She set the stew aside, her appetite gone, and stomach queasy from the grease floating atop the meat and vegetables. “When two years passed and I saw neither hide nor hair of him, I believed he had put me aside. After that, I thought he had divorced me, Ori,” she said. “Then there was the vid-shot of him and the woman.”
“The lesbian,” Oran reminded her.
She gave him an annoyed look. “I didn’t know that.” She sat back in the chair. “I also believed he had my parents hanged but I didn’t find out about that until after the Joining.”
“Illegal Joining,” Oran stated. “Null and void as it is.”
“Aye,” she said and realized Garrick’s eyes were open and he was staring at her. She got to her feet. “He’s awake.”
Oran snapped his head around and his young face lit up. “He is!” He told one of the guards at the door to let the ones outside know so Marc could be informed.
“And have someone fetch the healer,” Antonia ordered. Going to the bed, she smiled hesitantly. “How are you, knave?” she asked.
“Hungry,” he replied in a gravelly voice.
“He needs Sustenance,” Oran said and hurried over, rolling his sleeve up as he came.
“My wife’s,” Garrick whispered.
Antonia’s lips parted. She had yet to feed her husband and the thought of it should have disturbed her. Instead it aroused her. But it was an intimate thing she did not want anyone else witnessing. She turned to Oran. “This is a personal thing, Ori. Take the guards and wait outside until I call you.”
Oran hesitated with his hand still on his sleeve but one look at Garrick’s face and he nodded. “Aye, Your Grace,” he said and motioned the guards from the room.
“Tell me what to do,” she said as soon as the door closed.
“Arm,” he said, rolling his tongue over his dry lips.
She held her arm out to him—close to his face—and he reached up a shaky hand to grip her wrist. She watched as his lips parted and his fangs descended. Her attention leapt from what he was about to do to his eyes. His pupils were still dilated from the poisons that had invaded his system and there was a feverish cast to his face. The hand on her wrist felt hot, dry and weak. When he sank his fangs into her flesh, the heat of his mouth worried her. His fever was still raging.
As he fed, she used her other hand to smooth back the damp hair from his forehead, frowning at how hot his forehead felt beneath her palm. A loud clap of thunder brought her head around.
“We’ve had rain for three days solid,” she told him as she stroked him. “The creeks are beyond their banks and trees are beginning to topple into the river.”
He closed his eyes as he swallowed, then swept his tongue over the puncture marks on her arms. Feeding from her seemed to drain him completely and that worried her even more. She started to ease her arm from his grip but his fingers tightened a little more.
“No,” he whispered and held her arm close to his chest. She could feel his heart beating much too hard and entirely too fast.
“Oran!” she called out and wasn’t surprised when the door opened immediately.
“Aye, milady?”
“Is the healer out there?”
“He is, milady. As is Marcus.”
“Send them in,” she said.
Oran opened the door all the way and Marc came striding in, his face a study in worry. Behind was the healer with his bag.
“The ship with the TAOS unit has arrived from Modartha,” Marc told her. “They’ll be transporting it down to us shortly.”
“Good,” she said, meeting Marc’s anxious gaze. “He needs it.”
The healer set his bag down on the bedside table. “If you will excuse me, Your Grace,” he said, plainly wanting her to move away from the bed so he could examine his patient.
“She stays,” Garrick rasped.
“Of course, General,” the healer said though it was obvious he wasn’t happy about the situation.
Antonia watched the physician go about his job. Both she and Marcus noted the concern in the man’s eyes.
“The TAOS has arrived none too soon,” the healer said. “The poison is not leaving him as I had hoped it would and his fever is much too high.” He put a hand on Garrick’s shoulder. “How is your head, General?”
“Hurts like a motherfucker,” Garrick stated in a weak voice.
“I’ll put you out as soon as I have you in the TAOS,” the healer said.
The words barely spoken, a guard came to the door to tell the healer the diagnostic unit was now in the room Garrick had designed as a dispensary.
“I’ll carry him down,” Marc said. He folded the sheet back. “You need to let go of her arm, Rick.”
Reluctantly Garrick released her though his eyes were locked on hers.
“I’ll be right behind him,” she assured him.
Marc eased his arms under Garrick’s back and knees and lifted him with ease. Without another word, he turned for the door, his long strides eating up the distance with the need to get his friend into the TAOS. He took the stairs as though he carried an infant and not a full-grown warrior.
Leading the way into the dispensary, the healer went directly to the TAOS unit and pressed the button to retract the plexigon shield that covered the sleigh. He stood aside as Marc gently laid Garrick on the perma-padded platform.
“You’ll do anything to get my arms around you, won’t you, Warwyck?” Marc teased. He laid his palm tenderly against Garrick’s cheek then stepped back. Antonia moved in to take her husband’s hand in hers, bringing it to rest between her breasts, her fingers wrapped around his.
Within a few moments the healer had a vac-syringe prepared and brought it over to the sleigh.
“Wait,” Garrick whispered. He looked up at Antonia.
She smiled and leaned down to kiss his lips. It was a fleeting kiss but she hoped he knew it was filled with love and forgiveness.
He nodded his understanding of her silent offer. One last squeeze of her hand and he let her go, closing his eyes, curling his tongue over his bottom lip.
“Sleep well,” she told him and watched as the healer gently eased Garrick’s head to one side then quickly administered whatever drug it was that would put him out. There was a rapid intake of breath then Garrick’s body went limp.
“He’ll be asleep for at least seventy-two hours,” the healer said.
“I want men surrounding this room,” Antonia told Marc. “Armed men both inside and outside the room.” She gave him a steady look. “And a block on anyone attempting transport into the keep.”
“Already done,” Marc told her. “We’re taking no chances with him.”
She drew in a ragged breath, then looked around for a chair. She would have retrieved it but Oran anticipated her need and brought it over to her. She thanked him, drew it close to the sleigh and sat down. The plexigon shield slid into place over Garrick and then a soft, quiet hum began from the workings of the TAOS unit.
“Would you have a cot brought in for me?” she asked no one in particular.
“It will be seen to, Your Grace,” Oran said.
“Don’t do that,” she said, glancing up at the young man. “Either call me Tonia or—if you must—milady but I never have cared for titles.”
“Neither does Rick,” Marc said with a gentle smile.
She sat forward to place her palm against the plexigon cover. It was the closest she would be able to get to him for the next few days.
* * * * *
Alyx lowered the field glasses and snarled like a wounded animal. The men the Modarthans captured were now hanging from the barbican, swinging in the pouring rain. Once more the vampire had slipped through his fingers.
As had Antonia.
“We tried to intercept the TAOS unit but were unsuccessful, General,” one of his men informed him. “It was transported into the keep.”
“Have you tried to transport an operative inside?” Alyx asked.
“There is a blo
ck, Sir.”
“Well, of course there is,” Alyx hissed. “I need to get into that keep!”
“What of the tunnel from the cave? The one that led into the old shelter room,” the man inquired. “Would the builder have thought to seal it off when built over the old foundation of Castle Blackthorn?”
“Aye,” Alyx said then got to his feet. “Aye! Even if they sealed it off mayhap we can break through a wall and into the keep proper. I doubt Warwyck would have had hidden passageways built into the keep but he might have. If I could just get into an interior room, I could work my way to wherever he is keeping her.”
“And kill him.”
“Right now all I want is my woman free of him. When she’s safe, I’ll go back for the vampire,” Alyx said.
Chapter Fifteen
“I can do very wicked things to your body, wench,” he told her. His eyes were hot as the fires of hell, his fingers like flames dancing over her breasts. “And I can do them very well.”
Antonia jerked awake, coated with perspiration and aching between her legs. She put a hand between them to soothe the burning, throbbing need that dwelt there. The dream from which she’d just awakened was as crystal clear in her mind as the soft hum of the TAOS unit in which her Life-mate lay. Trembling from the force of her arousal, she got up from the cot, wrapped her arms tightly around her and began pacing. Her breath was coming in quick, shallow bursts and the blood was pounding in her ears.
It took a while to get herself under control and when she did, she walked over to the sleigh. Staring down at Garrick’s still face, she felt a hard lump forming in her throat and tears prickling behind her eyes. He was so pale—paler than normal—and there were dark bruises beneath the sweep of his long eyelashes. The bruises should be gone by now and she could tell the healer was worried that they were not.
“I’m here,” she said, reaching out to put her palm on the plexigon shield as she had done many times over the last three days. She had to believe he could hear her, would know she was with him. Seeing him so completely immobile, so utterly quiet, sent ripples of fear through her heart. He would wake—of that she had no doubt—but the longer he lay sleeping, the harder it was for her to relax.
“Have you had anything to eat today?”
She glanced around at Marc. “I’m not hungry.”
“Making yourself sick won’t help Rick,” he said. He came over to the sleigh with his hands deep in his uniform pockets and tilted his head to one side as he looked at his friend. “I don’t like those dark circles under his eyes.”
“Neither do I and neither does the healer,” she said. “He hasn’t said as much but it concerns him.”
“I saw the tox report on the poisons that were on the quarrel,” he said. “A goddess-be-damned potent cocktail that was meant to do him great damage.”
“And it has,” Antonia whispered.
“Had they managed to capture him, the outcome would have been much worse, Tonia,” he reminded her.
“Have you heard anything about Gen. Clay’s whereabouts?” she asked and when he shook his head, she sighed deeply. “He’ll come at Ricky again.”
“Aye and trust me, next time we will be ready for the little bastard,” Marc said.
“Don’t take him alive,” she said softly.
Marc blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I ask that if you do catch him, don’t take him alive. Kill him quickly and as painlessly as possible as a favor to me.”
“And you’re asking this of me because?” he asked, his brows drawn together.
“I have thought about it, Marc. Thought about it long and hard. Studied every angle. Weighed every scenario. If you bring him before Garrick, Alyx will say things to hurt my husband. He will relate things to him that right now Garrick only imagines happened. Alyx will take away all speculation and he will embellish actual events, blow things far out of proportion and as I have discovered, he will lie. I would spare Garrick listening to Alyx’s hubris. I would spare Garrick hearing things he can never unhear.”
Marc seemed to be thinking that over. He hunched his shoulders as though preparing for a blow. “I don’t want to see Rick hurt, either.”
“If he and I are to start over,” she said. “If we are to make a fresh start, he doesn’t need to know the intimate details of what happened during my marriage to Alyx.”
“You have accepted the fact that Clay must die?” Marc asked.
Antonia lowered her head. “Aye, I have come to terms with it.”
“As long as you understand there is no alternative for him, that he will be made to atone for his crimes, then I’ll see what I can do to make sure Garrick suffers no more at the hands of Alyxdair Clay,” Marc pledged.
“I will be grateful, Marcus,” she said.
He smiled slightly, took one final look at Garrick then left the dispensary as the healer was coming in. The two men stopped, spoke briefly then the healer came over to the sleigh.
“He is getting better, isn’t he?” she asked.
“Aye, Your Grace, but something is hindering the TAOS from doing its work,” the man replied. “I am going to take another blood sample.”
“I have a question,” she said as the healer set about programming the unit to take the required sample.
“Aye?”
“I was speaking with one of the guards last eve and he was telling me about the young soldier who was hurt while reinforcing the wall where the flood waters have caused it to buckle.”
“Ah, yes, Jeremy something or other,” he said with a nod. “I gave him a looksee but he is a Panthera so he was already healing by the time I got to him. He’ll be fine, Your Grace.”
“That’s good,” she said. “The guard explained to me the quickness of it is because of the hellion that resides inside the Panthera species.”
“Aye, it speeds up the process.”
“My question concerns the general’s healing,” she stated. “Is his hellion aiding in the process? Or is it too, unconscious?”
The healer stopped what he was doing and looked up at her. He didn’t say anything for a moment then shifted his gaze to his patient. “That is a very good question,” he said. “I had not thought of the hellion’s role in the healing but no, it would not be unconscious. Affected by the poison, perhaps, but it should be working to restore its host to full health.”
“Should be?” she repeated.
“Aye. Unless something is inhibiting the process.” He turned to the diagnostic panel beside the TAOS unit and typed in a command.
Antonia watched him go about whatever procedure it was he was doing without talking to him, disturbing his train of thought. She moved back, pulling her chair aside and sitting down to avoid getting in his way. Folding her hands in her lap, she followed his every move as he took more samples and did more tests. At one point he stilled like a deer caught in a phosphor light, stared unseeingly across the room, then his face cleared and he rushed from the room with a sample in hand.
Oran came in not long after with her morning flask of Sustenance. He smiled as he handed it to her.
“Thank you, Ori,” she said and grimaced. Though she needed the liquid, she had not gotten used to either the taste or texture of the stallion blood that nourished her each day. As she drank, she cut her eyes to her husband—wishing it was his life’s essence she was consuming.
“Marcus asked me to tell you he would be gone from the keep for a few hours,” Ori said as he accepted the empty flask from her. “He rode into Colton.”
“May I ask why?” she inquired, fearful he had gone after Alyx.
“To drag the builder back here,” Oran replied. “A portion of the east wall collapsed due to the flood waters.”
“I heard it had buckled but I didn’t know it had caved in. Was anyone seriously hurt?”
“No, thank the goddess,” he answered. “But there’s now a gaping hole in the wall and Rick is not going to be a happy warrior when he learns of it.”
“I�
��m sure he won’t,” she said with a smile.
* * * * *
Alyx was grinning ear to ear when given the news there was a large opening in a section of the keep’s outer wall. Though it was being guarded and men had begun to shore it up, the breech was there and it presented a grand opportunity for him to get inside Warwyck’s stronghold, to find Warwyck, get rid of him once and for all then get Antonia to safety.
Though there was a transport block into the keep, there was not one around the keep. Spies were regularly transported to Warwyck Castle then drawn back when they’d done their jobs. It would be easy to have himself sent there unnoticed among the hustle and bustle of repairing the wall.
“Find me some worker’s clothing,” he ordered his aide. “The shabbier the better. I’ve a desire to get my hands dirty laying stone.” When the man started away, Alyx called him back. “And I’ll need a Modarthan guard’s uniform as well for when I get inside the keep. Make it a low rank so I won’t draw attention.”
“Aye, Sir!” the man acknowledged.
While waiting for the man to return, Alyx reached into his pocket and took out the ancient pocket watch he had carried with him since his grandfather gave it to him on Alyx’s sixteenth birthday. He opened it and looked down at the photograph he had surreptitiously taken with his vid-cam and printed out over twenty years earlier. The photo was of a smiling young girl with long dark braids and laughing green eyes.
The photo was of Antonia.
He had carried it with him every day of his life since he’d slipped it into the frame of the watch.
As he had carried her in his heart since she was nine years old and he twelve.
“I love you,” he whispered. “And I am coming for you, milady. Nothing will keep us apart.”
Reverently he brought her photo to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the image. She was everything to him and he would be with her or in his grave before the week was out.
* * * * *
“The hellion is dead,” the healer pronounced, his sparse eyebrows drawn together over his hooked nose. “That is why Lord Garrick is not healing as fast as he should.”
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