Authors: Diana J. Cosby
His Captive (24 page)
Only a handful of knights remained at the trencher tables to finish the last of the morning fare. A few men nodded curtly to her, but the warmth she’d witnessed in the days before was no longer reflected in their eyes. Now, grief and loathing lingered there instead.
She couldn’t blame them. They’d lost their leader. A man whose name already graced many a legend. Unsettled by their cool looks, she hurried out of the keep.
The practice field was crowded with men locked in mock battle, their swords clashing, trembling from punishing blows. She scoured the rebels. Alexander wasn’t in their midst.
Further unsettled, she walked through the courtyard, the scent of cooking meat reminding her that she hadn’t eaten. Mayhap when she found Alexander, they could break their fast in the forest, then make love.
Her body grew warm at the thought. Once he was relaxed, she’d broach the subject of Patrik and what she’d learned that night.
Children playing rushed past. Their shrieks of laughter startled her from her musings. She laid her hand on her stomach. Warmth sifted through her. She might be carrying their child. The thought of a new life brought a rush of joy. If she indeed carried Alexander’s babe, she promised if nothing else, their child would know love.
A hard pounding of metal upon metal had her glancing toward the smith who lifted a blade that was glowing an angry red. He inspected it, then shoved the weapon into the fire before returning it to his anvil to continue reshaping the hot steel.
She stopped. Had she thought this just another day? Beneath the façade of normalcy, the Scots prepared for war. A shiver crept through her with lethal precision. How in God’s name could she think to bring a child into this world? Now it was too late, she’d already lain with Alexander.
A child, if conceived, would be God’s will.
Heavy with thought, Nichola walked on. As she approached the atilliator’s hut, Alexander’s voice echoed within. She moved to the door and saw the atilliator who Alexander had introduced to her before. Except his harsh expression offered anything but welcome.
The atilliator gestured to the door. “You have company.”
Alexander appeared around the corner. Irritation darkened his cobalt eyes. “I will be but a moment,” he said to the atilliator. He walked outside and stood before her, his hands on his hips.
“Why have you left your chamber?” he snapped. “With Wallace’s death, it is not wise for you to walk around alone.”
Nichola touched the pendant hanging around her neck, his cold warning leaving her further unsettled. “I need to speak with you.”
For a moment, need flickered in his eyes, then his face grew unreadable. “I have naught the luxury of time.”
“This eve?”
“Return to your chamber.”
His cold dismissal hurt. They’d made love but a day ago, now staring up into Alexander’s eyes, she saw nothing but unwelcome. Had something else happened to escalate the unrest between their countries?
With each passing second as he continued to watch her with a guarded expression, her hopes of even a few more days with Alexander dissolved. Until she stood before him, transformed back into the prisoner whom he’d stolen from her home.
Nichola stepped back, her throat rough with tears. “Alexander, please.”
He remained silent.
She hesitated, waiting for his face to soften, to crease in warmth, and for him to ask her to stay. To allow her to explain why she’d come.
Alexander only stared at her as if anxious for her to leave.
She turned at last, pain hissing through her like the lash of a whip; hard, searing, slicing through her every emotion. She kept walking, slow, steady, and with purpose. With Alexander so cut off from her, so went her motivation not to escape. For whatever the risk, she refused to stay even one more night within Lochshire Castle.
Except for her heart, which would remain here with Alexander, forever.
Alexander watched Nichola walk away, hating that he’d hurt her. Knowing that he’d pushed her away. When she’d looked upon him with love, he’d wanted to embrace her, but Patrik’s words of her espionage battered his mind. Why had she not told him the truth the other night?
With a muttered curse, he started after her. He was wrong to doubt Nichola. He would let her speak.
“Alexander,” Patrik called, halting his departure. His brother strode toward him, then stopped by his side, frowning at Nichola’s departing figure. “I see she came to visit.”
Blast it, he needed to go after her. “She is upset.”
His hazel eyes narrowed. “You have not revealed that you know of her spying?”
Alexander shook his head, torn, not liking his deceit, nor that she had not offered the truth. “I have not said a word.”
“It is important to keep her ignorant.”
Alexander wasn’t so sure. With Nichola he couldn’t play games. She mattered too much. “This is wrong. I need to explain to her—”
“Wrong?” Patrik’s quiet voice filled with anger. “Wallace lays dead, tossed in a dung heap, and you are more worried about an enemy in Scotland?” He jabbed a finger in the direction Nichola had taken. “What if she were to escape and tell the English of our plans? How many other of our men might die for her treachery? Is that wrong?”
“She would never tell,” Alexander denied, but even as he claimed otherwise, how could he be sure? England was her homeland, where her last ties to her family remained. Wouldn’t her loyalties lay with her country, especially as it was the Scots who’d abducted her from her home?
“No?” Patrik demanded. “Are you willing to risk the lives of Scots to test your belief?”
Damn the entire situation. Alexander ground his boot against a clump of broken dirt, watching her retreating figure grow smaller and smaller. He just needed time to allow his emotions to calm. To consider all of the facts.
“Are you?” Patrik pressed.
While Alexander watched, Nichola hesitated at the entrance to the keep. With her hand upon the door, she turned back.
Their gazes locked.
Even from the distance, he heard her silent questions. He wanted to go to her, erase her fears, but with his feelings in turmoil, if he went to her now, he would probably make the situation between them worse.
Her head lifted in a stubborn tilt, that endearing gesture that now broke his heart. Then she jerked the door open and sailed inside with the bearing of a queen.
Patrik stepped into his line of vision. “Answer me, Alexander. Are you willing to risks the lives of your countrymen?”
Alexander glared at his brother, never so frustrated in all of his life. He shook his head. “I will tell her naught.” But with his decision made, he wondered if it had been the right one after all?
Chapter Eighteen
Shadows of the oncoming night lengthened outside Nichola’s window, stealing the last fragments of the day. Darkness shrouded her room. Silence echoed around her. The candle burning on the table sputtered and pools of shadows stumbled across her chamber.
The emptiness in her heart was complete.
All day she had awaited Alexander within the tower chamber, but he hadn’t come. A small part of her had coveted the hope that he would yet come to her this night and explain his aloof manner. Didn’t he understand that her heart was breaking? That she hadn’t given her love to him easily?
Her hand shook as she finished penning her brief note to Alexander, telling him that she loved him, explaining her lack of finances, and asking his forgiveness that she’d not told him before.
He would be upset when he learned she had withheld her financial destitution from him, but at least he would have the truth. She was a fool to leave him any explanation, but as much as she wanted to walk away and sever all ties, the part of her that desperately loved him believed she owed him that.
She curled the missive, secured it within a piece of ribbon she’d found in the chamber, then placed it on the bed. With trembling fingers, she picked up a small loaf of bread and shoved it into the satchel a search of the room had uncovered.
By traveling light, with any luck she would cross the border and find aid within a sennight. Remembering the scoundrels of the disreputable inn that Alexander had lodged her in during their trip into Scotland, she would take care with who she approached for help.
The bells of matins pealed. She couldn’t tarry or waste time grieving about the nights she and Alexander had spent together. Damn him for making her care.
Her hand closed around the small dagger she’d procured from the kitchen. She’d asked for wine to bring to Alexander, a request they would believe as she’d obtained the same over the past few days to reward him with after his training of arms. When the cooks and other servants had been busy, she’d slipped a small wedge of cheese, bread, and a roughly crafted knife into the folds of her gown.
The cool steel was an ominous weight in her hands. With a silent prayer that she would never have to use it, she slipped the weapon inside the small pouch she’d devised and drew the cinch tight.
She was ready to go.
Through the window, a thousand stars sparkled in the cloudless sky. A hint of heather along with the fresh scent of the loch filled the air.
Her heart broke. Surprisingly, she would miss Lochshire Castle. But it was time to go.
Nichola had turned to leave when moonlight glinted off of the dark greenish stone sitting in the bowl on the table. Frowning, she stepped closer. Moonlight was absent in this corner of the room. Oddly, the mate to the stone Alexander wore around his neck seemed to glow.
She worried the side of her gown with her hand, sure the misery of this day played with her mind. As she continued to stare, the light within the stone seemed to grow stronger.
Baffled, she walked over to the small table and laid her finger upon the rough half. Heat, soft and warm, wove over her skin. A sense of rightness enveloped her. Nichola lifted the stone, palm open, unsure if she could believe what she was feeling. Then she remembered his claim that this room held magic.
Her chest squeezed tight. She stumbled back. No. He was wrong. This chamber held naught but pain.
Aching, she clenched the stone within her fist and ran to the door. She paused, steadying herself. As much as she wanted to race from the keep, she must move with caution.
It seemed to take an eternity to creep down the spiral steps, convinced at any moment she would meet a knight, a servant coming up or worse, Patrik.
She peered round the corner into the great hall. Several knights slept on the stone floor surrounded by rushes, their snores loud and rude, accompanied by several hounds who lay stretched out. Much the same as in her own home. She swallowed hard. Rothfield Castle. In days that would be lost as well.
Nichola refused to succumb to her misgivings and stepped into full view. As she moved along the wall where the firelight didn’t reach, a soft scrape sounded behind her.
Fear slinked up her spine. She searched the darkness, but saw naught but shadows. She released a slow breath. No one was following her. Her imagination was working overtime.
Halfway across the room, a dog lifted his head, his tail thumping on the floor in welcome. When he decided she wouldn’t cast scraps of food his way, he lowered his head and went back to sleep.
By the time she reached the door to the keep, her heart was pounding. She slipped outside, greeted by the cool breeze of the night. She searched the castle walls. Guards stood posted on this side of the wall walk, their heads turned toward the hills beyond. Uncluttered by clouds, the moon, a silver wedge in the night, stole shadows she desperately needed for cover.
A guard called out to another from directly overhead.
Nichola stilled. Had they seen her? Taut moments passed. No one approached her. Sweat beaded her brow as she inched forward in the meager shadows and skirted the courtyard.
Almost to the gatehouse, the quiet pad of footsteps echoed behind her. Positive she’d been spotted, she whirled, a scream building in her throat.
The courtyard stood empty.
Panic tightened in her chest as she scoured the courtyard. For a moment, she swore she saw the outline of a man in the shadows.
A cloud shielded the moon. The fragile wisp slipped past, moonlight illuminated the darkness of moments before to expose nothing but a ragged path.
Nichola exhaled with relief. Footsteps sounded at the keep’s entrance and she again tensed.
Ghostly shards of moonlight embraced Patrik as he walked down the steps of the keep and headed toward the turret that led up to the wall walk.
Mary’s will, had he seen her? If he had, he would have challenged her. Should she return to her chamber? No, she couldn’t go back.
Patrik disappeared inside the tower.
She crept forward. Several times Nichola glanced toward the top of the wall walk where Patrik would exit. She saw no one. Her senses warned her that he watched her.
Nichola waited for him to alert the guards. To reveal he’d caught her hidden at the rebel meeting, then offer her attempt to escape as proof of his claim she was a spy.
The last few yards to the gatehouse were agonizing. Finally she reached it, thankful to find the drawbridge still lowered. Through her chamber window a short while before, she’d watched the small contingent of troops depart to meet with Wulfe and reclaim Wallace’s body, Seathan riding at the lead.
With darkness as her shield, she’d decided to use the main entry as her escape.
“Lower the portcullis and lift the drawbridge,” a guard shouted from above.
They were securing the castle! With one last glance around to ensure no one watched, she sprinted through the gatehouse and out into the night.
On the other side, she pressed back against the cool stone of the castle wall.
Chains rattled. The gate creaked. With a muffled clang, the portcullis settled on the ground.
She’d made it outside! The narrowed road straddled the moon-stroked water before her, her only route to escape. She would have to creep along the edge of the road. And pray she wouldn’t be seen. With her heart pounding, she inched forward.
The next morning, Alexander walked toward the turret, Patrik by his side.
His brother frowned at him. “Do you think it is wise to leave Nichola’s door unbarred?”
“Seathan agrees she poses no threat.”
“She could try and escape.”
“She could.” Alexander shrugged. “But she will not. It would be foolish to try. Nichola would never make it past the gatehouse undetected.”
Patrik snorted. “Has the lass blinded you so much she has won your trust then?”
Alexander spat out an oath. Then he remembered his warning for her to remain within their room at the keep—a dictate she ignored. Unease stumbled through him.
They reached the turret steps. Instead of heading down to the great room, he started up the steps. “Break your fast,” Alexander said, “I will be but a moment.”
“I will go with you.”
Alexander halted on the steps, then started up. What did it matter if Patrik accompanied him? With the cold welcome Nichola would offer him this morn, he would be there but a trice. And his mind would be eased that she was safe.
“You were out late last night,” Alexander said as he headed up the steps.
“Out late?”
“I could not sleep and saw you on the wall walk long after we had departed from the meeting.”
Patrik shrugged. “With the amount you drank, you saw naught but a guard. I have better things to do with my nights than roam the wall walk.”
Alexander frowned. He was sure it was Patrik, but his brother had no reason to lie. He had drank until the room had blurred before him, but still . . .
At Nichola’s chamber door, Alexander gave a quiet knock. A long moment passed, but no answer came from within. “Nichola.”
Silence.
Patrik lifted a curious brow.
Impatient, he rapped again. “It is Alexander.” He waited for her to answer, not wanting to walk in with Patrik in case she was unclothed. More likely, after his treatment of her last night, she had probably wrapped herself in layers of bedclothes.
“Is she not there?”
God help her if she wasn’t. “Wait here.” He shoved open the door, half expecting to find her hidden behind it with a weapon, or sitting in bed wrapped tight in blankets, glaring at him with unconcealed disdain.
But when he stepped inside, the last thing he expected to find was the chamber empty.
“Alexander?” Patrik called from the corridor.
Unease built in his gut. Where was she? He called to his brother, “She is not here.”
“What?” Patrik strode into the room and scanned the empty chamber. His jaw tightened. “Where has she gone?”
“I do not know.”
“Christ, Alexander.”
He ignored Patrik’s outburst and walked to the window, cautiously dismissing his unease. Still grieving for her brother’s death, she was surely in the chapel lost in prayers.
Alexander turned and froze. Her bed lay untouched. She would not have tried to leave Lochshire Castle, would she? No, she had given her vow that she wouldn’t try to escape. Then he remembered. He had asked, but she had never agreed. Alexander squeezed his hand into a tight fist. He wanted to believe she wouldn’t try and escape, but a part of him understood she’d done exactly that.
Patrik walked away from the bed. As his hand disappeared into a pocket, something crumpled.
Alexander almost asked if his brother had found a note, then stilled his question. As if Nichola would assume he needed an explanation for her absence? Besides, Patrik would have mentioned if she’d left him something.
“We will search the castle grounds,” Alexander said.
“Sir Alexander,” the servant greeted as she walked into the room, carrying a platter of food in her hand. Her gaze shifted from him to Patrik, then around the chamber. “Where is Lady Nichola?”
The maid’s innocent question deepened his worry. “Leave the tray,” Alexander said. “She will eat upon her return.”
The woman set down the platter then left.
“Do you think she would try and escape?”
“I believe her wiser than that.” But that’s exactly what he thought. If so, when? She couldn’t have left the castle this day. Even if she had made an attempt, the portcullis had been raised only for the last few hours and heavily guarded. “We will look in the chapel. Likely she spent the night grieving at the altar. If she is not there, we will split up and continue the search. She cannot have gone far.”
Alexander studied the room one last time. He paused. The other half of the stone that hung around his neck was missing. Had Nichola taken it?
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