The first time Solace had set foot in the room and seen lord Randol’s image hanging on the wall, a wave of nausea and a prickling of fear had washed over her. But she had been determined not to let these feelings get the best of her. She would not let lord Randol scare her again. She was not a child any longer. It had taken her a long time to conquer her fear. And she was not about to take a giant step backward.
Solace placed a hand to her chest, willing her pounding heart to slow. She was hearing things. She didn’t believe in ghosts, or she would be afraid that the specter of lord Randol would appear before her, demanding retribution for the loss of his castle. Stubbornly, Solace returned, albeit a bit hesitantly, to the window. Her ears were now finely tuned to every sound, every odd creak. But there was nothing. Only the dead air of silence. She laughed silently. Ghosts, she thought, forcing herself to relax.
Then, she heard a rustle and something swept past her shoulders. She whirled, stepping away from the window, demanding, “Who’s there?”
Silence answered her. The paintings stared at her with judging eyes, and a chill ran up her spine. She took a step back toward the window, reaching toward the ledge with her hand. But it wasn’t the cold stone she touched -- it was warm skin!
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER TEN
Solace whirled, stifling a scream, to find the falconer standing before her. The light of the window cascaded over his head, outlining him in a bright yellow halo. Solace blinked and stepped back, gasping. With her movement, the sun hit his shoulders instead of his head, wiping away the angelic illusion.
He stepped toward her and she moved back. The look in his mercury eyes was hungry and dangerous. “You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said in a quiet voice.
She backed away from him. But he still approached, and there was something predatory in his movement, in his eyes, that frightened her.
“It’s dangerous,” he added.
His voice rang in her ears, a warning. She backed into a plate of armor and it jangled.
Logan’s arm shot out and Solace winced, but he didn’t touch her. He placed his hand against the armor, stopping its precarious swaying. His gaze slid to hers.
His arm, so close to her shoulder, was strong, and warmth flooded her. She raised her chin in defiance of both her feelings and of him. “Are you threatening me?”
“Should I be?”
She swallowed and her gaze lowered to his lips. Then, embarrassed, she looked at his eyes again. There was just a faint glimmer of laughter there, and she scowled at him, wanting to wipe away that smug look. She mustered her courage to retort, “I still want to know what a falconer is doing with a sword.”
It worked. Too well.
A dark look clouded his eyes. He leaned closer to her and Solace could feel his breath fan her lips. “It was a gift,” he answered. “From a very special person.”
“Who are you?” she asked softly.
“Logan,” he replied.
Solace’s heart pounded, her eyes captivated by the way his lips caressed the word. “Logan,” she repeated dully through the haze of fog that enveloped her. Her gaze shifted to his silver eyes, eyes the color of glinted steel. She could smell the thick scent of leather and something musky and... masculine. Even though their bodies weren’t touching, she could feel the strength emanating from him, the power. She wanted him to touch her, wanted to feel his fingers on her skin, his lips on hers. The thought frightened her, and she pulled away with such force her head smacked the plate armor behind her. Even with Logan’s hand on it, it swung backward.
Suddenly, she was swept into his arms, and he turned his back to the suit of mail as it lurched forward, clutching her in his embrace and hunching his shoulders to protect her.
The suit of armor toppled around them, crashing to the floor. Solace hid behind Logan for a long moment after the noise had ceased. Then, realizing what had happened, she lifted her head. His arms were still around her, a fact that was strangely reassuring. But it was in his eyes she found true comfort. There was something tender and caring deep within his orbs, and for a moment Solace thought it was worry as his gaze swept her face, looking for something. So intensely did they search that she believed he could see into her very soul, see the reason why she still clung to him, see the reason for the ease with which her body lay against his.
Embarrassed, she looked away. The scattered pieces of plate mail on the floor caught her attention, and she lowered her eyes to the fallen shield. Blue and gold reflected up at her in the sun’s bright light. There was a crest upon the shield, but before she could look at it, Logan’s hand was at the nape of her neck, turning her head toward his. His lips descended over hers, desperately, warming hers with his, igniting a fire so hot it threatened to consume her. She clung to him as if he were her only hope at salvation. She tilted her head to his in an innocent mixture of curiosity and relinquishment. His desperation turned into a slow seduction as he gently coaxed her mouth to open to him with gentle touches of his lips and tongue against her soft skin.
She tentatively parted her lips for him, and he urged them wider, entering her mouth with his tongue, exploring the soft recesses. A groan escaped her lips, and she leaned fully against his strong, hard body.
Logan broke the kiss, pulling back slightly. “You shouldn’t be here alone,” he repeated.
His body was pressed against hers, and his arms were still securely around her, binding her to him. Solace stared at him through half-opened eyes. She felt she was floating, caught in a foggy dream.
“It’s dangerous,” he whispered.
Dangerous, her groggy mind repeated. Her gaze settled on his lips, wanting more of the sensual delight they aroused in her. Only then did she realize the grin on his lips was not a lazy smile of pleasure, but rather a taunting smirk of arrogance. Dangerous. She suddenly straightened in indignation. He was teaching her a lesson!
She lurched away from him, almost stumbling in her hurry to escape him, his mocking tone still stinging her ears. She tripped and almost fell over a piece of the fallen armor, but quickly righted herself and fled the room.
***
Logan watched her go, feeling a sudden chill as the warmth of her body abandoned him. Desperation had forced him to kiss her. But as the kiss had deepened, his desperation had turned easily to passion. Perhaps too easily. Her lips had been so soft, her skin so hot. She had been so willing!
Logan cursed silently, forcing the unwelcome feelings from his body. He glanced down at the floor where the fallen armor was scattered, his eyes immediately drawn to the shield. The blue and gold of the insignia shone hotly in the sunlight. On its surface was a full moon overlain with two crossed swords. If Solace had seen the shield, he was sure she would have figured out who he was. She had seen the same crest inscribed on his sword.
Logan picked up the shield. He couldn’t take it back to his room. He could barely hide the sword there. His eyes scanned the hall. There had to be somewhere to hide it.
Then, his gaze came to rest on a rich, detailed tapestry that lined one of the stone walls.
***
With a flick of his wrist, the dagger expertly carved out the last strand of hair on the piece of wood. But it was other hair Logan was imagining. Hair that looked as dark and rich as mahogany. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He hadn’t meant to hold her so close. But she had been standing just below a picture of his great-great grandfather. The suit of armor she had knocked over had been his father’s.
And the crest on his sword matched the crest on the shield. It was the only way he could think of to distract her. But he had not really been thinking. He had just acted. So often in the past his instincts had saved his life. How could they have been so wrong this time?
How could he have kissed his enemy? He had to find Peter. He needed to gain her confidence. He needed to befriend her.
He needed to get her into bed.
The thought made him grin. He had thought she was untried, a virgin. B
ut then he had seen that man kiss her cheek in the hallway. It had enraged him that she had not even blanched when she’d accepted the kiss. Then, she let him kiss her, not even protesting when he had violated her mouth... She was no virgin. She was a harlot like her sister.
He would savor the seduction. How better to get revenge than to present Farindale with a daughter fat with his babe. And while he was at it, he would find out where his brother was. The problem was, he had been exceedingly cruel to her when he had broken the kiss. It had been days since he had last seen her.
He studied his carving with a satisfaction before nodding and rising. He opened the door to his small room and discovered it was raining lightly. By the looks of the saturated ground and the dark sky in the distance, there had just been a downpour. He had been so absorbed in his carving that he had not even heard it. The bird squawked in protest and ruffled his feathers, but remained seated on his shoulder. Logan paid it little attention as he walked out of his room.
Old Ben strolled up to him. “Yer falcon’s gonna catch his death if ya bring him out in this rain.”
Logan grunted. He believed the damned bird would live through anything.
“Well, then don’t pay a word of attention ta what I say. I’ve only spent me whole life attending to these falcons,” the old man exclaimed. “I know ‘im like the back of me hand. And I know the back of me hand well.”
Logan strolled away, moving past the mews toward the courtyard.
“Don’t spend the day walkin’. I want yer help with the mending of the mews. Now don’t ferget!”
Old Ben’s voice faded as Logan walked through the ward. His eyes swept the courtyard for Mary, but there was no sign of the small girl. She loved the birds and often visited, annoying Old Ben. But Logan could tell that secretly Old Ben liked the attention and her constant chattering. She had immediately endeared herself to Logan by bringing him a blanket on his first night at Castle Fulton, knowing the mews were cold.
Busy peasants rushed about to secure their animals. Above the shouts of the villagers and the light pelting of rain, he heard laughter. Frowning at the inappropriate sound, he followed it to the side of the keep. A girl squealed in delight. He peeked around the corner and was shocked at the sight. There, right beside the candle shop, Mary stood laughing. Beside her, Solace stared at the sky, a smile on her face. Both were pressed up against the workshop for shelter, both soaked through to the skin, as if they had been in the brunt of the storm.
Then, suddenly, his falcon took flight just as the skies opened, sending down a new shower of rain that soaked Logan. Solace took Mary’s hand and they both dashed out into the onslaught of rain. Logan watched them with amused eyes as they turned round and round, their mouths open and raised to the sky. He watched Solace’s face glow with joy, a smile curving her shapely lips. Her dark hair trailed down her back in long, wet strands.
Her drenched velvet houppelande hung heavily on her, accenting her every curve, every move she made.
Solace continued to twirl round in the rain, spinning in joyful abandon. He remembered those carefree days, even though they had been so long ago. And something inside of him longed to return to them. He found himself lost in her happiness. The joy on her face almost touched his soul. He wanted to reach out to her, to feel just an inkling of the abandon she felt.
But he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. He had once felt that kind of freedom, and it had cost him everything he held dear. Everything he loved.
He didn’t want any part of it. Not at that price.
Logan turned to go. But he couldn’t resist one last glance at Solace and those brilliant green eyes that sparkled with happiness. The wet garment clung to her shapely hips like skin, the weight of it pulling her skirt until the bodice was conforming tightly to her shapely breasts.
Longing surged inside him and Logan turned quickly away, clutching the wood carving tightly in his hand. His steps were long and purposeful as he returned to the mews. Drops of rain slid down his head and under the tunic he wore, soaking his skin. He would give the doll to Mary another time. When Solace wasn’t there.
He knew he should talk to Solace, should tell her their kiss was a mistake. But he couldn’t.
And now, when his brother should be filling his thoughts, he found his mind occupied by Solace instead. She was becoming too much of a distraction. He had to cleanse his mind of her. He had to put her out of his thoughts.
Logan closed his eyes tightly and sighed, relaxing his body. There had to be someone else in this blasted castle who had seen Peter, or knew of him. Perhaps it was time to ask Old Ben. But the old man didn’t trust him now; he would trust him even less if he knew he was searching for someone.
Right now, it seemed, Solace was his only means to finding Peter. But he had to see her for what she was -- an enemy with information he needed. He should just capture her, interrogate her and...
“...She needs to be taken care of now,” a woman’s voice insisted in a barely discernible whisper.
Logan stopped in the middle of the falcon-training ground, in the area bordered by the kennels on one side and the crossbow makers on the other. Something familiar about the woman’s voice made him pause.
“What difference does it make if it’s today or tomorrow or next week? The siege is going on,” a man replied in the same hushed tone.
“We don’t know when he’ll return,” the woman answered.
Logan took a step closer to the kennel, searching for the owners of the voices. They must be in the kennels beside the mews. A rendezvous, perhaps, he thought. Or a plot unfolding. Either way, it didn’t concern him.
“I want Solace disposed of,” the woman said.
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Logan froze. He didn’t move, afraid the conspirators would hear him. Solace? he wondered silently, his heart missing a beat. Perhaps he hadn’t heard right.
“And how do you suppose I go about it, my dear?” the man asked. “Poison?”
“Too suspicious.”
“Push her off a walkway?”
“You might be seen.”
There was a long, quiet moment in which Logan shifted his stance slightly, moving closer to the open window, easing himself into the shadows of the kennel. When the silence stretched, he thought they had moved on.
But then the woman’s icy voice came to him. “No. Slit her throat. There’s a killer in the castle. Everyone will blame him.”
A chill went through Logan’s body. Who is this woman? he wondered. And why does she hate Solace so much?
“You are a genius,” the man cooed.
Logan pressed himself against the kennels, tilting his head toward the window. But the voices didn’t continue. He heard the rustling of clothing, movement.
Logan realized they were heading out the door. He looked in the window to see two dogs sleeping on beds of straw, the room otherwise empty. His gaze was drawn to the door as it slowly swung closed. He whirled and raced around the corner of the building, bursting into the courtyard.
The crowd in the courtyard was thick and buzzing with activity. Now that the rain had cleared, there was much to do. Silently Logan cursed. He scanned the courtyard, his gaze darting this way and that, searching desperately for the man and woman. A fat merchant met his gaze while strolling past him with a sack of grain. Another man crossed the yard with an arm full of arrows. A peasant herded his chickens by Logan. A woman shouted, drawing his attention to a spilled basin of water and laundry. Dozens of people hurried around him, busy with their various tasks. It was impossible to tell who the voices belonged to.
Logan cursed again. He had to protect Solace. He couldn’t let her be hurt. Not when she knew where his brother was. But how could he watch her every moment of every day? He would have to warn her.
***
Solace descended the stairs slowly with a torch in one hand, a bowl in the other. The stairs were so dark she could not see her feet, let alone the steps descendin
g into the murky blackness. When she reached the bottom, the small circle of light that engulfed her washed over the wooden door of the storage room. She reached for the handle and pushed the door open. The torchlight fell over crates and bags. Solace stepped into the room, moving toward the bags she knew held the salt. She placed the torch in the sconce on the wall and carefully opened the bag.
A ball of fur rubbed against her leg, and she looked down. She was greeted by a loud caterwaul. Solace bent down to the cat and stroked her soft hair, murmuring, “Pudding. What are you doing in here?” She sighed slightly, scooping the cat into her arms. “How long have you been locked in here this time?” The cat’s soft rumble of contentment was her only answer. Solace grinned and rubbed her face against Pudding’s fur. “Oh, Pudding. If you’re not careful you’ll get trapped in here for too long.”
“If I were a cat would you show me that kind of affection?”
The voice startled her, and she almost dropped Pudding as she whirled. Logan lounged against the open doorway. His form seemed to fill the entrance. She couldn’t help but let her gaze roam over his strong physique.
She hadn’t seen him for days. She was purposely avoiding him after being so humiliated. But now, seeing him standing there like some dark god, she felt her body come alive. Dangerously alive. She held Pudding tightly against her chest like a shield. Finally, she caught her breath enough to retort, “If you were a cat, I’d throw you to the dogs.” She turned her back to him, trying to hide her body’s response to his presence.
She heard his soft rumble of laughter. “I don’t think you’d hurt any animal like that,” he said.
He was suddenly standing behind her. She could feel him there, without even looking. Her body became warm and flushed, and she wanted him to touch her, even though he had cast her aside like an old blanket.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked, reaching around her to flick the bowl she had rested on the bag of salt.
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