She bit her lip, trying to figure out what she could safely say. “My mother came from a family of witches who could foresee the future. I may have inherited a bit of that, since I predicted you with the Telling Stones.”
“I see. And your mother passed away a few days after giving birth to you?”
“Yes.”
After a pause he asked, “Do you still see her?”
Luciana’s breath caught.
“Ana, do you see the dead?”
She looked toward him, but could barely see him in the dim light of the fireplace. “That would be … too strange.”
He sat up. “I’m Embraced. My gift, or curse if you prefer, is the power of lightning. And you?”
Was he asking if she was Embraced? How could she admit it? She’d been warned all her life never to say it, first by Mother Ginessa and all the nuns, and then by her father. “’Tis—it’s common knowledge that you’re Embraced.”
He rose to his feet and came close to the bed. “Ana, I’d like for you to trust me.”
Even though his face was in shadow, she could feel him watching her. By the goddesses, she was tempted to tell him everything. But she wasn’t the only one at risk. How could she endanger her father? If the truth about her deception ever surfaced, she and her father would both be executed.
If only she and Leo were alone on an island. But they weren’t. They were surrounded by enemies. “I—I’m sorry.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. “Are we alone now?”
Was he still trying to get her to admit to seeing the dead? “I … believe we’re alone.”
“That’s good.” He placed a gloved hand on the coverlet where her foot was. “I have fought armies of elfin warriors.” His hand slid to her ankle, then her calf. “I have faced fire-breathing dragons.”
“That must have been terrifying.” Her heart raced as his hand skimmed up her thigh and over her hip.
“Do you know what terrifies me even more?” His hand moved past her waist, then paused just below her breasts.
She clenched the top edge of the coverlet in her fists. “It was a dragon that killed your father. What could terrify you more than that?”
“The possibility that I might hurt you.”
Her eyes burned. “I know you don’t mean to hurt me.”
“Do you?” His hand curved around her breast, and she gasped. Gently, he squeezed.
A tingling sensation stole over her, making her breasts feel heavy and her whole body ache to be touched. “Leo…” A whimper escaped as his gloved fingers teased at her nipple, causing it to harden into a tight bud.
“You have no idea how much I want you.” He leaned close enough that she could see the determined glint in his eyes. “At first, I thought it was only your body I wanted. But something about you has made me greedy as hell. I want everything. Your love. Your mind. Your secrets. Your soul.”
He released her, then returned to his blankets on the floor. “Good night, Ana.”
She pressed her hands against her hot cheeks as a tear escaped. By the goddesses, she did love him. She loved him so much her heart ached. But how could she tell him her secrets? How could she bare her soul to him?
He wanted more than she could ever give.
Chapter Twenty-seven
When Luciana woke the next day, she discovered her head was aching and her husband was missing. Once again, she’d overslept and he’d left without telling her good-bye. It was hard to be annoyed with him, though, when Gabriella admitted that he’d asked her to be very quiet and let her ladyship sleep, since she might not be feeling well.
On the way to the kitchens, she was surprised to find only Jensen accompanying her, but he explained that the suspected third assassin had left the fortress, so she was no longer in grave danger. If that was supposed to relieve her, it didn’t, for she knew the danger still existed. It had only shifted to Leo. She said a silent prayer, beseeching Luna and Lessa to keep her husband safe.
With Jensen standing guard at the kitchen door, she entered with a cheerful greeting. Christopher was sitting in a corner with a worried expression. She gave him a smile before turning to his mother. “I’m afraid I missed breakfast. Could you spare me something to eat?”
“Of course!” Yulissa grabbed a wooden plate and began heaping food on it. “You didn’t need to come here, my dear. We would have brought it to your room.”
“This is fine.” Luciana sat at the table. “I plan to work in the garden after I eat.”
Yulissa poured some apple cider into a cup. “We’re so sorry about Rowena poisoning the soup.” She handed her the cup with an apologetic look. “I hope you weren’t too sick.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” Luciana assured her. “And Father is, too.”
Yulissa and her workers murmured how relieved they were, then an awkward silence fell upon the room. Luciana ate while they busied themselves, but she could see them exchanging wary glances.
“Did my father handle the … situation?” Luciana asked.
The scullery maid dropped a platter, and another cook accidentally nicked her finger with a knife. Yulissa turned her back to check a pot over the fire.
Luciana set down her fork. “Where is Rowena?”
“The dungeons,” the scullery maid muttered.
“And where else would she be?” Yulissa asked with an exasperated tone. “She poisoned the soup for the high table.”
Silence fell over the room again. Luciana motioned for Christopher to come closer.
“Did I do a bad thing?” he whispered. “I thought it was right to warn you about the soup, but now Rowena is in big trouble.” He glanced at his mother and the workers. “They’re afraid she’ll hang.”
Luciana’s breath caught. Even though Rowena had clearly committed a serious offense, she’d only made two people slightly ill. Her father had been well enough to ride the next day. The general had marched off with the army this morning.
“I’ll see what I can do for her,” Luciana offered, and everyone turned toward her with hopeful looks.
“Bless you, my lady.” Yulissa’s eyes glimmered with tears. “You have a kind heart.”
* * *
“Oh, please forgive me!” Rowena cried. She’d fallen to her knees the minute Luciana and Jensen had entered the dungeons.
The girl was younger than Luciana had expected, no more than seventeen. Her face was streaked with dried tear tracks, and she was kneeling on old rushes that should have been cleaned out months ago. There was no cot, not even a blanket, and the smell from the chamber pot nearly made Luciana gag.
She approached the bars of the cell.
The jailer jumped up from his chair behind the desk. “You should stay away from her, my lady. She could be dangerous.”
“I’ll be all right.” Luciana noted two trays of food on the jailer’s desk. Was he eating both of them?
He poured wine into the second cup and offered it to her. When she declined, he offered it to Jensen.
“Not while I’m on duty.” Jensen frowned at him.
“Very well, then.” The jailer sat back down and resumed eating.
Luciana crouched down in front of the jail cell. “Are you all right?”
“I’m so sorry.” Rowena licked her chapped lips. “I’d heard that the Beast had killed my Dax, so I thought I would make his belly ache. I never meant any more harm than that. But it was wrong of me. Please forgive me.”
Luciana figured the girl was telling the truth since her father and the general had not suffered too much. “Have you had anything to eat or drink?”
She shook her head and cast a wary look at the jailer. “Yulissa sent me some food, but I wasn’t allowed to eat. Or drink.”
Luciana straightened and turned toward the jailer. “Are you refusing her food and water?”
With a snort he poured more wine into his cup. “Is she whining again? Pay her no heed, my lady. She is far beneath you. Besides, there’s no point in feeding her
if she’s just going to hang.”
Rowena whimpered and a tear ran down her face.
“Have you been telling her that?” Luciana marched toward the jailer, her temper rising. “It is not your decision to make.”
The jailer gave her a condescending smile. “Of course, my lady. Either the old duke or the new one will be making the decision. But since she tried to kill them both, it’s a safe bet that she’ll swing.” He shrugged. “It’s better for her to know the truth, so she’ll have time to accept it.”
Luciana gritted her teeth as she motioned to the second tray on the desk. “Is that her food you’re eating?” When the jailer shrugged, she picked up the second cup of wine. “Jensen, will you go to the kitchens and bring back food and water for Rowena?”
Jensen hesitated. “I shouldn’t leave you alone.”
“I’m not alone.” She tilted her head toward the jailer. “And it won’t take you very long.”
“Very well.” Jensen headed out the door.
Luciana passed the cup of wine through the bars, and Rowena rose to her feet to accept it.
“Thank you, my lady.” She gulped it down.
“Do you have parents or family close by?”
Rowena shook her head. “Mama died from a plague when I was a babe, and Papa died at sea.” She hung her head. “I shouldn’t have gotten involved with Dax. I was just so happy not to be alone.”
Luciana sighed. How fortunate she’d been to grow up with the nuns and her four sisters. “Everyone in the kitchens is very worried about you. From now on, think of them as your family. They can give you good advice.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The jailer gave out a loud belch. “Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but you shouldn’t fill her head with false hope. No way is she going to live.”
Rowena flinched, and more tears fell. “I’m so afraid.”
Luciana couldn’t let this girl suffer any longer. “I’m going straight to the library, where I’ll inform my father’s secretary that I have given you my word that even though you may receive some kind of punishment, you will not come to any bodily harm.”
Rowena’s eyes widened. “Can you really do that?”
“Yes.” Luciana turned toward the jailer. “And you, sir, should start treating this woman with respect.” She strode toward the door. “I’ll be back soon.”
She shut the door behind her and headed down the stone corridor for the stairwell that led up to the courtyard. Just as she reached the first stair, a noise behind her made her stop. Before she could turn around, an arm looped around her waist, pulling her back. Another hand pressed a strange-smelling handkerchief against her nose and mouth.
Panic streaked across her senses as she struggled to break the person’s hold. A swift kick backward elicited a muttered curse. A male’s voice.
The third assassin? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the handkerchief, but the drug crept into her senses. Within a few seconds the staircase blurred before her eyes and her legs grew weak.
Goddesses, help me! Her legs gave out, and everything went black.
* * *
When Luciana opened her eyes, she felt disoriented for a few seconds. Her head throbbed as she pushed away the fog in her mind. The assassin! Panic took root in her chest, but she quickly squashed it down. If she was going to survive this, she needed to keep her wits about her.
Where was she? Where was her kidnapper? Would it be best to pretend she was still unconscious?
She was lying on her back in a dimly lit place. Stale, musty air filled her lungs as her vision adjusted. A stone ceiling arched overhead. Hard stone beneath her. She stretched her arms and legs. No pain. No restraints.
She turned her head slightly to the right, her gaze following the arch of the stone ceiling till … good goddesses.
Bones. Thousands of bones. Shelf after shelf. Skulls staring at her with empty eye sockets. The flickering light of a nearby torch danced across the skulls in hues of red and gold, contorting the facial features until they looked as if they were possessed by demons.
Panic welled up inside her once more. This had to be the catacombs. Where the dead were buried and the ghosts of evil men lingered. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. You must remain calm.
“I know you’re awake.”
Her eyes flew open.
“Get up,” the kidnapper ordered. “I haven’t much time.”
As she slowly sat up, she looked around. To the left was another wall of bones and skulls. Behind her, more bones and a torch attached to the wall. In front, an iron gate extended across the width of the room. On the other side, another torch lit another room. More shelves with bones and skulls. In the distance, she spotted a man dressed in the black robes of a priest. Father Rune.
“Oh, look,” a voice whispered behind her. “A live one has come to visit.”
Luciana stiffened as a wisp of cold air floated across her back. Don’t turn around. It would be better not to let these ghosts know she could see and hear them. Ignore them. She rose to her feet and approached the iron gate.
“Yessss,” another voice hissed like a snake. “We could have fun with her.”
Panic threatened once again when she noticed the padlock on the gate. She was trapped in this chamber with some evil ghosts. Goddesses help her, this was her worst nightmare.
Father Rune chuckled. “I can see by your expression that you have realized the full extent of your situation.”
She took hold of the iron bars, and barnacles of old rust bit into her palms. “What do you hope to achieve by this? My husband and father will be furious.”
“She’s locked in with usss,” the snake-voiced ghost whispered, then chuckled with his dead companions.
She gave the bars a shake, but the lock held tight.
The priest sneered. “There’s no way out. You will remain there until someone finds you. Hopefully, it will be the Beast. I have arranged a small surprise for him.”
“Oh, she’s pretty.” Icy-cold ghostly fingers stroked her arm, passing through her gown and causing her skin to prickle with gooseflesh.
“I like them pretty.” A ghost giggled with a manic, high-pitched tone that chilled her to the bone.
By the goddesses, that one sounded mentally unhinged. Once again she struggled against the panic flaring inside her. “The Lord Protector won’t let you get away with this.”
The priest waved a dismissive hand. “He’s far away. While I was hiding down here, I planned it all out. First, the castle guards will look for you. And then, they’ll send an envoy to let your father and husband know you’re missing. By the time the Beast can ride back to Vindemar, I’ll be gone.”
Father Rune sighed. “Such a shame that I’ll miss it, but I can imagine how it will unfold. Your rescuers will rush through the dark tunnels of the catacombs, desperate to save you, and there in the distance a single torch, a shining beacon, will illuminate you, the damsel in distress. Then the Beast will charge toward you.”
Father Rune motioned to two thin threads stretched across the corridor about a foot above the stone floor. In the dim light, they were barely visible. “Whoever trips the first wire will release a dozen arrows. The second wire will release a dozen more. I’m hoping, of course, that your husband will be among the dead.”
Luciana tightened her grip on the bars. In the seven days since she’d first met Leo, she’d grown to love him so much. She couldn’t bear to lose him. He wouldn’t die if she warned them about the trap, but she didn’t want to tell Father Rune that. He might decide to gag her or tie her up. So she gave him what she hoped was a forlorn, defeated look. “Why are you doing this?”
“It’s very simple. The king pays well.” The priest shrugged. “Of course, it’s possible that the Beast will survive this. But if he hunts me down, I’ll be ready with another trap. Sooner or later, the Beast will die.”
“Never. Leo is too smart for you.”
Father Rune chuckled. “You actually l
ike him, don’t you? Well, you can always pray that he won’t find you here. Then he would be safe. But if that happens, you’ll be left here to die a slow death.” He sauntered away with the torch. “The Light be with you.”
As he disappeared around a corner, the room became darker, now lit by only one torch behind her.
“We’re alone with her now,” a ghost whispered, and a draft of cold air enveloped her.
There had to be half a dozen of them that surrounded her. One ghost had clearly died from a chest wound. The one with a snake voice appeared to have been hanged, for a line of mottled bruises crossed his throat. She closed her eyes briefly to keep from looking at them.
“So pretty.” The high-pitched giggle grated on her nerves.
A shot of cold penetrated her chest as the manic giggler tried to grope her breasts. She backed away, crossing her arms across her chest.
“I think she can feel usss,” the hanged man whispered.
“I hope she’s been left here to die,” the one with a chest wound said. “Once she becomes a ghost like us, we’ll be able to touch her.”
Another giggle. “If she dies, I’m fucking her first.”
Goddesses, help me! Luciana looked frantically about. There. A rib bone with a sharp, pointed end. She grabbed it and inserted the point into the opening on the padlock.
“Hey, that’s mine!” the hanged ghost protested.
The padlock refused to open. She grabbed a stronger thigh bone and wedged it into the iron loop that connected the padlock to the gate. If she could wrench the lock off the gate, she could escape. After a few heaves, the brittle old bone snapped in two.
The padlock was too strong. She examined the hinges, then each bar, searching for a weakness.
“Luciana! I found you!”
She whirled toward Christopher with a surge of relief, then a realization that she must have alerted the ghosts that she could see and hear them.
“Crispin, you ugly piece of toast.” The ghost with the chest wound pushed the boy so hard he stumbled back. “What are you doing here?”
The hanged ghost caught Christopher from behind and gripped his neck as if to strangle him. “Too bad you’re already dead, and we can’t kill you.”
How to Tame a Beast in Seven Days Page 27