With a quick nod, Haggard left, and the sheriff set his feet on the first of the steps that spiraled upward along the wall.
“This way if you please, but be wary,” he warned. “As you can see, there is no balustrade.” He led them upward until they came to a heavy door that blocked the way. The steps continued on past the door, curving along the tower, but ended with blue sky showing beyond the crumbling stone. Parker thrust the key into a lock that held the end of a thick bar across the door. The fixture, like the barred window set high in the panel, had the appearance of being a most recent addition to the door. Leaning near the opening, the sheriff called through to the prisoner.
“My lady, I have returned.”
An angry voice came from within as he pushed the door open. “I gave you my answer before! If you doubted me then, perhaps this will convince you!”
Parker ducked as a missile sailed toward him, and the shattering crash of a cup against the door resounded in the barren chamber. On its heels came a plate, which took a more positive course toward his head. He batted it away and, in three long strides, was across the room, throwing his arms about the she-cat as she searched about for something else to throw that would help vent her fury with the man. He lifted her feet clear of the floor and turned with her toward the door as Claudia stepped through.
“I’ve brought you company, my lady,” he chortled.
Erienne ground her teeth as she kicked and struggled in his arms. “I have no more need of Miss Talbot’s company than of…!” She caught her breath sharply as Lord Saxton came through the open portal, ducking his head as he passed beneath the low frame. “Nooo! Oooh, nooo!” she moaned. “Why did you come?”
“Tsk-tsk! Is that any way to greet your husband?” Parker chided. He looked toward the other man and feigned a look of sympathy. “She doesn’t seem to be overjoyed at seeing you, my lord. Perhaps she would have preferred the Yankee to come in your stead.”
“Put her down,” Lord Saxton commanded in a harsh tone.
“Certainly, my lord.” Parker obeyed most amiably and held his smile as he observed the pair.
Erienne would have flown to her husband, but his cane came up abruptly and halted her.
“Stay where you are, madam. I will not be moved by the whimperings of an adulteress.” His curt tone brooked no disobedience, and Claudia smiled smugly as he continued. “I have come to hear it from your own lips. Did you indeed bed the Yankee and take his seed within your belly?”
Erienne nodded hesitantly, realizing she was expected to play out the game for the benefit of the other two. Wringing her hands, she glanced toward Claudia, who mistook the cause of her distress. The woman gave her a superior smile as she doffed her gloves, and Erienne turned back to her husband, answering him in a timid voice.
“He was most persuasive, my lord. I could not help myself. He persisted until he had his way with me.”
“And do you love him?” the rasping voice demanded.
The blue-violet eyes grew soft as she met the dark gleam behind the shaded eyeholes. “Would you have me lie, milord, and say nay? I would gladly spend the rest of my life here in this prison if I knew he was safe. If he were standing here with me now, I would entreat him to flee before they took him.”
“How generous you are,” Claudia sneered. Tossing her gloves aside on the table, she strode forward arrogantly until she stood beside the couple. Settling well manicured hands on her tightly cinched waist, she smirked. “Would you be so generous if you knew your precious lover had had his way with other women hereabouts?”
Lord Saxton hobbled around until he faced the woman. Claudia felt a shiver go through her but thrust aside her aversion to the man as she confronted the prisoner again.
“Molly herself said she caught a woman in Christopher Seton’s bed at the inn, and from his own words he seemed to be well taken with the wench.”
“The rumors had it that you also enjoyed his company, Miss Talbot,” Lord Saxton stated dryly. “Did you, too, fall to the man’s ploy and entertain him while your father was away?”
“Certainly not!” Claudia gasped. “Allan can vouch for the nights my father was away! He…” She halted as the sheriff cleared his throat sharply, and she became aware of what she had spilled. “I mean…he came to see to my welfare…”
Allan’s lips twitched with amusement as he made his excuses. “I have duties elsewhere. I shall leave you to visit for a while.” He strode to the door where he half turned, glancing toward Claudia. “There are guards downstairs, as you saw. Should you need anything or choose to leave, they’ll be most eager to come to your aid.”
He opened the door, then leapt aside as Haggard, bearing a tray with teapot and cups, tripped on a loose portion of granite and came rushing through. Haggard’s large, booted feet worked in one continuous motion as he tried to steady himself and balance the tray at the same time. He bumped into the table and, with a loud clatter of dishes, deposited his burden abruptly on its planks. After a brief examination of the cups, he heaved a sigh of relief, then turned a happy grin to his awed audience.
“I brought yer tea!” he announced. “The vittles’ll be a while.”
Allan Parker strived for control and, placing himself well out of the path of harm, angrily gestured the man out.
“Would ye be wantin’ me ter stand guard at the door, sir?” the man offered with alacrity. “Just in case the lady be needin’ anythin’?”
The sheriff glanced toward the hooded one. He did not think the cripple was foolish enough to try anything, even if he was of a mind to forgive his wife, but he guessed it would do no harm leaving a guard at the door.
“Should Miss Talbot need your assistance,” he counseled, doubting the possibility, “try not to harm her in your eagerness.”
Haggard nodded enthusiastically, then paused as if suddenly perplexed by the sheriff’s statement. Parker cast a dubious glance toward him, wondering if he had ever met anyone as slow of wit, then with a nod to the ladies, he took his leave. He heard Haggard’s footfalls coming close behind him and hurriedly descended several steps lest mayhem befall him.
The door closed, and the solid bar fell into place. Claudia strode about the room, glancing about in disdain. She paused beside the narrow window in the far corner and smirked as she contemplated the rags stuffed into the opening. “You really have come down in the world since I last saw you, Erienne. You gave the gossips enough to banter about that night at my ball when you all but threw yourself at Christopher.” She swept around to challenge the other woman, arching a dark brow as she jeered questioningly, “Where is your lover now? I don’t see him rushing to your aid.”
Lord Saxton seemed to ignore the woman as he gently lifted his wife’s chin with a gloved finger and examined the dark bruise on her jawline. Erienne leaned toward him, wanting to touch him but afraid to show her emotions. Her eyes, probing the shadowed eyeholes, spoke of her love.
Claudia grew annoyed at the couple’s lack of attention and smirked. “ ’Twould seem they’ve handled your wife roughly, but ’tis no more than she deserves for what she’s done to you. Getting herself with child by that renegade, Seton. Tsk-tsk. Why, there’s no telling how many other men she’s been with, or even if she really knows if it’s the Yankee’s child or not. Maybe it isn’t his at all, but some hired man’s whelp. I suppose that really doesn’t matter, though. She admits that the Yankee has bedded her”—her words dwindled as the master of Saxton Hall came to peer out of the same window where she stood, and she finished in a weakening tone, realizing she was well out of sight of the door where Haggard stood—“and cuckolded you.”
Lord Saxton braced his cane against his leg and tilted his hooded head to the side as he thoughtfully regarded her. “Cuckolded? Pray tell me, Miss Talbot, how can a man cuckold himself?”
Claudia’s eyes widened as a gloved hand reached up to the side of his throat and freed the laces. She gasped as the other hand joined the first and began to drag the leather mask from h
is head. She would have bolted past him, but he stepped before her, blocking her flight, and she stared in petrified horror as he swept the leather helm from his head. Then her mind reeled in sudden confusion as the handsome, unscarred face of Christopher Seton was revealed.
“Miss Talbot?” he greeted in a chiding tone.
Claudia’s bemused stare moved from him to Erienne, whose worry had not dissipated. “But where is”—her reaction was no different than Erienne’s had been at the discovery of his identity—“Lord Saxton?”
Christopher swept his hand before him and gave her a shallow bow. “At your service.”
“Lord Saxton?” She repeated the name in widening bewilderment. “You…? But he”—her eyes flew downward to the heavy boot—“is crippled.”
“Merely a ruse, Claudia. As you may have noticed, I suffer no such impairment.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as the situation became clear. “If you think you will escape from here with your mistress, you are sorely mistaken!”
“Not mistress,” Christopher corrected and smiled blandly into the woman’s inquiring stare. “Erienne is my wife and rightful lady of Saxton Hall. She carries my child, and she has been with no other. Of that, I have no doubt.”
“Wife of a renegade who is shortly to be slain!” Claudia snapped back and opened her mouth, but before she could draw breath enough to scream, Christopher caught up the walking stick and, with a flick of a small catch, slid a slim rapier from the wooden sheath. Claudia suddenly found herself facing the sharp end of the sword, and when she glanced up, slowly closing her mouth, the grayish-green eyes bore into her.
“I’ve never killed a woman,” he stated softly. “But then, I have never been so tempted before. I suggest that you be as quiet as possible.”
Claudia’s voice trembled as she asked, “What are you going to do?”
A leisurely smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “I’ve come to fetch my wife, and you, Miss Talbot, are going to help me.”
“Me?!” Her dark eyes had widened. “What can I do?”
“ ’Tis said that wisdom comes to those who seek it.” Christopher’s eyes wrinkled at the corners as his smile deepened. “Miss Talbot, would you be so kind as to remove your hat?”
Much bemused, Claudia obeyed.
“And now, Miss Talbot, if you don’t mind, the gown also.” He ignored her gasp of indignation and turned to his wife. “Erienne, we must take advantage of the resemblance you bear to our guest. I know they are gaudy, but would you be averse to wearing another’s clothes?” He was answered with a sudden smile and a quick shake of the head, then he glanced back at the other woman, letting a shade of anger show in his frown. “My dear Claudia, you need have no fear that I will be tempted by anything you display. But I do insist. The gown, if you please.”
She stared at him in rage, her lips parted as if she might scream. The end of the sword described a small figure eight in front of her eyes, capturing her total attention with its clean, sharp tip. Her hands began to move, undoing the catches and laces as a note of fear replaced the anger in her frown. Being held captive in this manner was not exactly the way she had imagined it.
Christopher held out his hand to Erienne, and without a word she laid in it the same cord that had bound her own wrists a pair of days ago. As soon as the gown fell to the floor, he folded Claudia’s arms across each other and bound them close to her chest, looping the cord behind her elbows so she could not tug free and making the final knot beneath her arms, where it could not be unfastened with her teeth.
“The minute you leave this room,” she hissed furiously, “they’ll find you out and kill the both of you!”
“I’m willing to chance the escape rather than wait here for them to kill us,” Christopher responded lightly and reached out his hand again to Erienne. This time she gave him the same cloth that had silenced her, and in a moment that serviceable rag applied the same duty to Claudia.
Christopher glanced toward the door and was satisfied to see the broad back of Haggard filling the opening. Christopher laid his cloak about Claudia’s shoulders and jerked the leather helm down over her head. Her protestations were adequately muffled beneath gag and mask, and he led her struggling to the table and chairs. Turning the back of the chair to face the door, Christopher pushed his prisoner into it, and Erienne hurriedly tore strips from her petticoat for use as bonds. These he used to wrap Claudia’s hips and legs to the chair, and then he draped the cloak to hide the wrappings. When he stood back, he weaved the sword in front of the mask where he was sure his prisoner could see it.
“Silence now,” he whispered. “One sound or warning and your father will outlive you by at least some hours.”
The eyes behind the leather helm followed him as he backed away to the edge of the bed. There he opened his arms to receive his wife, who came eagerly against him. Their lips met in a kiss that, to Claudia’s way of thinking, displayed more passion than the situation allowed.
“Oh, my love,” Erienne breathed as he pressed his lips to her brow, “I was afraid you would come, and yet I hoped you would.”
Light kisses rained upon her cheek and brow as he held her close, savoring the nearness of her while he could. “I would have come sooner had I known where they had taken you. I had not expected this of your father, but he will answer. I promise you that.”
Erienne shook her head and replied in the same muted tone. “He is not my real father.”
Christopher held her away, looking down at her wonderingly. “What is this?”
“My mother married an Irish rebel and got with child before he was hanged. Avery married her, knowing the facts, but he never told her that it was he who had given the final orders to hang my father.”
Christopher gently brushed a tumbled curl from off her cheek. “I knew you were too beautiful to be kin to him.”
She nuzzled against his chest as she slipped her arms about his waist. “Oh, Christopher, you have become all things to me. I love you, my darling.”
He raised her chin, and his eyes drank of the brimming devotion he saw in the amethyst depths. “And I you, milady. Perhaps more than even I was aware of until they took you from me.” He lightly kissed the bruise on her jaw. “I will see that they pay for this.”
“It doesn’t matter, Christopher. As long as I have you and your babe within me, nothing else matters.”
“Our escape must be our concern now. We must make ready.” He stepped away, doffing his coat and waistcoat, then pried at the block of shaped wood that wedged his right boot to an unnatural angle.
Erienne had succeeded in freeing only a few of the intricate buttons that secured her bodice when a falsely bass voice from Haggard announced in booming tones, “The lord high sheriff approaches!”
Erienne snatched her husband’s garments and the crimson gown and thrust them in the privy closet, then hurriedly sought to repair her bodice while Christopher bobbed the tip of the sword before Claudia’s eyes to remind her of its presence.
“Remember, ’twill be but a few inches from your throat.”
He belied his threat as he moved across the room and flattened himself against the wall beside the door. Erienne gave up trying to refasten her gown and took a seat across from Claudia at the table, quickly pouring tea and setting a cup in front of Claudia. She caught the hateful glare behind the eyeholes and, despite the seriousness of the situation, gestured to the cup. “Don’t drink it down too hastily, my dear. You might choke.”
The sheriff jogged up the last few steps and tossed a question to Haggard. “All is well?”
“Aye, sir!” he barked, much too loudly.
Allan Parker flinched and stepped around the man as if he were some strange white and purple cat. He looked through the window but made no effort to open the door. “Where is Claudia?”
Erienne rose and came toward the door, noting how his eyes dipped to her parted bodice. She felt Christopher’s gaze on her as well but refrained from glancing in his direction
for fear she would give him away. She gestured toward the privy as if embarrassed. “Claudia is indisposed. The long ride…in the carriage, I think.” She indicated the helmeted figure at the table as that one leaned forward and a muffled groan sounded. “Lord Saxton is also a trifle ill.”
“I can understand why,” he replied meaningfully. His eyes passed over her in bold appreciation. “Have you given some more thought to what I requested? Lord Talbot will be here in an hour or so, and you’ll have to make up your mind before then.”
“Shhh!” Erienne glanced toward the hooded figure. “He will hear you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he assured her.
She turned an inquiring gaze to him. “What do you mean?”
A Rose in Winter Page 61