strength of the blow. He forced his mind into the battle ignoring the searing pain in his side. Aubrey was his now, his.

With renewed strength he launched another attack on Ethan, coming at him first from the right and being parried and then from the left. Ethan lost his balance as he defended. He came back at him and attempted to spear him. This time when their swords locked the force of Ethan's momentum caused both blades to go flying out of their hands. Ethan didn't hesitate before switching to his fists, pummeling Crispin first in his injured side and then hard across the jaw.

Crispin flew backwards and landed on the ground with a hard thunk that knocked the wind out of him. He barely recovered in time to catch Ethan when he lunged, his hands reaching for his neck. He rolled Ethan to his back and punched him across the face once, then again. Anger propelled Ethan to lash out with a snarl and push Crispin off of him.

Both men struggled to their feet and Ethan, still burning, charged at him and tried to land another blow to his stomach with his shoulder. Crispin dodged and grabbed hold of Ethan's shoulders, using his momentum to toss him to the ground. Ethan crashed on his arm with a grunt of pain. He rolled around, out of breath and aching.

Wild with fury, Crispin spotted one of the swords in the gra.s.s near his feet and lunged for it. He sprinted to Ethan and kicked him in the gut as he struggled to his knees. Ethan crumpled and landed splayed on his back. Crispin knew he'd won. He crouched over Ethan, sneering in rage, and drew his sword up, holding it in both hands over Ethan's neck. All he needed to do to kill the man was to thrust.

Instead his eyes flicked up and sought Aubrey. She had run several steps forward onto the gra.s.s of the arena, her face white as snow. He sighed out a ragged breath as their eyes met. She looked at him, not at Ethan. His strength melted as his heart filled with love for her.

Not even sparing a glance to Ethan he tossed the sword aside and stood straight, stepping over Ethan and walking away, towards Aubrey.

Throughout the battle Aubrey was mad with fear. Each blow that was landed bruised her heart. The hatred that sizzled between the men pushed every memory, every dream she'd ever had to the surface. Ethan as the golden-haired idol of her youth. Crispin as her tormented champion. Every spark of their swords smashed the certainties she had clung to her entire life. The loneliness of always having to fend for herself, the pain of watching her brother fade with no one to help, the bitterness of a thousand little betrayals curled around her.

When Crispin found the sword and charged Ethan, when he held the sword over his throat ready to kill, she felt as though she were the one about to die. And when Crispin looked up at her, when he dropped the sword and came towards her, she blazed to life again.

And she knew. All of the promises and lies, all of the hopes and dreams, everything in her heart boiled down to the discarded sword and the pa.s.sion burning in Crispin's eyes. He had kept his promise.

She loved him. Her whole body, heart, and soul trembled with the force of that love.

When Ethan struggled to his feet behind Crispin as he strode towards her, when he reached for the sword that Crispin had dropped with nothing but hatred in his eyes, Aubrey sprinted forward before she could think.

"NO!" She shot past Crispin as he realized in a flash what she was seeing and spun. Ethan had raised the sword above his head in both hands and was ready to thrust with the full force of his weight when she pushed herself between them, holding her arms wide and shielding Crispin with her body.

Ethan was so close to thrusting the sword into Crispin's heart that he lost his balance as he tried to stop himself and stumbled. Panting, bleeding and still full of anger he glanced up into Aubrey's eyes. "Get out of the way, Aubrey! Let me kill him!"

"No!"

"Let me kill him and we can be together!"

"You will not kill the man I love!" She yelled at him with the full force of everything her tumultuous heart felt.

Ethan staggered back, his mouth working without words. Blood and sweat stung at his eyes and he had to squint at her, but what he saw made him drop the sword as if it were a stone. He swayed and shook as he stood, his breath coming in short gasps.

"We are enemies then," he growled, his face contorting.

"No, Ethan. It doesn't have to be that way."

"It wasn't a question. We are enemies."

She clenched her jaw, too disappointed to be angry. He simmered with resentment, livid as a child. She shook her head. He stepped backwards once before snapping his eyes away and sprinting off to the fence that marked the boundary of the arena. And she didn't care.

She whipped around to face Crispin. He stood behind her, his arms limp at his sides, his chest heaving with exhaustion and emotion.

"Get him!" Buxton's shrill cry shattered the moment. Neither Aubrey nor Crispin had heard the cheering and shouting of the crowd. The noise of the arena filled both of their ears now as they focused on the moment at hand. For Crispin it gave him time to gather his mind back into one piece after the shattering realization that Aubrey had been given a choice between him and Ethan ... and she had chosen him.

She loved him.

The hope and joy of her words and actions brought hot tears to his eyes.

"Huntingdon!" Buxton shrieked as he marched across the field towards them. "Get after him! You're letting him get away!"

"My lord," Crispin panted, a dark, damp patch leeching through the side of his tunic. "I-"

"Oh never mind." Buxton waved his hand at Crispin when he saw his injuries. Instead he turned to Jack, who had sprinted up to the three of them. "You! Go after them!"

"Yes, my lord." Jack nodded in his best Crispin imitation and ran off into the crowd.

"You let him get away, Huntingdon!" Buxton made a fist and was about to strike when he realized how dirty Crispin was and stepped back with a grimace. "You'll pay for this." He spun to Aubrey. "Yes you will. Crispin would have killed him if you hadn't stuck your stubby little nose into things."

"No he wouldn't have!" Aubrey rounded on Buxton.

"That's what you think, is it?" Buxton glanced from one to the other with a furious sneer. "Huntingdon! Control your b.i.t.c.h or I will control her for you!"

"My dear Buxton! What a magnificent show!" Pennington's drawl as he strode up to them and thumped Buxton on the back doused the mounting danger.

Buxton beamed and laughed. "Did you like it? Didn't think the ending was a little, mmm, gauche?"

"The ending was brilliant!" the emissary gushed. "So dramatic. Well done." He raked an appraising glance over Aubrey. "Well done. 'You will not kill the man I love'," he repeated her heart-felt entreaty with a laugh. "Nearly brought a tear to my eye. You can't buy entertainment like that in London."

"Yeah, she's a gem," Buxton ground through clenched teeth. "Now you should really see the spread in the Great Hall." He slid his arm around Pennington's back and steered him off. Pennington laughed and gave Aubrey one last lascivious look before going on to join the n.o.bles returning to the castle. Buxton wheeled on Aubrey and Crispin. "Oh, you just got so lucky." A sick smile spread across his face. "Now get out of my sight!" He turned and marched towards the castle.

For a long moment Aubrey and Crispin stood where they were, catching their breath. The sun was going down and the air was growing crisp. Aubrey turned away from Buxton and the insanity of the dais and looked at Crispin. His face was covered in blood and bruises. His shoulders slumped in exhaustion and he swayed on his feet.

It was the damp spot at his side which concerned her the most. The pain flared to Crispin's awareness as she reached out and pulled his tunic up and his shirt out of his chausses. He tensed and m.u.f.fled a groan. The pale skin of his torso was littered with angry bruises and blood seeped from a long cut against his ribs on his left side. Aubrey raised a shaking hand to touch it.

"It's just a flesh wound." She sighed in relief, gasping through the tears that began to choke her. Her hands went numb as she shook. "It's hardly more than a scratch!" Sobs wracked her and she came apart. In spite of the jolt of pain it caused, Crispin crushed her into his arms. She clutched his filthy tunic, sobbing against his chest, her whole body shaking in his arms.

For the first time in years Crispin felt strong. "It's nothing." He smoothed a sc.r.a.ped hand over her hair, trying in vain not to get blood on her. Her arms held him as though she would never let go. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the top of her head as joy coursed through him.

When she stopped sobbing and shaking and just leaned against him, breath returning to normal as the sunlight faded from the field, he set her on her feet and looked into her swollen, red eyes. "Take me to the castle and clean me up."

She nodded, understanding that it was a request, a plea, not an order, and took his hand. The townsfolk and peasants were beginning to gather on the arena and a group of musicians was setting up on the dais that the n.o.bles had vacated. The people cleared a path for them as they walked hand in hand from the battle scene and through the city, bowing and deferring to them with respect that neither of them had ever seen before.

They remained silent through the celebrating city, the bustle of the castle courtyard. The main hallway of the castle was crammed with n.o.bles and their retinues, but as they mounted the stairs to the High Tower the noise and chaos faded until they reached the hush of the top floor and Crispin's room.

Aubrey dropped Crispin's hand as he shut the door and rushed to the small table that held his washing bowl and pitcher and a towel. She poured water into the bowl as Crispin winced through the pain and leaned against the bedpost. He watched the soft lines and curves of her body as she dropped her cloak to the floor and dipped the towel into the water.

"Come here," she ordered him.

He obeyed, stepping to the table and sitting against the edge. "How many times are you going to have to tend my wounds?"

"Never again if I have my way." She glanced up to him and flushed when their eyes met. "Take your shirt off."

He shrugged out of his tunic then reached down and began to pull his shirt up and over his head. He slowed almost to a stop with a grunt when his bruises and sore muscles made it next to impossible for him to lift it any higher. Aubrey grabbed hold of the shirt and pulled it the rest of the way over his head.

She sucked in a breath when she saw his torso in the light of the fire, bruised, gashed, scarred, masculine. It was hard to know where to begin, hard to know how to touch him without causing him pain. She started with his forehead, cleaning the grime with the damp towel, then followed the line of his hair across his ear and along his cheek. She switched hands and held the side of his face while washing him. Her heart pounded in her chest as the river of liquid fire pooled between her legs and spread through her limbs. He closed his eyes and turned his face in her hand, his lips pressing against her palm.