Now Dougal turned his mount onto the narrow coastal road and focused his thoughts on the meeting to come. He reached into his pocket and rubbed his fingers on the shiny black stone he had removed from around Sofia’s neck. She had lain in the huge bed, deeply asleep and breathing softly. A soft murmur had left her lips when his fingers brushed her neck as he’d released the clasp and placed the black jewel in a pouch against his heart, wanting to keep her close.
His instructions to Mary, his young, loyal housekeeper had been clear. Under no circumstances was Sofia to leave her room until he returned. He frowned, imagining how cross Sofia would be after three days locked away in that cavernous room. At least it had a privy. He would let her show her displeasure before he told her why they had to stage her murder.
But, he could not tell Sofia everything…not yet.
Mary had at first been resistant to his direction. “I see a puir woman in that room who dinna kens her place in this house an you expect me to keep her locked in there? She's just as deservin’ of some respect and you’re a fule, man…”
Eventually he had convinced her it was a matter of life and death and Mary had agreed to his request. His horse whinnied and Dougal looked around, but it was only the proximity of the water exciting his mount who knew there was hay for him in the small enclosure on the coast. Dougal pulled on the reigns as they crested the last hill and smiled. His island, Little Rothmore, sat a short distance across the firth, jewel-like on the sea before him. Smoke puffed lazily from the kitchen chimney and the larger chimney on the eastern side where Sofia was …resting. He would not use the term imprisoned, even in his own thoughts. She was a guest and would be a guest on his island until he and Edward achieved their quest.
After tethering his mount and ensuring it had enough hay, Dougal reached into his small knapsack and removed the Astrolaberors. He clambered down the cliff; the small stones skittered beneath his feet and disturbed the nesting seabirds. They rose into the air squawking around him. He stopped halfway down and settled to wait until the sun was at its zenith; the co-ordinates were set for midday. The wait would also ensure he had not been followed and he looked back at the cliff top to watch for any sign of a follower.
* * * *
Sofia woke slowly as voices drifted into her consciousness.
It was Dougal.
She would recognize the voice of the man who had haunted her dreams for the past three days, whether awake or asleep. Climbing down from the high bed, she shivered as her bare feet touched the cold stone and she reached for her cloak, before walking over to the door once more. She had pushed it and pulled at the solid oak door for the past day.
Finally deciding to wait and overpower the maid when she next came to replenish the food, she had waited in vain because the woman had not returned again. Hysteria had clawed at her throat in the dark of the night as she imagined the worst; being abandoned in this godforsaken place until she starved to death. There was no way out. She had felt her way around every inch of the sold walls pulling at every protruding piece of stone. Crawled across the floor and lifted every woven rug, looking for a trap door…to no avail.
“Mary, hand the tray to me and I will take it in.” Dougal’s voice was close.
Sofia could not understand the words of the woman who seemed to be arguing with him, but eventually her voice faded away with her footsteps. She stepped back to the side, looking wildly around the room. There was nothing she could use as a weapon. The logs on the fire had burned to ash and there was nothing small enough to pick up to fling at the murderous bastard when he came into the room.
She pressed her back against the wall waiting for him. The bolt creaked and the massive door opened slowly. The shadow of a large body darkened the floor in the doorway. Dougal stepped into the room and Sofia shrieked and jumped onto his back, reaching around for his eyes and gouging with her fingertips. The tray he was carrying crashed to the ground and he reached up behind him and grabbed her arms.
“Mord bastard.” She screeched like a banshee trying to beat at him with hands that were now held securely in his grasp. “You murdering bastard, let me go.”
“Calm down,” he said quietly. “It is all fine, now.”
“It is not,” she sobbed with frustration as he turned her around and pinned her to the wall.
“Mary,” he called. “Bolt the door.”
Sofia screamed and lunged at him fastening her teeth onto his ear and biting as hard as she could.
“You little hellion,” he yelled, releasing one hand and grabbing her chin roughly. “You’ve drawn blood.” He pushed her away before turning her and putting her over his shoulder.
“And I’ll draw more before I’m finished with you,” she panted.”You...you…festering, ignoble cur.”
Dougal lifted her and carried her across the room.
* * * *
The Earl of Rothmore fought a smile as the flailing fists pounded his back and a string of curses more suited to the gutter assailed his ears. The blows barely registered on his flesh underneath the thick vest he wore over his linen shirt, but her curses grew louder as he moved across toward the large bed in the centre of the room
“When you are quite finished, Sofia. I will put you down.”
“I will kill you, Dougal. I swear by all that—”
“Enough, woman,” he roared. “If you will hold your tongue for one minute, I will put you down and we can have a civilized conversation.”
“Pah!”
He dumped her unceremoniously on the bed and took a step back as Sofia sat up and glared at him. She leaned back, her arms supported her on the woolen blankets and her chest heaved with each breath. Her face was pale except for twin spots of red, high on her cheeks.
Glaring at him, she opened her mouth to speak and he held his hand high.
“No.” Dougal tried to keep his voice soft. Despite her anger, his body was responding to her. She dropped her gaze and grabbed at the white chemise, pulling it together over her alabaster skin.
He grunted and walked across to the fire which had almost burned out. Crouching down, he looked around for something to poke at the ashes but there was nothing.
“Yes, Dougal. I have watched the fire burn away. I have not eaten, nor drunk of the wine your whore has brought me. There is nothing here.”
A reluctant smile twitched at his lips at the thought of his loyal housekeeper being referred to as his whore.
“Come, now, Sofia. That is very harsh,” he said. “Did you not hear Mary expressing her displeasure with me outside the door?”
“I am not interested in anything but getting out of this godforsaken hole.” She turned to him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Where am I? I presume by the insufferable cold and the keening of the wind I am in Scotland?”
He nodded wearily. “Aye, we are on Rothmore.”
She kept her gaze fixed on his face. “Why? Why am I here?”
Dougal crossed the floor and stood by the bed reaching his hands out. “Come. We will eat and I have a long story to tell you.”Sofia pushed herself to the edge of the bed. A flash of a long slender calf caught his eye as her foot reached the floor. He turned and picked up her cloak and handed it to her, before striding across to the door.
“Unbolt the door, please Mary.”
He swung open the door when the bolt was lifted from the other side and waited for Sofia to follow. She stood slowly and a soft cry escaped her lips as she crumpled to the cold, hard floor.
The housekeeper pushed past him. “The wee lass has eaten nought since you brought her here,” she admonished him. She crouched next to Sofia and picked up her lifeless hand, and rubbed it. “Och, mon. She is as cold as ice. It’s a wonder you haven’t killed her.”
Dougal scooped his hands beneath Sofia and picked her up from the floor. He stood cradling her as her head nestled into his chest and her eyes fluttered open. She weighed nothing and he held her close to him as he strode to the door and pushed it open with his shoulder. �
��We’ll go to the kitchens. That is where the best fire is. She needs warming.”
Mary hurried ahead of him and he walked to the end of the long corridor and stepped quickly down the dozen stone steps carved in the rock on the eastern wall. It was the quickest way to the kitchen. Sofia’s head bumped gently against his chest and he tightened his grip as she reached her hand up to his neck.
Her cold fingers spread against his skin and he looked warily down at her, waiting for her to scratch or pinch him, but her hand curled gently around the hair hanging past his shirt collar. Her wide-eyed gaze held his and the confusion on her face broke his heart.
“Not long, now,” he murmured. “I will have you warm and fed soon.”
He could not believe she had not eaten since he had left her two days before and cursed himself. He should have taken more care to ensure her physical well-being. No point saving her from the machinations of the Council, if she starved to death in his care.
They crossed the long hall and the two servants carrying in firewood looked at him curiously.
“Build up the fires in the kitchen, please,” he instructed. They scurried to do his bidding and he strode to the end of the room and reached the arched entrance leading to the kitchens. The aroma of fresh baked bread preceded the warmth emanating from the first room where the loaves of fresh baked bread were laid out along the wooden benches along the side of the wall.
“Where is your perambulator?” Sofia muttered and he laughed drily.
The next room, although serving as of one of the kitchens, had a long bench in front of the fire. A large milk can filled with water stood in the huge fireplace and gave out almost as much warmth as the fire itself. Mary hurried in with an armful of homespun woolen shawls and spread them on the bench but Dougal ignored them. He sat at the end of the bench closest to the fire and cradled Sofia into the warmth of his body. Mary looked at him without speaking and picked up a shawl wrapping it gently around Sofia who now lay quiescent in his arms. It appeared her rage had burned out and her energy was depleted. He looked down as she shivered and watched her warily as her gaze took in the room around her.
“What is this place?” she asked quietly.
“It is my home,” he replied.
“Why am I here?’ Her voice quavered and he could sense the fear behind her words.
“Don’t worry. You are safe here,” he reassured her.
“You tried to kill me.”
He reached down and picked up one of her hands between his and rubbed it gently. Her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed.
“No, I saved your life. You were in grave danger…and you still are,” he replied
She didn’t answer and as her breathing evened out, Dougal wondered if she had even heard his reply. Mary came back in from the main kitchen with a jug of warmed wine and a plate of bread cakes and placed it on a low table between them and the fireplace. For a few moments, the only sound was the crackling of the flames in the fireplace, until a log popped and dropped into the fire. Sofia opened her eyes and pushed her hands against his chest
Dougal slid across the bench and made room for her between his body and the end of the bench against the wall. She looked up at him and tucked her bare feet beneath her. He lifted the shawl and draped it across her shoulders.
“What do you mean grave danger?” Her words were softly spoken, but measured and calm.
He reached for the jug and poured the wine into the pottery cups Mary had placed on the tray. He held Sofia’s gaze with his as he passed her the hot drink. She wrapped her fingers around the warm cup and smiled.
“Not a poisoned chalice, Dougal?” A nervous pulse flickered in the side of her neck and he realized she was attempting to stay calm.
He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “Edward of Kilmarnock and I, were entrusted with the task of killing you.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, but she sat up straight beside him. I am a righteous man and I am on a journey to fulfill my father’s wish to end the corruption that is rife in our country.” He determined to tell her the whole story and she would understand why she had to stay in the castle on his island.
“Your research in the laboratory in Vienna has come to the attention of this evil group and you have threatened what they believe is their God-given right to immortality.”
Her eyes were shadowed but fixed on his mouth as he spoke. He had her attention. But she didn’t speak.
“I was sent to Vienna to observe you.” He reached into his pocket and removed the monogrammed glove he had carried for weeks since she had dropped it at Westbahnhof. “You eluded me at the train station, but I could confirm to my masters it was you.”
Her gaze was icy as he continued and she moved away from him, wrapping a second shawl around her shoulders.
“Edward and I were sent to kill you after we had confirmed in Vienna at your salon, it was definitely you we sought.”
“So why am I alive?” she asked. “Why am I here?”
“We had no intention of killing you, but we had to make it look as thought you were dead.” He reached out for her hand but she snatched it away. “Your sister and your nephews, your manservant, your staff. They all believe you are dead.”
Despite the warmth of the fire and the warm wine he had sipped, the look on her face chilled him to the bone,
“I demand you take me to my sister’s manor in Cornwall immediately.” Her tone was imperious and he could see the shrewd couturier who commanded such respect in the world of fashion. The Knights did not know the strength of this woman working against them.
Regret filled his chest and he shook his head, denying her request. “I am sorry, Sofia. For your own safety, you must stay here until Edward sends a message to say it is all clear.”
“Stay here? Stay where? In this draughty pile of stones?” She stood and walked across to the fire, the deep scarlet shawls accentuating the pallor of her skin. “You will take me immediately to my sister’s. If there is danger, I will hide there.” Her voice dropped as she gestured to the walls around them. “You really expect me to live in this…this… it is really little better than a hovel.
Anger burned up from his stomach and Dougal clenched his jaw, highly offended. It might not be silk-lined and have the latest in gadgets like her salon in Vienna but this castle was his home and it had been in his family for hundreds of years. He stood and drew himself to his full height. “You will stay here until I say it is safe.”
She laughed. “Make me.”
“Oh, I will Sofia. Have no doubt of that,” he replied. The anger burned in his throat and he fought the attraction he had for this woman. It was not the time to follow the urges of his body, even if his heart was in agreement for the first time in his life. That may come later, after he and Edward were sure the Knights were no longer a risk. Once the order was gone, he would reconsider his feelings for Sofia.
But not before then.
“You will stay here. I will get you some clothes from Mary and I will show you your room. There is no need to lock you away…as there is nowhere for you to go.” He left her sitting alone in front of the fire.
Chapter 12
Sofia kneeled in the kitchen garden and tugged at the weeds between the cobblestones. The Irish wolfhound who had been her constant companion for the past three months snored quietly beside her. Bored with gazing at the sea between the small Isle of Rothmore and the Scottish mainland, she now sought menial tasks to fill her days. Mary gave her chores in the kitchen and the garden.
The cold had chapped her once flawless hands and now green streaks from the moist plants she pulled from the cracks in the stones, colored her fingers. Tucked behind a high stone wall, this small courtyard where Mary grew her kitchen herbs was protected from the chill wind which seemed to blow constantly from the sea. Sofia pushed herself to her feet and wandered across to the bench next to the gate in the wall.
She sighed as the dog followed her and flopped at her feet. It was almost as though he had be
en set to guard her.
Not that there was anywhere for her to go.
In the months she had been Dougal’s prisoner she had walked around the small island every day. No one visited the island and the servants lived in the castle and did not speak to her. She had searched for a boat to no avail. Dougal disappeared for days on end and even when he was in the castle, she had not been able to find his boat.
They dined together each night and after the first few meals in stony silence, they had both thawed slightly and were able to converse without argument as they ate the food Mary prepared for them each night.
She now knew the Knights were fully aware of her laboratory in Vienna and she had expressed her concern for the Professor to Dougal. He had assured her everything was in place to ensure the safety of her staff…and her family.
It had taken many days but she had finally come to an understanding of the danger surrounding her quest and how close she had come to death. However, Dougal would still not explain how they had travelled to the Isle of Rothmore despite her insistent questioning. Although they spoke each evening, he remained aloof and withdrawn and had not laid a hand on her. She had been moved to a small room in the top of the castle where sunlight streamed in during the day but she was bored.
No news of the outside world; she was keen to hear of the ramifications to the government and the business regulations since the assassination of Queen Victoria. Sofia had questioned Dougal at length, but he was not forthcoming. He treated her as a person who had no cause to be interested in the politics of the day
As a woman.
She clenched her fists; there had been enough of that in Vienna with the refusal to let women into the university. She would not be beholden to the whims of this man…no matter how much he felt the need to protect her.
If it is the last thing I do, I will get off this island.
Summer of the Moon Flower (The de Vargas Family) Page 9