Samara's Peril

“The boy died of fever,” Rothas insisted, but even to Jace it was clear he spoke what he knew to be a lie.

  A cool light kindled in Rachel’s eyes now. “So you and my father both told me.”

  Rothas stepped closer to his wife, his voice a low hiss. “He could be anyone.”

  Jace bristled at the man’s threatening stance, but his mother drew herself up.

  “I know my own son.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Rothas spun on his heel, giving Jace a scorching look before striding away.

  “Where are you going?” Rachel called after him.

  “To send for your father,” he threw over his shoulder.

  “So you two can conspire to get rid of him again?”

  Rothas didn’t respond this time. Rachel stood rigidly until he was gone. The shudder of every hard breath she took filled the following silence. Jace sensed the internal battle she fought, especially in light of all she had just said about her faithfulness to Rothas. When she finally turned to him, her eyes displayed it plainly. Guilt struck him for being the source of the conflict.

  He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “No, Jace. You’re not to blame.” She drew a slow breath, her anger dissipating in a moment as concern overwhelmed her expression. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Jace assured her.

  Her gaze dropped to his neck, just to be certain. She then turned to Elian. “Will you stay with him? Who knows who else Rothas will tell about this. I don’t want any of his men making trouble. I must try to reason with him before my father gets here.”

  Elian nodded firmly.

  To Jace, she said, “Don’t worry. I’ll get this sorted out… somehow.”

  Jace said nothing as she turned to leave. The cold suspicion inside him warned that she wouldn’t succeed. Things like this just didn’t work out in his favor.

  Rachel tried everything in her power to get Rothas to soften on the issue; however, he all but refused to speak with her. Forced to give up and wait to try again when her father arrived, she passed on lunch and secluded herself alone in a back parlor to pray. She begged Elôm for His hand in this, to soften the hearts of both Rothas and her father toward Jace, and for them to see how desperately she loved and wanted him in her life. She also prayed for a good deal of patience and restraint. It was too easy to be angry and bitter. Without Elôm’s strength, she was likely to say something she would later regret.

  She was still deep in her prayers when someone tapped on the door. She rose from her knees and opened it to a servant girl in the hall.

  “Lord Dunrick has arrived, my lady.”

  “Thank you.” Rachel offered a quick smile and drew a calming breath. Time to head off to do battle once again for her son. She strode down the hall, whispering last-minute prayers along the way. Memories of the morning she had woken up to find Jace gone relived themselves. Her heart ached as much as it did then to think of losing him again. But he wasn’t an infant. They couldn’t just secret him away from her. She wouldn’t let them.

  Her father’s voice echoed loud and clear when she neared the drawing room. He had a habit of speaking louder than necessary on most occasions, but especially when he was agitated. Most people considered him a rather blustery man if they weren’t well-acquainted enough to see his gentler side. Rachel had hoped for that gentle side today. No doubt Rothas was at work, riling him up. Her father openly admitted that he and Rothas didn’t see eye to eye on most things. Unfortunately, this was the one thing they had and would work together on. Oh, Lord, I need Your intervention and strength.

  Pulling her shoulders back and shoring up her resolve, Rachel stepped into the drawing room. She spotted her mother first. The older woman offered her a sympathetic, yet encouraging look. Charles wasn’t present, and Rachel’s heart sank. He must have been away when Rothas’s messenger arrived at Brandell, or surely he would have come. Rachel had counted on his support, but at least her mother was here. It would be up to the two of them to defend Jace’s place in this family.

  Finally, her gaze settled on her father’s daunting figure. He wasn’t tall exactly—a sliver under six foot—but he was burly. Though he had become a bit rounded in the middle over the years, it wasn’t quite so noticeable in comparison to his broad shoulders and chest.

  The moment he spotted her, he stepped forward, a storm brewing in his indigo eyes. “What’s this I hear about a strange man claiming to be your son?”

  Rachel cast a sharp glance at Rothas. Of course, he wouldn’t wait for her to discuss the matter.

  “He isn’t claiming anything.” Rachel met her father’s eyes. “He is my son.”

  “Nonsense. The child is dead,” he blustered as if, after all these years, he had convinced himself it was true. “The man is an impostor. He probably heard you lost a child and is here to gain whatever he can from you.”

  Rachel drew in her breath and let it out slowly to make sure she was calm before speaking. “He is not just any man. His name is Jace. Furthermore, he never approached me with any of this. I recognized him when he arrived in Lady Anne’s security detail. I approached him. He had no idea who I was.”

  “You don’t know that,” Rothas cut in. “You could be playing right into his plans.”

  Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see his face when I revealed who I was. Not everyone is manipulative and conniving.”

  His face darkened at her accusation, and Rachel felt her conscience pricked. I’m sorry, Lord. She bit her tongue, reminding herself to guard her words.

  She faced her father again. “He’s clearly half ryrik. There’s no question of that. How many half-ryriks do you think there are? I doubt most women are as fortunate to be rescued as I was.”

  Her father grimaced at the memories, but said, “That doesn’t make him yours.”

  Rachel put her hands out. “And you think all half-ryriks have the name Jace?”

  Her father bumbled for a response, but had none. Finally, he huffed. “Even if it is true—and I’m not saying it is—he’s the unfortunate consequence of a despicable act. A painful reminder.”

  Rachel shook her head. “The act was despicable, yes, but Jace is the blessing in it, not the consequence.”

  Her father waved his hand, addressing her in the same tone he had used when she was a child. “You’re being ridiculous. You should have ended things when I first told you to and then you wouldn’t have had the opportunity to become attached. You should let this go and forget about him.”

  Ire rose inside Rachel again, and she worked very hard to control it, though her voice trembled in the process. “I am a grown woman and old enough to decide how I feel about my own child.”

  Her frustration grew further when Rothas interjected his unwelcome opinion again.

  “Whoever he is, let’s not forget he is half ryrik, as you say. He’s dangerous and should be sent away at once if not imprisoned.”

  “No!” Rachel gasped, her voice a tad desperate. She quickly controlled it. “He is not dangerous.” She glared at her husband. “Why are you so against him? He’s no threat to you. Is it because he’s outside your control?”

  Rothas glowered at her, and his jaw twitched. Of course, she was right. Her husband was a man of power. He desired to control everything—her, their children, their household. He had proved it in his accusations and threats against Jace in the garden. Though he held himself to no standard, taking advantage of any willing woman who came his way, woe to his wife if she dared to even look at another man.

  Her voice low and even, she said, “Jace is my son. I carried him and gave birth to him, and I love him. I will not let either of you take him from me this time.”

  Her gaze remained fixed with her husband’s, driving home her point. She would not back down in this. Once she was satisfied, she turned back to her father, now needing to rest her case with him.

  “There is no deception here. Jace truly is my son, and you would see that if you woul
d only take the time to know him. You never did. Not from the day he was born. You may not wish to acknowledge it, but he was your first grandchild. He’s no different from James or Elanor, and no less worthy of your love.”

  “Henry, she is right,” her mother joined in now, speaking with soft persuasion. “I sat with him, talked with him. He’s a wonderful young man.”

  Her father peered between the two of them, his face sour at being ganged up on.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Bring him in here and I shall form my own opinions.”

  Rachel’s heart tripped, not sure whether to rejoice or cringe. She wanted him to meet Jace, of course, but her father could be very abrasive. It had been her hope to present Jace to him when he was in a much kinder mood. Poor Jace.

  She glanced at her mother, who gave a nod of assurance.

  “Well?” her father snapped impatiently.

  Taking a deep breath and sending out a desperate prayer, Rachel turned for the door.

  Somehow, the news of Jace’s identity had already traveled throughout the house. At lunch, every set of eyes in the servants’ hall was on him, along with a steady stream of murmurs and whispers. Many were only exclamations of surprise and curiosity, but others weren’t so innocent. He caught snatches of suspicion about his mixed blood and intentions. It quickly became clear which members of the staff were more loyal to Rothas than to his mother. Most were sure Rothas would have him thrown out at the earliest opportunity.

  The others did their best to encourage him. Kaden looked ready to get into it with some of the men, but Rayad gave him a cautioning look. Despite their support, Jace soon couldn’t take the unease anymore and left the table. He needed sunlight and the freeing touch of fresh air. Just outside, he found a bench and sank down. Elian remained close, as Rachel had asked, though they spoke little. Jace wasn’t in the mood to talk.

  A short time later, a lavish carriage pulled into the estate. Jace’s stomach turned over. A sense of doom seemed to follow as the carriage rolled out of sight. Now his fate would be decided. How could his mother convince both Rothas and her father to accept him? She had already tried once in the past. They all knew how that turned out.

  Jace bent forward with a sigh and rubbed his forehead. He didn’t often get headaches the way Kyrin did, but he could feel one building now. Just imagining what might be taking place inside sent tension through his shoulder, up his neck, and into his skull. If only he could know what was happening.

  “Jace.”

  He jerked his head up. His mother stood near the door, her expression hopeful, yet strained. How could she be out here so soon? This didn’t bode well.

  “My father wishes to meet you.”

  Jace lifted his brows. “He does?”

  “Yes,” his mother winced slightly, “but I don’t think he’s convinced of your identity, and is suspicious of your motives. I wish I could present you under better circumstances, but if I put it off now, he may decide not to see you at all. However, I don’t want to force you to see him.”

  Jace hesitated. He had no desire to meet the man responsible for his life of slavery. Just the thought of facing him set fire to his blood. Yet, if there was a chance at resolving things, he had to take it. Considering his mother’s desire for him to have forgiveness for his grandfather, he forced a nod.

  “Good.” She looked at Elian, who stepped closer. “Your presence would only agitate Father, but I would appreciate it if you would be nearby. I don’t think my father has ulterior motives or some sort of plan with Rothas, but I might need you if they do.”

  Elian nodded. “Of course.”

  Rachel then motioned to Jace. “Come with me.”

  Together, they walked inside. Along the way, she said, “I just want to warn you that my father can be loud and gruff when he’s upset. I don’t know what he intends to say or ask you, but just be honest and yourself.”

  Jace absorbed her words and tried to prepare himself. In his life, he had faced men from one end of the spectrum to the other—both kind and cruel, though mostly cruel. Such experience should have helped in this situation, but his nerves still kicked in. After all, this meeting could decide the future he had with his family—or whether or not there would be a future.

  At the door to the drawing room, Jace’s heart rate spiked, and he froze. What if this was a bad idea? What if, as his mother feared, there was some plan in place to get rid of him again? Could she stop them? Could he? What would that do to their mission here?

  His mother rested her hand on his arm, and he looked down into her earnest eyes.

  “Whatever happens, I want you to remember that it doesn’t change who you are to me.”

  With this assurance, she opened the door and stepped in. Jace still hesitated. It was as if he were entering an arena again. The emotions were eerily similar. Fighting to banish them, he steeled himself and followed, immediately taking in the surroundings. There, in the center of the room, stood a man with a hard, ill-tempered look. A knot tightened Jace’s stomach as his mother drew him closer.

  “Father, I want you to meet your grandson, Jace.”

  In silence, the two of them stared at each other. For all his life, Jace had assumed his physical attributes had come predominantly from his ryrik blood, but that was not quite true. His grandfather was a strong-bodied man with a stern jaw set, just like Jace, and though their heights differed and Jace was leaner, their builds were similar. The biggest shock was to realize he had his grandfather’s straight nose. Despite the obvious differences, they looked very much alike.

  It took Jace a long moment to process this. His grandfather’s granite expression lifted just a little as he too made the same shocking discoveries. If he’d still had doubts about Jace’s lineage, he couldn’t dispute them now. It was too obvious. Jace was family.

  Lord Dunrick cleared his throat. Jace caught a glimpse of a brief breakthrough in his hard exterior, but he had it back in place in an instant.

  “What is it you want from us?” His deep voice was edged in a growl, but it seemed forced.

  “Father,” Rachel scolded.

  The man’s gaze never wavered from Jace.

  “Nothing.” Jace pulled his shoulders back. “Only to know my family.”

  Lord Dunrick’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “No money?”

  “No,” Jace answered.

  “Not a position among the nobles?”

  “No.”

  “Revenge?”

  Jace sucked in his breath at the blunt question. Had he learned about his mother a few years ago, before meeting Rayad, then yes, he would have wanted revenge. However, he knew now that it would only hurt him and his mother.

  Despite the internal tugging to seek retribution, he answered quietly, “No.”

  “Father, you heard him,” Rachel stepped in. “He just wants to get to know us—his family.”

  Lord Dunrick frowned at her, but then his face portrayed a subtle hint of softening. Just maybe he was beginning to believe it. Jace wasn’t so foolish as to hope the man may eventually feel sorry for what he had done, but as long as they were on civil terms, he could live with that.

  Rothas stepped forward. Jace had almost forgotten he was here, and he braced himself. The man had been too quiet during the exchange between Jace and his grandfather.

  “Well then, it appears we were wrong in our suspicions.”

  Jace eyed his too-wide, almost smug smile.

  “It is only fitting that we make amends,” Rothas continued. “We’ll have a room prepared immediately and get you out of the servants’ quarters. And tonight, at supper, we shall celebrate your return to the family.”

  The way he said family dripped of sarcasm. The man was up to something. After all, his cunning and plotting had brought Jace and the others here in the first place. He had a motive hidden behind his apparent change of heart. Jace glanced at his mother. She shared his look of suspicion.

  Hoping to avoid the brewing trouble, Jace said, “That won’t b
e necessary.”

  A ruthless light glinted in Rothas’s eyes. “You decline our desire to right the wrongs that have been done?”

  Cold slithered along Jace’s skin. He could hardly resist now without it appearing to be out of spite. Rothas had maneuvered him exactly where he wanted him, and they both knew it. The question now was the man’s end game. What devious plan did he have in mind for Jace?

  Rothas’s gaze turned to his wife, a smarmy smile pasted on his face. “We should tell James and Elanor. I’m sure they will be delighted.”

  Rachel glanced away and murmured, “Elanor knows.”

  “Does she?” Ice laced Rothas’s smooth tone. “We’d best not leave James out any longer then.”

  With a sigh, Rachel walked to the door and instructed Elian to send for James and Elanor. As she turned back into the room, Rothas addressed Lord and Lady Dunrick.

  “You must stay for supper. Then, if Charles can make it, the whole family can be together.”

  Jace ground his teeth together. He really hated the way the man spoke about family. There was no love in it. He glanced at his grandfather. Even the earl seemed wary of Rothas. If only his grandfather were on his side and an ally in this.

  A few uncomfortable minutes passed before the door opened. Elanor stepped in first. She gave Jace a quick smile, but must have sensed the tension in the room.

  Then came James. Jace traded a cool look with him. James’s entire being radiated an infuriating air of superiority. All Jace could think of for a moment was how this half-brother of his had leered at Kyrin the day before. It still heated his blood.

  Rachel stepped forward, her mouth open to speak, but Rothas swiftly cut in.

  “James, it seems you are the only one who was left out of your mother’s news.”

  James frowned. “What news?”

  Rachel again tried to speak, but Rothas spoke over her. “About your brother, Jace, the half-blood child she had before she married me.”

  Jace clenched his fists. How tempted he was to use one on Rothas, not only for his rude, bullying behavior toward his mother, but for the way he spoke, as if she were somehow to blame for Jace’s birth.