Dangerous

by Hawthorne, Julia

  “What about Andrew? Have you considered that anything you give me could gravely harm one so small?”

  A frosty look came into his eyes. “As your husband, my primary concern is your well-being.”

  That was answer enough for her. Even in her weakened state, she recognized that whatever plan he’d concocted was aimed at gaining him control over her behavior. If his plot ultimately cost an innocent bairn his life, Grant was more than willing to make that trade to achieve his goal. Just as he’d done with John and later, Gavin and Merrick, along with several of his own men.

  Unless Eric and Christian devised a way to stop him, she feared that the Redmond would continue paying ransom to this madman for years to come.

  “I want my son,” she said again. When he cupped her cheek in his elegant hand, she barely repressed the urge to claw his face.

  “Once you are eating properly and regain your strength, Andrew will be returned to you.”

  She knew he was lying, but she no longer had the strength to fight him. Tears clogging her throat, she surrendered with a meek nod.

  ***

  Darkness had fallen when Eric heard a soft knock at his door. He opened it to find an exhausted Glenda, a woolen bundle cradled protectively in her arms. Seeing her distress, he asked no questions but guided her to the only seat he had to offer, a crude wooden bench before the fire. She thanked him in a breathless voice, closing her eyes as she bowed her head for a whispered prayer.

  “Where are you headed this time of night?” he asked, eyeing her burden with growing suspicion.

  “Caileann. My apologies for disturbing you this late, but I simply canna manage another step.” Recovered somewhat, she smiled at him. “Would you care to meet your son?”

  Beyond words, he nodded, and she pulled the blanket away from a plump little face. With a yawn, the boy slitted his eyes open. Seeing Eric, he opened them wide, tilting his head for a better look at the stranger.

  “This is Andrew,” Glenda told him, though it was hardly necessary.

  The deep brown curls tinged with red were a gift from his mother, but the bronze skin and vivid blue eyes mirrored his father’s.

  His son. There could be no doubt of it, not by anyone.

  Unfamiliar emotions all but overwhelmed him. When he realized what had brought Glenda to him, he firmly set them aside. “Elisabeth must have sent you to me. Where is she?”

  “What he’s doing, it’s not right,” Glenda began, tears welling in her eyes. “He’s taken Andrew from her and all but made her a prisoner. She feared something awful might happen, and she made me promise to bring him to Caileann if I thought it wise.”

  “Why did she not come with you?”

  The maid snorted derisively. “Rock stubborn, she is. Some nonsense about starting a clan war.”

  The words settled hard on his shoulders, and Eric recalled his warning to her about preventing a war along the Borders. He hadn’t meant for her to sacrifice her own freedom in the name of peace, but her selfless character had prevailed once again.

  Though every instinct stood at alert, he forced himself to speak patiently to the frightened girl. “I’ve some stew in the kitchen. Have something to eat, then I’ll take you and Andrew to the castle. Despite the circumstances, I’ve no doubt Gabriel and Sarah will be delighted to see their grandson.”

  Glenda gave him a knowing look. “And have you a message for Christian?”

  “Tell him I’ll be waiting in Briarton.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What took you so long?” Eric growled when Christian joined him in the camouflaged bower he’d scraped from the forest floor.

  “You’re but one man. I had to organize soldiers and mounts, and that was after I convinced my father and brothers to ride against an old ally.” He shifted in the bed of pine needles and damp leaves. “The ground is warm. Have ye been here all this time?”

  “Oui. I recorded what I thought might help us.” He handed over several mud-spattered pages, glancing to Christian when he chuckled. “Something amuses you?”

  “Have you any idea how valuable it is that someone with your battle skills can read and write?”

  Eric grimaced and resumed his vigil while Christian quickly read through his notes. “When I get my hands on Grant—”

  “First we get Elisabeth out,” Eric said without taking his eyes from the castle. “Then you may do what you like with him.”

  He’d formed a plan for his own part in the raid, and after several enlightening exchanges with his friend, he strode off to bring it into motion. He’d never been inside Briarton Castle, but Christian’s familiarity with it proved most helpful in gaining him entry to the Colton stronghold. Amiable guards were easily fooled by his feigned drunkenness and slurred plea to allow him inside the gates before his wife should wake and discover him missing. From there, he moved silently and swiftly through the keep, using every one of his keen senses to locate the only chamber of any consequence to him.

  There he found Elisabeth, drugged into a stupor that rendered her all but helpless. Not wishing to frighten her into crying out, he gently ran a finger along her cheek until her eyes slowly opened to stare up at him.

  “Eric?”

  “’Tis me, Lise. Don’t be frightened. I’ve come to take you home.”

  Tears began streaming down her cheeks, rending his heart as he wiped them away. “What is it?”

  “Andrew,” she croaked in a hoarse whisper. “Grant took him away, and I don’t know where he is. I can hear him crying, but I—”

  Her voice broke off in muted sobs, and Eric gathered her into his arms, hoping to bring her some comfort after her ordeal. “He’s safe in Caileann with Glenda.”

  She regarded him with a baffled expression. “You came alone?”

  “Your brothers are with me, along with your father’s finest soldiers.”

  Before he’d finished speaking, her eyes fluttered closed. When she went limp, he searched out the beat in her throat. Faint but steady, it assured him that she’d fallen back into the induced sleep he’d discovered her in.

  Wrapping her in a velvet dressing gown and a heavy cloak, he took her in his arms and slipped into the empty corridor. Briarton Castle was like most others. Though one would expect it to be dark and silent after the witching hour, all manner of people were up and about. Quiet, but wary and difficult to dodge.

  Eric slowly traversed the upper hallway before pausing at the top of the servants’ staircase. It should lead to the kitchens, which would be deserted this time of night. Once he started down the steps, however, he and Elisabeth would be caught between the narrow walls with nowhere to hide.

  Slowing his breathing, he closed his eyes and listened. Nothing. Still he waited, heeding the instinct that cautioned him to remain where he was.

  A delighted giggle floated up the stairs, answered by a quiet rumble of laughter. Soft moans were followed by the unmistakable sound of a woman’s muffled cry of pleasure. At a low groan, Eric couldn’t keep back a smile. Long ago in a backstairs tryst, he’d lost his boyhood to a comely serving girl named Josephine. He’d had a fondness for kitchens ever since.

  After the lovers had put themselves to rights and parted company, Eric crept down the steps as quickly as he dared. All the while, he hoped Elisabeth wouldn’t awaken and call for help.

  Standing in the vast main kitchen, he felt decidedly vulnerable. She began to stir, and he cradled her against his chest, hoping the once-familiar warmth of his body would soothe her. Her quiet murmurs echoed like shouts in the eerie quiet, and he searched for a place where no one would hear them.

  A door to his left revealed a set of descending stairs and for lack of another option, he took them. Dim moonlight filtered in from high, narrow windows, showing him a hallway lined with storage bins and locked doors.

  The distinctive odors of smoked meat and aging cheese reached him as he walked down the corridor hunting for an open door. Huge oaken casks gave off a sweet smell as their cont
ents fermented into the famed wines of Briarton.

  The last door on the left hadn’t been closed properly, so its lock hadn’t caught. Though he detested the idea of being trapped inside the small storage chamber, he saw no help for it. Elisabeth had begun to struggle within his grasp, and he needed time to calm her.

  With a quick prayer for aid from whatever divine quarter seemed likeliest to oblige, he ducked inside and closed the door.

  ***

  Elisabeth’s eyes opened to near darkness, and she strained to gain some sense of where she was. Beneath her, she felt wood, not the soft mattress she’d drifted to sleep on. The smell of various cheeses surrounded her, and she realized she lay on a shelf in one of the storage chambers beneath the kitchens.

  Before she could puzzle out how she’d gotten there, she noticed a faint movement outside in the corridor. The door opened, and she blinked to be sure that she was truly awake. When she blinked again and the vision remained steady, she allowed herself to believe it was indeed Eric swinging up to stand on the shelf below her.

  “I thought you were a dream.” She reached a tentative hand to his face, half-believing that if she touched him, he’d vanish. But he remained, solid and strong as ever. As he pressed a kiss to her palm, she smiled. “My fine knight. You’ve rescued me again.”

  “Not entirely. I’ve not yet decided how to get you out of here. Have you any ideas?”

  She could barely comprehend what he was saying, and she dimly realized that in her current state, she’d be of no use to him. Tears of frustration stung her eyes, and she could do nothing but shake her head.

  “Don’t cry, Lise.” He caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, the tender gesture contradicting the anger blazing in his eyes. Darting a look over his shoulder, he said, “Someone’s coming. Stay quiet.”

  When she nodded, he left her with a quick kiss and melted into the shadows.

  Someone was moving along the corridor on nearly silent feet, trying each door in its turn. Eric had searched in vain for the key to lock the chamber that hid them and now he waited, slowing his breathing so no sound breached the darkness.

  The footsteps paused outside, and a shaft of light showed under the door. Eric gripped his knife tightly in his right hand, his left held ready to clamp over his opponent’s mouth. He’d have a single breath of time in which to silence the intruder. Only one had he heard, but that was more than enough to send up an alarm.

  The door swung open, and Eric charged forward.

  And stopped.

  As one, they lowered their glinting blades, regarding each other with wary fascination. In the flickering light of the guard’s torch, Eric could see but a single difference between them. The black-garbed sentry had piercing eyes so dark, they were nearly black. When they flicked to Elisabeth, they lit with a spark of amusement.

  “So,” he began in an exotic accent that Eric hadn’t heard since he was a squire. “You must be the missing woman Lord Colton sent me to find.”

  He slid his torch into a sconce and moved toward her hiding place. Eric raised his knife and stepped between them with a growl of warning.

  Far from intimidated, the stranger grinned as he set his knife on a cheese press and held up his hands. “Quieto, amigo. I only thought to help her down from her ledge.”

  “I’m not your friend,” Eric retorted in the same tongue. “And she’ll stay where she is.”

  “You speak Spanish? Maravilloso!” He rattled off several quick phrases before Eric’s quiet laughter stopped him.

  “I don’t know that much Spanish, but I’d very much like your name.”

  “Miguel Santurio,” he replied, boldly removing his leather gauntlet. “And yours?”

  Taking the battle-scarred hand, he answered, “Eric Jordanne.”

  The younger man chuckled. “By the Devil, we look just alike, don’t we?”

  “Santurio,” Eric repeated, trying to rein in the excitement threatening to run away with his heart. “Was that your father’s name?”

  “Sadly, no. He left my mother with nothing but a kiss and a smile. And me, of course,” he added with another grin.

  “Was his name Leandro?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “My mother told me.” Eric sheathed his blade and carefully lifted Elisabeth from her perch. When he set her on her feet she wavered, and he locked his arms about her to hold her steady.

  “He must be the best-travelled troubadour in all of Europe,” Miguel grumbled, leaning against a large worktable. “How did you come to be here with Lady Colton?”

  “I’m taking her home to Caileann.”

  “I must warn you, her husband has other plans.”

  “Her husband isn’t fit to care for a dog.”

  Eric felt her slumping and swept her up before she fell, cradling her against his chest.

  “Is she ill?” the sentry asked, concern furrowing his brow as he laid a hand on her forehead.

  “Poisoned by your employer.”

  “Diablo.” Miguel spat on the dirt floor. “He might have killed her.”

  “I must get her away from him,” Eric explained.

  “You won’t get past the first perimeter,” Miguel cautioned. “The guards have been rousted from their beds, and everyone is looking for her. He’s gone loco.”

  In translation, the Spaniard wagged his tongue and rolled his eyes. Eric couldn’t keep back a grin. “That he has.”

  “But he pays well, and in gold.” The mercenary hefted his belt bag in his hand, as if weighing his options.

  “I’ll triple it if you’ll help us.”

  “You insult me.” Miguel’s eyes crackled furiously, but he quickly regained his careless mien. “As we’ve only just met, I can forgive it. I’ll gladly help you, and you’ll not pay me. Lord Colton will,” he added with a wry grin Eric recognized as his own.

  “Pay you to help us escape? Who is loco now?”

  “My payment comes when I deliver his lady to him. If he’s occupied with a clever diversion,” pausing, he indicated Eric, “I can sneak her out and deliver her to you. I trust you brought a horse.”

  “Of course, I did. Do you think I’d have her walk all the way to Caileann?”

  Raising his hands in a placating gesture, his younger brother regarded him somberly. “You’re in love with her.”

  Glancing to the peaceful face on his shoulder, Eric kissed her temple. “Very much so.”

  “My sympathies,” Miguel grumbled, holding out his arms. “Give her over, then.”

  Loathe to relinquish her, he hesitated, seeking some other way to get her to safety.

  “Eric, we’ve no time for this. Entrust her to me, and I’ll deliver her to you by the first road marker. When you hear this,” he mimicked the call of a mourning dove, “you’ll know it’s me.”

  They both looked down at Elisabeth as she woke and stared at Miguel. Turning to Eric, she touched his cheek and spoke his name in a rough whisper.

  “’Tis me.” He nodded toward the face that had confused her. “This is my brother Miguel Santurio.”

  Slowly, her gaze focused on him, and she offered him a sliver of a smile.

  “A pleasure, milady,” he responded, bowing his head. “Perhaps you can convince this stubborn fool to listen to reason.”

  Once she’d heard what he had in mind, she frowned. “’Twill put Eric in danger.”

  “I’m certain he’ll come through it well enough.”

  Eric shifted Elisabeth to Miguel’s outstretched arms. With a kiss to reassure her, he smiled. “Fear not, Lise. I’ll be along soon.”

  “I love you.” She lifted a trembling hand to his jaw. “Please take care.”

  “I will,” he promised her. Then he circled Miguel’s studded leather torque with a single hand, applying just enough pressure to drive his threat home. “Meet me at the first marker or I swear this night will be your last.”

  Not waiting for a reply, he stalked from the storage room and started planning
out his diversion.

  “Rather intense, is he not?” Miguel chuckled as they mounted a set of steps that led into the main hall.

  “Eric has always been very protective of me. Since we discovered Grant was responsible for my first husband’s death, he’s been doubly so.”

  “Your husband? Lord Colton told us Redmond stole you from him.”

  “I suppose that’s how he sees it,” she admitted sadly. “But ’tis not the truth. Grant killed him.”

  “To gain you?”

  “Among other things.”

  Pausing at the head of the stairs, he met her eyes. “You’re ready?”

  When she nodded, he opened the door and entered the chaos of the main hall. Dozens of eyes were drawn to the movement, and she gave in to a surge of exhaustion, resting her head on Miguel’s shoulder as Grant hastened over to them.

  “Elisabeth! I’ve been so worried. Where have you been?”

  “Down there,” she answered with a languid motion toward the catacombs.

  “That bastard. When I get my hands on him–”

  “My lord,” Miguel interrupted smoothly, “perhaps I should return the lady to her chambers while you continue your search.”

  Clearly, Grant was torn between hunting for Eric and ensuring that she was securely locked away.

  At last he agreed. With a kiss for her cheek, he said, “Miguel will stay and watch over you. I’ll join you when I can.”

  He made no mention of the guard’s unsettling resemblance to Eric. Elisabeth couldn’t decide if he believed her to be a fool or assumed that his mind-numbing potion had left her incapable of noticing something so blatant.

  Grant moved away from her, calling his remaining guards together. As Miguel strode toward the stairs, she heard the words “hunt” and “Jordanne” and shivered despite the heat from the fire.

  Miguel offered a smile as they ascended the staircase. “Not to worry, Lady Elisabeth. All will end well.”

  In the upper hallway, he came to an abrupt halt, and Elisabeth turned to see what had caused his reaction.