Free Her Noble Lords by Ashe Barker

forth.
    “So, we meet again, my bloodthirsty little countess. I trust your accommodations have served to impress upon you the seriousness of your situation here.”
    I bow my head. “Yes, sir. But I thank you for the bath and the clean clothing.”
    “Though they have their place, I am not prepared to subject myself to filth and squalor. You have had adequate food?”
    “Yes, sir,” I repeat. Then, unable to contain the question uppermost in my mind for a moment longer, “Please, tell me of Ralf. Does my husband live?”
    He frowns, as though slightly surprised by the question. “Your husband, madam? Ah, yes, I do understand your concern. The earl’s fate is inextricably bound up with your own, is it not?”
    “That is not the sole reason. I am so sorry. I wish I could undo what is done. I never meant him harm, I swear it.”
    “Do you? Do you indeed, my lady?” He pauses. “You will recall my promise to you.”
    “I… I am not sure, my lord…”
    “I told you, if my brother dies, you will hang.”
    The harsh face of the new earl betrays no mercy, not a shred of compassion. I should expect none. The brothers were devoted and without doubt, Piers will demand my death in retribution for taking the life of his beloved sibling. As he should. I can conjure no words in my own defence.
    “Yes, sir,” I murmur. “I understand and I am deeply sorry for the harm I caused by my foolish actions. I desire only that you forgive me and I wish that my husband, too, could absolve me of the guilt I now feel.”
    “He might. I believe I already mentioned to you that he is a tender-hearted soul and in my opinion far too easily swayed by a maiden’s pretty tears. Whilst we are alike in many ways, my brother and I, you will find I am not of such a merciful persuasion.”
    “I am not pleading for mercy, my lord. I know what is to happen and I accept your justice.”
    “Well, that is something, I suppose. You may be thankful though, as I am, that it is not my justice you are to receive this day. It is his.” He tilts his chin up in the direction of the far end of the chamber to a spot to the rear of where I stand.
    Slowly, not daring to hope, to believe, I turn.
    My knees melt, and I start to crumple to the Oriental rug beneath my feet. Ralf steps forward from his position leaning against the wall of the chamber but he is slow. It is Piers’ arms which encircle me from behind and prevent me from falling to the floor.
    “My lord? My husband,” I whisper, “…you live.”
    “Aye, he does. Not that this felicitous state of affairs is in any way due to any lack of effort on your part, madam. You may thank our excellent surgeon for your husband’s recovery and the mercy of almighty God for your own deliverance.” Piers lifts me in his arms and takes two strides across the room to deposit me on the large, ornately carved settle before the fire. Despite the hostile words and the anger emanating from the men before me, warmth starts immediately to seep into my being. There is a roaring fire beside me but it is not only that.
    Ralf is not dead. I did not kill him. He lives. He lives!
    I am sobbing with relief, with the lifting of the burden of grief, uncertainty, and guilt I have borne for weeks and hardly dared give voice to. Perhaps the knowledge I am not, after all, to end this night dangling from a noose has something to do with it. Mostly though, I weep tears of absolute joy that the man I have adored since childhood has not died at my hands.
    “Such an emotional reunion. You should be touched, brother.” Piers’ tone is scathing.
    Ralf’s voice is only a little less icy. “Indeed. It is to be regretted that my lady wife could not find such devotion within her before she planted a dagger between my ribs but perhaps she will be more accommodating in the future.”
    “I would advise against such boundless optimism, my brother.”
    “Ah, but as you always see fit to point out, I am a trusting soul. She will accept