The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok Book 3)

by Alice Coldbreath

  “Don’t!” Una cried and Rose whirled about. For a moment, Una’s heart froze thinking the slight girl would tackle Waleran. Instead, she seized fast on his other arm, breathing deeply through her nostrils as though trying to contain great anger.

  “Get off me!” Waleran snarled, but Rose’s face was fixed and white and she did not speak to him, just glared at him with grim determination. “What is this?”

  Una shook her head and when he pressed harder, she cried out. “I do not know.” If Rose was not so unique, she might have run for help, Una thought despairingly.

  “Keep your voice down, or it will be the worse for you!” he threatened her.

  “Where are we going?” Una demanded. Surely, they would not get far. Not with Waleran, hindered now in his flight by two women.

  “You’ll find out,” he gloated, half shoving her through a side door. He tried to shake Rose off his arm but failed. “Well, if she wants to share our fate, she can,” Waleran sneered. When he shut the door in Abelard’s face, preventing him from following, the little dog flung back his head and started to howl. At least he would take no further hurt, Una thought, and maybe eventually his cries would alert the household that they were missing.

  To her surprise, Waleran did not take them around the front of the house but headed instead down the garden. Una craned her eyes to scan for waiting horses or more men, but she could see no one else in the shadowy grounds save for the three of them. He must have been speaking the truth, she thought about being alone.

  Suddenly, out of the darkness the ruins loomed far above them. With mounting dread, Una realized Waleran was making a beeline for them. She dragged her feet and shot a glance at Rose, whose eyes were still fixed sternly on Waleran’s eager profile. Did Rose even realize the danger they were in, she wondered?

  Una ran her tongue over her dry lips. “These ruins are treacherous,” she said desperately. “I have been warned to stay far away from them.”

  “You need have no fear,” Waleran assured her, coming abruptly to a stop at the bottom of the disintegrating stairwell. He flung them both before him, so both women stood at the foot of the steps. “They will serve our purpose. I have tested them.”

  Una stared, for surely, she could see a glow of light around the first bend and in the remains of the chamber at the very top. Had he set torches in the old sconces? “You have tested the stairway?” she repeated weakly. “Waleran, the steps do not lead anywhere except into the sky.”

  He nodded gleefully. “They will lead to our eternal glory.” He was mad, Una thought with terrifying certainty. Quite mad.

  He stabbed the air with his dagger. “Get moving,” he said with menace, and walked toward them. Given precious little choice, Una reached her hand out to take Rose’s and they started climbing the steps with Waleran following close behind them.

  13

  Armand was descending the stairs two at a time when Otho appeared at the bottom, ashen-faced. “Well?” his brother-in-law demanded.

  “She’s not in the solar or the attics,” Armand replied tersely. They looked at each other grimly. Armand had told Otho of Lord Vawdrey’s message that afternoon, and no doubt they were both thinking the same thing. The house was now in uproar with servants running hither and thither. Armand flung up a hand “Silence!” he roared. “Where’s that dog barking?”

  “Sir, he’s in the kitchens,” Janet said, round-eyed. “Creating ever such a racket he is, none of us can quiet him without Rose and she’s nowhere to be found either.”

  “Rose is missing?” Otho uttered sharply, but Armand was already making for the kitchen where Abelard was scrabbling at the back door.

  “Do not let him out!” Mr. Beverley cried, not realizing who was snatching the door open. “If he runs away, there will be hell to pay!”

  As soon as it had been flung it wide, Abelard hurled himself outside and Armand followed, pursued by a mob. Abelard pressed his tiny nose to the ground and headed straight down the garden. Armand followed him, his eyes intent on the dog. Someone behind him let out a cry.

  “Look! Someone is at the top of the tower!”

  “They must be mad!”

  Armand glanced up with dread and saw the tower was illuminated with golden light streaming out of the little chamber room poised at the top of the winding steps. His heart stuttered and then started beating again twice as fast. He could see Una’s red dress and the glitter of the gold net in her auburn hair. She was stood at the very top, with a shadowy figure on either side of her.

  Janet let out a lusty wail. “It’s the mistress!”

  The babble and clamor that greeted her words seemed to propel Armand out of his stunned horror. He ran until he’d closed the distance between himself and the ruin. Finding Abelard poised at the bottom step, he scooped up the little dog and turned, dumping him in the arms of the first servant he spied.

  It was Janet’s swain, Peter. “What will we do, sir?” he gulped.

  “Keep hold of the dog,” Armand told him in clipped tones, and made for the steps. Walker and Otho were close behind him.

  “Stay where you are!” a voice bellowed down from above. “Or the princess will suffer for it!”

  “Princess?” Armand heard voices behind him murmur in confusion. Maybe he should have mentioned that prior to this. There were lots of things in retrospect, he could not help but feel he had handled badly. First and foremost, his woeful attempts to secure his property. By taking on so many in such a short space of time, he had let this stranger slip into their midst and steal his greatest treasure. He had much rather he had emptied his attic strong room than taken Una. Icy fingers of dread traced down his spine as he gazed up at the figures so far above him. Was he not to get the chance to set any of this to rights?

  “It is him!” Otho breathed in disbelief. “It’s Waleran. He’s taken them hostage up there.”

  Armand froze on the fourth or fifth step up. He could see Una holding out her hands palm up as she tried to remonstrate with the bastard. What the fuck was she doing? He felt his throat constrict and gave an agonized groan. Even worse, she kept trying to step protectively in front of Rose. He ground his teeth, refusing to let these charades distract him from his pale wife. He focused on Una as if the force of gaze from his eyes alone could keep her standing upright instead of plummeting like a stone from the ramparts.

  Armand felt the fear settle like a pit of dread in his stomach. He was going to fucking lose her. And she didn’t even know, didn’t have a fucking clue how he felt … A hand clutched at his shoulder. Otho was stood on the step beside him. “Una is a sensible lass,” he heard Otho murmur desperately. “She’ll keep her head.” He was right. Una would keep her head in a crisis. But she would not put herself first. She never did.

  Armand’s gaze swept up the crumbling flight again as he furiously estimated how long it would take him to reach the top, but he knew he wouldn’t stand a chance of interception. She was going to fall. He knew it in his heart of hearts. It was his punishment for not appreciating her until it was too damn late. He felt sick to his soul. Terrified. He realized he’d never even known true fear in his life, until this moment.

  He stared up at her, desperately trying to will her to have some fucking sense and not incite her crazed brother. He muttered an involuntary oath as the two women suddenly huddled together, seemingly trying to crane as far from Waleran as possible. The bastard flung back his head and laughed. There were only three walls fully intact of the small chamber, so you could see the three of them clearly outlined against the grey stone where a torch flickered from the sconce.

  Waleran held out a hand, as though asking one of them to dance. Both Una and Rose shrank back. Then Una was speaking again, and Armand advanced a few more steps, his mouth drawn into a grim line as Waleran’s attention was focused on his sister. Then it looked as though Rose had said something, for his attention turned to her.

  Waleran looked to be ranting at both of them in turn. It looked like they were a
rguing or interrupting him for he flung out a hand in frustration. In truth, Armand couldn’t tell which one of them was mouthing off, but he felt sick with fear it might be Una. Keep your goddamn mouth shut woman, he raged inwardly, as he heard Walker’s footfall behind him. Glancing back in warning, Armand saw the man held a bow and arrow. “Can you reach him with your bow?” Armand asked hoarsely.

  Walker paused sizing the situation up. “Not without risk to the two women,” he admitted.

  Armand cursed under his breath, climbing further as the women now had their abductor’s sole focus. He kept low and close to the wall.

  Una was speaking again and though Armand could not hear her words, he could tell her tone was both reasonable and measured. Waleran looked to be grinding his teeth with frustration, and he clapped both his hands to his head in a sudden fury. Armand froze and Rose stepped swiftly forward, thrust out both her arms and gave a mighty shove to their assailant.

  Waleran’s mouth opened wide in a silent shriek and his arms wind-milled as he found himself suddenly stepping back and treading thin air. His footing lost, he made a wild grab for her but went sailing over the edge. For a horrifying moment, it looked like Rose’s momentum would carry her over as well, but Una lunged forward and caught her about her waist, dragging her back onto the ledge. Both women collapsed onto their backsides and Armand found he could suddenly breathe.

  “Ro-se!” cried Otho brokenly some ten steps or so behind. It sounded as if her name had burst involuntarily from his lips.

  “Sweet lord,” murmured Walker who was somehow close behind him now. “Did you see that?”

  A dull heavy thud behind them heralded the would-be assassin’s ignominious landing on the ground. Ignoring the muffled shrieks below, Armand kept his eyes trained on the red figure, never looking away as he clenched his jaw.

  “Stay where you are, Una,” he called tightly, as he closed the gap between them. He turned back seeing some of his men starting toward the staircase. “No more on the steps!” he ordered. “It is not fit for the weight of so many!” He saw them turn back and go instead to inspect the body that had fallen to one side of the tower.

  Una and Rose were both sat now with their backs to the remaining wall. Una looked very pale. Armand found he could not tear his eyes from her face to check on Rose. Otho was here for her anyway. He took the steps two at a time and the higher he climbed, the more his fear receded. It was swiftly replaced with a burning anger that gnawed at his guts and left a nasty taste in his mouth.

  He couldn’t take it out on that bastard Waleran, so that left only one recipient for his wrath. His wife. What the bloody hell did she think she was doing prancing around up there, risking life and limb and nearly giving him some kind of seizure?

  “I’ll remain here,” Walker said loudly. “In case you should need another pair of hands if one of them should swoon.”

  And then, with another few steps, Armand was at the top. He stepped onto the stone platform and reached down to grab Una by her elbows, pulling her upright. “Come to me,” he said roughly, and she came.

  “Rose,” she said, trying to turn back.

  “Otho is behind me. He will help Rose down.”

  “Did you hear that, Rose? Do not stir a step,” Una said admonishing the maid.

  Armand’s arm about her waist propelled her forward. “Watch your step, here,” he ground out. “It’s uneven.”

  “I know. I would have stumbled if not for Rose. She is as sure-footed as a goat.”

  He ignored this, pushing her flat against the wall as Otho reached their step. He braced himself in case her brother dared to try and snatch her from him. Instead, Otho merely reached out a hand to squeeze Una’s shoulder. She patted his hand.

  “I’m fine, Otho,” she reassured him. “You go and fetch Rose down.” Her brother nodded and advanced to the top. Armand heard him rumble something but did not catch the words.

  Rose’s voice carried down to them clearly. “He was a bad man,” she said mutinously. “He kicked Abelard.”

  Una made a choked sound. “He wanted us to die together,” she said wonderingly. “As some sort of grand gesture.”

  Armand did not answer, could not. “No fainting,” he called down to Walker, who was waiting at the midway point. “You go down and we’ll follow.”

  Glancing back up he saw that Otho was still crouched beside Rose, as though talking some sense into her. Perhaps he did not want to risk all of them on the steps at the same time. Armand kept his grip on Una’s waist. They followed Walker’s descent cautiously, five steps or so behind him at any given time.

  When they finally reached the bottom, Armand waited with bated breath for the sick feeling of relief to subside, so he could once again breathe easy. Watching Una raise a shaky hand to her face and swipe her eyes made something inside him snap. Suddenly he felt a tide of feeling so strong, that he grabbed her upper arms in a biting grip, and yanked her forward against his chest, holding her tight and breathing deeply against her hair. He met Walker’s gaze over the top of her head for an instant, before the other man nodded. Armand responded in kind and then it seemed the spell of heavy silence around them was lifted.

  An impromptu smattering of applause broke out among their household huddled around the foot of the tower. Armand glanced over and saw someone had spread their cloak over the dead body.

  “Armand?” Una asked in muffled tones from against his chest. He squeezed her harder, not willing yet to loosen his hold of her.

  Approaching footsteps made him look up to see Otho and Rose had reached the bottom. Otho’s expression too was foreboding in the extreme. Strangely enough, that fact made Armand feel a little better. Once they stood on the ground, Otho crossed his arms and stepped back, allowing Rose to get swept into first Janet and then Mrs. Brickenden’s capable arms. Rose had a look of bewilderment on her face when she was hailed as Una’s savior.

  “Where’s Abelard?” Armand heard Rose ask plaintively. Peter stepped forward with the little dog and Rose cheered up at once, reaching for him.

  “I should like to check on Abelard too,” Una said in a small voice. “He was injured trying to protect me from Waleran.”

  It took a ridiculous amount of effort for Armand to relinquish his grip and permit her to take those two steps from his side and run her hands over the little dogs squirming body. “I think his side is bruised,” she said in a low voice to Rose, her hand hovering over his ribs. “Here.”

  “Just a little sore,” Rose agreed. “I can put my Granny’s remedy on it and bring the swelling out.”

  Armand’s gaze met Otho’s. “Let’s get them back to the house now,” he suggested. Otho nodded and Armand reached for Una, tugging her resolutely into in his wake. He was irritated to find a crowd following close on their heels, all babbling with barely suppressed speculation. He sped up, and felt Una struggling beside to match his pace.

  “Armand—”

  “Not a word Una,” he cut in tightly. “I’m warning you.” He tightened his grip involuntarily on her and heard her gasp, before forcing himself to relax his hold. The contact helped. Just a bit. It made the taste of death recede. He knew instinctively he had to keep his hands on her until his murderous mood dissipated.

  “I am quite well,” replied Una softly, shooting him a troubled look.

  “No, you’re not,” he growled angrily. “Someone just tried to kill you and I nearly let them!” He was almost shaking with fury.

  “It’s not your fault—,” she started, but when she caught sight of the expression on his face, she lapsed into bewildered silence. There was a wary look in her eye, which was probably why she was holding her tongue now. She wasn’t stupid.

  He stopped abruptly and swung her up in his arms. “Stop struggling,” he warned her grimly, though she hadn’t made any move to resist. Once they reached the house, he turned to confront the crowd. “Everyone,” he announced loudly, and the conversation hushed at once, as everyone looked at him expectantly. “W
alker and Otho here will brief you as to why this man wanted to end your mistress’s life. If any of you feel you no longer wish to remain in our service, then you can pack your things and leave before the morrow.”

  Everyone stared back at him open-mouthed. Otho shot him an exasperated look, while Walker merely looked amused. Armand set Una on her feet and hustled her halfway up the first flight of stairs before she’d even had a chance to draw breath.

  14

  Una’s heart sank as they mounted the staircase. For some reason, Armand was angry with her. Blindingly angry. She could feel it pulsing off him in waves. His fingers clutched at her waist sporadically, not in a comforting gesture, but rather as if he was making sure of her substance. She shivered slightly in dismay. But why was he so mad? She bit her lip and noticed his knuckles were white from where they clutched the bannister. Gently she reached out and touched his fingers in what she hoped was a conciliatory gesture.

  “Don’t!” he burst out, and she tried to turn back to look at his face, but he tightened his grip on her and prevented her. “Face forward,” he ground out.

  She froze. He was blaming her, she realized with dismay. He thought it was her fault! She felt a spurt of rebellion along with a pinch of pain. It was grossly unfair. She tried to stand straight and stiff on her step, trying to hold herself away from him, but he yanked her back roughly.

  “Don’t!” he repeated, his voice sounding raw. His arms tightened around her like steel bands. What in heaven’s name was wrong with him? She forced herself to relax back against him and felt his hold loosen infinitesimally. It began to dawn on her that she was in serious trouble. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, she was fighting to remain calm.

  It only made it worse when she got a glimpse of his face as he dragged her up the top step, his fingers biting into her wrist as he maneuvered along the dark-paneled corridor.