by Lisa Shea
“Go on,” he encouraged bitterly. The horse thundered on along the street, the buildings beside them a blur.
Ellie took a shuddering, deep breath. “I followed them, to make sure she was all right,” she cried. “I went to the room ... and ... he was in there and...” Ellie burst into racking sobs, unable to continue.
Stephen swore loudly, urging the horse to his fastest possible pace. The town raced by in a montage of stone and wood. Reaching the main steps, he leapt off the steed, with Ellie and his men close behind. He charged up the stairs and through the hall. The castle guards they passed took one look at their set faces and joined in behind. Fury and guilt swept over him as he raced down the hallway toward her door.
Lucia was so happy when he left her, playing the harp before admiring fans. How could this have happened?
Reaching the door, he held up his hand to the others and stopped to listen for a moment, his heart pounding. Maybe, just maybe, Ellie had an overactive imagination.
There was silence for a moment. Then Ian’s deep voice reverberated loud and clear through the door. “Had enough, whore?” came the shout, followed by a heavy thud. “You will learn to love me, once you are properly broken. You can count on it.”
The guards surrounding the door growled in shock and outrage. Stephen was beyond feeling anything. A single, all-consuming hatred for Ian threatened to overwhelm him. His long-time friend, his foster brother whom he had trusted with his life, was now his enemy.
Stephen yanked at the door, but it was solidly locked. He thumped on it several times, then stood back. His voice a cold flash of steel, he called loudly, “Open this door, Ian, or I swear before God, I will make you pay with your life!”
Muffled curses came from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of glass breaking. Ellie came to her senses at the sound. “This way, through my door,” called Ellie in panic. Stephen followed her quickly around through the other two rooms. He motioned for the others to stay back, then swung the door open and stepped into Lucia’s room, sword ready.
Chapter 16
Stephen’s grip on his sword weakened as he looked around Lucia’s normally white and pure room. The window was broken out, a cool breeze swirling the torn curtains into the room. Fabric, clothing, jewelry, and furniture lay scattered like leaves on the floor. Lucia’s nude body curled, unmoving, at the center of the bed, bloodstains scattered around her in a dappled spray.
Stephen called over his shoulder. “Ian is gone,” he announced tersely. “Marcus. Shawn. I want you to find him, and bring him to me.” The pair nodded and raced from the room. Stephen continued, “Ellie, get Brother Matthew.” The maid bit back a sob and hurried to obey.
The room settled into silence. Stephen carefully closed the door behind him and eased cautiously over to the bed.
Lucia’s body was layered with bruises and cuts. She lay motionless, curled up into a ball in the bed’s center, eyes closed. Heart pounding, Stephen knelt on one knee at the side of the bed and shakily brushed a stray hair from her eyes.
Lucia flinched, and Stephen let his breath out with relief. She was conscious, at least. “It is me, Lucia. It is Stephen,” he whispered soothingly. “Everything is going to be all right. Matthew is coming. Come on, Lucia, open your eyes. Everything is going to be fine.”
Every instinct within Stephen called on him to draw her into his arms, but a sharp trembling tickled along each surface of her body. Surely she was in shock, and had to be handled with the utmost of care.
“Michael, is that you?” she rasped weakly, her eyes resolutely shut.
A flare of jealousy moved through him at that; he pushed it down, carefully sliding his hand into her own.
“It is me, my love. It is Stephen. Open up your eyes, Lucia.” He stroked her hair gently with his free hand. “I am here to take care of you. Please, open your eyes.”
Her voice was tinged with delirium, an echo of her worst night fighting the poisoning. “Michael, let me go,” she pleaded softly.
Stephen let out a breath, holding her hand gently. If she was lost in a hallucination, maybe it was best to wait it out, to let it run its course.
Her voice eased out of her, half whisper. “You remember, Michael. I trusted him.” She winced. “He betrayed us all. I swore never …”
Tears slipped from her eyes, and he twined his fingers more tightly into her grasp. The words ground out of him. “Stay with me, Lucia,” he pleaded.
“… betrayed …,” she repeated, her voice barely audible. “Let me go … please …”
There was a noise behind him, and Brother Matthew stepped into the room, carrying a large leather bag.
“God’s Teeth,” he swore, drawing in the chaos of the room and Lucia’s battered body in one glance. “How badly is she hurt?” He moved forward, and Stephen stepped back to let him near.
Lucia’s eyes flew open, and she was sitting, looking around wildly. “Stephen?” she cried out in panic. “Stephen?!”
“I am here,” he vowed, dropping back at her side, easing her in against him, and she was sobbing, collapsing into him. He drew his hand shakily down her hair, soothing her, holding her bloodied body close.
He glanced up at Matthew, motioning with his head to the other side of the bed. Gently Stephen lowered her back down on the pillow, and her tremors quieted as she gazed into his eyes. After a minute Matthew was able to begin his careful examination while Stephen twined his hand into hers, stroking her hair in a soothing rhythm.
Ellie moved quietly around the room, gathered up all of the fabric and broken pottery, and ferried the items into her own room. After a while she returned with a mug of mulled wine. Stephen glanced at Matthew, and he nodded somberly, drawing the blanket up over Lucia’s body. Stephen eased her to a sitting position, and it was as if time scrolled backward, as if once again she was caught in the agony of the fever, and he was carefully bringing the mug to her lips. She drank with weary movements, and in a moment he was helping her back down again. Her eyes closed, and within minutes her grip had loosened as she faded into sleep.
Stephen brushed the hair gently from her face, gazing at her for a long minute before standing. Matthew followed him into the adjoining room. Ellie was standing before the fireplace, somberly feeding the remains of clothing and fabric into the blaze.
Matthew kept his voice low. “She is not injured seriously,” he reported in relief. “Bruised, some shallow cuts, but no broken bones. Given the blood, I would imagine Ian took quite a beating himself.”
Stephen’s muscles tensed at the image of Ian raising a fist to Lucia, of the valiant woman struggling for her life. He pushed the emotion down with an effort.
Matthew glanced between Ellie and Stephen. “Keep her quiet for tonight. No need to disturb her further right now. Tomorrow we can wash and bandage her, and see what to do next.”
Stephen nodded in agreement, and in a moment the brother had left the room. Stephen glanced back through the doorway to Lucia’s bed, but she remained motionless on it, still apparently asleep.
He lowered himself into a chair by the fire, staring into its glowing embers. He spoke to Ellie without turning. “Tell me exactly what happened,” he instructed quietly. “Every detail, from the beginning.”
Ellie nodded, settling in a slump at his feet, arms wrapped around her knees. She began from the moment Lucia had walked down into the great hall, every eye on her beauty. She reviewed every movement, every action along the way. Stephen hoped for some clue, some indication of what had happened. But when Ellie had finished, he was left with the same simmering rage, the same bafflement at the senselessness of the attack. Ian had simply assaulted Lucia with no provocation.
Stephen stood and paced across the room. If only he’d been here ... His fury grew with each step.
There was a movement by the hallway door, and Marcus stepped into the room, his eyes shadowed.
Stephen’s hand fell to his hilt. “Well?”
Marcus shook his head. “
I am sorry, Stephen. The gatekeepers let him through moments after he fled the room. The trail goes cold within a few hundred feet. We have the guards roused, but the man grew up here. He knows every rock, every stretch of stream. The chance of tracking him down -”
“I will go myself,” snapped Stephen in heat, striding toward the door.
A weak call came from the bedroom. “Stephen?”
Pain seared through his heart to hear her voice so shaken. He looked down, marshaling his emotions. Then he glanced up at Marcus. “Do the best you can.”
Marcus nodded grimly, turning and closing the door behind him.
Stephen moved quietly back into Lucia’s room. Ellie had done a good job of cleaning it; it looked almost normal, almost as if the chaos had not happened. The alabaster coverlet hid the blood, hid the damage inflicted on Lucia’s body.
He lowered himself into the chair at her side, easing a hand along her cheek.
“What is it, my love?”
There was fear now in her eyes, and a wave of anger passed through him. How could Ian have done this to her? He fought it down with effort.
“I wanted to talk with you, Stephen,” she muttered uncertainly. “Did you have to go somewhere? I cannot sleep ...” She looked uncertainly into his eyes.
“I will never leave you again, my love,” he vowed fiercely. “I will not let anything hurt you.” He gently cupped the side of her bruised face with his hand. “It is going to be all right.” He wasn’t sure who he was reassuring.
“When he pushed me into the room,” explained Lucia hesitantly, “I was so afraid ... I was not sure what to do. He was my friend; I did not want to hurt him. I thought I was misreading his intentions. And then he pushed me, and pulled at my dress, and...” Lucia turned her face to Stephen’s chest and sobbed quietly. He held her, saying nothing. There was nothing for him to say.
After a few minutes, Lucia slowed her breathing. She took some deep breaths and tried again. “I do not know why I could not fight him,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. “If it was anyone else, if it was a Gray, or a bandit, I am sure I could have grabbed a weapon from somewhere. A poker from the fireplace, a candlestick from the table. But I just could not think. I could not act. I did not want to hurt him.”
She gulped softly and her eyes held the rawest of pain. Her voice was a shadow of a whisper. “Does that mean I somehow ... wanted it?”
Stephen held her face gently with his hand, and raised her chin so she looked directly into his eyes. “Now listen to me,” he instructed with firm resolve. “You thought he was a friend, and he betrayed you. His actions were wrong, and they were not, I repeat not, your fault. You are not to blame for this. You are not to blame.”
She shivered, the tremor running full down her length. He pulled her closer, still looking down at her. “You went to the ball weaponless because you trusted us. You stayed alone with him because he was your friend.” His eyes darkened. “He, and he alone, will pay grievously for this crime he has committed.” He pulled Lucia close again, holding her as the sobs swelled and overtook her.
* * *
Lucia eased her eyes open against the dense night. The oil lamp glowed from the side table, embers flickered in the fireplace, and Stephen’s dark eyes were full on her, shadowed and serious.
Was she still fighting the poison? Her body ached as if a thousand demons had battered her, and she could taste blood in her mouth.
“I am here,” he murmured to her, gently brushing the side of her face. “You should rest.”
She nodded, blinking, allowing her heavy eyelids to fall shut again.
* * *
A hesitant knocking sounded on the door, and Lucia opened her eyes a slit. It was barely dawn; a cool, grey light streamed in through the window. Stephen glanced down at her, then reluctantly rose, moving over to the door and sliding the bar free. He drew the door open, and Anna eased in, her face pale and frightened.
“Oh, Stephen, is it true?” she whispered, peering around him to look toward the bed.
Lucia remained still, feigning sleep, unwilling to be drawn into conversation. Not now, not when it was all still a jumble of confusion in her head. Anna was Ian’s cousin, after all. Lucia was the stranger here, the intruder in their world.
She heard Stephen guide Anna over to the chair by the window, heard them talking in a low tone. It sounded intimate.
A flush of jealousy washed through her. The two had been engaged, after all. And now that Ian had turned her into damaged goods …
Lucia nuzzled down deeper into the blankets, muffling the sounds of the room, blocking the sight of the people in it.
He would no longer want her.
The certainty of it grew within her with every passing breath. She had to get away.
It came to her suddenly that she was getting away. Today was the date of her departure to Harwich. A sense of relief flooded over her. She could put everything behind her. She could start with a completely clean slate.
There was a mumble of voices from the other room, and Matthew stepped in. Stephen eased Anna into the adjoining area, and an emptiness slid into Lucia’s heart as she watched them go. She turned her focus inward, watching with attention as Matthew carefully cleaned her wounds and bandaged them. The damage was not serious. She would heal. In a short while he was moving back into the other room, closing the door behind him. The murmur of voices grew again.
Lucia could imagine Anna’s pale face, envision Stephen’s sturdy arm wrapping around the blonde to support her. Her face hardened. Best she leave them both here to get through their grief. She took in a deep breath, then pushed the blankets off her, looking again down at her bandaged body.
The north was no place for the frail.
It was time for her to get into motion.
She pushed herself to her feet, moving to the dresser. She carefully eased on her pants, her tunic, drawing on her traveling gear, falling into the familiar routine. She pulled on her boots, then brushed her hair out, weaving it into a long, simple plait. She turned to fasten the copper pin …
The twisting motion sent a sharp, agonizing pain through her side, and she moaned, staggering back against the bed with a hard thunk.
The connecting door flew open, and Stephen was striding in, his hand on his hilt, glancing around sharply. His mouth opened to speak, and then something in her eyes made him stop. His gaze shadowed.
Lucia pushed herself up from the bed with an effort, turning again to fasten the plait with the pin. Then she brought her gaze around to look over Stephen. His sturdy shoulders, the lean muscles, the dark brown eyes, all called to her with a haunting draw.
She shook her head, looking down at her sword belt. If he still chose to come on the trip with her, it would be as a bodyguard, nothing more.
Lucia focused her effort on keeping her voice absolutely even. “We had plans to leave this afternoon. I intend to depart on schedule. I have nothing to keep me here.”
She glanced up to hold him with her gaze. “Lord Edmund promised me six men as an escort. Do I still have them?”
She stood still, waiting for his answer. She knew in her heart that she could not remain within these walls for another night. She would go on with or without his help.
Stephen took a deep breath, then let it out, nodding. “If you are up to the trip, you will have the assistance agreed on,” he replied quietly. “When do you want to leave?”
“Immediately.”
Every fiber in her body craved to know if he would now remain behind with Anna, if the place at her side would remain empty. A hollowness swelled within her, threatening to overwhelm her.
His gaze sharpened, holding her eyes. His voice was raw. “Lucia?”
Her throat tightened, and her eyes dropped to the hilt at his side, to the sturdy hand which still rested on it. “Will -”
She cut herself off. She would not plead for him to come.
His eyes followed hers, and there was an easing to his tenseness, a g
entling to his eyes. “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. “I will go with you, and remain at your side.”
A flickering of light glimmered in the darkness within her, the most hesitant glow.
Lucia looked over herself. She was ready for the trip. She glanced over at the door – and suddenly she found herself frozen with fear.
He could be waiting on the other side.
He would be laughing at her, trumpeting his victory over her, wondering in a boastful laugh if she were ready for another round.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she could not move.
Stephen gave a low groan, and he took a half step toward her before reining himself in. When he spoke, his voice was a low growl.
“You are safe,” he informed her. “Ian has fled. He is long gone. He has not only left this keep, but we cannot find him anywhere within the borders of his father’s land.”
Lucia breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Ian was not here.
She would not have to face him. She could leave unhindered, and head south, south, until Michael drew her into his arms and told her everything would be all right.
Nodding, she willed her feet into motion, the right, then the left, and pulled open the door.
Chapter 17
Lucia’s shoulders eased as Stephen and Marcus led the group beneath the main gates of the keep and turned south toward the main road. The late March weather was warm, with clear skies and a gentle breeze. With luck, even at the slow pace they would keep to nurse her injuries along, they would make it to Harwich within three weeks. And then she would be back with Michael, back with her beloved friends, and everything would return to normal.
Niggling thoughts danced at the corner of her awareness, thoughts of what had happened the previous night, but she resolutely prevented them from coming into view. That was in the past. Her only concern right now was maintaining her seat in Troy’s saddle, watching for potholes in the road, and checking on her bandages occasionally to ensure all of her various wounds and injuries were healing properly.