They entered a tea shop and refreshed themselves. Ally was ready to call it a day and find a soft place to rest her bones. Shopping had always been exhausting, and she was not yet up to fighting strength.
A commotion across the street drew their attention. A young lad was standing on the corner, holding several parchment rolls and shouting tidings. A crowd was gathering around him, and even Ally and Ceylon’s bodyguards craned to see what was up.
One second was all it took.
* * * *
Chill damp, and the hardest mattress she’d ever lain on, woke Ally. Wincing, she sat up and gingerly felt her jaw, cursing the fist that had knocked her out and loosened a few of her teeth. Her ribs weren’t thanking him, either.
She was in a stone walled room--perhaps an old cellar? There were musty bins along the walls, empty crates in the corners. It was cold. Water dripped somewhere nearby, in perfect time to the throb of her skull. She remembered a blinding flash of light and smoke, then nothing. Was this some new scheme of Jean’s, or had one of her other enemies captured her?
A groan made her look left. Ceylon was lying on her back, one hand flung over her stomach. By the dull look in her blinking eyes she felt as awful as Ally. Come to think of it, maybe this mess might be one of the dangers that had been stalking Ceylon.
"What happened?" Allyson rasped. She propped herself into a sitting position, wincing as she went. "This blasted floor is frigid."
Ceylon shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I don’t know. I think Eville has us. Are you hurt?"
"Stiff. Sore from lying on this brick floor. Plus I think some rotten buzzard simply dropped me." She gingerly felt the back of her head. Her hand came away sticky.
Ceylon looked queasy. "How badly are you hurt?"
"I’ll live. Don’t faint on me," Ally said sharply. This was no time for womanly weakness. On second thought, Ceylon was pregnant. She might not be able to help it. Anger made her jaw clench. Eville was going to pay for this, but in the meanwhile, she’d make sure Ceylon was at the back of any fighting that went on. It was going to be a trick to protect both woman and babe with her ribs, but Ally was up for it. Never say die, she swore to herself, heaving to her feet.
"I never faint!" Ceylon protested, and then checked at Allyson’s speaking look. "Very well, I never faint in an emergency."
"This is certainly an emergency." Allyson stood and searched her green and russet gown. The winter velvet was dusty, but intact. She swore. "They took my knives."
"Be glad that was all they took." Ceylon stood up.
Allyson’s eyes narrowed. "I’d slit my own throat first." She knew what Eville wanted with Ceylon, knew that he would seek revenge on herself for capturing Maude and knifing him. All the same, he would pay in blood to get it.
They peeked through the cracks in the door. Two men sat dicing at a crate-table. Both were unwashed and rough-looking. One man sat on a keg, the other on a smaller box. A lantern hung above them, providing the only light in the windowless room.
The voices of more men carried from the ceiling above. Slivers of light showed through the rough planks, and she could see the outline of boots.
"We’re almost ready," one man said above them. "The boat is waiting. I say we forget the wait and go. This is dangerous."
Eville’s voice said, "I’m not leaving here without my revenge. That dog took my hand. I’ll have his life for it."
"It won’t work. He’ll know it’s a trap."
"Do you think he’ll care? The man’s been known to walk through fire. He won’t stop until he gets his woman back or dies."
The cowardly one swore.
"Shut up! The tunnel will collapse after we go through. He’ll die and we’ll get away, so quit wetting yourself, Scrabble."
Ally calculated. Four men and she was injured. She looked around for a weapon. If she could take one or two out and snatch their weapons, things would start to look up. She found a likely stone jar and hefted it. Sweat broke out on her brow, but she ignored it. For once she was glad of her corset, for it provided support for her healing bones.
A pounding began on the door upstairs. The dicing men looked up, tensed. "This is it," one said. "He’s here!"
Ceylon spun toward Allyson and fumbled with her locket. "Here! Swallow these." She held out two pills out to Allyson with an unsteady hand.
Allyson wrinkled her nose, reluctant to put down her weapon. "This is no time for a physic, Ceylon."
Ceylon gestured impatiently. "These will make you seem as if you’re dead. Uric and Roland carry the antidote. If I leave my open locket on your neck they will know what happened. Maybe you’ll have time to warn them about the tunnel."
"But I can’t...."
"Don’t argue," Ceylon hissed. "If we’re both taken then we’re all doomed! You have to warn Uric, Allyson. Please." She offered the pills again.
Ally hesitated. She might be able to stop them or not. Uric would go mad if he lost Ceylon, and Ceylon might lose more than the baby if Eville got away with her.
The noise upstairs intensified as the door splintered. Men ran down the stairs. "Bar the door to slow them," Allyson snapped as she grabbed the pills and stuffed them in her mouth. She grabbed crates and jars, shoved them up against the door. There wasn’t much to use.
The poison worked swiftly. In less than a minute Allyson sagged to the floor. Ceylon caught her, helped her lie down.
"This better work," she slurred. Already her breathing was shallow, almost gone.
"It will," Ceylon whispered as Allyson’s eyes shut. Splinters went flying as their captors broke down the door and dragged her out.
The rest was like a dream. Ally heard Ceylon shrilling, "She’s dead. You’ve killed her!" Vaguely, she marked Ceylon’s good acting. The girl had hidden talent. Maybe she should get her in a play or two.
"Shut up! The bitch is just shamming." That was all Ally heard as the world faded to black.
* * * *
Roland took great pleasure in smashing down Eville’s door. It caved in and he jumped back just in time to avoid a crossbow bolt from a fleeing assassin. Uric took the opportunity to dash in and shoot the bugger in the back. Swearing at his friend for hogging the action, Roland dogged his heels. Blood would flow from the dog who’d dare touch his woman.
They reached the bottom level and his heart stopped. Ally was on the floor face first, and she wasn’t moving. He ignored Eville taunting Uric, ignored Eville dragging Ceylon down the tunnel. Thanks to their spy, they knew it was rigged, and Dante had it covered at the other end. Eville wouldn’t get far.
The minute Eville was out of sight Roland dashed from the stairs behind Uric and ran to Allyson. He rolled her over and hissed. Blood ran from her broken nose and her eyes were swelling shut. Lantern light glinted off the gold locket around her throat the open locket.
He swore and fumbled, trying to dig underneath his armor. His blood ran cold as he remembered Ceylon telling them about the herbs that would make her appear as if dead if Eville caught her. She’d refused to be mauled by him, and she’d given a vial of antidote to Uric, Roland and Raven. If they reached her in time, the antidote could save her. If not, she would die.
And she’d given the herbs to Ally.
"I got it!" Raven ran forward and knelt down. Since he wore no armor he had easy access to his vial. "Pry her mouth open." He uncorked the vial and poured the stuff between her teeth.
For a long moment nothing happened. Then, "What…" Allyson broke off as she coughed on some of the medicine. "What kind of sewage did you give me?" she demanded weakly.
"Quiet," Roland said gruffly as he supported her shivering upper body. "You shouldn’t have taken Ceylon’s poison to start with."
Her blackened eyes widened a slit. "Don’t use the tunnel! It’s made to collapse."
"We know."
"But...." She looked confused.
"Master Spy Dun told us," Uric said as Roland picked her up. "At least this little stunt kept the
m from taking you both. Ceylon might have saved your life, because Eville would have killed you if you’d tried to slow him down."
"I’m not helpless!" She winced as the force of her voice hurt her face.
"Shut up," Roland snapped. "We’re in no mood."
She was bright enough to comply.
Chapter 19
Much later, after Ceylon had been rescued and her abductor killed, Ally lay in her bed at home and wished she were dead. Her face hurt, her husband was treating her like a criminal, and she still felt awful from the effects of Ceylon’s pills. Unfortunately, with Roland in his present mood, she couldn’t even lie in quiet misery. Even his silence stabbed with accusation.
She groaned in pain as he changed the cold compress over her nose and eyes.
"Easy." Was that a slight thaw in his voice? Perhaps the pain would be worth something, then. You’d think she’d put herself in peril just to spite him.
"You’re making a habit of this." A chair squeaked as he sat down.
It was an improvement over pacing.
"I’ve led an interesting life," she admitted with wry humor. It seemed the safest answer.
There was a pause. "Dare we hope for less excitement in our future?" There was more behind the question than simple curiosity.
"I daresay. I wouldn’t object if you whisked me off to a sunny isle and left me there for a pair of months. I’m rather helpless just now--I couldn’t stop you," she said hopefully.
He snorted. "We’ve got a bit of business to finish here first. Jean must be dealt with." At least he sounded in better humor.
She sighed in agreement. "Are you waiting for an invitation? Surely you know where he’s lurking by now."
"Yes." He hesitated. "I’ve spoken with the queen about him. You know she takes a dim view of her nobles slaughtering each other out of hand. It’s not how I would have chosen to deal with him, but she has passed judgment."
Ally slowly drew the compress off her eyes. Roland’s expression was as solemn as she felt. Jean would not be glad of royal justice.
"For his crimes of theft, conspiracy to commit murder and numerous other offences, Jean has been sent to the block. It was the business I was on today, witnessing his execution. I did not think you would care to be there," he said quietly.
She took a ragged breath. "The queen is just."
"She has also allowed Merrick’s captain the right of execution. That debt is paid."
Ally nodded. Her feelings were complicated. It would take time for them to settle, but time she had. Once she would have objected to Roland’s handling of these affairs without her input, but just then she hadn’t the heart. The matter was over, and they were well shut of it.
"The queen has also transferred all but Jean’s wife’s dowry to us in repayment of the stolen tithe. His wife will have a comfortable living, and his son will not lack until he is old enough to earn a man’s way."
Ally remembered Jean’s wife’s tense face and was glad. Perhaps the woman would have a chance to heal from the damage Jean had done to her, as well, for she doubted the woman had known where her husband’s fortune came from.
Somehow she felt let down, though she’d gotten everything she’d hoped for. Merrick was dead. Jean was dead. Perhaps there had been too much death and destruction of late.
Unreasonably depressed, she slumped against the pillows and pondered the bed canopy. Somehow healing and getting on with life lacked the spice it had only moments before.
Roland watched her, guessing much of her thoughts. His day had been rather somber, as well. It was one thing to kill his enemy in battle, another to watch him beheaded with cold justice. The one was far harder, and he was not sorry he’d kept it from Ally, for she would have brooded far worse if she’d known before hand.
Marissa had been there. Even veiled in black, he’d recognized her contemptuous eyes. She’d stared at him during the execution, dark emotion in her gaze. The sound of the executioner’s axe had made her flinch, and tears of fury had leaked from her eyes.
In spite of himself, Roland’s heart had ached. Hadn’t she once been the wife of his heart?
The image of her black veils whirling as she’d turned away burned in his mind. It would not be an easy vision to forget.
* * * *
A broken nose was not the quickest thing in the world to heal, but the moment the swelling went down, Ally demanded that Roland book passage on a ship. It was time and past to be on their way, and now that she’d decided to have him, she was in a rush. His moodiness of late had her worried.
They planned to be remarried when they reached their destination, and Roland had promised her all manner of tropical delicacies and hours of lazing about in the sun. "Eager" was a faint description of her excitement. She actually felt like a bride, and often felt herself flushing when Roland smiled at her. By the time they got where they were going she would be physically able, and she’d passed mentally prepared some time ago. It was time to go.
Finally the day arrived. Fine tremors of excitement shook her hands, making it difficult to fasten the catch of her necklace. In honor of the occasion she’d commissioned a butter-soft overdress of fawn suede lined with exotic cashmere to fight the sea chill. Under that she wore maroon silk harem pants and a matching tunic over a quilted black undergarment and tightly laced boots.
Roland strolled in, wearing the wolfish smile he’d adopted of late. Thanks to his patch and the black leather armor he wore in deference to the pirate problem in the seas, he looked more the corsair himself than landed gentry. With his hair clubbed back, his black clothes and the number of daggers about him in addition to his sword, he might even give their captain pause.
Ally hoped the man didn’t toss them off his ship.
Seeing her problem, he moved behind her and fastened the necklace. "Eager, are we?" he whispered.
Soft male lips moved against her nape, and he clasped her around the waist, moving his hips against her behind. He buried his face in her unbound hair and inhaled deeply.
Noise stuck in her throat. Weakness and desire flowed through her, making her long for a soft bed. "We could be late." It was a suggestion. Every time he came near, he teased her. Each time he did, she suggested they find a place to finish what he’d started. His answer was always the same.
"Not yet. It’s a short sail to the islands where we will be wed. I’ll take you there on the white sands, in the moonlight under the stars. But first I’ll see you swimming naked in the warm sea. I want to lick the salt off every inch of your white skin," he said softly. He pulled back a little, and the action brought his hips closer to hers. The image must have excited him greatly, for he was large and insistent as he nestled above the cleft of her bottom.
With great difficulty, Ally swallowed. Much more of this and she’d reach the heights merely by the sound of his voice.
Night by night he’d taught her to soar. The sweet rasp of him between her thighs as he’d shown her the pleasures of his lips and plundering tongue had taught her. Though he saved her maidenhead for later, the man loved those intimate kisses and would not be denied. Now all he had to do to tease her was to give her that hot look and slowly run his tongue over his lower lip. It slayed her every time.
"No time for this," he said suddenly, teasing her with his brisk tone. He took her by the arms and set her away. "The tide waits for no one, and I plan to be on that boat. Are you coming with me?" He grinned at her, sure of her answer.
Ally raised a brow. "Would you kidnap me if I said no?"
He snorted. "Won’t need to. You’ll beat me to the ship, like as not." When she glowered at him in mock displeasure, he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her roughly to him. "Come here, wench. I’ve got plans for you." Leering, he led her from the room.
"Maybe I have plans for you," she shot back, not to be outdone.
Dark fire glittered in his gaze as it raked her. "I hope so," he purred. "I do hope so."
They were so wrapped up in each oth
er that neither paid much attention to the crowd on the dock. After all, the danger had passed and they were in love. Thanks to Roland’s roving hands in the carriage, Ally was also seriously in lust. Contemplating talking him into a bed, she barely registered a sense of something wrong.
Roland was not so slow. Honed by years of war, his instincts told him what his mind hadn’t yet registered. Whipping Ally to the side, he struck out, knocking her would-be assailant on his rump. The cloaked assassin cried out, revealing a voice too high for any man and clutched her knife as she scrambled back like a crab.
A crowd cleared around them. No one wanted anything to do with the enraged knight bearing down on his victim.
"Show yourself, Marissa!" he snarled as he advanced. "I know it’s you."
"Fool!" The woman threw her cloak back and threw her knife at him as he froze. It was not Marissa.
He barely dodged in time. "Lady Sadis? What quarrel do you have with us?"
"What quarrel? What quarrel! You stole my husband from me, you reeking troll!" Shaking with fury, she pulled another dagger and backed toward the dock.
"Be careful. Fall in the water and those skirts of yours will pull you to your death," Roland warned, edging toward her.
"Do you think I care? You and that whore of yours have destroyed everything I worked for!" Bitterness twisted her pretty face at Roland’s expression. "Yes, it was I, you fool! Did you think Jean ever had the wit to use you as he did? Mine was the strategy, mine was the credit. And you took him!"
"Why? Why would you do this?"
Lady Sadis flashed him a look of contempt. "Why not? You were there. Your pathetic little family was set like dominoes all in a line, waiting for a master’s hand to topple you and take the spoils. Your mistress was easy to poison, your "wife" was too stubbornly loyal to not to obey your request for tithe, and your sale brought a handsome profit. With you out of the way, all was easy, but you had to come back, didn’t you? And now look what you’ve done." Her heel came up to the end of the dock, and she looked quickly back.
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