Sage stared in horror as she realized what had happened, gasping, “No.”
Marcus stepped back, pulling his sword from Nicolas’s stomach. “I’m sorry, old friend,” he whispered. “But you know how important this is.”
Nicolas slumped forward onto the desk and slid into his seat, holding his stomach. A large stain of blood blossomed from beneath his brown robe.
Furious and horrified, Sage raised her blade to strike at Marcus.
In one swift movement, he seized the book and intercepted her blow, locking swords with her. A ting echoed through the small room as the weapons connected.
“Run,” Nicolas gasped to Sage as he clutched his stomach.
That was the last thing she planned to do. She had to know why—why Marcus wanted the book so badly, what secrets it held. Her eyes locked on the leather-bound tome Marcus held in his hand. “Give me the book, and I’ll let you live,” she stated.
A grin tugged the corners of his lips. “Lower your sword.”
Disbelief washed over her. “You have no chance of leaving here alive.”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed, assessing, and then he sighed. “Put your sword down, or I will destroy this book.” He held the book out toward the torch on the wall.
Anxiety speared Sage as he inched the book and all its secrets closer to the flickering flames.
A moment passed and then another.
She couldn’t move. If she put her sword down, he would escape with the book. If she didn’t, he would burn the book, destroying everything inside.
“He won’t. He won’t burn the book,” Brother Nicolas whispered, his voice resonating throughout the room.
Anguish filled Sage. She couldn’t take the chance he would destroy the book. She longed to know what secrets it held. Still, this Marcus had stabbed Brother Nicolas. If she lowered her sword, would she be next? She hesitated.
Marcus edged the parchment pages closer to the hungry flames.
“Wait!” she cried out, desperately.
Marcus halted his movement, gazing at her. He lowered his sword.
She quickly matched his movement.
“Give me the book,” Sage commanded, holding her palm out.
“I’ll give you the book when we are out of here.”
“We?” she asked, confused.
“I can’t decode it.” He sheathed his weapon but still held the book to the torch. “But you can. You will come with me.”
Sage glanced at Brother Nicolas.
He shook his head, signaling for her not to go.
She might be able to decode the book...if she knew how to read. Her eyes lifted to the book hungrily. She wanted that book. She wanted to learn its mysteries. She wanted to prove to everyone, even herself, that she could break the code. Resolved, she re-sheathed her sword and agreed with a nod.
Marcus grinned again, one side of his lips turning up. He withdrew the book from the flames and tucked it into his robe.
Nicolas lowered his forehead to the desk in defeat.
Marcus moved past Sage to the doorway.
Sage took the parchment page Brother Nicolas had been working on from the desk and tucked it inside her leather armor. She cast one last glance at Nicolas. He was seated, with his head resting on the desk. She wished she could help him, but the red blood dripped through his fingers. She had seen enough death to know that the wound was severe, and he had no chance of surviving. She regretted bringing the book to him and involving him in all of this. And still, the book beckoned to her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Nicolas before departing the room.
She followed Marcus into the hallway, wondering for a brief moment if she could tackle him and take the book. In the end, she discarded the idea. She didn’t want to chance that the book might be torn or damaged in the struggle. She would fight if she had to, but she didn’t have to battle him right now. There would be a time, but this was not it.
She glanced toward the stairs. Where were her sisters? If they could get up the stairs, perhaps she would run into them.
Marcus turned to her, his gaze sweeping over her. “Give me your sword sheath.”
She straightened in reluctance.
He cocked his head to the side and a grin formed on his lips. “I can’t let you keep it.”
She ground her teeth and unbuckled the belt. Without her sword around her waist, she suddenly felt vulnerable. She faltered.
He held his hand out.
Was the book worth this? Should she run? Should she make her escape? But she couldn’t. She had to have the book. She had to know why. Finally, she slapped the belt into his hand.
He slung it over his shoulder. “This way.” He led her down the corridor, deeper into the catacombs and away from the stairs.
“But the exit is that way,” Sage said, hesitantly trailing him. Part of her plan had been to get him to try to escape through the main chateau in hope of seeing other monks or, better yet, Raven and Willow.
“There’s a better way,” he said. And he continued down the hallway.
He didn’t even look back to make sure she was close, and this angered Sage. He knew she would follow like a little dog. And, of course, she would. She wanted that book.
They walked down the hallway lit by torches ensconced on the wall, moving past empty rooms carved from the surrounding ground and fortified by stones. The air was muggy and thick here. Sage imagined they were deep underground. Her mind began churning. How could she get the book and escape? Escape? She wasn’t a bound prisoner. She could make her escape at any time; it would just be without the book. She would never do that. She couldn’t. She didn’t want him to have that book. Then, how could she get it?
Finally, he ducked into one of the side rooms. Stacked crates lined the walls, and a tapestry depicting monks praying to a cross hung on the far side. There was no way out here. Was he going to kill her? She had to be on guard. She didn’t think he would kill her, as he’d said he needed her.
Marcus walked over to the tapestry and eased it aside to reveal a grate. He bent over and wrapped his fingers around the metal slats.
Sage scanned the room. A few candles lay atop some of the crates, and a large iron bowl was on another. She could hit him over the head and disable him.
He pulled at the grate and groaned as she inched her way over to the side of the room where the bowl was. She reached out and touched the bowl.
A creaking, squeaking sound echoed through the room as he pulled the grate open.
He stood, grunting as if out of breath, and turned to her, sweeping his hand toward the opening behind the grate. She quickly withdrew her hand from the bowl as he beckoned, “After you.”
Sage hesitated for a moment before taking a step forward. If she could buy some time, perhaps Willow or Raven would find them. She pursed her lips and took another footstep. “Let me have the book.”
He tilted his head slightly to the side, and his eyes narrowed. “I think it is safe where it is.”
She lifted her chin. “Then I won’t go with you.”
Those cursed lips curled up on one side again. It was a mocking smile. “Very well.” He shifted her sword belt on his shoulder and began to duck into the small opening.
“Wait!” Sage called. Damn him. He was so confident. When he reemerged again, she continued, “The sooner I can see the book, the sooner I can decode it.”
“You won’t be able to see the pages in the dark.”
Sage glanced into the blackness of the passageway, still hesitating. Where were her sisters?
“I’ll give it to you when we get out of the chateau.”
Sage glanced at him, unsure. Was he lying to get her to go with him? She paused at the grate opening, looking into the darkness. The blackness was complete. She glanced at Marcus, searching his face. His jaw was square and clean-shaven. His nose was straight, and his blue eyes gleamed patiently. She clenched her teeth. Was the book worth so much? She could easily escape and race back down the hallway. B
ut she wouldn’t have the book. Or her sword.
Brother Nicolas had said the book was important, dangerous even. And there was no way she was going to let Marcus keep it. She really had no choice. With a sigh of surrender, she ducked her head and entered the gloom.
She started out on her hands and knees, but it was too narrow to crawl, and she lowered herself onto her belly.
She grimaced as she moved forward, her hands clawing into the wet ground. Slick mud. It was completely dark, and she couldn’t see where she was going. The squeaking clank of the grate closing behind her sounded, and she paused. Dread stiffened her body. Had he locked her in and stolen the book? “Are you there?”
Shuffling rustled behind her. “Aye,” he grunted. “Keep going.”
Relief filled her. She wasn’t locked in this pit alone. No, she thought, inching forward. She was locked in the dark with someone she didn’t know anything about, who had killed Brother Nicolas to steal the book and was now kidnapping her so she could decode it. What was she doing? When she got out of this place, she should…
The cramped tunnel suddenly veered right. She barely noticed, except he caught her foot to stop her.
“Let me go first. There is another grate barring the exit,” he told her.
Sage rolled her eyes as she halted and pressed herself as close to the wall as she could. “You couldn’t have gone first?”
“You might not have closed the gate. I had to make sure no one knew we had escaped through it.” He scooched up beside her. The tunnel was very small and tight. His shoulder bumped her knee as he squeezed next to her. She pressed herself back against the wall as he struggled to move by her, but there wasn’t enough room. His shoulder skimmed her body as he crawled forward on his stomach.
As he edged by, she felt a square item in the folds of his monk’s robe.
The book!
She lurched forward into him and cried out. Their bodies touched fully, and she rolled on top of him, trying to get to the other side.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, irritated.
“Something ran over me!” she exclaimed, brushing at her hair.
They entwined, limbs and legs swirled in their struggle to be free of each other. He tried to wriggle to the side where Sage was. Sage tried to pull away, but her foot was wrapped in his robe.
“Move your foot,” he commanded.
She tried to kick free of the garment, and her knee came up, smashing into his groin. He groaned. She smiled secretly, glad it was dark to hide her pleasure. She tried to wiggle away from him.
He slammed his hand into her shoulder, pushing her back against the wall. “Don’t move,” he said hoarsely. His hand remained on her shoulder.
Sage stilled.
After a moment, he began to move forward again.
Sage waited until he had crawled past her before lifting her hand with her trophy. The book. She and her sisters were not robbers, but they had been taught the elegance of lifting items from others in times of need. It was something she and Willow had picked up quickly, but not Raven. Right now, Sage was very happy that it came easily to her.
She held the book, savoring her victory, before shoving it inside her armor for safekeeping. She grinned, very pleased with her accomplishment.
She glanced back the way they came, debating returning, but she knew he would come after her. And he had her sword. She was not leaving it with him.
No. She would wait until they were out of the chateau to make her escape.
Chapter 5
Marcus crawled through the dank darkness of the small tunnel. He heard the woman shuffling behind him. He scurried onward, crawling arm over arm. There was no room in the long hole; this was the only way to proceed. He didn’t recall the tunnel being so little, but he hadn’t used the tunnels in years, not since he had studied with the monks.
Moving silently through the muck gave him a moment to reflect on what he had done. He regretted killing Brother Nicolas. He had not intended to. He had jerked forward to subdue him, to intercept him from laying hands on the book. But the old man had lunged, probably with the misguided attempt to overpower him. Marcus had planned to bind him and leave him—never to kill the old man. It had been an unfortunate accident. Remorse filled him, but he quickly pushed it aside. He couldn’t think of that now. He had no time to waste. He had to get out of the tunnel, and away from the chateau before the Templars sent knights after him. And before Sterling discovered he had the book in his possession.
The book was too important. Too many people knew about it and wanted it. He wondered what was inside, what made the book so desirable. Whatever was inside, he would be well-rewarded when he turned over the book to his cousin.
Marcus nodded, pleased with himself. As he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, relief and hope filled him. He was weary of creeping through this dirt.
As he neared the soft sunlight streaming through the slats, he saw large boulders outside the grate opening, hiding it from the world. He reached out to the grate and shoved it. But it didn’t budge. With an inhale of frustration, he banged a fist against it to loosen it. It still held tight. God’s blood! He would escape this prison. He put his shoulder against the bars and pushed with all his might. Finally, the grate swung open, and he almost toppled out of the tunnel.
The fresh air engulfed him, and he crawled into the muted sunlight of the fading sun. He stood, surveying the area for any witnesses, and adjusted the girl’s belt over his shoulder. He had half-expected a group of those red-crossed Templars to be waiting for him. But there was no one.
He turned and extended a hand to the woman.
She glanced at his hand and lifted her chin in disdain, ignoring him as she slid out of the passageway. Then she stood, brushing the dirt from the front of her tight-fitting brown leather armor. “Be careful with my sword.”
Marcus scoffed to himself and shook his head. How well could a woman use a blade? Certainly not as well as he could. But, perhaps just well enough for him to be cautious.
He hurried back to the tunnel and closed the grate. It would still be too easy for someone to follow them through the tunnel. Sterling would, no doubt, come this way. He glanced around at the surrounding rocks, choosing a decent-sized boulder. He gaged it with his eyes. It would do. He cast a quick glance at the girl to see her scanning the ground. She was probably plotting her escape. She wouldn’t leave without the book, of that he was certain. He had seen the hunger in her eyes, the intensity with which she gazed at it. She wouldn’t go anywhere without the book. Or her sword.
Marcus put both of his hands on the boulder and tried to roll it. It was heavier than he thought. He strained, exerting all his energy to tumble it forward and position it before the grate.
He rose and looked at the girl. She stood still, watching him with intelligent eyes. Strands of brown hair had come loose from the braid at her back and flapped about her heart-shaped face in the breeze. One of her hands was behind her back.
She met his gaze evenly.
“Drop it,” he ordered.
Her mouth opened in surprise and then snapped closed in fury. She tossed a rock to the side.
He had guessed correctly. She had been going to hit him over the head with a rock and run. He had to admire her intellect. But why would she attempt to escape if she didn’t have the book? Maybe she intended to remove it after he was unconscious. Or maybe… Suspicion prickled down his spine, and he dropped his hand to the pocket in his monk’s robe. No book. He grinned in admiration. She must have lifted it when they were tussling in the tunnel.
He raised an eyebrow appreciatively. “What’s your name?”
Her brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Sage.”
The word sent tremors of unease through him. Sage. He knew that name. “Hawke?”
She nodded.
He clenched his teeth and groaned inwardly. He had met John Hawke once, but his legend had preceded him. John Hawke and his daughters were well-known for their sword skills, lo
yalty, and tight family connections. Her family would be coming after him when they found out he had her. He cursed silently. More people tracking him. He couldn’t take any chances. The father was an esteemed fighter and mercenary. The sisters were expertly trained, or so he heard.
“What were you doing at the chateau?” He searched the ground until he found a broken branch with leaves still clinging to it.
“Taking the book to Brother Nicolas,” Sage replied.
“You had the book?” He believed Christian Sterling was in possession of it. How could he have been so wrong?
“It was a gift to my sister, and we thought Brother Nicolas could help decipher it.”
Marcus scoffed as he bent and picked up the branch. “Sterling would never have given that book away.”
“You know Christian?”
“Aye,” Marcus agreed, brushing the branch over their footsteps to wipe them away. He knew Christian Sterling. He had been tracking him to get the book for months. “We are acquainted.” He stood up, surveying the ground. “Why would you seek Nicolas’s help?”
“Any help decoding would be advantageous.”
Marcus had to agree. A fresh set of eyes might have cracked the code. He tossed the branch aside and gazed at the freshly brushed ground. Then, he nodded to himself in satisfaction.
He looked at Sage again. She was an average-sized girl, not too short, not too tall. He tried to remember what he had heard about her. One girl was beautiful, one girl was an expert swordsman—although they were all quite capable. But Sage…
Sage had managed to steal the book from him. And she would do everything in her power to escape—such as hit him in the head with a rock. Clever girl.
Yes. That’s what he had heard about Sage. She was the smartest, the one that could figure anything out.
He grinned. She was exactly what he needed to decode the book. If he handed the book to his cousin and it was decoded, imagine how happy Guillume would be. He might give him more coin. “This way,” he said and began to move down the hill.
A line of dark clouds churned in the distance. Sage walked with him. “Where are you taking me?”
Sage: Medieval Romance Beauties With Blades Page 3
