This was both hers and Juliette’s favorite time of year: the spectacular colors, the clear crisp smells, the slight odor of burning wood filtered by the waving trees. But the clear blue skies enchanted her not this day. The colors seemed less brilliant or eloquently bright. The dankness of burning wood stung at her straining eyes, bringing the bite of tears she valiantly suppressed. The clean smell of the day may as well have been tainted with a draught of loathsome vile tonic.
Constantine sighed heavily. She rested her forehead against the cold stone of the castle wall. She was at a loss. Her thoughts shifted to her dear husband Rory. A man she had so feared in the beginning of her marriage had become not only her lover, but her friend, ally, and someone she needed as much as perhaps her dear sister. How that became possible she was unsure. It was not only his lovemaking that endeared him to her but his gentle caring ways. His concern for her was genuine, she felt certain.
Taking a deep breath Constantine admitted to herself that she loved him, was in love with him. What a fascinating concept it proved to be. Her despair for her sister engulfed her, she was consumed with it, but, this new feeling of profound want and need of another other than dear Juliette was indeed mysterious. Rory’s very presence made her breath quicken, her body ached for his touch. The silky smoothness of his thick hair through her slender fingers was enough to increase the pulse at her wrist.
The praise he offered as she endeavored to make the castle a home raved from his full beautiful perfectly shaped lips until she grew flush from his numerous compliments. Rory was ecstatic at his people’s enthusiastic acceptance of her. She needed him, as she was sure he needed her. It was a lovely feeling. Still, she pained from the loss of her sister. She still felt she could not live without her beloved Juliette. Perhaps she was being selfish, but she did not care. They had spent too many years alone together to have their needs suddenly thrust aside callously. A man’s world was unjust. It was time things were set to right. Constantine’s mind raced with her intense thoughts. If she could not bring Juliette to her on a visit soon, she would retrieve her by herself.
“What do you, Constantine?” Rory asked, relief was apparent in his tone. He had scoured the castle a bit frantically looking for her. This was his last stop before the dungeons.
“I seek my sister. I implore but a glimpse,” Constantine informed him wistfully.
“Come now, little one. I have set eyes on your dear sister. She is not nearly big enough to be seen from this distance. Praise God she is not, or your father would be hard-pressed to feed her,” Rory joked.
Constantine scowled at his callous effort. “Perhaps I should call for her. I am told my voice carries like a castrated horse.”
Rory smiled sheepishly but hoped to soothe her anger. “Nay, little one. I would not hope to hear a castrated horse,” then under his breath, “the horse would be more fearful of your howls than the deed.”
“You mock my pain,” Constantine accused.
“I do not, little one. I understand finally. My brother and I go out on a quest this eve, but will return shortly, this I promise. Do not fret my beloved. All will be well, you shall see, dearest little one,” Rory said. He took Constantine in his arms and kissed her soundly, but she found it difficult to return his ardor. She remained angry at his teasing.
Rory left shortly, leaving Constantine to wonder at his steadfast conviction of her. He professed she was his world but left her alone with her pain. How was she to cope? What was she to do? What solace could she seek? Her head slumped. Constantine made her way to their chamber. If she could not have Rory with her this eve, at least she could breathe in his essence upon the sheets.
Constantine eased herself down into the covers of the great bed. They smelled of Rory. She gathered his pillow to her breast and breathed deeply. It was the scent of safety, of love and acceptance. Though not here in body, he was here in essence. On the morrow, she would ask him to retrieve her dear sister for her. She was positive he would. If not, she would devise her own plan.
* * * *
Rory encouraged his horse forward. The powerful destrier was sure footed and calm, though eager for this new adventure. Rory knew Adamas missed their somewhat frantic pace of late and enjoyed his master’s attention. They were on a well-used trail and the moon’s illumination gave them ample light for their direction. Devon followed closely mounted atop his own powerful roan stallion. They rode silently, both men’s minds on the task at hand. Somewhat fretfully Devon could not stop his thoughtful pondering from overflowing.
“What do we do with the Lady Juliette once we have secured her?”
“We keep her,” Rory responded.
“Rory, I realize you seek to mollify your wife, but I must point out Lord Christopher’s army is a tad larger than our own,” Devon said with a touch of hesitancy.
“Do you fear for our lives?” Rory asked. He cared nothing about Lord Christopher’s army. His sole concern being Constantine.
“Nay, I fear not battle, my brother. I fear Constantine’s heartbreak if Juliette is taken from her,” Devon said.
“This I will not allow,” Rory uttered with strong conviction.
Lord Campbell’s domicile came into view and the two men ventured onwards. Stealthily they avoided the sleeping guards, making their way to the side of the stone castle. They dismounted near a thicket and bid their mounts to stand ready. Creeping with utmost quiet they approached the castle unseen, keeping close within the dark crevices.
“How do we gain entry?” Devon whispered.
“There is a small entrance that will take us straight to Juliette. Constantine confided one night as to how she and her sister were able to come and go as they pleased when I but asked her. I had been curious that their father did not detect them when they had paraded about the countryside as lads,” Rory informed him.
“Confided?” Devon whispered skeptically.
“Confided, coerced, what is the difference?” Rory asked with a smug smile.
“You are truly evil, brother,” Devon said with a slight chuckle.
“There is the entry,” Rory exclaimed, his low voice awash with unveiled excitement.
The two came upon a small battered door hidden by debris. Vines that had overgrown the hidden passage camouflaged it effectively. It was no wonder no one else seemed aware of its existence. The two powerful men found it exceedingly difficult to squeeze through its darkened narrow opening.
“’Tis an awfully tight fit.” Devon groaned. He followed closely on Rory’s heels.
The small passage wound upward at a steep incline making their way slow going. If not for the torch Rory carried, lit once inside to escape detection, they would be blind in the darkness.
Rory was having some difficulties maneuvering the steep stairwell. Built larger than his younger brother, Rory sucked in his breath at a particularly narrow spot as they ventured higher. The walls grew perilously close and he stopped suddenly.
“What do you, brother?” Devon demanded. Not a lover of small spaces, he was anxious to be out of these tight quarters, posthaste.
“I seem to be stuck.” Rory grunted. His back and chest were pressed soundly between the walls. Rory shifted and struggled to free himself.
“What mean you stuck?” Devon demanded.
“Stuck, Devon, as in unmoving, my motion has ceased,” Rory ground out with impatience.
The torch light appeared to be fading and Devon gazed about. “Do the walls appear to be moving in closer?” he asked on a tight breath.
“’Tis not the blasted walls, Devon, but my large frame. Constantine and her sister are somewhat smaller than we.” Rory hissed. Damnation. He was doomed to spend eternity trapped inside his wife’s father’s castle walls. Perhaps they would throw him a few fish heads from time to time. He sighed heavily catching hold of his reasoning.
“The walls are indeed moving brother.” Devon’s softly whispered voice held an eerie quality that made the hair on Rory’s neck rise.
“Calm yourself, Devon, they do not move. ’Tis just your imagination,” Rory offered reasonably.
“We must get out,” Devon said, anxiety made his tone higher pitched.
“We will get out...eventually,” Rory began, then felt pressure on his side as Devon began to push at him. “Devon, what do you?”
“The air, it vanishes,” Devon suddenly frantically cried out terrified.
His pushing became more violent. “Calm yourself, Devon. Damnation you are killing me.” Rory hissed. But Devon was beyond control. His fear was too real; he slammed his own large body into Rory’s to seek escape.
“Ow, Devon, desist,” Rory ground out. Each hit from behind gained in furious intensity. “Ouch Devon...ow...ow…ow.”
Suddenly both men collapsed in a heap before another entry. They’d made it through the tight stairwell.
“Get you off!” Rory growled in Devon’s ear and pushed him over to one side. “Hell and damnation Devon, what the devil was that all about?” Rory leaned down to pick up the torch that had flown free from his hand. Thankfully it still blazed.
Breathing heavily, Devon’s eyes remained downcast. “I had been certain the walls were moving.”
Seeing the shame for his behavior radiating from deep within, Rory sighed. “Fret not, brother, there is no serious damage done. Though somewhat squished, my manhood still resides were it is supposed to.”
“’Tis indeed good news. I confess Lady Constantine would be quite distressed with me if I had injured you. Truth be told, I would rather be crushed than have her howl at me,” Devon admitted.
“Truer words were never spoken,” Rory concurred. “Though speaking of her howling, we must make certain to secure Lady Juliette’s mouth.”
Devon shot him a look of pure horror. “God have mercy Rory, think you they will bellow in unison? Constantine has a battle cry that would make army’s flee in terror. But both together they would not only run but send for a priest as well.”
“Look on the bright side. If we can stand the noise we will be well protected and need never have use for a sword,” Rory replied.
“Aye, a sword will come in handy, to run myself through,” Devon muttered.
Rory gently eased the small passage door open and looked about. Seeing no one, he beckoned Devon to follow closely as they crawled out.
“Which room?” Devon whispered.
“Juliette’s is the last, but we head for Constantine’s,” Rory whispered back.
“Why?”
“Think you Juliette does not miss her sister just as much as Constantine pines for her?”
Devon nodded. They moved stealthily down the corridor. The solid oak door creaked, and they gazed into the darkness. Gentle breathing could be heard.
“Get the lass,” Rory commanded in a whisper.
Rory had thought this might be a better approach, fearing Juliette may be overcome with terror at the sight of him. He did not want her thinking he had come seeking revenge due to their last encounter. Constantine had told Rory of how sheltered and gentle her little sister was. Once he could explain himself all would be well, he was certain.
Cautiously Devon approached the bed. He knew there would be no way around it, she would be terribly frightened. Devon was huge compared to her. Poor gentle little lass. He would try very hard to calm her with his melodic soothing voice and a sweet gentle touch. Devon placed a large warm hand over Juliette’s mouth applying gentle pressure.
She woke instantly, terrified. With the faint light from the torch Juliette could only make out the outline of a huge man poised over top of her.
“Be still beautiful child, I seek not to harm...” Devon never finished his crooning sentence. Juliette’s small feet came up and slammed into his belly. The brunt of the force was only stopped as Juliette’s feet became entangled in the bed sheets. “Oomph.” Devon’s breath expelled.
“Keep her silent, Devon. I know her fear ’tis hard on you. She will not break,” Rory whispered with a hiss. He kept vigil at the door waiting for Devon.
Surprisingly Devon had maintained a grip on Juliette’s mouth, but found it was difficult to keep when her small fist collided with his nose with amazing strength. Devon pulled her to his large chest, lifting her from the bed, and secured an arm around both of hers effectively stopping her fists from flailing. But when he stood, Juliette kicked her heel viciously into his shin. Devon then placed her feet on the floor keeping her secured in front of him. Juliette managed to wiggle an arm free as Devon did not want to keep her in a crushing embrace, remembering what he had done to poor Constantine. Juliette grasped his hand and pressed it hard against her lips and teeth biting down. Devon yanked at his hand not believing the pain her small sharp teeth were inflicting. He groaned loudly.
“Cease your playing, Devon. Calm her later,” Rory called.
Dropping her, Juliette landed solidly atop Devon’s foot stomping down hard on his soft leather boots, well-worn to aid in their silent endeavor. Instead of fleeing she spun about and launched her attack on his shoulder length hair. She grabbed up two fistfuls and hung on. Devon shoved at her but was unable to dislodge her. He danced backward wildly about the room while Juliette clung to him, swinging from side to side.
Rory glanced through the darkness but could only make out vague images as only one candle flickered and no hearth fire had been lit. He could see the two coming closer. Devon seemed to be struggling with her.
“Gently, Devon, she is frightened enough.”
Devon reached up both hands clasping Juliette’s wrists and tried pulling her straight up into the air. Though the pressure was now released from his head it only took a moment for Devon to realize his mistake. He had unwittingly put her in a better tactical position. Juliette’s foot came up soundly between his thighs. Groaning, Devon released her and collapsed to the floor while Juliette scooted backward.
“Devon, what is taking so long?” Rory whispered, he advanced from the door. His movements were unthreatening as he wished not to distress poor gentle Juliette even further.
“She has killed me,” Devon moaned from the floor.
“Devon, what do you down there? ’Tis no time to be napping!” Rory exclaimed.
Quickly his arm shot out to capture Juliette as she tried to flee past him.
“Arm yourself, brother. ’Tis not a lass but a berserker,” Devon groaned. “Save yourself.”
“Nonsense Devon, she is hardly more than a child...” Rory’s sentence was cut off as Juliette smashed her elbow into his belly. His breath expelled sharply in a loud, “oomph.”
So surprised at her attack, Rory released her. Quickly Juliette agilely jumped over Devon in an attempt to reach the door but Devon, having recovered...somewhat, grabbed an ankle. Juliette fell heavily to the floor while Devon scrambled atop her pinning her arms and legs beneath his own quickly lest she launch another attack. Juliette struggled wildly to no avail. He had her. She panted breathlessly from the exertion.
“Do not crush her, Devon,” Rory admonished. “Constantine would notice if she were to be flattened.
Juliette’s ears keened at the mention of her sister. Understanding dawned. Dismayed she realized she had been captured by Lord Horrible. What would he do with her? Juliette stilled beneath Devon. He must have found out about her betrothal to Lord Christopher. Broc obviously wanted her gone so that he would gain all of their father’s wealth. Terror gripped her chest. He would murder her. Her body would never be found. They would think she ran away in order not to be wed. She whimpered with real fear.
“Devon, up you come and give her some air,” Rory commanded, hearing Juliette’s softly expelled breath.
Slowly Devon rose, aggrieved, to his feet dragging a struggling Juliette with him.
“If you are not still, I will put you over my knee,” Devon growled into her ear with menace. His head pained, his foot ached, and his organ throbbed in agony. Damnation, Devon thought. He had never once struck a woman in his entire life but at that very moment h
e felt justified at the threat.
Rory peeked from the chamber, signaling the coast was clear he motioned Devon to follow. With caution they made their way back down the hall. Devon held Juliette firmly in his grasp. Both his hands clasping her arms to her sides.
“Oh no,” Devon all but whimpered when Rory again headed for the small niche in the wall. “I cannot, Rory. You do not fit. The walls are possessed, they move.”
“There is no other safe way out. Come now brother, calm yourself. You may push me through again,” Rory coerced.
Seeing they were headed to the secret passage deflated Juliette’s hope. Broc must have beaten its whereabouts out of poor Constantine. Again, Juliette whimpered.
“Silence,” Devon whispered into her ear.
They crawled through the small opening, Juliette between the two. As they entered the passageway, Juliette determined if she was to be murdered, she would not make it easy on them. With resolve her fist shot out wildly at Devon with sudden intensity. He took the brunt of it on an already pained nose.
Devon had feared entering the tunnel and was taken off-guard at Juliette’s attack, thinking his threats had been sufficient. He had been unaware his grip had loosened substantially for her to lodge yet another act of retribution. He grabbed angrily at her flailing fists as she sought to cause him bodily damage. Rory, oblivious to their fight, had reached the tightest spot in the enclosure.
“Now a good shove should do it,” Rory called quietly to Devon.
Battle Cry and The Berserker Page 7