So they planned to continue their conversation later, in the earl’s rooms. Yet there seemed something sinister and distorted about the way the earl spoke those words.
Had my uncle truly killed his own father? Could he not wait to inherit? The very idea was like Uncle Charles, impatient, untrustworthy, and self-serving. Yet I sensed another, deeper reason. Something I could not discern.
I spent the rest of the day searching for Thomas and, too exhausted and upset to eat, did not attend dinner. To avoid Peg’s and Annie’s questions, I went to bed, but did not sleep. I rose at first light, put on a simple serge gown in the dressing room to avoid waking anyone, and departed our quarters before either Peg or Annie knew I was up. Though my deep concern for Thomas still drove me, I needed to catch my uncle before he left and bargain for my life. He did not want me around, but I needed his assurance that if I disappeared he would not mount a search for me either, that I would be as free of him, as he felt free of me. I would fight to the end for Tor House. But if all else failed, I wanted to be free to search for Duncan, whether he be dead or alive
In the distance, heavy boot steps sounded on the great hall slates as I descended the south stair. The boot steps stopped, and soft voices replaced them. I reached the end of the hall to find the earl and Gorgon no more than ten feet into the great hall backing away from an embrace.
It was still in the dark of pre-dawn, and torchlight splashed around the front entry. In the shadows, the earl’s chair stood expectantly on the dais, an ermine robe over an arm, as though awaiting its new lord. A cool breeze fluttered through the room and down the hall.
A familiar purple and red bite mark on the earl’s neck, just under his ear, jumped out at me. The sight of little Paul Simpson’s battered body flooded into my mind.
I jerked, unable to believe my eyes. This lord of the realm wore the wound like a badge. He twisted his head away to demonstrate this perversion, his adoring gaze held solidly on Gorgon. He bowed to him, yielding and subservient.
I edged into an alcove and closed my eyes in sick understanding. Revulsion rose like gorge in my throat. It was not only boys Gorgon used, but men. And I had now seen what Countess Marie Louise had experienced. The earl’s behavior was a stupor-like trance, as though he were in thrall to Gorgon, his lover. This aberrant relationship explained everything, put every travesty into context. The earl’s insistence that I marry Gorgon had been to keep Gorgon close at hand and dispose of my claim in the same act. No wonder he had interfered in Gorgon’s attempt to rape me. This unnatural alliance made all else moot.
The cool stone of the alcove roused me from my untimely introspection. To be caught now would mean my life. Their secret had been kept with poison all these years, and they had planned my demise in a similar manner.
The earl departed with a sizable guard. Gorgon’s delay in leaving was a pretense, I was certain. Even if he did follow, I would not go with him.
Gorgon’s boots clonked up the great stair, and I raced back the way I had come. With the earl gone, I now had to find Thomas. I woke Mrs. Deane, but she had not seen him.
“That young man’s newfound obsession with wine will be the death of him,” she railed, sitting up in her bed.
I raced to the wine cellar and there he was, drunk, huddled in the dark coolness of the far corner behind the last tall wine rack, crooning to himself. I approached and glanced down at the pathetic wreck. How could he have been a problem, other than his obnoxious ways? Besides, Gorgon had gone out of his way to shelter him. A pretext, apparently. But for what?
“Come out of there.”
He smiled sheepishly and worked his way to his feet. He stepped out and swayed into me.
“You need me,” he slurred, leaning drunkenly into my face, his breath rancid with wine.
“I have come to warn you.” I pushed him out of my immediate proximity. “You must leave. Soon. Eat no food, take no drink.”
“What? Why not?”
“Gorgon plans to poison you. I overheard him discussing his plans with the earl, who has left Tor House.”
“Humph. It’s not the earl I hide from. Gorgon pinches and gouges me cruelly. Now he wants me gone, too. Is that it?”
“Essentially. What reason did Gorgon give you for coming to your defense in June?”
“He gave me none. And what did you do to him just lately? He seems fascinated, yet afraid of you. I have never seen him scared of anyone or anything.”
“Um.” I raised my chin in haughty innocence. “I played a little trick on him.”
“I asked him what was wrong and he acted as though I had caught him in some heinous act.”
Though I thought I had lost the ability, I smiled broadly.
He frowned. “Gorgon did recently advise me my confidence would no longer be required. I am not sure what he intends, and so your suggestion is not out of line in the least. The last boys he had brought in did not last more than two or three sessions. I want no sessions, if that is his plan.” He slapped his hand over his mouth and shot me a look of utmost horror, his face suddenly pale. “You do know about Gorgon’s boys, don’t you?” he mumbled from behind his hand.
“Yes. A despicable thing.” I sighed, wondering if he knew about the earl.
He attempted to stretch an arm, his old expression of self-satisfaction, but lost his balance and barely caught himself on the wine rack. It rocked alarmingly, but finally settled back into place.
“Poison, you say?” He gave me a flat, level-eyed stare.
“We must depose him and send him away naked,” I spluttered. Anger rose quickly to the surface of my thoughts and to my blazing face. I had to take a chance on Thomas.
“Easier said than done with Edward Gorgon,” he said, weaving before me.
“We must meet with Captain Wallace and devise a plan. Will you join us?”
“Ah, Wallace. Gorgon has been hot to get his hands on him. You have him hidden away, do you?”
“After what I just heard, you need to join him.”
“Right you are, although I have a few things I must do first.”
Like a washerwoman, I put a hand on my hip and frowned.
“I will only eat from the hand of Mrs. Deane.” He raised his hands in mock defense. “Does that satisfy you? The staff and the house guard will help us in any way they can.”
“Yes, I know. I recruited them some time ago. If Tor House is truly lost, as the earl suggests, we must find a way to take over.” I paced up between the racks and back to where Thomas still stood, and pointed a forefinger at him. “You must know from the beginning that holding Tor House is probably a lost cause.” And I described the recent battle and the threat to tear down the house.
“Then why don’t we just run away?” he cried, his dark eyes wild with fear.
“I will not.” I frowned at him, surprised he was so ready to run. “I will fight for what is mine.”
“Tor House is nothing but a pile of stone,” he shrieked.
“It is my pile of stone,” I shot back at him.
“All right. All right.” He raised a palm as a peace offering. “But there is one place, or rather one people, that we must avoid.”
“The isle?”
“No. Duncan and his ilk.”
“What?” I asked with a weak laugh, overcome by shock, anger, and now the incomprehensible. “Are you speaking of Annie?”
“She is part of it. Do you remember the tales we used to hear of the thieving MacGregor Clan when we were young? How vicious they are, and that they could well attack us here, in our own land?”
I nodded, knowing where this line of reasoning had to lead. The wine rack was close by. I leaned heavily into it.
“By fire and sword, they take what they want. They murder, rape, and maim at will. That brutal clan has long been outlawed by their own people. And still they raid, kill, and burn. Even into England. You know this.” His voice rose into the high octave that fear lent him. “This untamed barbarity is what lies at Duncan’s h
eart. His name is not Comrie. If he lives, you must reject him, for he is no more and no less than a deceitful, blackguard MacGregor awaiting his chance.”
Killing is what I do best. Duncan’s own words.
Dead or alive, he had been my last haven. To lose that . . .
“Do you understand me?” Thomas demanded, his face distorted, eyes protruding like plums about to burst.
I was too numb to so much as nod. If not Duncan, who could I turn to?
Chapter Twenty-One
The house I so willingly sacrificed for remained close around me. Yet I did not feel secure. My father had taught me that our safety could be gauged by how thick we made our walls. But now, the reason in that statement haunted me, for my life had become a living nightmare. I was trapped within my own fortification.
After four days of avoiding the warden’s presence, I entered the gallery to find my favorite footman dead at Gorgon’s feet. This was not the first such stain on the Turkish carpet. Sudden, unspeakable death, yet again, contaminating my home.
My stomach lurched at the metallic smell of Dawson’s blood, baking in the afternoon heat.
Gorgon had turned away from this horrid act and embraced Thomas, who stood in a rigid state of terror. The warden’s head moved up and back, licking at his victim’s neck. A chapped hand snaked around and squeezed a buttock.
“What are you doing?” I asked in severe umbrage.
Gorgon released him. Thomas whimpered, his breath coming in gasps. He grasped an open bottle of wine off the table.
“What I would prefer to be doing to you.” Gorgon turned toward me with a smirk.
“And Dawson?” I shook with fury. “Your sword is still bloody, Warden.”
“He displeased me.” He waved a hand, as though neither Dawson’s death nor the bloodied sword were of any importance. “On the other hand, Thomas has brought spectacular news.”
“For this you attack him?”
“Attack? Not at all. I merely wish to introduce him to another form of appreciation.”
It was perversion run amok, as Thomas had feared. Not even he, who had served Gorgon well, was safe.
“Get away from him.” Something snapped within me. I could bear it no longer. “In fact, get out of this house.”
“Ah.” His eyebrows shot up, and he raised a finger. He strolled toward me. “But you cannot force me, can you?”
My mouth worked, but what could I say? It had only been a matter of time before he realized my helplessness.
“I suspected as much. Your powers are limited to the mad tower, are they not? Ah ha. See? I know your secret. What is it that you found there?”
“A ghost who will not tolerate you,” I answered in a level voice.
“A ghost, you say?” He leaned toward me ominously. “Yes, I witnessed such a thing, but it is the tower itself that is the power, is it not? My mother told me of such things. Her greatest secret was a ring of standing stones that gave her similar powers, but only at that spot. You see, I do know your limits. I only wish I had realized it sooner. I could strike you dead at this moment and you could do nothing to prevent me.”
“You are mad.”
“You and your witchery no longer matter, Elena. I have made an arrangement to remain at Tor House without you.”
“That is your spectacular news?” I asked, edging away from him. “It hardly surprises me. Will it be poison or a sword?”
“Neither of those, actually.”
Thomas chose that moment to break away with his bottle, stride quickly past me, and out the double doors. I sketched a curtsey and followed.
We fled through the hallways, Gorgon’s laughter echoing at our heels. He could not be dealt with, or controlled. He would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Life at Tor House had become indefensible, my safety and the safety of my friends at mortal risk.
Agony clawed its way up my throat. There was no one, certainly not Duncan, to champion me now. Even Thomas ran for his life, well ahead of me in the south hall.
We hid in my rooms, all of us, Thomas a nervous disaster. He paced constantly around the room, guzzled wine and tore at his fingernails.
Annie primped dispassionately at the dressing table.
At the table beside the door, the same table where I had destroyed Gorgon’s left arm, Peg brushed her hair in slow, despondent strokes. I sat beside her and rubbed at my cuticles in anxious silence
“He amazes me,” Thomas said. “He actually admitted that he enjoys killing in his lust. It serves a dual purpose, he told me, as though he were talking of what’s for dinner. His ‘affairs,’ as he calls them, tend to dispose of problems.”
“Thomas, please. There are sensitive ears here with us,” I said.
With a moody frown of disbelief, Annie surveyed us from the dressing table chair, her favorite perch. She was clothed in the yellow gown I had first seen her in, its new lace provocatively cupping her bulging breasts. She was beyond listening to anything Peg or I had to say about her appearance.
Thomas strode over to the window and pushed it open. It squealed, as it always did when fully extended. I turned toward him, to chide him for forcing it. At that moment, the sun’s lowering rays flared on his red satin doublet, encasing him in flame. I blinked and the image was gone.
Afraid to leave my room, I forced myself to remain in my rigid chair at the table. Prepared to do what I must, I had laid the charged pistol on the surface before me. One mere weapon, a single ball, to counter Gorgon’s overwhelming threat. I would have to be certain of any shot I attempted.
A hesitant knock sounded.
None of us had eaten. Hungry eyes moved to the closed entry in hopes of dinner from the kitchen, but the door opened on an ancient, quivering footman.
Gorgon would not have bothered to knock.
“The lord warden demands everyone’s presence in the great hall to greet our defenders,” the wavering voice announced.
“Our defenders?”
“His words, my lady.”
“Is he alone?”
“At the moment, yes. But he appears to expect someone.” The footman fled into the dark turning of the east hallway, apparently unwilling to speak further.
“It is an excuse to put us in his power,” Thomas cried. He bit at his lip in indecision.
“Perhaps. But what ‘defenders’ would come here?”
“Rupert.” Peg stood so fast her brush clattered to the floor, and her chair toppled over.
“We must stay here,” Thomas insisted. “It could be Fairfax.”
“The Parliamentary general?” I asked in utter surprise.
“Yes,” he finally squeaked when his voice would work.
“You are overwrought.”
“Ye black-hearted villain,” Peg yelled, her cheek bones blazing red. “What have ye done?”
Thomas grimaced and looked to me for support.
“Take my pistol,” I said to him. “It is charged. Stay here for now, but when you can do it safely, ride to the Sheffington Road, to the old cottar’s hut within the first large stand of trees on your left. You will find Wallace there. Stay with him. We must make a plan to dispose of Gorgon and we must do it now. I will follow as soon as I can get away.”
My words trusted Thomas with Wallace’s life, yet Thomas had no choice. Nor did I.
“The rest of us must chance it,” I went on, “for, if he lives, it could be the prince who has arrived.” And Duncan. Though I was unsure how I would react to my cavalier lover, knowing now his disgraced, murderous heritage.
I had not discussed the MacGregor name with Annie, nor would I. Her attitude had blossomed initially under my guidance, but just lately had taken a sudden turn into a viciousness I did not understand.
In unseemly haste, she pushed Peg aside and led the way out the door. Her hair neatly pinned up at the back of her head, her pouted lips were red with rouge and her face flushed, as though she expected to meet the love of her life.
Gorgon would not say who he
expected and forced the three of us into a short greeting line just inside the wide entrance, refusing to meet his guest out on the steps, as was customary.
“Welcome, great prince,” Gorgon murmured, as tall, dust-covered Prince Rupert pushed his way insolently through the entry doors.
“Oh, thank ye, God,” Peg whispered fervently beside me.
Relief left me weak in the knees. I clasped my hands against my chest and squeezed my eyes shut in thankfulness. This man’s very presence meant that the most crucial piece of my vision had been circumvented.
Rupert looked Gorgon up and down as though he were an out of place footman. A deep scratch flared across his chin, but he appeared otherwise unscathed, his dignity unimpaired. He wore his habitual red cloak, though there was no sight of the color behind him, among his men, who slowly flooded in the wide doorway. There were ten travel-worn officers. One of them, sporting an orange-red mustache, stared at me in unease.
My heart soared and bumped around alarmingly within the cage of my chest.
Duncan not only lived, he had returned, and stood before me more attractive than ever, despite his clear exhaustion. He wore no armor, and the sleeve on his filthy buff coat was torn. His wide bucket boots carried entire battalions of dirt and dust, his bridle gauntlet was missing, and his dirt-smeared, featherless hat was pushed down over long russet locks that fell below his shoulders. He gave me a small, stiff nod.
My face went hot and my stomach queasy. Beside me, Gorgon shifted his feet in irritation. His hatred washed over me, a warning to keep my place.
With a strong whiff of lavender, Annie pushed past me, ran to Duncan, and threw herself into his arms, that which I so ached to do. He folded his curvaceous cousin tightly into what had to be a bone-crushing embrace, then passed her to his arm, where she settled in broad-faced pleasure.
He frowned down at Annie’s cleavage, then shook his head in dismal acceptance.
I fully expected Peg to so run to the prince, but that was what my old impulsive companion would have done. She controlled herself now, though her quick smile and dark eyes flashed in anticipation.
Exile’s Bane Page 26