Sharon Schulze - L'eau Clair Chronicles 03 (6 page)

He would find her.

And when he did, somebody would pay.

By midnight, Ian felt awash in ale but no closer to finding Lily. His feet heavy on the tower stairs, he sought the cool night air. He needed to clear his head before deciding what to do next. After half a night spent dicing and drinking, the only information he had was that no one had seen her leave.

So either Llywelyn had lied to him, or the guards at the castle gates had all gone blind. In his present mood, ‘twas all he could do to prevent himself confronting his princely kinsman and demanding the truth.

That would gain him nothing.

No one had seen Lily outside, but there were bound to be passageways throughout the keep that he didn’t know about. A smart man always left himself an escape route.

He would return to Lily’s cell and investigate further.

There wouldn’t be a better time. No one had any business in the cellars at this time of night.

He moved quickly through the shadows and retrieved a shuttered lantern and his cloak from his chamber. He saw no one as he slipped into the cellars and closed the door behind him, As far as he knew, none of the cells held prisoners, He should be able to search to his heart’s content. A rabbit warren of corridors lay deep beneath the keep. He’d never had reason to explore them before, so he set about it in a methodical fashion.

From the number of undisturbed spiderwebs he found, he knew that some areas hadn’t been occupied in quite a while. But several passages could have been used recently.

He chose the widest and set off.

He hadn’t gone more than fifteen paces before the cot rid or ended in a wall.

Ian smiled.

Only a fool built a passageway leading nowhere. He set the lantern on the floor, then felt around the edges of the wall, pushing and prodding at the stones until his patience was rewarded. Just as he had suspected, the wall was actually a door. Surprisingly silent, it opened inward.

Picking up the lamp, he pushed on.

The air had a sweetish scent overlaying a dank; earthy odor, as if something had died. The stench, combined with the ale he’d consumed, made his stomach roil in protest.

But he kept walking. The ceiling dropped so low his hair brushed against the splintery planks above him. Crouched low over the lantern, he almost missed the two doors to his left.

“Lily?” he called, banging on the first dOOr with his fist.

“Are you here?”

He heard the sound of footsteps, then pounding on the other door.

“Dragon?”

He couldn’t mistake that voice.

And no one else called him Dragon.

Holding the lantern high, he turned toward the door.

“Aye, Lily, it’s me.”

He tugged on the door, but the lock held firm.

“There’s no key,” he said after scanning the area.

“I’ll have to try my dirk.”

When he lowered the lamp to the floor, Lily called out, “Don’t take away the light.” He could understand her plea; it must be black as pitch inside the cell. He hooked the lantern over the wall pricket and drew out his dirk.

The blade scarcely fit in the lock, but Ian took his time.

If he snapped the knife off, he’d never get her out on his own.

And he had no intention of seeking help, now that he saw where they’d put her. Locking her away down here could only be a deliberate attempt to keep her hidden.

Most likely from him.

Slowly, gently, he wiggled the knife, until he felt the lock give. He pulled the dirk free, shoved it back in its scabbard and yanked the door open.

Lily leaped into his arms with an inarticulate cry.

He gathered her quivering body close and held her tight, smoothing his hand over her tangled hair.

“Hush,” he whispered. She tried to speak, but the words came out jumbled and indistinct.

“Slowly, sweeting. Hush. It’s all right.”

He held her as he would an injured child, trying not to notice the way her body fit so well to his, nor the softness of her hair beneath his cheek.

But his body would not listen. Heat rose in his blood, intensifying her scent, magnifying the feel of her pliant curves pressed against his hardness.

Carrying her with him he stepped back into the corridor, into the light. He framed her face with his hands and stared into the eyes that had haunted him, asleep and awake, for the past day. She met his gaze, stare for stare, until, with a muttered curse, he crushed his lips to hers.

Her mouth didn’t move, but neither did she try to push him away. She kissed like a child, lips pressed to lips. He gentled his hold and showed her another way.

He outlined her mouth with his tongue, then nibbled at her lips until they opened enough to allow him entrance.

Pressing on the corners of her mouth with his thumbs, he urged her to give him more.

She sighed and took a step back, her eyes wide. Then, grabbing the front of his tunic in her fists, she pulled him close again.

But this time she burrowed her face against his chest and clung to him.

“Why did you send me here?”

“How could you think that?” He drew back enough to see her face. That she believed what she said, he could not doubt, not after searching her eyes.

“No one else knew about me.” She eased her hands from his mantle and smoothed the wrinkled fabric.

“And you’d locked me away already.”

“Only because I didn’t know what else to do with you.

I’ve never found a woman scaling the castle walls to see Llywelyn before,” he said, his heart pounding harder in remembrance.

“I did not send you here.” He held her gaze until he thought she believed him.

A shiver coursed through her; her skin felt icy beneath his hands. He drew his cloak off and wrapped her securely within its warm folds.

“They didn’t give me a chance to take this,” she said, her voice faint.

He pulled her into his arms again, just to warm her, he told himself. Never mind that holding her brought him a measure of comfort, as well.

“Who brought you here? And when?”

Lily closed her eyes, as if trying to remember—or to forget.

“Two men burst into my cell, before midday, I think. They bound my arms and gagged me, then dragged me here.

“Twas too dark—I could not see. Before I realized what they were about, they untied me and shoved me in here.”

He could feel the effort it took for her to recount the tale so calmly.

But her voice stayed even, almost emotionless. He knew she was frightened, but she hid it well.

Few men had her courage. He brushed a kiss across her brow and held her close a moment longer.

“We must leave,” he told her.

“You’ll be safer away from this place, while we decide what to do.” He released her slowly, reluctant to let go.

Lily grabbed his sleeve.

“If you didn’t send me here, who did?”

“I’ll tell you later, once we’re away from here. Come, don’t you want to leave?” He’d rather wait until she’d had a chance to eat and get warm before he told her his suspicions.

Besides, he wanted to learn more before he leveled his accusations against the man she’d come to for help.

Llywelyn.

He drew his knife again, weapon enough in such close quarters, should he need it. She stared at the dirk, then his face, for what seemed forever, thinking he knew not what. But she must have found what she sought, for she nodded once.

“Lead the way, Dragon,” she said. She unhooked the lantern from the wall, then tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

“I trust you.”

He might well be the only person here she could trust, he thought as he closed the cell door.

He’d do whatever he must to prove himself worthy of it.

Lily clung to the Dragon’s arm, her grip barely short of desperation, as he led her through the labyrinth of passageways.

She expected Toad–-or some other creature like him–to slither into their path at any moment. Even with enough light to see, ‘twas a frightening place.

The relief she felt at the knowledge that Lord Ian hadn’t sent her into the cryptlike cell was near overwhelming.

But if not the Dragon, then who?

Toad said he knew who had sent her there, and much else, besides. But how could she believe such an obviously deranged person? Nothing he’d told her made any sense.

And he certainly didn’t appear to be someone a prince would confide in.

No, she’d simply have to be patient. The Dragon would tell her what he knew, when the time was right. She knew he’d keep her safe.

She knew he was worthy of her trust.

When the corridor seemed to end, he gently eased her hand from his arm and took the lantern.

“In case anyone’s watching,” he said, extinguishing the light and plunging them into complete darkness once more. Before she could ask him what he was about, the Dragon pushed on the edge of the wall and a door pivoted toward them. He stood silently for a moment—listening, she concluded—then handed her the lantern.

“Come—no one will see us now,” he whispered. Grasping her by the elbow, he led her through the corridor.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked. Not back to the other cell, surely?

“To my chamber, for now. We’ll decide what else to do in the morning.”

They skulked around the dimly lit boundary of the bailey with far more stealth than on the previous night. But except for the fact that this time she was able to walk, instead of riding slung over the Dragon’s shoulder, it felt much the same.

Lord Ian ap Dafydd seemed most comfortable lurking in the shadows, from what she’d seen of him thus far. She could feel a darkness within him; perhaps ‘twas why he sought the shadows instinctively.

But although she should probably fear that side of him, it intrigued her.

Especially since he’d kissed her.

She sensed he’d held himself in check—his touch had been quite gentle—but she’d felt a wildness simmering on the edge of her awareness.

That might have been nothing more than a reflection of the heat that bubbled through her veins at the mere thought of his lips touching hers. He drew her to him by means of some invisible thread—a look, a touch, all it took to make her want to return to his arms.

No doubt he’d be horrified if he knew. She was naught but a stranger to him, ignorant of men and women, no one of importance.

And he was Llywelyn’s Dragon.

She’d know better the next time her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. The first time, she could pass off as an accident; if she did it again, he’d know her for a fool.

With luck, she’d find out what she needed to know soon, perhaps on the morrow. Then she’d he on her way.

And the Dragon need never know how he’d singed her heart.

Once again Lily waited outside the Dragon’s chamber while he found his key, then turned it in the lock. But this time he kept her behind him when he slipped through the door into the dark room, his dagger in one hand, the other wrapped about the hilt of his sword.

She wondered at his caution, until he shoved her backward as the room filled with light. She fell sideways into the corridor, landing on the floor and bumping her head against the stone wail Though her head reeled, she sat up and groped for the lantern to use as a weapon. Before she got a good grip on the handle, someone wrenched it from her hand. She glared up at the soldier, then slumped back against the doorway.

The Dragon slashed wildly at two armed men and laid open the face of one with his knife. As the fighter spun away, a voice cried, “Hold, Ian! Would you murder our own people?”

Lily blinked to clear her foggy vision. Lord Ian slowly lowered his sword and stepped closer to her.

“Nay, milord,” he said. Without turning to face her, he reached down to help her to her feet. She tOOk his hand and pulled herself up beside him. He gestured to the four guards in the room, meeting the wounded man’s glare with a mirthless smile.

“Do you threaten us?”

The speaker came toward them from the shadowy end of the room. Though dressed no differently than the others, he wore authority as if it were a mantle. He could only be Llywelyn, prince of Wales.

She couldn’t interpret the look he sent the Dragon, but she knew it didn’t bode well for him.

“I see she didn’t leave after all,” Llywelyn said with a wry smile.

“Clearly someone made a mistake–a costly one for him, I’m sure.”

The Dragon sheathed his sword, but kept his dirk in his hand.

“No doubt,” he agreed.

“Mistakes happen.”

Llywelyn moved closer. His gaze swept over her, taking her measure, then staring into her eyes. She couldn’t tell if she passed muster, or if he found her lacking. But she refused to back down or look away first. It was a relief when he ceased his scrutiny and returned his attention to the Dragon.

“Trust you to find her before any knew she was missing, Ian. I’ve always known I could count on you for anything,” Llywelyn said. He motioned to one of his men.

“Take this woman to her quarters.

“Tis too late to discuss anything of importance now.” When the Dragon stepped forward, he added, “She’ll be perfectly safe, Ian, You’ve done your duty.

“Tis no longer your concern. I’ve other work for you.”

Lily placed her hand on the Dragon’s arm and looked earnestly at Llywelyn. She couldn’t understand why he refused to meet her gaze.

“Milord, I don’t wish—” At Llywelyn’s nod, the guard took her by the elbow, tugging her away from her protector and out of the room.

Ian turned to watch as they led her away, his expression unreadable.

Outwardly calm, Ian watched the two men lead Lily away. But inside he seethed with fury, a fury he did not intend to show Llywelyn.

He needed to tread warily. By looking for Lily after Llywelyn told him she’d left, he’d already committed a grave error. He didn’t wish to compound his mistake now.

The results were too important.

Llywelyn had made a mistake, as well, and Ian had caught him out.

Llywelyn knew something about her, something he wanted to keep hidden.

The trick would be to discover that secret—and soon.

With a nod toward the door, the prince ordered the other men from the room. Ian closed the door and leaned against it, waiting for the ax to fall.