The Crimson Lady (23 page)

It was foolish to dwell so on any of it, she knew, and yet…

Making a sound of exasperation, she stood abruptly and paced to the window, pushing the shutter open a bit more to look out. It couldn’t have been more than a half an hour since Braedan had left, but it already seemed like forever. She leaned her head on the casement and peered down into the alley below. There was naught to be seen but the red eyes of some hungry rodent, scavenging for its supper. Shivering, she pulled away from the window and closed the shutter, preferring the oppressive heat to that sight. Besides, though the night air that had swept through the open window had been cooler, it had been thick with the unpleasant scents of the city as well.

Pacing back to the hearth, she paused, readying to light a few more of the tapers the inn had provided with the cost of the room, when she heard a scratching at the
door. She stiffened for an instant then rushed forward, buoyant with hope. Braedan, returned already? It seemed too quick, though. At the last moment she stopped, forcing herself not to open the door until she could be sure it was he.

“Yes?” she called, hoping that her voice sounded as strong and controlled as she intended it to.

“Pardon, mistress,” a young female voice called back. “’Tis Anna from the kitchens, come to get your tub back fer another customer’s use tonight. Are ye done with it?”

Disappointment and relief warred in Fiona at once, though she stifled the first to answer, “Aye, Anna, just a moment.” It wasn’t the girl’s fault that she wasn’t Braedan, Fiona thought ruefully, as she reached to lift the latch on the door. She spoke as she pulled it open, “The tub is over near the window. I’ve emptied it already and—”

With a gasp, she stumbled backward and then froze, feeling as if her throat was closing altogether. The familiar scent of roses and spice swept over her at the same time that her gaze locked with the icy black eyes of the man who was leaning against the edge of the open portal, his arms crossed nonchalantly. From the corner of her vision she caught the frightened expression of the girl who’d called herself Anna as she darted away down the hall toward the stairs at the far end.

She’d be no help, then
, Fiona’s frantic mind managed to conjure.
No help at all…Oh, God…

“Well, Giselle,” Draven drawled softly, the faintest hint of a smile curving his sensual mouth, “I can see that you’ve lost whatever manners I’d managed to teach you
in our years together. You’ve yet to invite me in.” At that he pushed himself away from the doorway, as masterful and confident in himself as always, to take several steps into the chamber.

“So it seems I will just have to invite myself.”

F
iona stepped away from the door on legs gone numb, backing up until the foot of the bedstead stopped her from going farther. Draven had swung the door shut behind him; now he moved past her, shaking his head and making a clicking sound with his tongue as he quickly glanced around the room and out the shutter before closing it and moving by her again toward the empty hearth. Once there, he pulled off his leather gloves, setting them on the mantel before turning to face her with one arm resting next to them. He was a powerfully built man, and the position he took now forcefully reminded her of how he seemed to dominate whatever place he occupied, filling a chamber completely with his presence.

“You needn’t behave as if I’m going to pounce on you at any moment, Giselle. It is rather offensive, you know.”

“What do you want, then?” she asked, keeping her fingers clenched together in front of her.

“Nothing, right away,” he answered, spotting the wooden chair and easing himself into it. He leaned back with a sigh, stretching his long legs out and lacing his hands together over his stomach. When he looked at her again, it was with that expression she remembered so well, his eyes both amused and intense upon her, an expression that sent shudders quaking through her, knowing as she did that he was merely playing for a while before he would impose his will on her in whatever way he chose.

“I will however, be requiring something of you in the very near future, when your paramour returns from his fruitless quest at Cokkeslane,” he continued, watching for her reaction from beneath heavy lids.

“It
was
you, then.”

He raised his brow. “You suspected my hand in it, did you? Very good. Perhaps you haven’t lost all of the instincts I labored so arduously to instill in you…or
on
you, as the case may be,” he added with another of his devilish, soft smiles. “Besides, you honestly didn’t think your little disguises would prevent me from recognizing you, did you? My nephew’s strength and military demeanor are difficult to miss.” He gestured toward the heap of black clothing and padding that rested atop the trunk in the chamber. “And even that hideous gown and wimple could not mask the unusual beauty of your eyes.”

She refused to say anything in return, fisting her hands at her sides and keeping her expression impassive in her determination not to feed his desire for an emotional response. She continued to stare at him from her
position near the bed, trying to remember if there was anything in the room that she could use as a weapon against him. Her dagger was with her other clothing, set aside when she and Braedan had bathed and made love, and Draven was too near the tools for the fire for her to make use of them.

She moved not a muscle, hating him with every fiber of her being. The only thing that kept her from casting caution to the winds right now and attempting an escape was his earlier statement about Braedan’s return. It meant that Braedan was still alive and that Draven’s plan hadn’t included ambushing and killing him at the brothel where he’d gone to investigate. It was enough to keep her passive for the time being, to hear what else her nemesis was brewing in his way of revenge on them.

“You’re very patient,” he commented, interrupting her thoughts. “Aren’t you going to ask in what way your services will be required upon my dear nephew’s return?”

“Nay. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

He laughed aloud at that, the sound warm and rich. A startling contrast to the cold man she knew lurked beneath his handsome, polished surface. “Ah, Giselle, I confess I’ve missed that about you—your unadorned manner of speaking,” he said, amusement still coloring his voice as he rose up out of the chair and approached her.

She stiffened, wary. He came to within a few inches of her before stopping, his expression an enigmatic combination of humor, longing, and vexation. At last reaching up one hand, he brushed a wisp of her hair back from her temple, saying quietly, “I did care for you, you know. More than for any other.”

She paused, startled by his words and yet knowing in a way that went bone deep that they were as false as everything else that had ever happened between them. “You believed you
owned
me, Draven,” she answered with finality. “There is a difference. I know that now.”

He reacted as she suspected he would, his eyes darkening with anger and his jaw tightening as he pulled away. “You know nothing, Giselle. And I do own you. I always have. You just seem to have forgotten it. Though I can assure you, you’ll be reminded of it quite thoroughly before we’re finished.”

He closed his eyes then and breathed in, raking his hand through his hair before staring at her again. “But first we must take care of the little problem of my nephew, who will undoubtedly come through that door in less than an hour, heart weary with disappointment and looking for his lover to ease his pain. You will have a task to complete then, and you will do it well, Giselle, or your precious Braedan will suffer more for it, I promise you.”

The trembling had begun anew in her belly, and she struggled to ignore it. There still might be a way to get free of this nightmare for her and Braedan; she just couldn’t see it yet. For now she’d have to pretend to go along with Draven and his twisted schemes.

“What is it you expect me to do?” she asked evenly.

“Nothing that you haven’t done thousands of times before, sweet,” he answered, the endearment profane to her ears. “You will enact a delicious pretense for my nephew, behaving, when he arrives, as if the two of you are completely alone. You will entice him into your bed, so that he will discard both his weapons and his caution—at which point I will reveal myself, call up my
men, and commence the rest of what I have planned for the both of you.”

“But why?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking, disbelief shaking her. “Why go through all of that for the simple purpose of taking him into your custody?”

“There are two reasons, actually. For one, I do not wish to lose any more of my men beneath his blade. But more importantly because it will be supremely entertaining to watch the effect your betrayal will have on him. When all is said and done, he will not be able to deny that it was you who single-handedly lured him to his capture. His knowing, eventually, that you were coerced into the deed will lessen my satisfaction somewhat, of course, but that part cannot be helped.”

Fiona thought she was going to be sick. It took all of her will to keep from sinking down to the edge of the bed with the horror sweeping through her. It was unbearable, knowing that she was to be the instrument of Braedan’s pain. Numbly, she turned her gaze to Draven. “What then? What will you do with us after you’ve achieved your insidious plan?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” he said, shrugging. “Perhaps I’ll bring you and my nephew back to Chepston for a while…or perhaps just order an immediate execution in the name of the crown. Either way I’ll have to make it worth my while. You’ve both given me a great deal of trouble, and I’ll need recompense for it.”

Fiona stood there, stunned with the evil of what he was saying, her mind reverberating with the word he’d said near the last with such relish.
Recompense
. Aye, Draven always wanted payment of some kind. It was what had inspired him to conceive the sordid lie that was the Crimson Lady so long ago.
And
there in lay the
solu
tion, perhaps to this entire, foul situation
, her mind asserted from somewhere in the depths of her misery. She could offer a solution that Draven would prefer in place of his own perverse plan….

Her heart hammered as she turned the idea around in her mind, examining it from all sides. It might work, aye, but she feared it would be at a steep price; it would be a nightmare made flesh for her, though if it spared Braedan, then it would be worth the cost….

“What if I agreed to go willingly back to Chepston with you and resume the life I left behind four years ago,” she said before she could lose her will to see this through, “if I agreed to once again take up my role for you as the Crimson Lady?”

Draven stilled, his eyes narrowing on her as if he were trying to deduce her motives. “You think to save yourself by such an offer?”

“Nay, I seek to strike a bargain for my services to you.”

“A bargain for what?”

“Braedan’s freedom. He is an outlaw wanted by the crown thanks to you. That fate is a punishment in and of itself for a man such as he. He only came to London to seek out his foster sister and has no means of hurting you in your position of power,” she lied, hoping that Draven knew nothing of the outlaws’ plot against him. Her voice wavered. “You want me back; we both know that. Give over your pursuit of Braedan. Agree to let him go free tonight, and I will place myself under your control again for as long as you wish it, to do with me as you see fit, without fear of my leaving again.”

Draven paused for a beat of silence, his expression even and his face as exquisitely handsome as always—all
but for the shadows of stricken surprise that appeared, suddenly, in his eyes. “Good God,” he murmured at last, almost as if to himself, though he kept his stare fixed firmly on her. “You’ve actually fallen in love with him, haven’t you?”

Fiona wanted nothing less than to shout the truth of that, but she would never give Draven the satisfaction of making such an admission at his command. She lifted her chin a fraction and stared him down, knowing even as she did, that though she might not speak the words aloud, he would be able to read her true feelings anyway.

A little choked sound escaped him before he regained control of himself, the shadows in his eyes vanishing under a mantle of cool, hard mockery. “So be it, Giselle; it will only make what is to come that much more delicious.” Shaking his head, he sat back in the chair near the hearth, and drawled, “But I’m afraid that, while your idea sounds tempting, sweet, truly, I cannot see how what you suggest would offer an improvement for me. I have you in my power
now
—unwilling, perhaps, but in my control nonetheless. If I did as you asked, I’d be giving up my chance to witness that delightful moment when Braedan realizes that you have betrayed him and I have bested him once and for all.”

Nay!
Her heart shouted, though she forced herself to remain still and silent. He couldn’t reject her offer outright. She knew Draven, knew his obsession with her and how much he yearned to possess her again as before. It was the key to all of this, it had to be—

“And yet…” Draven spoke the words so softly that at first she wasn’t sure he’d said them at all. But then he paused, looking off as if in thought, and her heart leapt with hope. “There might be one way that I would con
sider your offer—an addition to your suggestion that might provide what I require from this little adventure,” he murmured, swinging his gaze to her again. The look in his eyes sent cold chills straight to her heart, and this time she did sit on the edge of the bed, unable to stand any longer for the weakness flooding her limbs.

Draven leaned back in his chair and smiled, the expression both perversely caressing and provoking at the same time. “It is clear, however, that any bargain struck between us simply wouldn’t be the same unless the terms were initiated by you, my darling, and since your newfound heart is involved, I must have a care in the way it transpires. Therefore, I intend to make you a proposition. Discern what I am thinking about—come up with the adjustment to your bargain that has just now engaged my interest—and offer the terms to me as your own. Do so before your beloved returns from his visit to Cokkeslane, and I will agree to it. Fail to realize what the new proposal should be, and the plan will go ahead as I originally intended, with you serving as the lovely bait to ensnare him here at the Tabard.”

He glanced to the door, his handsome head tilted as if he were listening for footsteps beyond the wooden panel. “But I would think quickly if I were you, Giselle. It won’t be long now until one of my men will come up those stairs to let us know that your lover is on his way back to the inn, and then you’ll be required to…get into position, shall we say, for the trap.” He stretched his legs out again and crossed one ankle over the other, looking blissfully unconcerned that her heart was racing with fear or that desperate panic was spilling through her veins.

“You are truly diabolical, you know,” she whispered,
her voice strained with emotions she refused to show him. “But even I didn’t think you capable of sinking to the depths of such twisted evil as this.”

“Ah, darling, I know,” he added, his clear amusement scorning her pain, “It is one of my special charms. And you can revile me all you like for it, but just remember that in the meantime, your precious Braedan’s life hangs in the balance…aye, his entire fate rests, in fact, on your very pretty head.”

Braedan took the stairs to the second floor of the Tabard three at a time, heavy at heart but eager to see Fiona again. He didn’t relish the news he would be sharing with her—that this latest promising information about Elizabeth had turned out to be nothing at all—but he longed to take her in his arms and hold her for the rest of the night, knowing as he did his plan to get her back to the more peaceful surroundings of the outlaw settlement come morn. He would miss her with an ache already begun at the mere thought of their imminent separation, and yet he knew getting her away from London and her painful memories of the
stewes
would be the best for her. It could be no other way.

Now he just had to find a way to make her understand that.

Reaching their door, he scratched softly, prepared to wait for a moment, since he knew she would be following his caution to keep it bolted tight until his return. “Fiona,” he called out softly at the same time, “It is Braedan, love—you can unbar the door.”

But the heavy wooden slab creaked open on its own weight with the slight pressure of his fingers against it, and he stood there, stunned, looking at it in disbelief.
That emotion gave way to consternation, then to fear. Shoving the door open the rest of the way, he threw himself into the chamber, his gaze searching frantically for Fiona. Instead, he saw standing near the hearth the young serving girl who had brought up their supper earlier in the evening; she’d jumped up at his entrance, her hand flying to her throat and a look of alarm freezing her already timid features.