The Wolf and the Highlander (Highland Wishes) (36 page)

He nodded so vigorously his blond curls bounced. “Magnus is a good king.”

She kept hearing that. If he hadn’t behaved so jealously when she and Riggs had run into his party, she might actually believe it. “Does he ken you’re Ari’s get?”

“Everyone knows, but no one talks about it. I look like him, see? I have my mother’s hair, but everything else is Ari’s, especially my eyes.”

The lad’s eyes
were stormy gray with flecks of lighter gray, like clear skies trying to break through the clouds. She kent little about Ari, but if these were his eyes, he must be a striking man. “If Ari was with your mother when she was contracted to another man, isn’t that illegal? Shouldn’t Ari be in prison?”

Daly said, “Such a thing can’t be proven, especially since Ari was supposed to have been in Larna at the time Travis was conceived. It wasn’t until the past year or two that Breeding First started whispering about Travis looking like Ari. A man can only be imprisoned if there are witnesses to him taking liberties with a woman out of contract or if mating scent can be detected on both man and woman. No one has come forward as a witness, and it’s far too late to detect mating scent.”

“
Och,
what a difficult situation for Magnus. Was that how he realized Ari was against him?”

Daly nodded. “I think so. There were clues before, but I don’t think His Majesty wanted to believe his cousin would betray him.” He stood and said crisply, “Let’s get you out of the tub now, lady, and see which of these gowns might fit you. Of course I’ll bring in the king’s own tailor tomorrow, and he will create a wardrobe worthy of you.”

“Some of the guards are on Ari’s side,” Travis whispered by way of explaining Daly’s sudden increase in volume.

Daly winked at her and whispered. “The king trusts the guards he placed at the door, but one never knows. One never knows.”

Saints above, what did all this mean for Magnus? For her and Riggs?

From the sounds of it, Ari had been sneaking around gathering support so he could take Magnus’s throne. But how had he managed such a feat from Larna? More importantly, what did all this have to do with Riggs? Why would anyone want Riggs out of the picture? Was it because of what he’d overheard about the Larnians keeping human women? She’d overheard things too, and Neil kent as much. Did that mean she was in danger too?

Travis lent her his hand, which was larger than a human child’s would be, and helped her stand up in the tub while Daly busied himself in the armoire.

She stood with a groan and leaned heavily on the lad to step from the tub. Water streamed down her legs
, soaking into a sheepskin mat near the hearth. The fire kept the chill at bay as Travis toweled her dry with a linen blanket.

He was careful not to ogle her, but his gaze paused on her bare breasts. Must be an odd sight to him after helping wolf-women bathe; Riggs had told her how they had as much hair on their chests as he did, and that the ladies groomed their coats fastidiously. Travis would likely have assisted in this since he routinely served the ladies who stayed in this chamber, the ladies King Magnus had tried to breed with.

The thought brought no jealousy whatsoever. She was beginning to respect Magnus, but she had no desire to visit his bed. In fact, the thought left a cold pit of dread in her stomach. As she remembered his treatment of her and Riggs the night he forced them to sign his bloody pact, anger made her clench her teeth. ’Twould take more than returning her gemstone for him to earn her forgiveness.

Yet she had to rely on him to find Riggs, it seemed, since she was stuck in t
his room. Nevertheless, she would do her part to help. Daly and Travis had proven more than willing to talk about private matters with her. Time to ask some possibly touchy questions.

Daly approached
with a garment of silk the color of ripe peaches. “A dressing robe for you, my lady. To wear while you dine and while Travis combs your hair.”

She slipped into the robe. It felt like a gent
le breeze on her skin. “Thank you, Daly.” Lowering her voice, she said, “Tell me about Neil. What’s he doing in all this? Why would he want Riggs out of the way, and where might he have put him?”

Daly seated her at a
dressing table with a costly glass mirror framed in gold. Some of the whores in the bawdyhouse kept rudimentary ovals of brass for applying their rouge and pinning up their hair, but never had she seen such luxury as this: an entire piece of furniture simply for viewing one’s reflection!

While she marveled at the extravagant furnishings, Travis crouched to fit silken slippers on her feet. They were too long for her, but they’d keep the chill off her toes.

Meanwhile, Daly set a tray of breads and cheeses at her elbow.

She could get used to palace life
, she mused as she popped a ball of moist, white cheese in her mouth, but not without Riggs at her side. She’d rather have a simple cabin and her pledgemate than all this finery and a gaping hole in her heart.

Travis set to co
mbing out her wet hair while the flavor of tangy cheese, salt and herbs burst over her tongue.
Och,
she hadn’t had cheese in ages! But she wouldn’t let the fine meal distract her from her mission. She grabbed up some more cheese and a slice of bread but fixed her gaze on Daly, awaiting his answer.

“I wish I knew, lady,” he said. “I saw them standing together in the bailey, but left before they departed. Didn’t see which way they went.”

“There were other servants out there,” she said. “Stable hands, household servants. Surely someone saw somat.” Two men the size of Riggs and Neil, who stood of a height with his nephew, didn’t escape notice, especially since rumors of Riggs taking her as his lifemate would have passed through the halls of Glendall like wildfire. “Can you summon servants for me to question?”

“I think I know where the war chieftain took him,” Travis said.

She twisted on the couch to find the lad peering at Daly with a blush rising in his cheeks.

Daly looked stunned.

“Where?” she and Daly asked at the same time.

Travis cleared his throat. “There’s a room in the old part of the castle, in the dungeon.” He
gently turned her to face the mirror and began working the comb through her hair. “I see guards and nobles go in. Everyone who goes there is Breeding First. They stay there for an hour or so and come out smiling. Sometimes I hear people laughing in there. Or—” He swallowed. “Screaming, but not like they’re scared. Sometimes it sounds like they have women in there, but I’ve never seen any of the ladies going in or out. A few times, I thought I heard my mother in there.”

She and Daly exchanged a look. What Travis described sounded like a bawdyhouse. This room could be where Breeding First carried out their mission, all behind Magnus’s back.

“How do you know of this room?” Daly asked.

“Me and some of the other pups like to explore the tunnels.” In the mirror, she saw Daly nod, as if he kent what tunnels the lad meant. “There are passageways off the tunnels that run above the lower hallways. You have to crawl through them. There are grates where you can get in and out. One of the grates looks over the door to that room. There are always guards there. The war chieftain goes there a lot.”

A thump at the door made them all look that way. Men’s voices could be heard. They escalated in volume.

Travis’s hands grew tense on the comb.

A man outside shouted. There was a sound of two swords clashing.

Daly gripped her arm and encouraged her off the couch. “This way, lady.” He directed her to the door that adjoined Magnus’s chambers.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, but the king gave me specific
instructions if we should hear any disturbance at the door.” He spoke urgently, no longer keeping to a whisper. “Travis, take her through the tunnels to the north wing.” He pulled open the door to Magnus’s rooms. To her, he said, “You’re to barricade yourself into the storeroom and not open the door to any but His Majesty.” To Travis, he said, “Once you see her to the storeroom, find the king. Tell him of this room in the dungeon and show him where it is.” He pushed her through the door. Before he closed it, she saw the glint of steel in his hand.
Och,
did the aged head of household think to fight to give her time to get away?

She started to protest, but Travis dragged her along the wall of an opulent solar. Midway along the wall, he lifted a tapestry and pressed a stone. A passageway opened with a scraping of rock on rock. Sounds of a fight filled the chamber they’d just left.

“Come on, lady, hurry!” Travis tugged at her hand.

She hobbled after him fast as her legs could carry her, but they were on fire from that bath. The tunnel was dark as night, but Travis seemed to ken where he was going. After many minutes, her legs wanted to give out.

“I canna go any farther,” she panted.

Men’s voices echoed behind them.

“You must,” Travis said. “Hurry.” He pulled her along until her muscles cramped and her left knee buckled.

She cried out.

“There!” a man’s voice said. “Did you hear that?”

“She won’t get far on those legs,” said another. “Hurry.”

They were close. And they were right. She couldn’t run any more. She couldn’t even walk, not until she’d tended to her legs.

“Go,” she urged Travis. “Away with you. Find Magnus and tell him of this.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“You
must.” The men’s running footsteps were nearly on top of them. “Quickly,” she whispered. “No arguments. Go.”

Travis squeezed her hand, then let it go moments before the men arrived. Their heavy footfalls disguised the soft scampering of the lad as he ran away.

“I’m on the ground,” she told the men. They stopped before her. “Don’t tread on me. Help me up, will you?” She held up a hand.

One man clasped her wrist and helped her up.

“If you plan to take me somewhere, you’ll have to carry me. I’ve done all the walking I’ll be doing tonight.”

“My pleasure, lady,” the man holding her hand said. Big hands banded her waist and lifted her.

She obliged by winding her arm around a beefy neck with hair grown over the collar. Mayhap these men kent where Riggs was. Her own welfare was naught compared to Riggs’s. If she could save him, she’d gladly sacrifice herself.

“I’ll do as you
ask. But if I find you’ve harmed my lifemate, I’ll gouge your eyes out with your own daggers.”

Both men chuckled.

“Legs don’t work, but she’s got a fine spirit,” the man holding her said.

“What’s Ari going to do with her?”

The man holding her shrugged. “Let’s find out. Come on, lady. We’re taking you to see the man who will be king of Marann by tomorrow morning.”

* * * *

Travis flattened himself against the tunnel wall, breathing silently and becoming one with the darkness.

Two guards had found Lady Anya. The scent of fresh blood rolled off of them. He worried about Mr. Daly. The old servant had been ready to fight when Travis had dragged Lady Anya into the tunnels. He hoped he was al
l right. Who would see to the running of Glendall and the care of King Magnus if anything happened to the head of household?

He recognized the guards’ voices. From his hiding spot in the crawlways, he’d heard these two making conversation as they’d
guarded the room he’d told Lady Anya and Mr. Daly about. The tunnel was too dark to see them now—good thing since if he could see
them
they’d be able to see
him
. But he remembered what they looked like. They were Breeding First. Like his sire. Ari.

They’d said he would be king of Marann by tomorrow. That meant they were planning
something tonight. He had to warn the king. But first, he’d follow the guards to see where they took Anya. He had a sinking feeling he knew where they’d go. He hoped he was wrong.

Riggs had never known such pain. Bull and Reddick had sliced the rope from his wrists only to bind them with iron manacles. The manacles were welded together, forcing his wrists to make an
X
. A heavy chain ran from the manacles to an eyehook the size of a cart axle which someone had screwed into a thick wooden beam in the rafters. It was from this chain he hung, his feet barely touching the dirt floor, his bare back against a wall of damp black stone. Manacles on his ankles prevented him from kicking his persecutors. He was strung up like a gutted boar, and he was minutes from losing consciousness.

A few more ounces of blood, a few more burns from Bantus’s hot irons, and he’d pass out. Then Bantus would no doubt turn his attention to his other “pets,” the women he’d heard in that other cell. Judging by the filthy mattress atop a pallet against the other wall, Bantus entertained himself in even more despicable ways with the women.

He had to hang on. For as long as he could. As long as Bantus played with him, he wasn’t hurting a woman.