Rowena’s horrified gaze went to the man who answered, “Were you? Then perhaps I should not have been so hasty.” It was quite clear that in spite of his words he had no regret at having killed the other two, for his cold gray gaze swept their bodies with complete unconcern. “I shall be happy to relieve you of the trouble,” he added coolly, as his hate-filled eyes ran over Christian, who sat tall and proud on his horse in spite of his bound state.
“Surely, sir.” Fowler pushed Rowena to the ground. She stumbled, righting herself immediately, and turned to run, though her legs were shaking with fear.
Sir Fredrick caught her up easily, jerking her across the saddle in front of him. Rowena struggled, and he slapped the flat of his sword over her backside.
“God rot you.” Christian’s voice drew her gaze, and she saw that his eyes were also filled with hatred as he watched Sir Fredrick. “You don’t want the woman. She is nothing to you.”
Sir Fredrick smiled. “You are correct in that she is nothing to me. But her clear value to you precludes my setting her free. Gilbert.” He motioned to one of his soldiers, who jumped down and came to take her.
She realized that further struggle was useless, thus Rowena submitted as he lifted her onto his horse and climbed up behind her. She did not wish to be placed facedown across Sir Fredrick’s lap once more.
Christian spoke in a voice so filled with hate that it made the hairs stand up along her spine. “If you harm her, I will kill you. And if I die in the process, Simon and Jarrod will hunt you to the ends of the earth.”
Sir Fredrick laughed. “Jarrod, the half-heathen whelp. He’s weak. He had me right in his hands and let me go.”
“Jarrod is not weak. What he granted you was mercy, something you have never given another in your life. But you will not be so fortunate a second time.”
Rowena felt a chill run down her spine at the ice in Christian’s voice, and thought she saw a brief glimmer of uncertainty in Sir Fredrick’s gray gaze. But it was gone so quickly she was not sure.
He ordered roughly, “To Dragonwick.” They started off, leaving the fallen men where they lay.
Rowena suddenly felt a new wave of anxiety wash over her. At Dragonwick dwelt the man who had murdered his own brother and a helpless child. A man who would kill her without compunction if he had the least reason to believe she was a threat to him.
She was not sure that Christian, determined as he was to protect her, could conquer these men alone. Her anxiety was not lessened when Fowler was forced to reveal his true plan to ransom them to Simon.
They were taken to Dragonwick Castle, but Rowena’s fear and anxiety kept her from clearly noting her surroundings. She had an impression of bleakness and deterioration. The few castle folk she saw as they made their way through the courtyard, then the castle, seemed morose and dejected, carefully avoiding Sir Fredrick’s path.
They were taken to a large stone chamber with an enormous bed and heavy oak furnishings. For a moment Rowena thought the room was vacant, but then a man rose from the high-backed chair that sat before the fire. He seemed to lean heavily on the arms of the chair as he faced them. “Why have you intruded upon me this way?”
Sir Fredrick hurried forward, falling to one knee. “We have captured Christian Greatham and a woman, my lord Kelsey. This man—” he indicated Fowler “—and his now dead fellows had intended to ransom them to Lord Warleigh.”
“Greatham?” Lord Kelsey moved closer. When the light from the wall sconce fell across his face, Rowena had to fight to withhold a gasp.
The earl was a mere skeleton of a man, his cheeks sunken, his dark eyes burning with malevolence in a gray face. If Christian was right, this man had killed her father, and believed he had killed her. But seeing him, she felt no sense of recognition or antagonism. She felt nothing but fear of what he might do with them, for she could see that he was indeed a man capable of great ill. Clearly, hatred had eaten him from the inside, leaving nothing but a brittle shell.
As he made a harsh gasping sound and moved toward them, a sharp fit of coughing took him.
Sir Fredrick rose and reached out to hold him upright as he crumpled. The earl continued to cough until he had no more breath and his emaciated frame seemed to fold in upon itself.
Sir Fredrick picked the sick man up with surprising gentleness and took him to the bed. Carefully he laid him down upon it.
The earl rose up weakly on one elbow. “Take them to the tower. We will see how much Warleigh is willing to give for them. Mayhap he will exchange my Isabelle for his co-conspirator.”
“Are you mad? Simon would never make such a trade.” Christian fought the hands that restrained him.
Sir Fredrick, who had moved toward them at his master’s command, slapped him full across the face with the back of his hand. Christian’s head snapped backward, but he bent forward immediately, breaking the hold of his captors as he thrust his head into the belly of the man who had hit him. Sir Fredrick staggered back, groaning with shock and obvious pain.
The guards grabbed at the rope that ran from Christian’s hands to his feet. They pulled him up short even as he moved to go after his prey once more. Bound as he was, Christian had no way of retaining his balance. He fell backward, hitting his head upon the floor, then lay still.
When the door closed behind Sir Fredrick and his men, Rowena scurried across the floor to where they had tossed Christian on a filthy pallet in the corner. “Christian! Christian!”
He groaned, straining at his bonds with all his might. To her amazement, and clearly, to Christian’s as well, they parted. The men must have loosened the rope when they pulled on it, she realized. “I thought…Are you all right?” Rowena whispered.
He reached up to rub the back of his head. “I am fine. God, what a mess I have made of things.” He reached down to untie his feet, then turned to her. “Let me free you.
When he had finished, Rowena knelt on the pallet beside him. “Don’t blame yourself for what has happened. You did warn me not to go off alone. They could never have taken me if I had been with you. Aside from that, you could not have known this would happen when you suggested we come to Dragonwick. I understand that your motives were good ones.”
He did not look at her directly as he shook his head. “No. I have interfered in things that were none of my concern. It was all a mistake from the very beginning.”
Before she could tell him that he had been right about the people of Dragonwick needing someone to care for their well-being, he vowed, “I will take you back to Scotland as soon as I can get you out of this.” His lips twisted ruefully. “If I can get you out of this. If it is Kelsey’s intention to demand Simon hand over Isabelle to gain our release, the plan will fail. Simon will never do so.” Christian struck his fist against his palm. “I should have left you in Ashcroft when you told me how you felt about nobles. I have managed to make a mess of all our lives by bringing you here.”
Rowena shrank away from him, but Christian did not seem to notice.
Her realizations about Dragonwick were irrelevant. She was not the one to change things here. She knew nothing of leading men. She had not been able to convince the one man who mattered to her that he need not live his life for others.
She could not have him take responsibility for her decisions. “You may keep your guilt. I have no need of it. I should never have come to England, but the choice was my own. The choice to go back to Scotland is my own.”
Christian stiffened, his eyes appearing haunted. “So be it.” He drew himself up. “Our only hope is escape.”
She nodded, gratefully taking his lead, for she would not discuss the matter further. “How are we to do that?”
He took a deep breath, his gaze taking in the light streaming through the cracks in the shutters that covered the only window. Rising, he went and opened them, looking out. He closed them again, turning back to her. “There is no hope of leaving by that route. We shall have to go through the keep.”
She gaz
ed at him in surprise. “Through the keep.”
“Aye, there is no other choice.”
“But how?”
“We must rely on stealth and good fortune.”
“But the guard. I heard Sir Fredrick tell one of the men to stay outside the door as he brought us here.”
Christian took a deep breath. “Let me worry on that score.” He sat down on the floor across from her. “Try to rest now. We leave under cover of night.”
Rowena did not know how much time had passed when she felt a touch upon her arm. Opening her eyes, she realized that she must have been asleep for some time, for the chamber was now shrouded in darkness.
Christian leaned close and whispered, “Please lie still until I tell you otherwise. Can you do that?”
She nodded. Then, realizing that he would not be able to see her, she whispered, “Yes.”
Christian patted her arm. “Remember now. Don’t move until I tell you.” Then he was gone.
She heard his voice from the direction of the door. “Guard! Guard! The lady is sick.”
From outside a voice answered, “What say you?”
“The lady is ill. I cannot wake her.”
The bolt grated as it was drawn. The door opened and a brawny man in mail stood in the opening, a torch blazing from a wall sconce behind him. He held his sword ready. “Bring her here.”
Christian stood back from him, offering no threat. “I am fearful of moving her.”
Slowly the man came into the room and halted. “You’ve removed your bonds!” He motioned to Christian with the sword. “Against the wall.”
Holding up his hands, Christian moved back.
The soldier moved toward Rowena. “Lady?” She made no reply, closing her eyes tightly.
“Lady?” She could feel him leaning over her.
The next thing she heard was a muffled grunt, then the man’s weight was on top of her, crushing her. Rowena’s scream of shock was lost in his chest.
The weight was lifted from her before she could even move to push him away. Christian took her hand and lifted her to her feet. “Are you all right?”
She gasped out, “Yes. I was just startled.”
He bent and took up the sword from where the guard had dropped it as he fell. “We must go now.”
With a nod, Rowena followed Christian out the open door of the tower room and into the hall. He shot the bolt home, then ran down the steps leading from the landing outside the room.
At the bottom of that flight, he hesitated, looking right then left. Rowena started to the right without thinking.
Christian came after her. Rowena led him to the stone stairway at the end of the dark hall and down the steps. At the foot a burning torch cast a dim glow over a fork in another narrow hallway. Again Rowena strode forward, taking the right fork without hesitation.
She was so very terrified that they might be caught before they would be able to make their escape from the castle that she gave this no real thought. It was not until they came to a chamber at the end of this passage that she stopped. Rowena put her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp of shock as her gaze came to rest on the crest that dominated the far wall. Yet it was not the crest, with its dragon bearing raised talons, that had frightened her, but the banner that hung above it. Slithering across its length was a serpent, its tongue extended.
Christian’s voice, harsh with excitement, whispered in her ear, “You are recognizing things!”
Rowena shook her head. “I do not know. I…” It was true. She did not know if she was recognizing anything. What she did know was that the sight of that banner filled her with a sickening horror.
He came around her to take her shoulders in a tight grip. “What is it, Rowena?” When her attention continued to be fixed on that banner, he demanded, “Look at me.”
Her gaze focused on his and he spoke more gently. “Tell me.”
“That banner. It frightens me.”
He cast a disgusted glance at it. “It is Kelsey’s. It is the banner he carried the day he attacked Dragonwick. The day he killed your father.”
Rowena shuddered as her own gaze flicked to the banner and away. She then looked into Christian’s eager eyes, raking her hair back from her brow with a trembling hand. “It proves nothing. I am…frightened of snakes.” Her eyes held his. “As you know well. It could be because of that fear.”
He shook his head. “Still you persist in this ridiculous denial of the truth. You know the twists and turns of this keep even in the dark. Does it not make more sense that the fear of snakes was brought on by what happened the day you saw this banner come to your keep?”
“I…” Again she raked a hand through her hair. Was he right? Was she simply refusing to see the truth because she was afraid, as he had insisted all along?
The very sight of that banner filled her with such revulsion and terror. Her young mind had not remembered what had occurred that day. Her body had.
Rowena looked up at him in indecision and misery. Perhaps she was also afraid because she did not know how to accomplish what must be done if she were the heir to these lands.
The loud cry that sounded from the darkness behind them stopped her from thinking further.
Christian grabbed her by the hand and started toward the opening across the chamber.
Rowena resisted. “Not that way. This way leads out.” She led him toward another door. This time she was fully conscious of the fact that somehow she knew.
Christian did not question her, but moved to lead the way. He kept his ears peeled for sounds ahead or behind them, gliding his fingers along the rough stone wall in order to mark his passage. By doing so he was able to keep up a pace that would otherwise be dangerous in such darkness.
Thus it was likely only Rowena’s voice saying, “We should be coming to a door,” that alerted him to slow down in time to keep from bumping into the portal.
Reaching out, he felt along a narrow but heavy wooden door secured by a wide iron bar. Hurriedly, he lifted the bar and pulled.
The door swung open with a soft but shrill creak.
Christian stepped out onto a narrow ledge and gazed about, searching for some landmark that would tell him where he was in relation to the rest of the castle. The silhouette of a lone tower told him that he was facing the back portion of the curtain wall. Again a shout sounded, this time from behind them.
Rowena started toward a narrow opening in the crenellations. “There is a stair.”
Following, he looked down. There was indeed a tight, circling stair, so narrow as to be barely passable by a man. Rowena sighed as she started down them. Could she have finally accepted the truth, that she was Rosalind? Christian wondered. Yet what did that matter when she wanted nothing but to go home to Ashcroft?
Just a few steps ahead of him Rowena suddenly halted on the narrow steps, crying out. Before he could even react, she disappeared around the next curve in the stair.
Rushing forward, he stopped short as he saw Sir Fredrick, his sword drawn. In the light of the torch the man behind him held, Christian could see that the knight held Rowena in his arms. Christian could hear the clatter of more booted feet coming up the stairs behind him.
Rage and frustration made him call out, “Let her go.” He lunged forward.
The other knight laughed. “Drop the sword.”
Desperately Christian turned to go back the way they had come. If he was free, perhaps he could help her. But he immediately noted in the flickering light of several torches that more soldiers looked down from the battlements above. With a shout of despair he threw the sword out into the darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
They were taken back to the earl’s bedchamber.
Rowena felt Christian’s agitation and knew that they were in dire straits indeed, for never in all that had occurred over the weeks she had known him had his blue eyes shone with such anger and desperation.
She tried for calm, somehow knowing that any sign of fear on her own part
might make him act, no matter how hopeless his chances of overcoming these men. She knew that it would mean his death. And that she could not bear.
The earl lay in his bed, propped up on a pile of pillows. The fire blazed high, and in spite of the chill outside, the room was uncomfortably hot. His face was as shrunken and hollow as it had been earlier. Weakly he gestured to Sir Fredrick. “Bring them.”
Both she and Christian were led forward. The sick man’s gaze moved over Christian, who was bound once more. “Why have you come to Dragonwick?”
Christian said nothing.
“Why must you fight me, Greatham?”
Christian shrugged. “I do not want to be used in your vendetta against Simon.”
He reared up in the bed. “Used in my vendetta? He has taken what was mine.” And suddenly he was choking again, gasping for air as blood tinged the sheet, which he had held up to his face.
Sir Fredrick started forward, as did Rowena.
The earl’s knight blocked her path. “What do you think you are doing?”
Rowena peered around him at the man in the bed. A part of her wanted to deny any ability to help him. Another part—the part that took her abilities as a healer as a sacred honor—could not do so.
She looked at Sir Fredrick. “I am a healer. I can help him.”
“Rowena, are you mad?” Christian cried.
She did not face him. “I…perhaps I am, but he is very ill.”
“Let him die.”
“I can no more let him die than you can set aside your own duty.” Her voice was calm with resignation.
Sir Fredrick swung around. “Take him away to the tower and do not open the door until I come.”
When four guards grasped his arms, Christian fought them. “I will not leave you….”
Sir Fredrick started toward him, drawing his sword.
“No!” Rowena called out. “Do not harm him or I will let your master die.” The knight swung around to glare at her, and she returned that look without wavering as she said, “And mark me well, he is not long for this world lest something is done for him.” She did not add that he might indeed die no matter what she did.
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