Authors: Diana Cosby
Tags: #Historical Romance, #Paranormal Romance, #Historical Paranormal Romance, #Highlands, #Highlanders, #Highland Warriors, #Scotland Highland, #Scotland, #Love Story, #Fae, #Fairy, #Fairies, #Romance
His Enchantment (10 page)
A soft laugh fell from her lips.
Thankful for the sound, he relaxed a degree. “Tell me a story.”
Sleepy eyes met his. “If I did nae know better, I would think you mean to keep me awake.”
He arched a brow. “’Tis necessary when one becomes too cold.”
Her expression grew somber. “Thank you.”
“If the situation was reversed, you would do the same for me.”
“Aye.” A tender smile touched her mouth, and she laid her hand upon his. “I know nae what I have done to deserve you.”
Heart aching, he swallowed hard, wishing they had the luxury of time, that of years to be together. “We have naught but a fortnight at most before you must return to the Otherworld,” he whispered.
She started to look away, but he caught her chin.
“But we have now, and I willna allow the precious time we have left together slip away without knowing more about you.”
“But—” Panic widened her eyes, and she sat to sit up.
He held her. “What is wrong?”
She shot a covert look around. “Your king,” she mouthed. “We must find him this night.”
Moved that when she should be worrying about herself she was concerned for others, he nodded. “Aye, we will, but first I will ensure that you are warm and rested.”
“We do nae have time to wait,” she insisted.
“’Tis foolery for you to try and travel so weak from the cold, nae to mention after your fall.”
Regret touched her gaze. “You are right, I am but delaying you. Leave me and save your king and queen.”
He wanted to shake the lass. “I willna leave you,” he returned, his voice as quiet as hers.
Her lower lip trembled. “Mayhap there will come a point when you have no choice. Too well I understand how at times a difficult choice must be made.”
Anger stormed through him. “I forget naught.”
In the glow of firelight, a frown wedged in her brow. “And what if the guard finds us gone when he returns on his rounds?”
With a grimace, he glanced toward the entry. Concerned that if they talked too much it might raise suspicion, he subtly raised his finger to his mouth.
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and she shifted to a more comfortable position.
Long moments passed, and he absorbed the warmth of the hearth. He waited a while longer, then turned to her. “Before we make any move, we must learn how long each pass takes, then we can plan the best time to leave to search the keep.”
Catarine shifted to her side. “Where is the royal chamber?”
“’Tis on the upper floor, and is where King Alexander has stayed on his previous visits. And, ’twill be the easiest place for the guards to ensure that he and Queen Margaret do nae escape.”
“If they are on the upper floor, and with the hidden tunnel entry route frozen, how will we escape?”
“Sterling Castle has several secret tunnels. I was only privy to the one location,” he said in quiet reply. “I believe the king will know others.”
“But you are nae sure?” she whispered.
He damned his reply. “Nay.” And what of the others within the great room? When they departed, would they alert the guard of their disappearance? Blast it, once they headed to find the king, they would have but one chance to escape.
“Trálin,” Catarine said, “we are to meet the fey warriors at the base of the cliff. What if they didna—”
He gave her a subtle nod. “Do nae invite worry. They are well-trained and I am confident they will be there.” And he prayed they’d reach their meeting point unharmed.
Eyes unsure, she watched him.
God help them if the fey warriors didn’t make it. Their absence meant one of two things—they’d been caught, or, in the brutal snowstorm, they’d died. Neither did he wish to consider.
The crackle of wood burning in the hearth filled the tense silence. What more was there to say? Once they escaped this night, numerous challenges lay ahead.
A creak sounded. A burst of cold air whipped into the great room as the door opened wide.
With a curse at the bitter night, the guard who’d brought them to the keep stepped inside the great room and shoved the sturdy door shut. A dark scowl creased his brow as he scoured the room. As his gaze rested on Trálin and Catarine, he paused. In the flicker of torchlight and the flames from the hearth, the guard’s eyes narrowed.
Panic swept him. Had the guard recognized him? Beneath the tunic, keeping his movements slow, he clasped his dagger.
The guard grunted in disgust, then scanned the remainder of the great hall. As if satisfied naught was amiss, he strode to the turret and entered. The thud of his steps echoed up the winding stairs and, moments later, faded.
“With the way he looked us over,” she whispered, “I worry he suspects something.”
“As I.” But he wouldna linger on the discussion and concern her further. He studied her face. “You have color on your cheeks. A good sign.”
She gave a shudder. “Never have I been so cold.”
“And I pray you are never so cold again.”
Soft steps echoed toward them.
He glanced up. The woman that’d helped them earlier headed toward them with two bowls of stew and a hunk of bread. “We are in luck, lass. Warm food.”
The woman smiled as she halted before them. “You looked like you both were ready to eat.”
“We are, my thanks,” Trálin said.
“A pleasure, my lord,” she replied.
Trálin stilled. “What?”
A soft chuckle fell from her lips. “Nae worry,” she said in a low voice. “Many a time you have visited, but with you busy with your affairs with the king, I doubt you would have noticed me.”
God in heaven. “What do you mean?”
“With your beard shaved, Lord Grey, at first I didna recognize you.” She shook her head. “I will nae be informing the guards. Nasty business they have done, abducting King Alexander and Queen Margaret.”
Hope soared. “Do you know where they are?” he whispered.
“I do.” She laid out a platter before them. “The stew is hot, so do take care when you eat. ’Twill do you both good. As for the king and queen, they are in the royal chamber on the top floor, but under guard.”
As he’d suspected. If their luck continued, they’d all escape this night. “You are loyal to King Alexander then?”
“Aye,” she replied. “Upstarts the Comyns are. They think they blasted have a right to the throne and can manipulate a king with threats.”
“They plan to nae manipulate him,” Trálin whispered, “but kill both King Alexander and his queen if he does nae comply with their demands.”
The woman gasped. “That explains the activities since their arrival earlier this day.”
“What happened?” Trálin asked.
“I was nae privy to it all,” the woman replied, “but I heard whispers that the king had until tomorrow morning to make his decision. I didna know that if King Alexander refused their demands, ’twould cost him and the queen their lives.” She made the sign of the cross. “God help us.”
Indeed, the king’s men would attack Stirling Castle and many innocent people would die. “We are here to free them,” Trálin explained. “And when we return with substantial guard, we will ensure the Comyns receive their due.”
The woman nodded. “If you have need of anything, let me know. Several others beside myself were outraged when we saw our king led here beneath guard. Treasonous, it is. I assure you, if asked, they will offer their aid as well.”
“Your bravery along with that of others who help us will be remembered,” Trálin whispered.
Gratitude shone in the woman’s eyes. “King Alexander’s freedom is payment enough. Sleep well, my lord.” The woman returned to her daughter.
Catarine shook her head. “She recognized you,” she whispered.
“Aye.” He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw. “I thought shaving my beard would conceal my identity for the wee bit of time we are to be here.”
“It fooled the guard.” Catarine said.
Unease cut through him. “Nae completely. Something about me seems familiar, but for now he has nae connected a name to my face.”
“But he will,” she said, her words filled with worry.
“Indeed, we must be long gone by then.” He studied her in the shimmers of firelight. Though her face was regaining color, ’twould take time for her to regain her full strength. Time they didn’t have before they must leave. “Will you be fit enough to travel this night?”
“Aye.”
Blast it, as if he expected her to say otherwise? She was a warrior, a woman of fortitude, and a woman who made him want her more than was wise. Shaken by the enormity of what she made him feel, he gestured to the steaming stew. “Eat, lass. We will be needing all of the strength we can have this eve.”
Several hours later, fed, warmed, and rested, Catarine and Lord Grey slipped from the great room. The soft tap of his boots echoed in the silence as Trálin walked beside her up the spiral steps.
Catarine’s breath caught in her throat as she peered up the wash of torchlight spilling upon the timeworn steps. “’Twill be dawn soon.”
“Aye,” he whispered, damning the passing hours. “The guard has made his rounds often. I worry my true identity will soon come to him. Neither can we delay in freeing the king. The Comyns will soon be demanding King Alexander’s answer. Then, any chance of saving my sovereign will be lost.”
In silence, they continued up. Near the top of the steps, Trálin held up a finger to his lips.
She nodded.
Gut churning, after one glance down the turret, he crept up the last few steps. He peered down the long corridor, pulled back. Bedamned!
Soft steps came up behind him. “What is wrong?” she whispered.
“Three guards are posted at the royal chamber’s door. The distance to them is too far to have the element of surprise.”
“How will we get past them?” she asked.
Several thoughts stormed him, none of which held any appeal.
“Trálin, what if I go and—”
“Nay.”
In the spit of torchlight, her face grew taut. “I will become invisible and knock all three of them out. The guards will nae know I am there until ’tis too late.”
He wanted to argue, refuse to endanger her life. What man allowed a woman to face a guard even if invisible? “I canna, ’tis nae my way.”
“You are right,” she replied, “but ’tis the way of the Otherworld.”
Silence thrummed between them.
“For your peace of mind,” she said, “if I do nae come back in ten seconds, come after me.”
A muscle worked in his jaw as he glared at her. And in seconds she could be dead. “I do nae like it.”
A soft smile curved her mouth as she laid her hand over his. “I wouldna expect you to.”
Far from amused, he narrowed his eyes. “Nae think tenderness will soften me.”
Catarine shot him a wink. “Mayhap it will.” She inhaled a deep breath.
Disappeared.
Blast her! One. Two. Three. Fo—”
A guard grunted.
“What in blasted—ugh,” the other guard groaned. A thud sounded.
Bedamned, he’d nae wait until the count of ten. Sword drawn, Trálin bolted around the corner.
At the doorway, the third knight crumpled to a heap.
With a confident smile on her face, Catarine appeared and sheathed her blade.
Stunned, he took in the three highly trained guards who lay sprawled as if after a night of too much drink. “How did you knock them out so quickly?”
“The hilt of my sword,” she beamed.
He shook his head as he sheathed his blade. “Remind me never to upset you.”
The humor in Catarine’s expression fell away. “Never would I use it to harm anyone who didna deserve it.”
“That I believe,” he replied, humbled by her at every turn. “You are an amazing woman. One who I wish was human.”
For a long moment she held his gaze, her desire easy to see. She cleared her throat, and waved him forward. “Come, we need to awaken your king and queen.”
He shoved aside his own longings. “Let me go in first in case a guard is inside.”
With a brow raised in amusement, she stepped back.
On alert, Trálin slowly opened the door, peered inside. A candle burned on each side of the massive bed where the king and queen slept. No guards stood inside. The lack of protection within was easy to understand. With three guards outside their door, the Comyns would nae suspect someone would ever slip inside this near impenetrable fortress to try and free the king.
He waved Catarine to follow him. Once inside, he shut the door. “Wait here.” Trálin walked over to the bed. “Your Grace.”
King Alexander sat up, his eyes thick with sleep, widening with surprise. “Lord Grey?”
“Aye, Your Grace. I am here to help you and Queen Margaret escape.”
Emotion swept the king’s face, and he shoved the covers aside, stood. “I—I thought you were dead.”
Images of the massacre swamped him, and Trálin’s throat tightened. “I survived, Your Grace.”
“And your men?” the king asked, his voice rough.
Trálin shook his head.
“A sword’s blood,” the king spat. “The Comyns will pay for this.” Rubbing his eyes, he paused. “Your beard is gone?”
“A necessity for us to enter Stirling Castle unrecognized,” Trálin replied.
The king started to speak. Hesitated. “Us?” He glanced behind Trálin, frowned. “A lass?”
“’Tis a long story and there is no time to explain,” Trálin said. “Your Grace, we must hurry.”
“Aye, the bastard Comyn is to come at first light for an answer to his demands.” He turned to the queen who had been listening to his explanation. “We must leave now.”
With a nod, Queen Margaret hurried out of the bed.
While the royal pair dressed, Trálin pulled the unconscious guards into the chamber, removed their weapons, then hid them behind the massive bed. “Where is the escape tunnel, Your Grace?”
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