Everlasting (33 page)

 
Nedda was instructed to pack a small satchel of warm clothing, slippers, and necessities for her mistress and another for herself. In spite of the heavy muck clinging to the worn soles of his boots, he stretched himself out upon the counterpane. Taking no notice of its fine needlework, he crossed his ankles as he watched her pack. Casually, he plied the point of his blade beneath his nails. Abrielle was sure his only intent was to keep their eyes fastened on the shiny blade, as if to lend emphasis to the threat the weapon might pose to them.

 
Upon Fordon’s return, Abrielle was swept from the bed and flung over the brawny shoulder of the taller brigand. Nedda followed closely behind, forced to carry the satchels.

 
Abrielle was carried ever deeper into the nether regions of the keep. Torches had recently been lit to provide illumination along the stone passageways, evidencing the fact that their abduction had been planned well in advance, perhaps according to Thurstan’s instructions.

 
The iron door at the rear entrance of the keep had been made to withstand any siege an enemy brought against it. Lord Weldon had in
sisted upon its strength and durability during the planning and building of the stone structure. However, that premise would succeed only when such forces came from outside, not from within the keep itself.

 
Abrielle was rudely dumped onto a pile of quilts across the corridor from the rear portal. Though she peered intently to see some hint of the moon or the stars beyond the opening, there were none to be seen. Yet, prior to slipping into bed, she had sat for a time within the cushioned cubicle near her bedchamber windows, gazing through the protective iron grille at the wealth of stars visible in the night sky.

 
A few moments passed before it dawned on her that a black shroud was hanging over the doorway, no doubt in an attempt to prevent anyone outside from espying the light. The presence of a lantern would have likely seemed strange in that area of the keep, which seemed to lend viable support to the idea that her kidnapping had been planned well in advance. Had Thurstan been preparing for this event, even as he ate her food and competed in her tournament?

 
The candles in the lanterns were snuffed prior to the covering being lifted from the doorway. Immediately moonlight filtered into the lower depths of the keep, lending a silver gleam to the bearded faces of her captors. Upon being swept over Dunstan’s shoulder once again, Abrielle was carried through the portal and then dumped into a cart that awaited them, causing her to wince in pain in spite of the quilt that had been tied around her. Her displeasure was not the only one evidenced during that moment, for the shaggy, short-legged steed that had been harnessed to the cart had evidently been dozing until startled awake by the sudden jolt of her weight. He leapt forward, testing the length of his tether.

 
Feeling decidedly bruised, Abrielle glared after the huge oaf, who gave her no further heed as he strode back through the opening. Next, Nedda emerged and was instructed to toss their satchels of clothing into the cart before climbing in. Then she was bound and gagged in much the same manner as her mistress.

 
Dunstan and Fordon returned briefly to the interior to retrieve the tallow lanterns and, upon emerging from the keep, tucked them into the end of the cart, whereupon they mounted a pair of shaggy steeds. A third man emerged from the postern door with a pair of pillows and quilts that he tossed into the cart before closing the door. He proved solicitous enough to tuck the pillows beneath the women’s heads before covering them with a quilt. Upon freeing the horse, he climbed into the driver’s seat and slapped the reins, setting the cart into motion. As his two companions set off down the narrow lane meandering away from the keep, he followed.

 
Abrielle grimly wondered if she would ever see her family again. She tried to find comfort in picturing their faces and reminding herself how worried they would be when they discovered her gone and how they would spare nothing to find her and bring her home safely. But as time passed and the uncomfortable journey wound on and on, their beloved images faded to make room for another, this one with deep blue eyes, high, sharp cheekbones, and a haunting smile. He would not be smiling when he heard the news of her abduction. Imagining how he would react made her shiver and gave her courage. Whatever else he was, at this blackest of moments, Raven was a strong, unwavering gleam of hope for her to cling to in the darkness.

CHAPTER 15

 
Gathering clouds drifted over the moon and the stars, leaving Abrielle much perplexed by the direction in which they were journeying. What vexed her even more was the potential brevity of their lives should they fail to find a way to escape. Considering the several layers in which she was now bound, it was difficult to imagine they would be able to escape their captors before they reached their destination.

 
She wondered if by now her mother realized she was gone and was raising up a hue and cry. She could imagine the hectic scene as Vachel prepared to lead a party in search of her. Then, unbidden, her thoughts turned to Raven; something told her he would eschew waiting around to be part of any organized search, for he was far too stubborn and independent. In the hours past she’d envisioned him riding to her rescue, black hair flying behind him as he leaned forward in the saddle, pushing his stallion to the limit. A welcome sight he was, even in her dreams, and even if another rescue by him would make her further obligated to the man. At that moment, with her muscles cramping and throat parched, she didn’t care who found them, as long as she and Nedda were safe.

 
Though it required an equal measure of unrelenting persistence and stubborn tenacity, Abrielle and Nedda finally managed to slip their wrists out of their cords, making them both grateful for the carelessness of the huge oaf who had tied them. Abrielle wiggled around to face her servant and pressed a single finger across her own cloth-bound lips, warning her companion to remain silent.

 
A nod sufficed as assurance that Nedda understood. Abrielle then slid her arms within her enveloping quilt and, upon grasping her nightgown, drew it up until she could reach the hem, whereupon she began tearing off narrow strips from the bottom. The blanket sufficed to muffle the rending of the cloth, but when the driver peered over his shoulder and canted his head in some bemusement, as if trying to determine what he was hearing, Nedda began to feign low snores underneath the edge of the quilt. Issuing a contemptuous snort, the man faced forward again.

 
Moments later, the first, lace-trimmed scrap fluttered over the side of the cart. Another plainer piece, supplied by Nedda, was tossed out a short time later. Hopefully their rescuers would realize the tattered pieces were being left as a guide to their destination.

 
Several more scraps were flung out fairly close together as they swept past adjoining lanes leading to distant cottages, awash in silvery moonlight. When the way proved fairly straight again, lengthy intervals passed before other remnants fluttered out, except when the driver turned the cart onto another road and the path needed to be marked fairly quickly. Night turned into day, and open fields and pasture were left behind for forest growing close to the road.

 
By the time the cart was drawn to a halt in front of a ramshackle cottage at midday, both women’s nightgowns had been shortened well above their ankles, yet their robes would be long enough to hide their newly tattered condition. Abrielle and Nedda quickly bound each other’s wrists. The men seemed oblivious to the trail that had been left, for the women were laid over the shoulders of
their original captors and carried forthwith into the decrepit structure.

 
Sometime in the past, the cottage’s tiny windows had been boarded up by wooden slats, most of which now hung askew, allowing wedges of light from the midday sun to penetrate the narrow cracks. The last vestiges of stiff animal hides hung from nails driven into the upper corners. It seemed doubtful they would suffice to keep out the cold breezes that were even now whipping around the cottage.

 
Carried into the adjoining room, Abrielle and Nedda were dumped in turn upon two narrow, rough-hewn beds upon which rank-smelling, straw-filled pallets lay partially askew on the stiff, aged webbing that years ago had been woven in and out between the bed frames. After being supplied with their bundles of clothing, the women were released from their restraints and told to remain in the room until later. Otherwise, if any unusual movement were detected, leading their captors to suspect that they were trying to escape, they would be tied to their beds.

 
“What if we have ta go ta the privy?” Nedda was either bold or desperate enough to ask. As Dunstan faced her with a snarl on his lips, the servant clasped the quilt about her shoulders as if it were some impenetrable armor capable of withstanding his fiercest blow, unswerving before his menacing glare. The eyes of the two combatants dueled for a lengthy moment until Nedda found the audacity to raise her chin to an imperious level as she persisted with her inquiry. “I asked ye what we should—”

 
“I heard ye!” the brigand barked sharply.

 
If Dunstan had meant to frighten the servant, he was disappointed, for Nedda remained undaunted and persistent. She raised a brow as if she were no less than a queen making a demand of her subject. “Then if ye’d kindly oblige us by answering my question, my mistress and I would be most grateful.”

 
For one astounded moment, the man stared agog at the spunky
woman, as if unable to believe her tenacity. Raising an arm, he pointed to a crude chamber pot in the corner. “If ’n ye or yer liedyship has a need, ye’d best be quiet about movin’ ’round or else me or one of the other lads here will be comin’ in here ta sees what mischief ye’re about.”

 
“And what mischief do you intend while we’re asleep?” Abrielle demanded, seeking to match Nedda’s fortitude. “If you think you can come in here and sport with us, then let me assure you that—”

 
Dunstan snarled and strode toward her until she was forced to tilt her face upward to meet his blazing gaze. “Ye’ll be doin’ what, m’liedy?”

 
Thoroughly shaken, Abrielle had difficulty standing her ground and had to resist the urge to gulp in trepidation, but having just viewed a fine example of stalwart courage, she copied Nedda’s manner and elevated her own chin imperiously. “I shall most definitely scream until you and your companions are forced to flee this hovel to save your hearing.”

 
Chortling at her claim, Dunstan settled his beefy fists upon his voluminous waist and met her gaze. “Ye’ve got spunk, m’liedy, I’ll give ye that. Our orders are ta leaves the two of ye be till the one what hired us arrives…unless, of course, ye gets it inta yer head ta escape. Then we can deals with ye as rough as we wants. So, as long as the two of ye behaves yerselves right nice like, then Fordon and the rest of us’ll be leavin’ ye alone. Do ye ken what I’m sayin’ ta ya, m’liedy?”

 
“In spite of your badly mauled diction, I understand completely,” Abrielle retorted. Lifting a slender hand, she flicked her fingers as she shooed the oaf toward the adjoining room. “If you don’t mind, we would like some privacy now. And be sure to close the door behind you as you take your leave.”

 
The brigand glared as his mouth sagged slowly open at her audacity to order him about. In spite of his assurances that he wouldn’t harm them unless they tried to escape, he raised a clenched fist as if seriously tempted to clobber her.

 
Abrielle merely lifted her finely boned chin to a higher level and looked at him with what she hoped was a bland expression. It would not have been to her advantage to let the man see just how much he frightened her. “I thought you said you weren’t supposed to harm us unless we attempted an escape,” she dared to remind him. “Let me assure you that if you do injure me, I shall complain most stridently of your abuse, so be warned.”

 
“Who are ye ta be warnin’ me?” Dunstan demanded incredulously. He bent toward her again and narrowed his beady eyes into an angry squint. “Ye’d best consider just who’s bein’ held against their will, m’liedy.”

 
“Obviously, for the time being, I am your captive. However, should you forget yourself and dispense with me ere you’ve completed the task you were given, I can assure you that everything I personally inherited from Squire de Marlé will be added to the coffers of my parents. Sir Vachel has numerous knights who will rally to his aid posthaste if you seek to intimidate him. And if you should kill us, whether you intend to or not, the brute who hired you will likely send out more capable men to dispense with you.”