To his merit, the thief didn’t laugh, as she’d expected him to do. He gazed at her with measured calm and replied, “If this was indeed his thought, then he was far mistaken. I understand what it is that you say, mistress, but you merely prove once more that you realize very little of the truth.”
“I realize perfectly well that no man would claim me as his love unless in jest,” Glenys retorted angrily, furious that they even spoke of such things. “Many, however, might be willing to make such a claim for money, and as that is the heart of this matter, then I pray we speak of it now. Clearly and plainly. Sir Anton paid you well, but I can pay you far more. What amount will you require to stop this foolishness and release us? I vow, upon my honor, that I’ll make payment and let you go peaceably on your way. I’ll say nothing of the matter to anyone, and will make certain that John and Willem are silent, as well. Only stop the carriage now and we’ll speak terms.”
“I’m sorry to be so disobliging, Mistress Glenys,” he said, “but no amount of gold could cause me to turn this task aside. Apart from Sir Anton’s desires, I have reasons of my own for taking and holding you, as I have already said. Mayhap we should begin again. Let me introduce myself to you. My name is Kieran FitzAllen, and I am pleased to be known to you, Mistress Glenys and Mistress Dina.” He sat forward and regally bowed his head.
Glenys wished she had something to bash him with in that vulnerable moment, but there was nothing to be had. She threw her hands up in the air, instead, in a gesture of the fury she felt. “I care not who you are, idiot knave! How can I make you see reason? Sir Anton will not come to fetch me. He has sent you on a fool’s errand only to keep me out of his path.”
Kieran FitzAllen’s gaze sharpened.
“Then why would he hire me, if not at least to try to force you to wife? Even if he is not your lover, do you not think it likely that he desires your fortune?”
“’Tis no fortune of gold that he desires,” Glenys told him, “but a treasure that rightly belongs to the Seymours. He seeks to find this treasure, which has been lost to us, before I can do so.”
“Ah,” her kidnapper said with sudden understanding, “the Greth Stone. Is that what we speak of?”
Glenys was so surprised he knew of it that she was momentarily stunned into silence. Beside her, Dina stiffened and whispered fearfully, “He knows, m’lady! He’s in league with Sir Anton!”
“Nay, that I am not,” Kieran FitzAllen said at once, directing his attention to Dina as he strove to allay her fears. “Sir Anton’s reasons for having your mistress taken and held are as nothing to me, though I admit they provided me with the opportunity for doing so. I know of the Greth Stone because he warned me that Mistress Glenys would resist being taken for the sake of her own quest to regain it.” He looked at Glenys. “In this matter, at least, ’tis clear he spoke the truth.”
“Not the truth, but cleverly enough,” Glenys admitted, her spirits sinking by the moment. Each sentence that passed in their conversation set an ever increasing distance between them and London. The carriage rattled along at an alarmingly brisk pace, and the sky grew ever more dark with storm clouds. Her aunts and uncles would begin to worry if she didn’t return soon. Or perhaps not, she reasoned, as they seemed to have known that she would not be returning to Metolius anytime soon. The memory of their parting made Glenys inwardly groan. Why couldn’t they just tell her outright when these things were going to happen? Why did everything always have to be such a mystery?
“Please,” she begged, “listen to me, sir, and understand what I say. The Greth Stone is naught but a very old ring, passed through many generations of my family, from as far back as Roman times. It bears no great value save to the Seymours, and only for the sake of sentiment. But there are some who say that it possesses mystical powers, and despite the foolishness of such a claim, there are many more who believe it. Sir Anton is among them. The ring was stolen from our London home, Metolius, while we were gone to our family estate in Wales from Michaelmas until Twelth Day. The man who stole it is…well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know who he is, and ’twas my intention to set out next month in order to search the thief out and reclaim the ring. Sir Anton knew of my plans and has clearly determined that he must stop me.”
“He means to find Caswallan before you do, eh?” Kieran FitzAllen asked. Again, Glenys was stunned.
“He told you of Caswallan?” she asked, utterly amazed. “God’s mercy, but Sir Anton Lagasse must be a greater fool than I had believed.” She looked at her captor more closely. “You are in league with him, aren’t you? You must be, to do his bidding in this fruitless matter.”
“I am only concerned with Sir Anton because he hired me to kidnap and hold you, mistress. There is nothing more. I have no interest in your Greth Stone, whether it exists or has magical powers.”
“Of a certainty it has no magical powers,” Glenys said, scoffing. “’Tis naught but a very old ring of little value. But I will not allow Sir Anton to hold aught that belongs to my family. He sees himself as a conjurer, possessed of great skill, and believes the Greth Stone will make him the more powerful.”
At this, the knave finally laughed, throwing his head back and showing teeth that were white and even. Glenys noted, much to her aggravation, that even in mirth he was almost too handsome to look at.
“Sir Anton!” he declared, grinning widely. “A skilled conjurer? I vow, ’tis too much to bear!” He laughed again, fully amused. “By the rood, he seemed more like a well-dressed mouse than so powerful a man.” He laughed all the harder.
Glenys frowned darkly. “It matters not what he may seem to be, but only that he has succeeded in keeping me from reaching Caswallan first. I tell you, Sir Anton must not be allowed to get the Greth Stone in his grasp. There will be no chance for my family to regain it if it falls to him. You must end this foolishness now and let us go!”
He sobered only slightly, enough to stop laughing and say, grinning, “Nay, that I cannot do.”
“But why?” she demanded. “Now that you know ’tis but a fool’s errand, you have no cause to continue! I have already said that I will pay you far more than Sir Anton promised. And surely you must realize that regardless of what he has already paid, there will be no more. He’ll not keep his word and come to fetch me. I’faith, ’twill be far more likely that we’ll be greeted by worse knaves than you and your accomplice at some point upon our journey, set upon killing us all.”
Kieran FitzAllen looked at her with pure disbelief. “How so? Sir Anton has no reason to want you dead, even if all you say is true, and a less likely murderer I’ve e’er set sight upon.”
“Then you are naught but a fool,” Glenys said. “Sir Anton knows that I will not cease in exposing him for the deceiver he is, and for that alone he would gladly have me dead. And he would care nothing for any other deaths that might occur for the sake of being rid of me, yours included.”
It was clear by the look on Kieran FitzAllen’s face that he didn’t believe a word she said. He merely sighed aloud and stated, “Sir Anton would find it difficult to kill me, I vow, and you as well, while you are beneath my care. I am not a knight of the realm, but I’ve matched a goodly share of them in singular battle before now and come away the winner. I have no fear of any man, and most assuredly not of one the likes of Sir Anton Lagasse.”
Though she wished it were not so, Glenys had to admit that the man sitting opposite her looked fully capable of besting any number of skilled fighting men; he was well-muscled and moved with a certain ease and grace that might give him an advantage over lesser men.
“Perhaps not of Sir Anton,” she said, “but you would be foolish not to consider that among my relatives are those who would fill you with fear. My brother being foremost. He is Sir Daman Seymour, and I think it unlikely that you have not heard of him, or of his skills. But if you have not, I tell you now that he is a famed knight of the realm who is well able to mete out justice to such a one as you.”
&
nbsp; The charming smile was back on Kieran FitzAllen’s face. Glenys longed to wipe it away.
“I am aware of who your brother is, Mistress Glenys.”
“Then you must likewise be aware that he and his men will come after me the moment he hears of what you have done. No matter how secret your hiding place may be, Daman will find me, and he will deal out a punishment to you and your friend that will have you praying for salvation.”
Kieran FitzAllen uttered a bark of laughter. “You speak out of love and honor, mistress,” he said, “but surely such words sound as foolish to your ears as they do to mine. In truth, ’tis my prayer that Sir Daman Seymour follows our track and finds us. Soon. I cherish the thought of meeting him face-to-face.”
Glenys’s mouth dropped open again.
“You cannot mean what you say,” she murmured. “My brother will kill you when he finds you. I do not speak falsely. He will kill you.”
“He may try.”
Glenys shook her head. “This has naught to do with Sir Anton, then, just as you said. ’Tis because of Daman that you have done this thing. But why? Have you some quarrel with my brother? But, nay, you cannot. Daman has no enemies, save those that are also the enemies of my family, such as Sir Anton and Caswallan. But you are not in league with them, or so you have said. Why, then, should you wish to draw Daman’s certain wrath down upon yourself?”
“My reasons are my own, mistress, and will remain so. Now you understand at least in part why I will not let you go, and ’twould be best if you accept and reconcile yourself to it. My servant, Jean-Marc, who drives the coach, and I will bring you no harm, nor your maid. ’Tis only our intention to hold you until either Sir Anton or your brother—or perhaps both—have come to fetch you. Until that time, be pleased to give me no trouble, I pray, for you’ll not escape me. As it may be that we shall be in company for some few weeks, I believe that we should all try to be as merry and comfortable as possible.”
“Sir,” said Glenys, sitting back with complete exasperation, “you are a lackwit if you believe that my maid or I shall do any like thing. You have taken us as prisoners, and as such we cannot be merry and comfortable.”
He gave her a certain look out of his blue eyes, so filled with blatant sensuality that it made her skin tingle. ’Twas clearly well practiced, and she wasn’t sure whether he answered out of truth or simply out of habit when he replied, in a low, seductive tone, “Even the most unpleasant situation can be made merry and comfortable, Mistress Glenys. I have had the experience many times, I vow.”
His meaning was so clear that Glenys’s face flamed hot. If she hadn’t already known full well that he was merely teasing—for such a man would never truly be attracted to a woman like her—she had no doubt that she would have melted into a puddle at his feet. God’s mercy, he was most clearly a practiced seducer as well as a thief and blackguard. She had no fears for herself, but her maid was another matter. Dina was young and pretty, with the kind of blond hair and blue eyes that men favored among women. She would very likely be a target for Kieran FitzAllen, though he’d yet to look at her more than twice. Glenys would have to take extra care that no harm came to the girl, who was as dear as a sister to her.
For her part, Dina seemed not yet to have taken much note of their captor, much to Glenys’s relief. The very last thing she needed was for Dina to fall in love with the man, which was doubtless what most other females did upon setting sight on him. Dina merely sniffled and wiped her nose and murmured, with her head lowered, “Master Aonghus and Master Culain, and your aunts. What will become of them when you don’t return to Metolius? There’s no one there to watch over them.”
Glenys had been thinking much the same thing, now that it was clear her captor could not be reasoned with. She looked him fully in the face, asking, “Aye, what of my elderly relatives? They are not used to being alone, without someone to care for them.”
He gave a thoughtful frown. “But were you not going to leave them soon, when you went on your quest to search out the Greth Stone?”
“Nay, I should never do so. I had already arranged that my cousin, Helen, would come and stay with them while I was gone, but she’ll not be arriving for three weeks more, at the very least. Now they will be alone, with little idea of how to go on.”
“Hmm.” He placed a long, beautifully shaped finger against his chin and was silent for a moment, clearly thinking this through. Glenys was surprised that he even cared enough to consider the matter. At last, he lowered his hand and said, “If I can devise a way to send this cousin of yours a missive so that you can ask her to come to Metolius at once, will you give me your vow not to secret some message into it about who has taken you and in what direction we are journeying?”
“Nay,” Glenys said before she could think, too angry to do otherwise, “I make you no promises.”
“But, mistress!” Dina cried. “You must do so, lest some harm come to your aunts and uncles. There is no other way.”
Glenys knew it was so, and felt unfathomably foolish. “Very well, aye,” she said tightly, flinging off the comforting hand Dina attempted to set upon her arm. “I give you my vow. If you can arrange such a missive, though I doubt you can do so.”
His handsome face held that infuriatingly amused look once more. “I have many friends, mistress,” he said, “as you will soon discover.”
Glenys looked at him sharply. “So faithful that they would lower themselves to lend you their aid in this heinous crime?”
He nodded. “Aye.”
“Very fine,” she replied angrily, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window. It was dark now, and a soft rain had begun to fall, splattering lightly through the arched opening. If it fell much harder, they would be forced to use the window coverings, and would be shut in together in darkness. That was an unhappy thought. But it couldn’t be helped. None of this could be helped. She could only do as he had suggested and accept what had befallen her, and pray that the small white stone in her pocket didn’t begin glowing. After all that had just passed, Glenys was in no mood to explain it, or anything about her family, to her wretched captor.
Chapter Four
Kieran knew that he shouldn’t have used his well-honed wiles on his captive, especially after he’d vowed not to seduce her. He’d done so more out of habit than anything else, but that gave him little excuse. He shouldn’t have spoken to her in so dallying a manner, and would strive not to do so again.
But Mistress Glenys made it hard.
Her face was, indeed, just as he’d thought earlier, quite angular. Perhaps not as square as he’d believed, but possessed of the same intriguing angles and fine lines that a perfectly cut diamond might possess. Not beautiful, nay, but utterly fascinating. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Emotions played themselves out along her long, straight cheekbones and in her intelligent, wide-set gray eyes and high, arching eyebrows. And such emotions they were! Anger, frustration, rage—even outright dislike, which Kieran wasn’t used to seeing directed at himself. Aye, Mistress Glenys Seymour was a woman worth looking at. Far more interesting in expression and manner, and most certainly in speech, than most women he met. It was a pity that the maid, Dina, was so commonly pretty in her looks, else he might have been able to set his interest upon her. But she looked very like the hundreds of other blond, blue-eyed maidens he’d flirted with in the past dozen years, so much so that Kieran doubted he could pick one from the other if they’d all been lined up in a row.
A man would never have that problem with Mistress Glenys. Even now, as she was gazing out the window, aggravation stamped on every feature, the dwindling light, being rapidly swallowed by the imminent storm, teased the curves and angles of her face, bringing ephemeral shadows to life and causing her gray eyes to appear almost black. Her generous mouth—perhaps her only soft feature—was pressed together in a tight line, and a few strands of her sunset-colored hair had come loose from the braids atop her head, feathering lightly against her cheeks.
>
“’Twill not be long now before we stop,” he said, wishing that he might be able to tell her something else. The rain, which had begun to fall softly now, would make their journey far more unpleasant this night than he’d hoped. In a more positive light, it would also help to cover their trail.
“Good,” she replied tightly, not looking at him. “It appears that we will be obliged to lower the window covers soon. That will give us opportunity to do so.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “’Twould be wisest to do so before returning the carriage to London. I should hate to see such finery ruined by wet.” He ran one hand appreciatively over the red velvet covering the heavily cushioned seat. For a town carriage that wasn’t meant for travel of any great distance, ’twas both fine and comfortable. True, there wasn’t any glass in the windows, but the heavily waxed window coverings would do just as well for keeping occupants dry in a storm.
“Return the carriage?” Mistress Glenys asked, looking at him in the singular manner she’d displayed over the past half hour, which said, quite clearly, that she thought him mad. “What can you mean?”
Even as she spoke, Jean-Marc began to draw the carriage to one side of the road, bouncing them over small rocks and bumps as he drove into a copse of trees. Leaning toward the window, Kieran whistled in greeting to a man who appeared there, already leading a pair of horses from their hiding place.
Jean-Marc brought the carriage to an unsteady halt. Even before it had fully stopped Kieran opened the door and alighted, looking up first to where Jean-Marc sat to make certain all was well.
“No one followed,” Jean-Marc called down to him, tying the leads to the carriage post. “Had a bit of company, but that’s what comes from being on a main road.” He lightly hopped down from the driver’s seat. “Better hurry if we want to reach Bostwick’s before many more hours.”
“Aye, and without being found out,” Kieran agreed. Overhead, a loud rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, and the next moment the rain began to fall harder. It wasn’t a deluge yet, but that would happen soon enough. He stretched a hand into the carriage and said, “Hurry, now. We must be on our way.”
The Prisoner Bride Page 4