Captured Hearts and Stolen Kisses

by Ceci Giltenan et al.

  His thumb stroked her chin. “I love it, too,” he rasped.

  “Then I say—”

  The rest of her words were crushed under his mouth. As their lips met, she groaned and kissed him hungrily. He sighed against her mouth, kissed her fast, hard, as though he was starved for the taste of her. Her heart soared.

  His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she shuddered before gliding her tongue against his. Their mouths parted then met once again in a passionate kiss. Their snatched breaths echoed into the shadows, until at last, they broke apart.

  “I will agree to your terms,” he said softly. “If you agree to mine.”

  “What are yours, then?” She ached to know.

  Grinning, he stepped away. “I will tell you, but not just yet.”

  ~ * ~

  Resolve burned within Osric. Before he sent Violetta home by the twilight deadline, they would talk, not just about his terms, but about the moments they’d spent together. ’Twould mean admitting he’d known who she was all along, but if they had any chance of a future together, whether as friends or—he hoped—far more, truth must be the basis of their relationship. He would have it no other way.

  Torchlight hit the walls of the passageway a short distance ahead. God’s blood—

  “Osric?”

  “The tunnel dips ahead.” He walked faster. “It opens into a cavern.”

  “Wait,” she called, the gritty thump of her steps quickening.

  He waited for her to catch up. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation as together, they entered the small chamber that smelled of damp soil.

  He held the torch as high as he dared. Not far above the flames, roots dangled down between several horizontal stones that created a low ceiling. The walls were also buffered with stone. He turned slowly, so the light played over every part of the cavern.

  “Astonishing,” Violetta whispered.

  “’Tis indeed. The outer edge of the stone circle must be above us.” Toward the left corner of the ceiling, one of the large stones had tilted downward, at an angle. Over the years, the earth had shifted and sunk in. The recent rains might have worn away the soil even more. He prayed the ceiling wasn’t ready to collapse; not whilst they were inside the cavern.

  “No bodies,” Violetta said.

  “Not in this part.” He glanced at her, standing in profile. “No ghosts yet, either. Disappointed?”

  “A little, but….” Her gaze fixed on a low section of the wall. “Is there a mark on that stone?”

  Osric approached the wall. There did indeed appear to be an image cut into the bottom right edge of the rock.

  He crouched for a better look. “I think ’tis a flower.”

  “A rose?” Violetta moved closer.

  “It might be.”

  “Who would have carved it, and why?”

  “Not sure.” The stone, though, didn’t fit the wall as perfectly as the others around it. Did it mark a hiding spot?

  Excitement sparked impatience as he searched the wall for a place to secure the torch. He found one, and once the burning reed was in place, he knelt in front of the rock again. Drawing a dagger from his belt, he slid the blade into the roots and earth that had grown over the top of the stone—proof that the rock hadn’t been pulled out in a long while.

  Dirt tumbled onto the cavern floor.

  “Be careful,” Violetta said. “You do not know what lies behind that stone.”

  He smiled at her. “I am not worried. I have you to rescue me, if necessary.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He set aside the knife and put his fingers to the stone. Little by little, he maneuvered it forward. With a rough, scraping noise, it came out of the wall. He fetched the torch and lowered it to the opening, so that light shone within.

  Violetta huffed. “Tell me what you see.”

  “A bag.” He reached in and carefully drew out the leather sack tied at the top with a drawstring cord. Judging by the way it was disintegrating, it had been in the wall for years.

  Something clanked inside the bag.

  After putting the torch aside, he set the sack on the ground where Violetta could see. He drew the bag open. A plain, rectangular wooden box as long as his hand came into view, as well as a pair of small, badly tarnished silver goblets. Judging by the engraving on the vessels, they were of fine quality.

  “The items look old, but not ancient,” Osric noted.

  “Do you think…’tis the treasure said to have been lost with the thief?”

  “I do not believe so. These few pieces hardly make legendary riches.”

  What had they just found?

  Caution niggled at the back of Osric’s mind, warning him that if he dared to look further, he might discover things that would irrevocably change his life.

  “The box,” Violetta coaxed.

  Osric picked it up. The smooth wood felt cool against his fingertips.

  Warning clamored within him again, but he mentally shoved it aside.

  He disengaged the small latch.

  With the faint creak of hinges, the lid opened.

  ~ * ~

  Violetta held her breath, for she sensed something vital was hidden in the box.

  She knew the moment Osric saw what was inside, for his gaze sharpened.

  “Osric?”

  “Just a moment.”

  Puzzlement and shock crossed his features, before he reached into the box and drew out a thin, rounded object with crumpled edges. He held it up for her to see.

  “A dried petal?”

  “Aye,” Osric said. “From a rose. There are several in the box that have come loose from a bloom.”

  “You found a love token, then.”

  Osric glanced up at her. “No ordinary one. The petals….”

  “Go on.”

  “I believe…they are blue.”

  Blue? “Are you sure?”

  “I will be absolutely certain once I see them in sunlight. But, they look blue to me.”

  Violetta knew of only one garden with blue rose bushes: the one at Darringsleigh Keep. How, then, had dried blue rose petals come to be in the box concealed on Seabrook lands?

  “There are initials carved inside the lid,” Osric continued, as he returned the petal to the container. “On the right, a W. I suspect that stands for William. ’Twas my grandfather’s name.”

  The anticipation within Violetta became a ringing-noise in her mind. “The other initial?”

  “J.”

  She gasped. “Jacqueline Molineaux. My grandmother.”

  Chapter 8

  Her grandmother.

  Violetta had unwittingly revealed who she really was. She clearly understood her mistake, for her throat moved with a hard swallow.

  Tense silence stretched in the cavern. Osric closed the box and stowed it in his bag, along with the goblets. ’Twas impossible to continue her deception now. How he dealt with the revelation, though, and what it meant for both of them, must be handled with care.

  He rose to standing, and his gaze locked with hers. “Your grandmother,” he said.

  Violetta’s grip tightened on her crutches, as though she intended to bolt. She must know she couldn’t possibly outrun him. If by some miracle she reached the rope and scrambled up without him catching her first, she’d have to face his guards waiting in the field.

  She sighed, a sound of grudging resignation. “Aye, my grandmother’s name was Jacqueline.”

  “And you are Violetta Molineaux.”

  Her chin nudged higher. “I am.”

  “At last, the truth.”

  Surprise flickered in her eyes. “How long have you known?”

  “I suspected the night we met at the stone circle. I only knew for certain after I had brought you to the castle. Crawford recognized you.”

  A cry broke from her. “Why did you not say something?”

  “And spoil your ruse?”

  “I feared for my safety!”

  “Ah. So you believed if I knew
the truth, you would become my hostage, to be used without mercy to bring ruin upon your father?”

  “Exactly. After all, you were hardly pleasant when we met years ago.”

  Remorse flared. “You are right. I was unkind. For my behavior that afternoon, I apologize.”

  Her lips pressed together. She appeared uncertain, as though doubting the sincerity of his apology.

  “After your stay in my home,” Osric said quietly, “I trust—”

  “Trust? A curious choice of words, when our families have been at odds for years.”

  “They have indeed, and not just because of my relatives’ actions,” he reminded her.

  He sensed her struggling to hold back what she really wanted to say, and so, he waited, letting the potent silence lag. “What are you going to do?” she finally asked.

  If I had my way, I would keep you for myself. I would love you, cherish you, until the day I took my last breath.

  “Your father sent me an ultimatum. I am to return you to him by twilight, or face war.”

  Violetta moaned.

  “While I have skilled soldiers in my garrison—”

  “You cannot fight my sire.”

  Resentment simmered. “Violetta.”

  “Please. I am responsible for this situation. Oh, God, I should never have gone over the wall.”

  “To be honest, I am glad you did.”

  “Why…?”

  “If you had not, we might never have met.”

  Her eyes glistened, her expression a touching blend of anguish and yearning.

  He claimed the small space between them. She tried to hobble backward, but he curled his fingers into her silken tresses, halting her. She resisted his grip and turned her face away, keeping her mouth from his easy reach.

  Kissing the smooth plane of her cheek wouldn’t satisfy the desire smoldering within him. When they kissed again, ’twould be on the lips, and because she wanted it—wanted him—not because he’d forced her.

  “Osric—”

  “I like very much when you say my name.” He gently swept his thumb against her cheek.

  “You must let me go.”

  “Must I?”

  “Return me to my father. I will make sure there is no bloodshed, I promise.”

  Admiration for her skimmed his soul as he brushed his thumb against her skin again. “’Tis a generous and brave offer, but I have already made my decision.”

  “W-what decision is that?”

  To make you mine, forever. “I am going to send you home.”

  ~ * ~

  Thank God Osric saw the sense in avoiding war.

  If Violetta returned to her family, though, she might never see him again; her father wouldn’t allow it. She’d never experience the thrill of Osric’s heated gaze upon her again. Never kiss him again. She couldn’t bear such thoughts.

  His thumb swept her cheek once more, and her eyelids slipped shut as she gave in to her yearnings. How her heart ached to imagine this was the last time he’d ever touch her.

  He sighed, his breath fanning her skin, and her eyes opened. She turned her head a fraction to better see him and found him studying her intently.

  “You surprise me,” he murmured, his attention shifting to her mouth. Her lips tingled, as though recalling their passionate kisses.

  “In what way do I surprise you?”

  “I thought you would be thrilled to be going home.”

  “I am,” she said, “but….”

  “But?”

  But, of all astonishing things, I think I am falling in love with you.

  Violetta didn’t dare voice such thoughts. “I would like what has happened between us…to have importance.”

  “It did. Does. At least, to me.”

  Hope flickered within her. Facing him, she asked: “Enough importance to end the feuding between our families?”

  “That, I cannot promise.”

  Her hope wavered.

  “For any progress to be made, your sire must want the situation to change, too.”

  “I will do all I can to convince him.”

  “You can try. I do hope he will appreciate that I treated you with honor.”

  Indeed, Osric had. However, what they’d found hidden behind the stone suggested that their families—some members, anyway—hadn’t always been foes. “As soon as possible, we must tell Father what we found in this cavern.”

  “Will he believe us?” Osric asked, sounding doubtful.

  A fair point. Her father could be rather obstinate.

  “Your sire may insist what we found is a hoax, love, placed in this cavern by a conniving trickster.”

  “True. The stone with the rose symbol was well secured in the wall, though, was it not?”

  “Aye. The roots and dirt around it hadn’t been disturbed in ages.”

  “Also, until I fell into the tunnel, I doubt anyone else had been inside it for years—at least not this part of it.”

  “I agree.”

  She frowned. “I wonder…. Could anyone at Coltingstow confirm what happened between William and Jacqueline?”

  “Possibly, although my grandfather died years ago. Most of the servants who worked for him are also dead.”

  “Jacqueline died several summers past,” Violetta said with a sigh. “I still miss her.”

  “If William and Jacqueline were in love, ’twould explain the blue rose.”

  Violetta nodded. “I do not believe ’tis a coincidence.”

  “‘When a blue rose blooms, enemies will become lovers.’” Osric said. “’Tis what I was told when I was a boy.”

  Smiling, Violetta said, “I heard the same as a child. When I asked how we came to have blue rose bushes in our garden, my mother said Jacqueline was given a cutting by a suitor. She must have brought the bloom to the cavern.”

  “Not necessarily. There are three blue rose bushes at Coltingstow.”

  “Three? Do you think Jacqueline received her cutting from William?”

  “’Tis entirely possible.”

  Now, if only they could confirm what had taken place long ago; the truth about William and Jacqueline had the potential to change everything between the Seabrook and Molineaux families. “Oh! I just remembered. Your healer—”

  “Shelley?”

  “Aye. We must speak with her. She knew who I really was.”

  “That is because I told her I suspected—”

  “She said I resembled my grandmother.”

  Osric’s eyes widened. “God’s blood. I did not realize she had known Jacqueline.”

  “We must speak with Shelley as soon as we leave this tunnel.”

  “We will, love.”

  Once they returned above ground, though, Violetta might not have another chance to be in the passageway. “Should we search some more and see if we find any other secrets?”

  “I was about to suggest the same.” Osric’s hand dropped away from her face; how she missed his touch. “I will explore the back half of the cavern, you the front.”

  “We still might find ancient bodies,” she teased.

  “We might. If there are any here, I am going to find them first.”

  Ha! “Is that so?”

  “Aye.” He winked.

  Violetta adjusted her grip on the crutches. “I take your words as a challenge, Lord Seabrook.”

  He grinned. “So be it.”

  ~ * ~

  Osric examined the tangle of roots and stone as he made his way along the rear wall. He was going to miss having Violetta at Coltingstow. He enjoyed their conversations, her curiosity and intelligence, and her strength of will. If he’d met her at a feast or festival, he’d have liked to court her.

  By the day’s end, though, she could well be his enemy again. Judging by her father’s missive, Molineaux wouldn’t easily accept the secrets revealed by the box. He’d demand irrefutable proof. Shelley might provide the answers they sought, but if not, Osric would question every one of his servants, then the folk in
the town and the villages beyond, until he’d found the evidence he needed.

  While he’d let Violetta return home for now, he wasn’t going to relinquish her forever.

  He took another sideways step and heard the patter of dirt from across the chamber; Violetta had poked at a spot with a crutch. His attention shifted to the large stone above and behind him, the monolith that had tilted over the years. At some point, the stone would collapse inward and earth would fall into the cavern—and with it, the large stone. Part if not all of the cavern would become impassable, its secrets lost.

  Not yet though. The monolith appeared well enough anchored for now.

  When he raised the torch to better illuminate the side of the stone, he spied something tattered and brown in the root-covered dirt above it.

  The tattered material looked like…cloth.

  “Violetta, come and have a look.”

  She hobbled over, and he gestured to the spot of interest. Her eyes bright, she asked, “What is it?”

  “I am not sure.” He wished he could get closer to it, but ’twas just out of his reach.

  As though sharing his thoughts, she handed him a crutch. “Try this.”

  “All right. Stand back.”

  She hopped back out of the way. He secured the torch in the wall and then, raising the crutch, carefully touched the cloth with it. The fabric split apart.

  Earth rained down into the cavern. Metal clinked.

  When the haze of fallen dirt cleared, he stooped and picked up a tarnished object on the ground: a buckle.

  “Osric.” Violetta’s voice sounded strained. “Look up.”

  Something slender and white poked out of the soil above the monolith.

  Bones.

  Chapter 9

  “We may have found a body after all.”

  “A skeleton, at least,” Osric said. “I believe those are the bones of a hand.”

  Violetta tried to visualize what was in the field above them. “Did you say we are almost underneath the ancient circle?”

  “We are. Mayhap the bones belong to the legendary thief.”

  Excitement quickened Violetta’s pulse. “If so, there might be treasure in the dirt.”

  Osric’s expression turned grim. “We cannot tell anyone of this discovery, not until the local sheriff has investigated. Otherwise, the tunnel will become overrun by folk wanting a share of the riches.”