Set title

by O’Donnell, Laurel

  Jordan remembered the many times she had seen this cavernous room bursting with life and energy. She glanced to her right and remembered the time a juggling bear and its master had come to Castle Mercer. They had stood right near the wall where she was. The bear had been wearing a silly red hat, but had been an impressive juggler, bouncing the balls off his big black snout. And over there, deeper in the room to her left, she remembered the impressive ice sculptures that had filled the room during a feast Fox’s father had hosted.

  But now the room was barren. Even her pleasant memories did nothing to cover the emptiness she felt at the sight of it. This was no longer the place she remembered from her childhood.

  And Fox Mercer was no longer the boy she had once called friend.

  Suddenly, a bang sounded from somewhere deeper in the castle. Jordan jumped and faltered, moving closer to Fox. The noise sounded again. A wooden shutter banging in the wind, perhaps.

  Fox continued down the hallway passed the Great Hall, pulling Jordan along behind him. He turned a corner and Jordan almost screamed as a stark figure crossed the hall in front of them. It had long white hair and was wearing a long, flowing white robe. It was gone as quickly as it had emerged.

  Fox stepped forward, seemingly oblivious to the specter that had just crossed their path, but Jordan’s feet wouldn’t move. “This castle is haunted,” Jordan whispered.

  “Only with old memories.”

  Jordan lifted her eyes to Fox. In the gloom, he was but a darkened silhouette in the hallway, a mere ghost himself.

  Again he moved forward, pulling her with him.

  But Jordan couldn’t get her feet to take a step.

  “Afraid?” Fox asked, mockingly.

  Was it her chattering teeth that gave her away? Her shivering hands? Or the goose bumps shooting up and down her flesh? Jordan didn’t respond, but her feet magically began to move again. She stayed close to Fox. He was not afraid of these phantoms and their ghostly noises, and he was the only protection she had.

  As they moved through the hall, Jordan saw no more traces of the ghostly apparition. It had simply vanished.

  They turned another corner and another, moving deeper into the castle, deeper into the darkness. She tried to remember where she was in the castle from her many childhood visits, but her mind refused to cooperate. She felt lost. Fox paused at the bottom of a set of narrow stairs. He had to pry Jordan’s fingers from his arm to get her to let go of him. He stepped up into the darkness and vanished. For a moment, Jordan panicked. She rushed forward and tripped over the first stair, tumbling forward into Fox’s back. He quickly reached out a hand to steady her.

  “Patience,” Fox said.

  “Don’t leave me,” Jordan hissed. “Not here.”

  “There’s not enough room for both of us in the stairway. You know that.”

  And she did, suddenly remembering the layout of the castle. These stairs led up to the second floor, to the bedrooms. She had used them dozens of times without incident. But today they seemed to lead to danger, to an unknown fate.

  “Give me your hand,” he instructed.

  Jordan reached out to him with her bound hands and he found her fingers, closing his hand over hers. Strangely, she felt more secure. He began to move up the stairs. Jordan followed, carefully, a step at a time.

  “Careful,” he said softly, “this stair is broken.”

  Jordan stepped over the chipped slab of rock, and within seconds they emerged into the second level corridor.

  Far in the distance, light cast an pale glow on the stones in the hallway. They moved toward the light and Jordan found herself clinging to Fox’s arm. Another ghost? But the light looked more like sunlight.

  As they neared, she could see the light came from an open doorway. Fox moved to the doorway and paused.

  Jordan stared into the room. She had known this room long ago. It was his mother’s old room. But the bed was gone. The beautiful decorative chest was gone. Everything she remembered being in the room was gone. A large window facing the northern wall was open, allowing the morning sunlight to enter the room. A wooden table with benches on either side was positioned near the window. Jordan’s gaze was captured by the cold, dead hearth on the eastern side of the room. One chair was positioned before it. The walls were bare, except for one ripped, frayed tapestry she didn’t remember, and the floor was uncovered and cold.

  A great hound lumbered up to them. He sniffed Fox and passed him without incident. He stuck his wet muzzle into Jordan’s white dress, sniffed, and growled slightly. Jordan took a step away from the dog.

  Fox pulled her toward the hearth, and the great hound followed them like a guard, snarling softly.

  Jordan cast a glance over her shoulder at the dog.

  Fox turned toward the door. “Prepare the north tower,” he instructed.

  Jordan turned to see a short stocky man with gray hair standing silently at the room’s threshold. He nodded and moved off. The room filled with the other members of Fox’s band. Beau, the one who had been their prisoner at Castle Ruvane, entered and took a seat on one of the benches, the tall one with red hair and beard followed him. The woman crossed the room to the window, leaning back on the ledge with her arms crossed.

  The north tower? In all the time she had been at Castle Mercer, she didn’t think she had ever been to the north tower.

  Jordan twisted her wrists, trying to shift the ropes, but her movement only seemed to tighten her bonds.

  Fox stared at her thoughtfully. He had changed. She almost didn’t recognize him. He had a growth of stubble covering his square chin. His nose was strong and straight, not the pug little nose of the boy she remembered. His eyes were dark and brooding. As she looked closer, she could see they were still the eyes she remembered. But this man, this grown Fox, was very handsome. If he weren’t a criminal, she would have acknowledged the fact he might be pleasing to be with.

  But he killed Maggie, a voice inside her reminded. She looked away from him, mentally chiding herself for her stray thoughts.

  “We have to keep her hidden,” Fox said. “I don’t want him to know she is here.”

  All eyes were once again on her. She lifted her chin slightly.

  Beau smiled slightly before saying, “Fox, you can’t keep her hidden forever.”

  “Just until I receive the ransom,” Fox said.

  The sun had risen higher and was now starting to fill the room, vanquishing the shadows. Jordan’s confidence grew stronger as the sunlight grew brighter. Evan would find her. He would not rest until she was safely back with him.

  In his arms. Yes, a voice reminded her. And in his bed. She pushed the thought away. She had to get out of here. She had to keep her thoughts focused on figuring out how to escape.

  “It could be months,” Beau said softly. “You can’t keep her locked up in the tower that long.”

  “Not long,” Fox said. ”Just until I receive the ransom.”

  Jordan gritted her teeth. They were speaking of her as though she weren’t standing directly in front of them. “Evan will pay any ransom you demand,” she said imperiously.

  Fox smiled.

  Jordan’s heart skipped a beat and her confidence died beneath the radiance of his grin.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” Fox said.

  Jordan turned away from him to face the hearth and realized for the first time the chair was occupied by an elderly man. Another of Fox’s band? Jordan stepped forward. His long hair was completely white, his hand wrapped around a mug resting on top of his knee. He wore an old, faded white velvet jupon.

  Something was familiar about the man, but Jordan couldn’t place what it was. She stepped around the chair, moving between the hearth and the man. Old blue eyes lifted to her, tired eyes, weary eyes that looked empty. Jordan scowled slightly. He looked like a man already dead.

  Suddenly, something lit in his eyes, transforming them from a blank stare to an excited gaze. He stood slowly from his chair.
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br />   Jordan took a step back, fearful of this walking dead creature before her. But something about the old man kept her bolted to the spot. Something very familiar.

  It took Jordan a long moment to understand. The white hair and ancient, old wrinkled skin had confused her. He had aged almost double the ten years she had last seen him. “Lord Mercer?” she gasped as recognition blossomed inside her.

  “Father,” Fox called, moving forward quickly. He took hold of Jordan’s arm, pulling her away from Frederick. “I didn’t see you here. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “Wait!” The voice that spoke was old, crackling with the effort to muster up such an outburst.

  Frederick Mercer stepped slowly up to Jordan. He gazed deeply into her eyes.

  Jordan didn’t know what she should do. It had been another lifetime since she had seen Lord Mercer.

  Then Frederick extended his hand to her, palm up.

  Jordan swallowed hard and glanced sideways at Fox. But, slowly, hesitantly, she lifted her bound hands and placed one of them in his.

  Frederick accepted her hand without any emotion. He stared at her hands for a long moment.

  Just as Jordan was beginning to feel restless and confused in the prolonged silence, Frederick lifted his gaze to Fox. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked his son.

  Fox looked at Jordan in confusion, then back at his father.

  “The ropes, boy,” his father hissed. “Why is she tied?”

  Fox sputtered. “She is... she is our enemy!”

  “Remove these ropes immediately.”

  “She is Jordan Ruvane. She is our enemy!” Fox repeated.

  “Rubbish! She is a guest!”

  “Guest!” Fox exploded. “She is not a guest! She is a noble!”

  “Of course she is. Would we invite any less into the castle?” Frederick asked. He turned to Jordan. “You’ll have to excuse him, Lady Jordan. He’s been out of sorts lately.”

  Fox ground his teeth, his body stiffening. He signaled the woman in his band with a wave of his hand.

  The woman came forward and cut the rope from Jordan’s wrists with a savage chop from her blade.

  Jordan rubbed her free hands, massaging the circulation back into them. Red welts encircled her tender wrists.

  Frederick placed his hand out and Jordan didn’t hesitate this time in taking it. She rested her hand on his arm and he moved toward the hallway. “Welcome to Castle Mercer, Lady Jordan. Let me show you the changes I have instigated from the last time you visited.”

  Bewildered, Jordan glanced back over her shoulder at Fox, but he just looked at her angrily as Frederick led her from the room.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Lord Bentley, meet the Lady Jordan,” Lord Mercer introduced.

  Jordan stared into the empty hallway, aghast. No one stood before her. Who was he introducing her to?

  Lord Mercer laughed. “She is quite shy today,” he said.

  He had been introducing her to and speaking with invisible persons all morning. He even chastised a fictional servant for spilling the clean linen. Jordan didn’t know what to make of him. Part of her was frightened of him and part of her was deathly worried for his well-being.

  Lord Mercer turned his gaze to her. “How thoughtless of me,” he said to Jordan, still cognizant enough to see the distress on her face. “You must be weary from your journey,” he continued, somehow misreading her alarm for fatigue. He barely lifted a hand when the woman who had been following them all morning suddenly appeared at their side. “See my lady to her room,” Lord Mercer commanded.

  The thin woman grunted and grabbed Jordan’s arm. “This way,” she snarled.

  Jordan did not have time to object, for the woman all but propelled her down the hallway. Every time Jordan faltered, hearing a moan or seeing a movement in the shadows, the woman urged her on with a none too gentle shove. They moved down long, dark hallways that held silent demons waiting for the night, past huge spider webs hanging from gaping black doors. Jordan briefly thought of trying to escape, but she didn’t know which way led to the doors of the Keep.

  The woman urged Jordan through a dark archway, and she almost tripped on the stairs before her. She touched the cold, moist, grimy walls to help guide her, but pulled back once as her fingers brushed something large and hairy. The woman behind her gave an impatient push, forcing her on, the shove almost knocking her to her hands and knees.

  The stairs seemed to spiral up around and around forever. Jordan wondered how far up they were going, wondered where they were going. And then she remembered what Fox had said and she knew where she was being led. To the north tower.

  And then, as if the castle had some magical glimpse into her thoughts, a door appeared at the top of the stairs.

  The woman stepped before Jordan and shoved the door open. She mockingly bowed and spoke with sarcasm. “Your room, m’lady.”

  Jordan hesitated, peering cautiously into the dark room. The woman seized Jordan’s arm and hurled her into the room. This time, Jordan did land on her hands and knees on the cold floor. She glanced back at the door as it closed, her eyes widening in alarm as the woman sealed her in the darkness.

  Jordan rose quickly, taking a step toward the door.

  “I hope you enjoyed your tour,” a dark voice said.

  She whirled, her fearful gaze scanning the dark shadows that seemed to come alive before her very eyes. Jordan pressed her back to the door.

  A flint was struck, and glistening gold light flared across a clean-shaven face with rugged contoured cheeks. A candle was lit and the light pushed the shadowy demons back to reveal the man who had been hidden in their murky depths.

  Fox.

  Jordan gasped as he lifted his gaze to her. His eyes were a stark blue in the blackness. He turned toward her and stepped forward. The darkness fell from his shoulders like a cape as he moved further into the candlelight. His hair hung to his shoulders and the light captured it, caressing it like a merchant handling expensive velvet. He was gorgeous, easily the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  “Fox,” she whispered softly, his name a mere caress against her lips. What in heaven’s name are you doing? she wondered, chastising herself. He is a killer. Maggie’s killer. She mentally shook herself. You must remember he stole what could have saved her life. And he didn’t give a damn about the consequences. Jordan rose slightly before him. “Why have you taken me?”

  He stepped close to her. “Remove your dress.”

  Jordan pulled back, stunned. “I beg your pardon.”

  “I said to remove your dress.” He turned away from her to a small table and fiddled with something she could not see. She heard the sound of dripping water.

  Amazed, angry, and affronted, Jordan crossed her arms, refusing to do anything of the kind.

  Fox turned back to her, a dripping towel in his hand. He raised an eyebrow at her defiance. “I’ve seen many women in many states of undress. One more is not likely to affect me.”

  Still, Jordan did not move. “I am perfectly capable of bathing myself.”

  Fox looked down at the towel and back up to Jordan. He chuckled softly. “Water is a precious commodity here in Castle Mercer. It is not used to bathe. And if it were, I would not allow it to be used on the likes of... your kind.”

  Jordan scowled at his rudeness. “Then why must I undress?” she demanded.

  Fox took a step closer, and then another until he towered above her, his brooding stare unnerving, his tall stature intimidating. But Jordan stubbornly held her ground. “If wounds are not properly seen to, they could become infected. I saw a cut on your knee and I wanted to make sure there were no others.”

  His concern seemed genuine, but Jordan had quickly learned not to trust this man who now called himself the Black Fox. “I can see to my wounds myself,” she said, refusing to give in to his intimidation. “It wouldn’t be fitting for you to touch me in such an intimate way.”

  Something darkened in Fo
x’s eyes. “Only a servant is not allowed to touch a noble in such an intimate way.”

  Jordan began to shake her head. “That isn’t –”

  Fox took a step closer. “I am no servant of the Ruvanes, Jordan,” he hissed. “Just a victim.”

  Jordan withdrew. “I didn’t mean –”

  “And whether I decide to touch you or not is my choice,” he whispered.

  Fox was so close Jordan could feel the heat of his words on her cheek. Her mind screamed to respond, to reply to his whispered challenge. But her throat suddenly become dry, her mind empty of stinging retorts. The only image on her mind was that of the way his sensual lips formed every word.

  He dropped the towel into her hands. ”See to your own wounds, then.” He turned his back on her and headed for the door.

  Humiliated by her response to his closeness, by the sudden and inexplicable sensation of drowning in the deep blue waters of his eyes, Jordan struggled to find a stinging retort. But all she could come up with was, ”Evan and my father will pay any amount of coin for my safe return!”

  Fox paused at the door. Finally, he turned. “I am not asking for coin. At first, that possibility entered my mind. But I know of a much more suitable ransom.”

  Confusion washed over Jordan. No coin?

  “I am asking for the return of my lands and my father’s title.”

  Aghast, Jordan pushed herself from the wall. “My father doesn’t have the power to restore your title. Only the king can do that!”

  Fox stared calmly at her, unaffected by her outburst. “Then it looks like your stay shall be a long one.” His hand reached for the door handle.

  The children. No. She couldn’t remain captive. “No!” Jordan gasped. She lunged forward, desperation overcoming all apprehension. She grabbed Fox’s hand. “You can’t keep me. I have responsibilities.”

  His eyes narrowed and he yanked his hand free of her grip. “Your responsibilities will wait until I get my title and lands returned.”