Abducted by a Prince (12 page)

“Wait!” she called. “Haven’t you a rowboat that could take us to the ship?”

He paused to flash her a scornful look through the gloom. “Even if I did, it would be suicide to set out in such a gale. The waves would drench you inside half a minute. In another half a minute, we’d capsize and drown.”

“It’s only a storm. Surely it will end soon.”

“We’re in the North Sea. Winter storms here can last for days.”

Days! Her insides twisted into a knot. Was she truly going to be stuck here with him for heaven only knew how long?

She couldn’t accept that fate. Not when she burned to find out how Walt had explained her abrupt absence. Her fear was that Uncle Basil wouldn’t swallow a trumped-up tale of her being called out of town to care for a sick friend. Nor was her sharp-eyed grandmother likely to believe it. Subjected to their questioning, Walt might have to confess that Ellie had been abducted by a scoundrel who had been tossed out of society for seducing a young lady.

Some six or seven years earlier, Ellie had been present when Walt had gleefully related that gossip to their grandmother. The countess had condemned the Demon Prince in no uncertain terms. Now, Ellie felt sick to imagine her family learning that she was with that very man. Although she was innocent of any wrongdoing, her reputation would be tarnished irreparably. Her family might very well disown her.

Directly ahead, Damien Burke was striding toward the open archway that led to the castle yard. But he didn’t go outside. Instead, he turned right and proceeded through another doorway that she hadn’t noticed during her nighttime trek.

Ellie went flying after him. He wasn’t going to brush her off so easily. If she had to be trapped with the ill-mannered brute, then the least he could do was to explain certain matters to her.

As she passed the open doorway, an icy gust from the courtyard nearly blew her off her feet. Shivering, she scurried behind him down a shadowy tunnel until they reached another heavy oak door. He pushed it open and she followed him into a high-ceilinged chamber.

While he stopped there to apply oil to the door hinges, Ellie found herself distracted by the surroundings. She walked slowly forward, her footsteps echoing off the stone walls. On either side of her lay double rows of stone benches. Directly in front of the aisle, the stained glass in two high windows cast a faint, reddish-gold light onto a stone altar. She bent down to run her gloved fingertips over the elaborate Celtic cross that was carved into the base.

“What a lovely room,” she said over her shoulder. “This must be the chapel.”

“How brilliant of you to notice.”

Ellie had had enough of his boorishness. She went marching back down the aisle and stopped right in front of him, tilting her head up to glare at him. “No wonder you’re called the Demon Prince. You’re the rudest man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. And if I may point out, it isn’t
my
fault that I’m trapped here with you. The least you could do to atone for ruining my life is to be civil.”

He glared, his eyes as hard as gemstones in his harshly handsome features. Rain pelted the window glass, and she had a keen awareness of how isolated they were. He could attack her and no one would hear her screams over the noise of the storm …

His mouth uncurled ever so slightly from its disgruntled expression. “Pray accept my apologies, Miss Stratham. If you don’t care for my manners, I’ve given you leave to return to your chamber.”

“No. You owe me answers to my questions.”

He gave her a hooded stare, then crouched down in front of the door to oil the bottom hinge. “What questions?”

Gazing down at his damp, tousled hair, Ellie had the peculiar impulse to reach out and comb it with her fingers. She gripped her gloved hands together. “Last night, you claimed that Walt took the key out of malice. But you never offered any further explanation. Tell me, why would my cousin feel such spite toward you?”

“It’s a long, complicated story.”

“Well, it appears that you may have several days in which to relate every last detail. So start at the beginning. Where did you two meet?”

He cast a wary glance up at her. “In my first year at Eton. I was a scrawny, half-grown lad and he was a bully.”

Ellie compared the two men in her mind. “But you’re much larger than him now.”

“Yes, I sprouted up the summer after that first year.” As if to lend substance to the statement, he rose to his full height. “And once I’d thrashed him a time or two, Walt learned his lesson. After that, he quit pestering me—and stealing my belongings.”

On that, Damien Burke turned and stalked out of the chapel.

Ellie’s eyes widened as she absorbed the startling revelation. Then she scurried to catch up to him. “Wait. Are you implying that Walt stole that key from you all the way back in your school days?”

“Yes.”

“But that had to have been some fifteen years ago! How can you be sure that he still has it in his possession?”

“Because I could see the truth in his face when I questioned him. Walt never was a good liar.”

As they headed down another dank corridor, Ellie struggled to wrap her mind around the notion that the inciting event had happened so far in the past. “For pity’s sake, why did you wait so long to try to get the key back?”

“I
did
make several attempts while still in school. I searched his belongings, but the key was nowhere to be found. Walt taunted me that he’d hidden it where I’d never find it. So I decided to bide my time until I had the power to force his hand.”

The ruthless look on his face sent a chill down her spine. If he would do anything to retrieve his precious key, then he wasn’t likely to let her go very easily.

“You
don’t
have the power,” she said firmly, “because I’m not his sister. As I’ve told you already, Walt will feel no obligation to rescue me.”

“Then perhaps your uncle or grandmother will do so. Now stop following me, lest you tempt me to lock you in the dungeon.”

With that, the Demon Prince stalked through an arched doorway and plunged out into the storm-swept courtyard.

Chapter 10

This time, Ellie didn’t go after him. Lashed by rain and wind, she stayed within the stone archway. The icy torrent appeared not to affect Damien Burke at all. He made no attempt to duck his head as protection from the downpour. His strides long and even, he proceeded across the yard to the tall keep with its high, barred windows.

Let the Demon Prince run off to his lair, she thought scornfully. He was like a grumpy child who needed time alone to cool his bad temper.

If indeed the storm kept them stranded here for the next day or two, she’d have other opportunities to question him. For one, she wanted to know what had turned him into such a cold, callous man. Being bullied as a youth? Or was it his ouster from polite society for his shameful behavior with that innocent young lady?

She also wondered about his family background and the source of his funds. How had he acquired this castle? By lease or by inheritance?

Gazing up at the high turrets and the crenellated walls, Ellie felt no inclination to return to the safety of her tower bedchamber. The prospect of reading all afternoon sounded far too dull. Despite the nasty weather, she had a keen desire to explore the castle. And why not? Fate had handed her this rare opportunity to gather details for the illustrations in her storybook.

She headed down a passageway that led away from the chapel. Immediately, she yearned for a sketchpad and pencil. How she would love to capture the atmospheric gloom of this corridor, the rough-hewn shape of the stones, the green moss that grew like a carpet on sections of the walls. Coming upon a closed door, she opened it to peek inside at a cluttered storeroom. The shadowy interior appeared to hold a cache of old weaponry, from crossbows to spears, pikestaffs to broadswords.

Ellie gingerly picked up a long sword and nearly staggered from its weight. For a moment she imagined herself using the blade to force Damien Burke to free her from this island prison. Just as swiftly, she acknowledged the futility of that scenario. They were both stuck here so long as the storm continued to rage.

But she
did
like the sense of power the sword gave to her. It made her feel brave and heroic. Gripping the hilt more firmly with both gloved hands, she hoisted the blade and made a few experimental swings in the air, the cloak swirling around her. She was Princess Arianna battling the evil rat prince who had invaded her chamber …

Prince?

No, the man-sized rat was merely the latest in a series of mythical creatures to be slain by the princess in her quest to find her way home. A rat could not be a prince … unless perhaps he was an
enchanted
rat.

The notion caught Ellie’s fancy. Propping the sword against the wall, she mulled over the possibility of adding a new twist to her story. Suppose a witch had cast a spell over a cruel, hard-hearted prince as a punishment. Suppose again that the only way to break the spell was for him to prove himself worthy of love. Yet try as he might, he could never succeed because people either screamed at the sight of a gigantic rodent or tried to kill him. Nevertheless, he could not give up. Resolving to win Princess Arianna’s heart, he entered her chamber to help her fight off an invading ogre …

A wry smile touched Ellie’s lips as she closed the storeroom door and resumed her stroll down the passageway. Damien Burke could never know that
he
was the inspiration for this new character in her story. And she would take great pleasure in molding and shaping him exactly as she wished.

A pity she couldn’t do the same to him in real life. Unfortunately, he would always be a surly scoundrel. Outside the pages of a book, rats simply had to remain rats.

Roaming onward, Ellie could see that the castle was laid out in a large square, with the occasional chamber here and there, mostly empty or scattered with rubble. There were open archways to the courtyard at regular intervals, and whenever she passed one, she hurried her steps to avoid being spattered by freezing raindrops.

Gaining entry to another of the towers, she called out to see if either of the servants might be nearby. Her voice echoed in the yawning emptiness of the stairwell. The winding stone steps had crumbled in places, so she decided against climbing to the top.

Had the tempest not been blowing so hard, she would have liked to have gone up to the parapet and gazed out over the sea. Damien Burke had said that a harbor lay only a mile distant, so perhaps she could have glimpsed land through the pouring rain.

Ellie pressed onward, hoping to view the dungeon he had mentioned. But though she searched everywhere, she could find no trapdoor in the stone flooring, no stairway leading down into the bedrock. Perhaps the entrance was located inside the keep. If such was the case, her exploration would have to wait, for she had no desire to venture into the den of the Demon Prince.

After what seemed like hours of wandering, she opened a door at the end of another long passage and discovered welcome signs of life. A torch sputtered and burned in a wall bracket. The delicious aroma of cooking drew her toward a partially opened door.

She peeked inside. An oil lamp glowed over a cozy kitchen with crockery on the shelves and provisions arranged in an open cabinet in the corner. A huge stone hearth filled one wall. There, Mrs. MacNab stood stirring the contents of a cast-iron pot that hung from a hook over the fire. The man named Finn sat eating from a bowl at a long, rustic table, the lamplight gleaming on his bald pate.

Spying Ellie, he quickly wiped his chin on his sleeve and jumped up from the bench to make an old-fashioned bow from the waist. “Yer ladyship! Was there somethin’ ye need?”

Mrs. MacNab turned, a wooden spoon in her hand. “Why, bless me, come in, milady! I bin wonderin’ what happened t’ ye. I was about t’ send Finn t’ ask the laird if ye’d fallen into the sea.”

The irresistible warmth of the fire drew Ellie forward. She felt half frozen, her fingers tingling and her toes like icicles inside her boots. She rubbed her hands together and held them over the flames. “Brrr. I’ve been exploring the castle, that’s all. Until now, I hadn’t realized just how cold I was.”

“Poor, wee lamb,” said Mrs. MacNab, clucking her tongue. “Ye must be chilled t’ the bone. Sit down an’ I’ll bring ye somethin’ warm.”

Within moments, Ellie found herself seated at the table with a blessedly hot cup of tea cradled in her palms. Seeing that Finn had removed his bowl and stood by the fire to eat, she said, “Please, do join me, sir. I didn’t mean to usurp your place.”

“Wouldn’t be proper, me sittin’ with a fine lady.”

“Nonsense. There’s a spot for you right across from me.” As he came forward and seated himself, Ellie added, “By the by, I wonder if Mr. Burke has informed you that I’m
not
Lady Beatrice. I’m her cousin, Miss Eloise Stratham. I’m afraid your master has abducted the wrong woman.”

Finn exchanged a glance with Mrs. MacNab. Then a great grin split his grizzled face with its bushy eyebrows. “We heard ye say so yesterday, but we dinna ken if ’twas true or not. ’Tis no wonder, then, the laird’s been as snappish as a cornered badger today.”

Mrs. MacNab sank down beside Finn on the bench and fanned her face with her apron. “Saint Andrew preserve us! Perhaps ’twill teach the laird a lesson. I warned him this wicked scheme would come t’ naught! Didn’t I, Finn?”

“Aye, ye did indeed, hinny,” Finn said, placing a peck on her plump, rosy cheek. “There’s no one better’n me to know what a scold ye can be.”

It was Ellie’s turn to be surprised. “Are you two married? But you’ve different names.”

“Finn MacNab, I am,” he declared. “’Tis no surprise the master dinna tell ye. He’s ne’er been one t’ babble, not even since he could scarce find a hair on his chin t’ shave.”

Her curiosity piqued, Ellie leaned forward with the teacup clutched in her hands. “Did you work for his family, then?”

“Nay, miss, he has no family. ’Twas at Eton College where I met the master. I was a man-of-all-work there, an’ he was but a poor wee lad in sore need of a friend.”