by Diana Cosby
Chapter 8
Cold rage surged through Elspet at Sir Petrus’s disparaging remark. “Y-you are wrong. Blar is a good man. Though he and I have not always agreed, I would trust him with my life!”
“Keep your voice down!” Cailin warned as he peered through the slit into the stable. Body tense, he turned to the master-at-arms. “Explain.”
“I admit that I have never seen eye to eye with her stepbrother,” the knight stated. “A fact not helped by the way, during his visits to the castle, he behaved as if he were above us and went out of his way to garner favor with the earl.”
“Garner favor with the earl?” she sputtered, taking a step closer within the confines of the tunnel. “He offered Lord Dalkirk the respect his station demanded, a man I assure you, he despises.”
The master-at-arms’s mouth tightened, goading her to further defend her stepbrother.
“At times Blar may appear to be arrogant,” Elspet admitted, her voice but a whisper beneath Cailin’s hard gaze, “but ’tis confidence in his abilities that guides his actions.”
“I find it odd that since Blar’s supposed arrest,” Sir Petrus said, “he now serves with the earl’s guard. An interesting position for a man who despises Lord Dalkirk.”
Body trembling with fury, Elspet took another step closer. “’Tis rubbish. Blar, and I, were brought to Tiran Castle as prisoners.”
“Aye, but you escaped.” Pride flickered in Sir Petrus’s eyes. “An outrage that festers in the earl like a burr beneath a saddle. As for your stepbrother—” His expression darkened. “I canna tell you what convinced Lord Dalkirk to add him to his men’s ranks. Whatever the reason, Blar now rides on patrol with the guard and practices daily with the others as if his due.”
Nausea swirled in her gut. “It canna be true.”
He gestured toward the opening. “Look for yourself. He is in the lists now.”
Pulse racing, she moved forward. The master-at-arms admitted he didn’t like her stepbrother, but if Blar indeed trained with the earl’s men, she assured herself ’twas due to his being threatened with imprisonment or death. That he’d voluntarily join the earl’s guard was unthinkable.
Elspet peered out. Sunlight struggled to break through the dense overcast, leaving the hard, snow-encrusted ground suffocated within a murky gray.
A gust whipped past, then another, hurling snow through the air as if another layer of gloom as she gazed past the bailey toward where the knights trained.
The clang of blades rang out as two men sparred to the far right.
She studied both, the distance making it difficult to see their faces. Frustrated, she slowly scanned the other fighters, searching for anyone resembling her brother. On a relieved breath, she stepped back. “I see nay one who resembles Blar.”
Sir Petrus walked over, peered out. “Look by the well.”
On an unsteady breath, she again moved to the opening, stared at several men standing around the well taking turns drinking from a ladle.
Heart pounding, she slowly scanned each one. At the third fighter, she stilled.
Blar. Laughing at something another man had said.
Relief coursed through her so swiftly that she almost swayed. She’d prayed, had even resorted to thievery to try to save him. Though Sir Petrus thought poorly of her stepbrother, at this moment she was grateful the earl had spared his life.
She turned. “Blar is out there, which proves little more than that, by some miracle, he is alive and has been successful in hiding his disdain for the earl.”
The master-at-arms’s mouth flattened, but he remained silent.
Cailin crossed to the hidden viewpoint. “Which man is Blar?”
She crossed her arms. “The third from the left at the well.”
Cailin peered out. After a long moment, he stepped back, and as his eyes met hers, his expression cool.
For the first time, doubt seeped through Elspet. Shaken, she lowered her arms. Had Blar betrayed her? Had he turned his back on his family, on the bond they’d forged over the years?
She wanted to dismiss her misgivings of a man who was like a brother to her, but a question haunted her. “Sir Petrus, after my escape, do you know if Blar tried to find me?”
“He rode out several times with a band, searching for you.”
Proof that he was trying to find her, but because he rode on the earl’s orders, the master-at-arms wouldn’t see it that way. “Do you know if he ever slipped out to look for me?”
“He did not.”
The hardness of his tone set her on edge. “How can you be sure?”
“He is beneath my command. Had he left his post, departed during the night, slipped away from the band, I would have been notified.”
Far from the answer she wanted, but she refused to give up hope. “There must be a sound reason for Blar’s actions,” she insisted. Her stepbrother’s loyalty to the earl was surely a ruse as he plotted a way to find her. And once he’d earned the earl’s trust, his actions wouldn’t be under scrutiny. Then, when he did slip away to search for her, after his brief time as a guard, they would have coin to escape.
* * * *
Cailin met Sir Petrus’s gaze, the warning in the older man’s eyes assuring him that his mentor’s distrust for Blar ran deep. Cailin had known the knight since he was born, and until the day he’d departed, Sir Petrus had done naught without good reason. A point that would weigh heavily in Cailin’s decisions.
“We will discuss Blar later,” Cailin said at last. “For now, that he is alive and safe is what matters.”
Face pale, she nodded.
Sir Petrus glanced toward the covert entry. “I need to return before ’tis noticed I am gone.”
“Indeed.” Cailin clasped his mentor’s hand. Though Father Lamond’s suggestion of wearing the monk’s garb was excellent, he was thankful they hadn’t had to move into the castle and risk being identified. “We will meet here tomorrow at the same time.”
His mentor nodded, then slipped into the stable.
Rubbing his jaw, Cailin glanced toward Elspet. She was watching him, her eyes dark with a combination of relief and worry.
Nor could he blame her. She wrestled with the fact that her stepbrother had joined the guard of the noble who’d murdered her mother and Blar’s father and despised the notion that his loyalties were in question. ’Twas unsettling indeed.
“Follow me.” He lifted the taper and headed down the tunnel. Golden candlelight spilled ahead of them, the air growing staler with each step. He smothered his instinctive reaction to the enclosed space. Since his forced labor on the pirate ship, he’d disliked being confined and would breathe easier once they reached the forest.
Fragments of daylight illuminated the tunnel ahead, and the air grew fresh. They were nearing the exit. His chest lightened and he slowed his steps, glanced over.
Chestnut-brown hair tumbled to frame her face taut with strain, and he ached to draw her to him, to offer comfort.
A foolish thought, nor one he would linger on further. “About your stepbrother—”
“Blar loathes the earl as do I. His loyalty is but a ruse. Once he has earned the earl’s trust, I believe he intends to escape and find me.”
For her sake, he wanted to believe she was right, but given Sir Petrus’s distrust, Cailin had misgivings. “Whether your stepbrother’s reason for his loyalty to my uncle is real or false, too much is at stake to take any unnecessary risks. Once I have overthrown my uncle and Tiran Castle is mine, you may speak with Blar.”
Anger flashed in her eyes. “Blar is the only family I have. Do you not realize how much he means to me, the risks I took to try to save him?”
“Indeed, because ’twas I who saved you, a debt you repaid by robbing me. Neither,” he drawled, ignoring the blush slashing her cheeks, “will I change my mind.”
&n
bsp; Elspet turned on her heel, stormed toward the castle.
He caught her arm, whirled her to face him.
“Release me!”
“So you can do what?” he demanded, furious that after everything, she’d dare defy him. “Regardless of Blar’s loyalty, if you are caught in the castle, you would be arrested.”
Beneath the flicker of candlelight, what little remaining color in her face fled, but her voice remained firm. “Blar needs to know that I am alive, am here, and will help him to escape.”
The image of her stepbrother laughing with the other fighters far from convinced Cailin that Blar was in imminent danger or was secretly plotting to save her. Given Elspet’s anger, reasoning she wouldn’t see.
“In time, your stepbrother will know you are safe. However much you dislike the fact, for now ’tis imperative that he remains ignorant of where you are.” She opened her mouth to speak; he raised his hand. “I want naught more than to confront my uncle and expose his deceit. However, too many within the castle are loyal to him to make such a reckless move. Once I raise a significant force, we will both have our wishes.”
Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t argue.
As much as he wanted to let the matter drop, he’d experienced the consequences of her headstrong ways.
“You will swear that you willna try to approach Blar or find another means to inform him of your presence.”
Eyes blazing, she jerked free. “You would demand that I swear such?”
“I would.” Cailin forced his tone to be hard. “Had you not stolen my sword after you drugged me, I would be more lenient.”
“I returned your weapon.”
“A broadsword the merchant wouldna have seen and informed my uncle of my presence if you hadna taken it. Swear to me now!”
Emerald eyes glittered. “I have sworn my fealty to you, led you to Father Lamond, and done whatever possible to aid you. That you dinna trust me to have wisdom in my decisions is an insult.” She jabbed her finger into his chest. “I am nay a child who needs tending, but a woman—” She jabbed again. “One not afraid to fight.”
As she started to shove her finger into his chest for the third time, he caught her wrist and found her pulse racing. Her other hand came up, and he caught that as well.
She was afraid, but she didn’t look away. Never had he met a lass as passionate, one who would fight, give all, for someone she loved. What would it be like to have such a woman in his life? In his bed?
Irritated thoughts of her had worked their way into his mind when he should be thinking of naught but his goal of seizing his home, he scowled at her.
She angled her jaw in defiance.
God’s blade, what a lass. “You will heed my warning!”
“I have pledged my fealty to you.”
Given under duress. He could feel his back teeth grinding. Blast the obstinate woman. He wanted to rail at her, shake her until she saw reason, but with her stubbornness, if he threatened her further, she’d likely dig her heels in deeper.
She opened her mouth to say more.
Out of sheer reaction to smother whatever reckless words she’d spew and shove his ire higher, he claimed her mouth.
Elspet’s silky lips stilled against his.
Her mouth was soft, her body warm, and her sensual taste tore through him until his intention to silence her collapsed to need. Like a man parched, he skimmed his hands up to cup her face, teased her with his tongue, teeth, until her body trembled.
On a moan, her lips parted, and he angled her jaw and took the kiss deeper, hauling her against him until her every curve was molded against him.
Images of her naked in his bed screamed through his mind, of touching her, tasting her every inch.
The blare of a distant horn sounded.
Blood pounding hot, Cailin released her, stunned by his actions as he stared at her lips swollen from his kisses, frustrated he wanted more. Blast it, what was he thinking?
Thinking?
No, lost to need, lucid thought had vacated his mind.
Emerald eyes flared as she stepped back. “Is that how you silence women?”
“Nay,” he ground out. He took a much-needed step back, his body still humming with desire, her taste still roaring through his every breath. Furious he’d lost control, he glared at her, unsure of who he was angrier with, himself or her.
Irritated at the intensity of how much he wanted her, he tugged up his monk’s hood. “Follow me.”
* * * *
Cailin headed toward the exit, and Elspet glared at him. Her body still tingled where he’d touched her, his taste still warm on her tongue. Damn him! “Do you think you can kiss me like a barbarian and walk away? Is that what they teach you in when you become a knight?”
He whirled. Beneath the faint light, he stalked toward her, blue eyes darkening like a storm. Wolf’s eyes, those of a predator, need churning within. “I have never forced a lady,” he said through clenched teeth. “Nor was I the only one taking part in the kiss!”
Emotions tangled in her mind, but fairness insisted upon truth. Whatever else, he was right. What could she say? She hadn’t wanted the kiss, but after their heated encounter, now she wanted more.
“Nor,” he continued, “does it matter. It meant nothing.” He strode toward the exit.
Like a slap to the face, she stared at his retreating form. Though she had been kissed before, never had anyone moved her like Cailin. Move her? A pathetic name for the heat searing through her every inch, of how for a moment every fiber felt alive, as if his taste and touch was air to breathe.
“That meant nothing to you?” she demanded.
He kept walking.
The bastard. She clenched her fists. Fine. If denial was his strategy, with ease she could keep her distance.
She started after him, realized that in the mayhem of moments before she hadn’t sworn to keep away from Blar. She scoffed at his demand. Cailin might be the rightful earl of Dalkirk, but he didn’t dictate her life. Nor was she a fool. However much she wanted to trust Blar, now she held doubts.
The quiet scrape of wood had her glancing ahead.
At the tunnel entrance, Cailin shoved the disguised entry open a hand’s width, peered out.
The blare of a horn sounded, this time closer.
Fear smothered the ire of moments before. She hurried to his side. “What do you see?”
“’Tis several men from the castle on a hunt.”
“At least they are not searching for us.”
“I assure you, if they believed we were near, they would abandon their hunt and scour the area in a trice.” He grimaced. “Once they are gone, we will ride to the band of Romani hidden in the forest led by Taog MacCarron.”
“Why?”
“I believe that I can convince the Romani leader that ’tis to his and his people’s benefit to help me overthrow the earl.”
She arched a skeptical brow, knowing her friend’s ways too well. “He is a powerful man. Why do you think he will back you?”
“Because Taog and his people refused to swear fealty to my uncle.”
“The Romani are men who live by their own rules, and who give their trust to few.”
“And you know this because…?”
“Over the years, I often traveled with my stepfather to their encampment.” She glanced out, keeping an eye on the distant band of knights. “I have made many close friends within their encampment.”
Cailin drew his brows together. “Before you awoke this morning, Father Lamond explained that you would know their location.”
She nodded. “My stepfather told me a month before where they had moved their camp.”
“How did your stepfather know where they would be?”
“There is a tree stump he would go to. Inside, they would leave a rolled-u
p writ telling them their new location, or replies to questions he had left for them.” She paused. “Odd; I never thought how unusual that was until now.”
“If they passed missives to your stepfather, they sound far from an unorganized, disreputable band.” He frowned. “Do you think they worked in league with your stepfather?”
“I am unsure.” Elspet hesitated, remembering the close bond her stepfather had with Taog and his men. Never had she considered their familiarity could mean more, until now. “You think they support King Robert as well?”
“Mayhap. If so, ’twould make it easier to gain their support.” Cailin gazed through the opening, then back to her. “The men are gone.” He shoved the hidden door open the rest of the way. “Come.”
Once he’d sealed the entry and erased any sign of their presence, she followed him through the dense tangle of brush to where he’d secured his horse behind a shield of rocks.
A gust of wind rattled the branches overhead. She glanced at the gray clouds thick with snow. “As long as we arena seen and forced to make a detour, we should make it to the Romani camp before dark.”
He mounted, extended his arm toward her. “Then,” he said as he lifted her up behind him, “we will ensure that we arena seen.” Once she explained in what direction they were heading, he rode from the shielding brush and kicked his destrier into a canter.
The soft thud of hooves upon snow merged with the whip of wind that thankfully covered their tracks. Elspet hung on tight, her body flush against his, a potent reminder of how he’d kissed her until reason had succumbed to desire.
Merciful saints, she didn’t need to think about his kiss. More so after he’d pushed her away. Refusing to linger on the hurt, she turned her thoughts to what she’d do once Blar was free.
Her stepfather had close friends at Avalon Castle, on an island off the Western Highlands. She remembered meeting Stephan MacQuistan, Earl of Dunsmore, and his wife, Lady Katherine. Though nobility, regardless that she was untitled, they’d welcomed her with open arms. More, they’d encouraged her to visit in the future. An invitation she would accept. Regardless of Blar’s decision on whether to join her, the distance would allow her time to think, to decide what to do with her life, and a way to put Cailin from her mind.