Set title

by O’Donnell, Laurel

  But even in his worst imaginings, he was unprepared for the sight that greeted him as he bounded down the stairs of the Keep and raced into the main hallway.

  His brother, Michael, stood in a beam of moonlight penetrating the double doors at the far end of the hallway, his hands locked around Jordan’s neck. The wan moonlight painted Michael’s usually pale face an even starker shade of white. Panic and dread welled within Fox. He forced himself to go faster, forced his legs to pump harder.

  But he couldn’t get to her fast enough. Jordan’s hand dropped from Michael’s arm, and her body went limp. The corridor seemed to stretch on forever. A horrible dread filled him. He slammed into Michael, sending the three of them flying to the floor. His sword clattered to the ground nearby.

  Fox quickly lifted his head to look at Jordan. She had fallen to the stone ground, just before him. Fear froze his body. She wasn’t moving.

  He was at her side in an instant. “Jordan,” he called.

  “Get away from her, Fox. Cast the evil demon from your castle,” Michael ordered.

  Fox ignored his brother. His gaze stayed riveted on Jordan’s pale face, her closed eyes, the ugly red welts around her neck. His heart pounded in his chest. He lifted his hands, but then held them still over her. He was terrified if he touched her she would never open her eyes.

  “Jordan,” he called again, and was surprised the voice that came forth was thick and husky.

  A firm hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him roughly away from her. “Don’t touch her!” Michael thundered. “Remember the spell she had over you? She is nothing but evil!”

  Suddenly, Jordan took a sharp intake of breath and her eyes flashed open. She looked momentarily disoriented, but then she quickly focused on Fox and on Michael behind him. She sat up abruptly and backed quickly away from them, pushing herself along the stone floor.

  Fox yanked his shoulder free of Michael’s hold. But Michael stepped past him, blocking his path, holding a cross before him like a shield, pointing it at Jordan. “Out, demon! I rid our lands of you!”

  Jordan’s back hit the wall, stopping her. She cringed away from Michael’s tirade.

  Fox strode forward and pushed Michael’s arm down, shoving him out of his way. “That’s enough, Michael!” he ordered in a roar sounding like thunder bursting forth from the emotional storm churning inside him.

  Fox glimpsed movement out of the corner of his eye and saw his father and Beau race down the hallway, but he kept his eyes on Michael’s hot gaze. He stood before Jordan like a wall of stone, refusing to let Michael take another step toward her.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Frederick demanded as he approached. He stepped behind Fox and reached down to Jordan, helping her to her feet.

  “Father!” Michael jerked forward, but Fox shoved him back.

  “She is no demon,” Fox said to his brother, keeping his voice calm.

  Michael’s gaze shifted to him. “It’s too late,” he murmured. “She already has you under her spell.”

  “I won’t let you hurt her,” Fox told him.

  Michael’s gaze swung back to Jordan. Fury churned in his eyes. “I have worked long and hard to rid Castle Mercer of evil.” He looked back at Fox. “And now you invite the devil to our very table.”

  “She is a guest, Michael,” his father said over Fox’s shoulder. “And you will treat Lady Jordan as such.”

  Michael’s gaze narrowed. “She will never be a guest in my home.” He whirled and moved into the Great Hall.

  “Michael!” Fox’s father called out after him.

  Fox put his hand on his father’s shoulder, stopping him. “I will speak to him,” Fox said. He turned to look at Jordan. She looked small beside his father, her brow furrowed with lines of concern and confusion. She held her hand at the base of her throat. Fox stepped toward her. “Are you all right?”

  Jordan nodded, and a lock of her hair spilled forward in a long winding curl that stretched past her throat. Fox could not take his eyes from her neck, from the ugly red marks marring what had once been perfect, flawless skin. Michael had done this to her. He reached out a finger and touched her chin, forcing her head up to bare her throat to his scrutiny.

  Michael could have killed her -- would have killed her if Fox hadn’t heard Doom’s wild barking. Fox clenched his teeth against the rage flooding through him. He hadn’t been there to protect her.

  Doom nuzzled Fox’s hand and Fox patted the hound. He turned and picked up his sword, then handed the blade to Beau. He leaned close and spoke in a whisper. “Beau, see Jordan to my room.”

  “Your room?” Beau asked quietly.

  Fox glanced back over at his father to see he was now holding Jordan’s hand tightly, apologizing profusely. “She is no longer safe in the tower,” Fox explained quickly, turning toward the Great Hall. He paused and added quietly, “Don’t tell my father.”

  Fox continued on to the Great Hall and paused in the doorway, his glare sweeping the large room. He could see very little in the dark. Cobwebs hung in long strands over the doorway, and Fox did his best to duck his head and leave the strands undisturbed. He entered the room, blindly making his way through the darkness.

  A light came from behind him and he turned toward it. Mary Kate moved to him, her small hand cupped around the flame of a candle. She stopped just before him and lifted her gaze. Her lips were thin and her brow was furrowed.

  “You should be sleeping, little one,” Fox whispered to her.

  “Doom was barking,” she said simply, extending the candle to Fox.

  Fox took the candle with a grateful half smile and shushed her back to bed. He watched her scurry off and then moved deeper into the room. Finally, he spotted Michael pacing before the long-dead hearth.

  Michael paused when he saw Fox approaching him. “Are you mad?” Michael demanded. “To have her come to our castle? Our very home contaminated by her infidelity, by her disloyalty. Don’t you remember how much she hurt you?”

  “Yes,” Fox answered. “I remember.” He paused before his brother, facing his wrath with a calm demeanor.

  “Then why in the name of the Lord did you bring her here?” Michael demanded, his hands clenched into fists.

  “Because of Vaughn,” Fox growled. “I will destroy him as he did us. I have taken what he treasures most in the world. For her safe return, I demand our lands and title back. A fair exchange.”

  “She will take your soul long before then,” Michael cautioned him. “Our lands and title mean nothing if your soul is gone. Do not give yourself to this demon, Fox. She is not worth it.”

  “Jordan means nothing to me,” Fox proclaimed.

  Michael studied Fox for a long moment. Michael shook his head slowly. “I will pray for your soul, my brother. Pray that you will have the strength to withstand her temptation.”

  Fox hid his growing concern behind a wall of calm. I can resist her, Fox told himself. But even as he thought the words, images of her soft lips, memories of the way her body pressed against his taunted and beckoned him.

  Fox turned away from Michael and headed for the large double doors. Would he be devastated if Vaughn didn’t pay the ransom? Or would he be the happiest man in all of England?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alone in the darkness of Fox’s room, Jordan lifted her hands to her neck and rubbed her skin softly. It was still raw and painful to the touch.

  Why had Michael tried to kill her? They had been such good friends. She had been a big sister to him, a protector. They had played knights and dragons many times in the woods near Castle Ruvane, on the riverbank near Mercer Castle, on the dirt roads connecting their homes. She’d lost track of how many foul-smelling, fire-breathing beasts Michael had slain to save her.

  Jordan recalled his bright hazel eyes, the way his blond hair always hung over his left eye in a soft curl. He had looked at her with happiness and a child’s delight, clutching his wooden shield tightly to his chest, swishing his wooden blade through
the air with the brave swings of a future champion.

  But that had been so long ago. So long ago.

  The images faded from Jordan’s thoughts, replaced by the face of a dangerous man who wanted her dead, a man of God who reviled her so much that he would tempt the Lord’s wrath to see her dead at his feet by his own hands.

  She scowled darkly, thinking of the day that ruined the lives of the Mercer family forever. It had ruined her life, as well. It had taken Fox from her and changed him into someone she feared she no longer knew or understood, someone who was not interested in letting her know him.

  That was the hardest part to bear. She still had strong feelings for this Black Fox, whatever name he chose for himself. In her heart and in her thoughts he would always be just Fox.

  She took a step into the dark room. She had been in his room many times as a child. If she remembered correctly, and if he hadn’t moved anything around, his bed would be against the left wall and there would be a window straight ahead against the opposite wall.

  Jordan took two cautious steps toward the opposite wall. He could have moved his bed. He could have changed everything around. It was so dark she couldn’t see anything very clearly. Maybe if she opened the window, she would be able to see more. Jordan moved forward, step by step, waiting to bang into the bed or a trunk or a stray chair. But nothing stopped her steps until finally her fingers brushed the stone wall at the other end of the room. She moved carefully to the left, skimming the wall with her fingers, searching for the window. The stone was cold and rough beneath her fingertips. Then her fingers brushed against the wood of the shuttered window. She palmed the window until she found the middle of the shutters, then grabbed the latch and pulled them open. The cool night air wafted in around her, sending shivers running up her arms. The moon was a mere slit in the night sky, casting only a weak, pale light.

  “Jumping out?”

  Jordan whirled to find Fox standing just inside the door, holding a candle in his hand.

  “Trying to see,” Jordan retorted.

  Fox took a step deeper into the room, then shut the doors behind him.

  Sealing her inside. Alone. With him.

  He moved across the room to a table, where he set down the candle. He was so confident and powerful, even with such simple movements. Then he turned to face her. When his penetrating blue gaze rested on her, another shiver shot up Jordan’s spine. This time it had nothing to do with the chill wind blowing in from outside. She looked away from him, from his deep stare.

  “How did you get out of the tower?” he asked.

  She glanced back up at him. “You left the door open.”

  Fox scowled at her. “That door was always locked.”

  “Then one of your ghosts must have unlocked it for me. Because it was open.”

  Fox stared grimly at her, but said nothing.

  Jordan cleared her throat, getting up her nerve to ask the question she needed an answer for. “Why did Michael try to kill me?”

  “He sees you as an enemy,” Fox answered immediately, without hesitation.

  “An enemy?” Jordan said, the word stinging her. “I’ve never done anything to him. How can he see me as an enemy?”

  Fox’s gaze narrowed. “You turned your back on us when we needed you the most. You turned your back on the entire Mercer family. On me. On him. That is something he can never forgive you for.”

  “I never turned my back on you. I –”

  “You left us. You left me!” Fox hollered. “Without even so much as a farewell.”

  Jordan was shocked at the vehemence in his voice.

  “How can you say you never turned your back on me?” Fox continued, his tone hot.

  Jordan frowned, then gestured toward Fox with an open palm. “I tried to help you. I did everything in my power to get your title and lands back. I wrote the king, I –”

  “You did everything but remain my friend,” Fox ground out. “That was too difficult for you, wasn’t it, Jordan? You promised I wouldn’t lose you, that you would always be with me. But you lied.” He turned away from her, moving past her to the shuttered windows.

  Hurt by the pain she heard in his voice, Jordan felt guilt weigh heavily about her shoulders. “You have no right to accuse me of that. It wasn’t I that refused to see you.”

  “It certainly wasn’t I that left the castle without a word.” He slammed the shutters closed with a bang.

  Jordan felt desperation burn in her heart. She approached Fox, standing before him, making him face her. “Father commanded me to denounce you,” she said softly. “He wanted me to have nothing further to do with you.”

  “You did that all right, didn’t you?”

  Jordan frowned at Fox. His words were not making any sense to her. “But I went against his wishes, Fox. You know that. I wrote you letter after letter.”

  Fox nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Just like you wrote the king?” His lip curled in contempt. “I never received any letters from you.”

  Shocked by his response, Jordan could only stare in silence. He hadn’t received her letters! But... what had happened? She had given the letters to Evan, who swore he would deliver them. Why had he told her Fox refused to take her letters?

  Fox read into her silence. “Caught in your own lies!” he snapped. “I have heard enough. You and Vaughn belong together.” He whirled and stormed toward the door, but then paused once more to glare at her. “And have no fear. You will not escape this room.” He shut the door with a resounding thud.

  Jordan sat heavily on the bed. Fox had never received her letters. He hadn’t refused to see her. He hadn’t even known she wanted to see him all these years.

  The fact that he hadn’t refused to see her should have relieved her, but instead she felt a horrible churning in the pit of her stomach.

  Why had Evan lied to her?

  Letters, Fox scoffed as he stormed toward the meal room. His fists were clenched tight, his jaw ground. There had been no letters. No letters to him, no letters to the king on his behalf. She was an unfaithful liar. He should want nothing to do with her.

  As he stormed down the hallway, he saw Beau at the door leading into the meal room.

  “Is she all right?” Beau asked as Fox neared.

  “Just fine,” Fox retorted shortly and swept past him into the room. He paced for a moment, then sat heavily on a stone bench.

  “Fox, might I suggest this might be the wrong way to go about getting your title and lands back?”

  Fox lifted burning eyes to Beau.

  Beau grinned and held up his hands defensively. “Or it might be a perfect way to do it.”

  “It’s the only way,” Fox said. “Jordan is my only chance at getting what was stolen from my father.”

  “Your meeting with Vaughn is tomorrow night,” Beau said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you really expect him just to hand over the lands?”

  “No,” Fox admitted.

  “Then what will you do?”

  Fox sighed. He rubbed at his temples, closing his eyes. “I don’t know yet.”

  “Have you considered it might be a trap?”

  “I would expect that traitorous Vaughn to do no less.”

  “Then why not let me and Pick accompany you?” Beau sat beside him. “At least that way you might come back without a sword in your back.”

  “I need you here to watch Jordan, especially now that Michael has returned.”

  “Scout can –”

  “I need Scout out patrolling the north.” When Beau opened his mouth to reply, Fox added, “And Pick needs to patrol the south.”

  A moment of silence passed between them.

  Finally, Beau shook his head, voicing both their concerns. “I don’t like this, Fox. I don’t like this at all.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  After a fitful night of little sleep, Jordan watched out the window as the rays of the sun stretched over the walls of the castle. Long ago, when she had first known Fox, she couldn
’t understand why he liked this room so much. The view was anything but spectacular. There was nothing to see, only stone walls and a glimpse of the countryside beyond. From her spot at the window, she could see the stone archway of the inner gatehouse and, beyond that, the rusted portcullis of the outer gatehouse. Then she remembered long ago Fox’s telling her why he liked this room so.

  “You can see who comes in,” he had told her. “If I don’t like any of my father’s visitors, I can hide and not see them all day.”

  Jordan imagined Fox used the room for much the same reason now, keeping a wary eye out for unwanted guests.

  The door opened and Scout entered, carrying a trencher of food. She placed it on the bed. Jordan frowned at her. The woman was always so quiet in her presence. Eerily, uncomfortably quiet.

  Jordan’s gaze moved past the enigmatic woman to the doorway where Mary Kate stood forlornly, her little hands clenched before her, her large brown eyes gazing at Jordan. Her gaze swung to the trencher on the bed, then back to Jordan.

  Jordan lifted her gaze to Scout to say something to her about Mary Kate, but the woman was already moving toward the door. Jordan quickly waved for Mary Kate to enter. Mary Kate looked at Scout then hurried into the room. Scout seemed not to notice. She closed the door behind her as she departed the room, leaving Mary Kate behind like some forgotten piece of baggage.

  Jordan sat on the bed and glanced at the food. A piece of bread and some porridge. Despite the hunger gnawing at her belly, the fact that the bread from the previous night was still sitting heavy in her stomach left her more cautious about jumping right into the meal. Jordan wondered if the cook used iron to make the bread.

  She lifted the trencher to her lips, but stopped short as the little girl pulled herself onto the bed and sat at the far edge of it. Her gaze was still wide and uncertain, the expression on her small face making her look as though she were ready to flee at any moment.

  The nearness of food to her mouth was too much for Jordan to resist and she continued to raise the hard crust of bread to her lips, taking a sip of the porridge the trencher contained. It was cold and too thick, but it was better than nothing. She placed the trencher back on the bed and noticed the girl was still watching her with fearful silence.