Taken and Seduced (21 page)

She heard her sister farther down the hall—closer to Adam’s bedchamber. Did he hear what was going on? Would he hide as well? She prayed that he had not gone out the window, thinking he could cling to the ledge with his Bladesman strength. He was not strong enough for anything right now—except lovemaking, she thought with a wince.

“Christina, what are you doing here?” Claudius demanded.

“I am in a corridor of my home,” she said.

Florrie was impressed by how even her voice sounded.

“Why did you disappear from the evening’s festivities?”

“I had a sick member of my household to attend to,” she said. “I will return in a moment.”

“You care for every lowly servant yourself?”

“Aye. And does not your wife, my sister Matilda? We were taught together the healing arts.”

“She has been much preoccupied with our child.”

“That is a shame, for people are more loyal when they’re also grateful for one’s help.”

“Who is this sick man you tend to? And does your husband know?”

Florrie held her breath, straining to hear as they moved past the door.

“Of course he does, Claudius. Do not think me a fool. What are you doing?”

“I am going to meet this man you tend so diligently, to the detriment of your guests.”

“Do not disturb him. I tell you, he is ill!”

Florrie covered her mouth and closed her eyes to pray.

A
dam heard the raised voices in the corridor, as well as Christina’s defense of her “patient.” But he did not hear Florrie, so he had to assume she’d somehow escaped Claudius Drake’s notice. He quickly stripped his shirt off and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket only to his waist, so that the large bandage was evident. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and forced every muscle in his body to relax, as if he were unconscious. He heard the door open.

“There he is,” Christina said in a haughty, furious voice. “Surely you can see that I was telling the truth.”

Adam heard footsteps, then a man’s breathing. Drake must be standing right over him. Would the man rip off the bandage to see if Christina, his cousin and sister by marriage, was lying to him?

Drake sighed. “Aye, I can see the truth before my eyes. How did he do this?”

“An accident on the tiltyard. And then it became inflamed, and he needed my care.”

“He is getting well now?”

“He is,” Christina said, her voice becoming more reserved, but less furious.

“You cannot blame me for my suspicion. You were acting…in an unusual manner. And since I am your father’s heir, I am responsible for you as well.”

“I thank you for your concern, but my husband is responsible for me. Now I need you to go, for at last this man’s fever has broken, and he needs his rest.”

They walked to the door, and Adam heard it open and shut. He waited a moment, then slowly looked up beneath his lashes—and saw Christina staring at him angrily from across the room, hands on her hips.

She marched toward him and spoke quietly but firmly. “My brother by marriage told me you kidnapped Florrie. What do you have to say for yourself?”

He came up on his elbows. “So that is what you needed to talk to Florrie about. And since you did not reveal me, she told you something to appease you.”

She groaned. “Do not confuse the issue! She is an innocent—or she was until you!—and believes the best in everyone. ’Tis obvious you are her new project.”

Adam raised one eyebrow. “Project?”

“She is trying to redeem you, and she believes she can succeed.”

“She said that?”

“She did not have to. She will never admit it, but she can be so easily hurt, after how she’s been treated by our family.”

“By you, too,” Adam said coolly.

She looked stricken. “Aye, by me, too.”

“It has taken you a long time to realize it. Why did you not defend her, help her to be one with your family?”

Christina spread her arms wide. “You, a kidnapper, are taking me to task?”

“I am more than that to her now.”

“You are her seducer,” she answered bitterly. “Or should I say rapist?”

He felt the sting of that. “Is that what she would say?” he asked softly.

“You know ’tis not. And that infuriates me. She was innocent before God, meant to serve Him, and then you—”

“Perhaps we should simply stop accusing each other,” he interrupted, “and let Florrie decide.” But her words gave him pause. She was right—he had altered Florrie’s life forever.

Florrie limped through the door a moment later, then leaned back against it, breathing heavily, looking between them with open worry. “Claudius accepted the ruse?”

“He did,” Adam said. “But we must leave quickly, before he changes his mind. Also, your sister thinks I am using you.”

“Well, of course you are,” Florrie said, rolling
her eyes. “You have told me that from the beginning. And I am using you.”

He did not know whether to laugh or simply shake his head. But they were at an impasse, and her answer would decide his fate. “I cannot force you to come with me, not now. What will you do?”

Florrie gave her sister an apologetic look. “And I cannot miss the end of my last adventure. I need to see London.”

Christina looked stricken, but said nothing.

Florrie crossed to her. “Do you understand, Christina?”

“If you cannot stay to visit now, do you promise to return on your way home? The convent will always be there.”

Florrie smiled. “I promise. But for now, I must leave in the morning.”

Adam shook his head and stood up. “If Claudius’s suspicions rise, he will be far too curious come the morn. We must leave tonight.”

“I cannot ask the guards to raise the portcullis at night,” Christina protested. “They would be too suspicious.”

“We could climb down the walls,” Adam mused, “but your guards might see that, as well.”

Christina hesitated, looking between them. “There is a small iron door built into the wall at the rear of the castle, used for emergencies only. I have the key.”

Florrie brightened. “And this is an emergency!” She hugged her sister. “Christina, thank you so much—for everything!”

As Adam followed Florrie through the dark landscape of the trees that skirted the castle, he found himself feeling confused. He wanted to be angry with her; she truly was trying to manipulate him, regardless of the fact that she thought it was for his own good.

The League had manipulated him as well, and perhaps that was why Florrie’s behavior galled him. He had always thought the League’s good motives put them above his reproach. Was he supposed to feel the same way about Florrie? Or would that make him just as gullible?

After alerting Robert and Michael with a birdcall, Adam led Florrie into their encampment. Both men were there, studying him, Robert with relief, Michael without surprise, as if he knew Adam could not be so easily killed. Sometimes it seemed difficult to live up to Michael’s expectations of him, but apparently Adam had not failed to, so far.

“You look well,” Robert said to Adam, while giving Florrie a quick hug.

Even by firelight, Adam could see the pleased blush on her cheeks.

“Our Florrie is a marvelous healer,” Robert continued.

“With help from my sister,” she quickly added.

“Martindale’s heir, Claudius Drake, is inside, and he knows about the kidnapping,” Adam said without preamble.

Robert’s easy smile died. “So that is who arrived with a troop of men. But you are here, so nothing untoward must have occurred.”

“He did not discover us,” Florrie said. “Again, thanks to my sister.”

“But we cannot remain here for the night,” Adam said. “He turns toward London as well, and we do not want to be headed in the same direction at the same time. We’ll break camp and put some distance between us.”

Michael went to prepare the horses, while Robert began to pack up their blankets and supplies.

At last, Adam looked at Florrie, only to find her watching him solemnly. She had come to be with him when he faced her father. Adam could not read her thoughts, didn’t know if she would still try to stop him. But he wanted to trust her, and wanted to earn her trust in return. Only a few hours ago, she’d trusted him with her body, and the memory of it made him poignant with longing.

He took the satchel of fresh garments from her. “I will put these in your saddlebag.”

She nodded, but did not meet his eyes. Adam felt confused and sad, then angry with himself. He had to focus on his task in London; it was almost
upon him. But thoughts of Florrie, and how his actions might affect her, simply wouldn’t die.

To his surprise, a fourth horse waited with the others. He turned to the other two men questioningly.

Robert grinned. “I was bored. A farmer was glad for the coin. We helped each other.”

Michael and Florrie took the lead, and Robert guided his horse beside Adam’s into the rear.

“What happened in there?” Robert asked.

“Florrie told me more about her father and a possible motive for his crimes.” He quietly explained about Martindale’s illegitimacy.

Robert sighed. “That must have been difficult for her to admit, especially since she’s in love with you.”

Turning his head to stare at him in surprise, Adam frowned. “She is not. She is a woman who obeys her family.”

“But she didn’t, for you.”

“How do you think she could love a man who’s suffered because of her father? She’s been trying to protect him.”

“And protect you. She told you the truth. Put yourself in her position. Do you not think it would take a while for someone to convince
you
to go against your own father? For God’s sake, you
kidnapped
her. It doesn’t inspire trust.”

“Because of Martindale, you and I never had any chance at all to know our father.”

“Then draw from your life. You finally have doubts about the League and their mission where our upbringing was concerned. Yet you still cannot repudiate them. But you think it should be easy for Florrie to go against her family for you? Or is it that you want so desperately for her to love you, that every doubt of hers is like an arrow in your heart?”

“Maudlin poetry does not become you,” Adam said, feeling surly.

Robert only shook his head, his face peaceful and amused beneath the waning moon. Adam found himself wishing he were more like his brother, unaffected by useless emotions. He had once thought himself impervious to them, caring only about logic, honor, and duty. What had happened to that man?

Florrie was exhausted by the time they made camp several hours later, just before dawn. They stayed well east of the main road to London, but the way had been dangerous and slow, due to the poor condition of the roads. Adam would have preferred to continue traveling by night, since they were less than ten leagues from London, but they could no longer risk the horses breaking a leg. So they would rest for the morn, and begin traveling again after noon.

Feeling chilled from the night air, and just able to see with the first gray light, Florrie stumbled through damp undergrowth and past a stand of
trees to reach the stream Michael had pointed out. As she knelt down, she could hear the rustling of small animals in the brush, awakening to a new day. The stream gurgled over rocks, and she lifted a dripping handful of water to her mouth.

But it never got there. A man’s hand covered her mouth instead. She stiffened in sudden terror.

The voice was unfamiliar, low but calm. “Come with me now, and you will not be harmed.”

She had heard that before—and it had proven true. But her luck could not possibly bear a repetition.

While she hesitated, he spoke again. “I will explain everything. Sir Adam must be stopped.”

The fact that he knew Adam’s identity made everything worse. She shoved her elbow back hard and hit him in the stomach. He grunted, but did not release her, only dragged her to her feet and splashed through the stream, pulling her with him, his hand still covering her mouth. When she bit him, he stuffed a cloth between her lips and tied another about her head to hold the gag in place.

She could see him now, as the rays of the rising sun sent light through the trees. He was not an especially tall man, but he showed his strength by his barrel chest and large, gnarled hands. And he wasn’t young. His brown hair was streaked with gray, and lines bracketed his mouth and eyes.

Softly, he said, “I do not understand why you fight me. I am rescuing you from a kidnapping, am I not?”

She glared at him, her only method of communication through her eyes.

The man sighed. “Ah, but Sir Adam is one with the confidence, bearing, and honor to convince men to follow him. He has swayed you as well.”

She tried to kick him, but he neatly avoided her.

“I cannot allow him to use you in his quest,” he said. “Without you, he might be foiled.”

This man might very well work for her father, for they wanted the same outcome; but she realized that he was not Martindale’s man, because he spoke almost fondly of Adam.

He must be with the League of the Blade.

And there was pride in his voice, too, which he couldn’t quite hide. Was this Sir Timothy, Adam’s foster father? She let him bind her wrists, let him continue leading her through the trees, away from her party. Adam would find her, she already knew. Or would he go on to London, before his deadly errand could be stopped?

At last they halted, and she stumbled with weariness. There were two horses waiting silently, well trained. Where was the other rider? Or was it for her?

Not resisting her captor, she beseeched him with her gaze, then touched her bound hands to her mouth.

“’Tis obvious you will scream,” he said.

She shook her head. They stared intently at one another, and at last he sighed.

“’Tis not your fault what has happened. You are an innocent, even as Adam was—and still is, if he can be stopped. Do you promise not to scream?”

She nodded, eyes wide, willing him to trust her. At last he removed the gag, and kept his hand against her mouth.

Through his fingers, she said, “Sir Timothy?”

His eyes widened in shock. “You know of me?” he demanded hoarsely, letting his hand fall away.

“You are Adam’s foster father. He speaks of you with great love and admiration.”

He watched her with confusion.

“I am no longer his captive,” she said. “I freely journey the country with him. Other Bladesmen tried to stop us days ago.”

He winced at her use of such a secret word, but at last he said heavily, “Aye, and they returned defeated. I was forced to come in their place, to try to reason with my foster son.”

“’Twill not work,” she said sadly. “I have tried myself, and by my actions, I only made him mistrust me more. He believes he needs to see this through.”

“That was my conclusion, too. Which is why I’ve taken you. If he thinks he needs you to convince your father to fight him, then without you…”

“I am not sure even I matter anymore,” she said sadly. “But let me ask you this. Four days ago we were attacked by a band of five men who almost killed me, and wounded Adam. Were they of the League?”

With eyes narrowed, he shook his head. “After the two returned injured, only I and my partner were dispatched. And never would I risk a lady—or Adam.”

“I know. This only proves they were from my father, and how little he cares for my welfare.”

Sir Timothy said nothing for a moment, his expression grave. “Then leave here with me, Lady Florence. ’Tis obvious you care for Adam. Between us, perhaps we can stop my foster son before the worst happens.”