Drake’s Honor

by Martin, Madeline

  Tavish often patrolled the main floor of the castle, which was how she found him when she arrived at Lochmaben previously. He was working during the day then but indicated he was generally there at night, which played well to her advantage now.

  Footsteps approached, and she blended into the shadows of a deep-set doorway, hoping it would be sufficient to keep her hidden. Men’s voices filled the corridor, quietly conversing and chuckling as two soldiers appeared in front of her. They were engaged in their chatter as they passed, the one nearest to her close enough that she could have touched him.

  And they did not notice her.

  She exhaled a whoosh of air and slipped into the hallway once more. Her hand went to her heavy pocket to ensure the coins did not clink as she moved, her footsteps thankfully muted by the leather soles of her shoes. Moonlight streamed in from the open shutters and cast a silver pallor about the wide hallway. She darted from column to column, her gaze scouring the area for guards, both the ones she wanted to avoid and the one that she sought.

  Finally, she caught sight of two men standing together, their voices a baritone murmur that drifted toward her. One possessed a similar posture to Tavish, who tended to slouch about the shoulders.

  She cursed her luck that he would be with another person. But how to draw him away?

  Fortunately, she didn’t have to come up with a solution, for as she was mulling over her predicament, the other man gave a loud scoff and strode down the hall. The tightness in Greer’s chest abated somewhat. Everything was working in her favor.

  She quickly crossed over to where Tavish was turning to face the wall and arrived as a steady stream of urine splashed into the rushes.

  “I dinna know if Lord Calver would approve,” she whispered.

  Tavish didn’t startle. He glanced at her over his shoulder and grinned, revealing his broken front tooth. “I wager he’s done it a time or two himself when a garderobe wasn’t a stone’s throw away.”

  Greer kept her distance and stared up at the high ceiling above them. Even in the dark, the crossing wood beams stood out against the whitewashed walls, making them look like the sticks game Mac used to play when he’d been little.

  “I have what ye asked me to get.” Her heart slammed in her chest as she said the words.

  There was a jingle of his chainmail links rattling against one another as he tucked himself back into his trews and faced her. “It doesna matter. The lad is heavily guarded.”

  “He was heavily guarded before.” Greer withdrew the sack of coins from her pocket and waved it in the air like a prize. “Surely for fifty marks, there is some way he might be released.”

  Tavish’s eyes glittered with avarice as he watched the sway of the small purse.

  “Ye can do it, can’t ye?” Greer asked in a playful tone. “For me?” She hefted the purse. “For this?”

  Tavish growled and shifted his weight with apparent aggravation. “It doesna matter how much I wish to. I’m no’ daft enough to try it. Something changed today. Lord Calver put more men on the lad.”

  Something cold slithered down Greer’s spine. “Why would he do that? What changed?”

  Tavish’s gaze slid away, and he shrugged.

  “What changed?” She repeated.

  “I dinna know.”

  “Ye do. And ye’re no’ telling me.” It was an effort to keep her voice quiet, especially as a knot of dread tightened in her gut. She pulled a mark from the purse and tossed it to him. “Tell me.”

  Tavish snatched the coin from the air and quickly pocketed it. “After all this time, Lord Calver has made a decision on what to do with the lad this afternoon.”

  Greer pulled in air but still found it difficult to breathe. “What’s to be done with him?”

  “They’re going to put the lad to death in the morn.” He looked at her with a grimace, as if he were afraid of her and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Hanging.”

  The world seemed to fall out from beneath her feet. She staggered back, unable to find purchase.

  “Tavish,” someone shouted.

  The guard hesitated, casting a regretful look at her.

  She jerked her head to indicate he should go. They needn’t arouse suspicion. Not now.

  Mac was to be hanged. Tomorrow.

  Unless, of course, she could do something to stop it.

  An idea blossomed in her mind, wild and reckless and rife with determination. She would save him herself.

  * * *

  Drake strode through the dimly lit halls of the castle. The soldiers were even more relaxed in their duties at night than he’d seen during the day. Their conversations floated up from various corridors and around corners. Outside on the parapets, he’d even found two men asleep, their backs pressed against one another for the support.

  Lord Calver might be a cruel and selfish earl, but he was correct in citing his need for someone to better train his men. Drake would ensure he reported that to the king upon the completion of his mission.

  However, there was one benefit to their lack of discipline—they were not quiet about the goings-on of the castle. From what Drake understood, Lady Eileen had indeed been engaged in an affair with Lord Calver. Additionally, several people had seen her depart alone that afternoon on horseback. A strange thing for a lady. And clearly, a dangerous one.

  By the afternoon, the guards appeared to be on edge about something. He approached two men walking side by side and snagged the last bits of one’s statement. “I guess he finally decided what to do with him.”

  “With whom?” Drake asked in an innocent tone.

  The man spun around, his eyes widening. “Eh?”

  “Ye said, ‘he finally decided what to do with him,’” Drake replied nonchalantly. “I’m asking who ye meant.”

  “Eh…my brother…” the guard stammered. “With eh…his son…”

  A lie.

  The same as all other inquiries Drake had made. Aye, something was amiss for certes. And he would get to the bottom of it. That, and deducing where Greer had gone. He was still convinced she hadn’t left the premises.

  A shadow shifted behind the men, immediately catching Drake’s attention. “What was that?”

  The men looked at each other, then followed Drake’s gaze to the empty, shadowy corner. The guard who had lied about his brother shrugged. “I dinna see anything.”

  Drake narrowed his eyes. “Something moved.”

  “I dinna see anything,” the other guard said, echoing the other man’s useless sentiment.

  Drake walked between them and went to the corner. The skin at the back of his neck prickled. There was something there. He’d seen it.

  “I really dinna think anything is there,” the first guard said.

  Drake ignored him and strode down the hall. Moonlight teased over the rafters and across the walls, bandied about by the passing clouds. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. But it hadn’t been the night playing tricks on him.

  He knew what he’d seen—someone was sneaking about the castle.

  The guards didn’t follow him as he went to survey the area. In truth, he preferred they stay put and leave him to it. There was no need for them to join. Their steps were too loud, and the volume of their conversation was as much an announcement of their presence as a drumbeat.

  A slight sound came from the end of the hall, almost imperceptible as if the swish of cloth over stone. At the same time, the edge of a shadow slipped around the corner at the end of the corridor.

  There was someone there.

  Greer, mayhap?

  He hastened after the shadow, his steps quiet from years of practice. But when he reached the stone stairs descending into the dungeon, he paused. If it were Greer, she would have no reason to go to the dungeon.

  The ridiculousness of the situation was not lost on him. Greer most likely slipped from the castle without any of the foolish guards seeing her. Mayhap she was long gone now, and Drake was chasing shadows, imagining them to be her.r />
  Although there was someone lurking about—of that he was certain—it was very unlikely that they had a good reason for breaking in to descend to the bowels of the dungeon. Drake had not been shown its location upon his introduction to the castle. And now, as the icy fingers of the underground area wrapped around him, a chill shivered down his spine.

  If nothing else, he could discover more about the prisoner everyone had been going on about. The one no one would give him an answer on. Drake stepped off the final stair into a large room with not even a sconce to diminish the blackness. In a place that was all shadows and no light, it would be easy for the person to hide.

  His eyes adjusted swiftly to the darkness, enough that he noticed a flash of movement. Without thought, he ran in the direction, giving chase.

  Whoever it was, he would catch them and learn why they’d snuck down into the dungeon.

  * * *

  The guard who had been following Greer was quick, his movements so silent, she almost thought she had lost him until he began to run after her. Even then, his steps were quiet, his breathing even. He disappeared into the dark area as she did. Were it not for the clink of some bit of metal on his person, she might not even know he was there.

  But he was there.

  And he was getting too bloody close.

  She raced across the open room, mindful of muting the sounds of her frantic fleeing to avoid alerting any other guards. Except the entire location was too unfamiliar to her. The room narrowed down to a locked iron door with bars set compactly together, nothing she could hope to squeeze through.

  She darted to the left and met a damp stone wall, its surface slick with the mold of constant moisture. Her breath came so fast that surely her panting would lead the guard right to where she stood frozen in the grip of panic.

  There was nowhere to go. No way to get to Mac.

  Tears clogged her throat as she realized her defeat. There was nothing she could do for her brother tonight. Instead, she turned on her heel and raced back to the stone steps. Better to leave and find a way to save him in the morning rather than remain and be captured.

  Hanged.

  The word rumbled in her mind like thunder directly overhead, ominous and frightening.

  Mayhap that was what had preoccupied her until it was too late—when she heard that last footfall of the other person, landing nearly next to her. Suddenly, the weight of a body slammed into her. The force of it was so strong, it knocked the air from her lungs and left her gasping for breath.

  But she would not go down without a fight, not when her arrest would mean Mac’s certain death.

  Nay, she would fight with every last bit she had in her.

  17

  The body under Drake squirmed, a slender bit of nothing he might easily crush. Drake had knocked into them with enough force to send them both sliding over the damp, earthen floor of the dungeon.

  His opponent managed to free an arm and slammed a fist into his jaw. The hit was one of desperation but not nearly strong enough to do much damage. Even still, the person fought with determination, their body wriggling with such vigor, it was nearly impossible for Drake to hold them in place.

  It took considerable effort to get his body locked over the person and to grasp their skinny wrists in his hands. A knee came up at that point, jerking into Drake’s crotch. He ground out a low groan and released his hold for a brief moment.

  That was all the other person needed. They twisted away from Drake and attempted to dart away once more. Except Drake was too fast. He reached out in a final effort to capture the fleeing person, catching their ankle, and yanking it.

  His opponent crashed to the floor and kicked at him, preventing him from holding their foot. Drake threw the full force of his body atop them to keep the person from running away once more.

  The “oof” that emerged from the figure beneath him was decidedly feminine.

  He froze.

  The woman writhed beneath him, trying to free herself. All at once, he knew exactly who this woman was, whose deft skills would allow her to drift unnoticed through the castle for over a day, who would fight back with such tenacity, who would not reveal her gender upfront in a bid to allow herself to be treated softer for it. What he didn’t know, though, was why.

  He folded his hands around hers, recalling how only hours ago, they had learned the shape of the body he now had pinned under him. “Greer.”

  The woman stopped moving, and her breath caught with surprise. “Drake?”

  His name was a whisper in the darkness, filled with shock and horror. He eased off her and made his way toward the wall where the outline of a sconce showed against the stonework. Using a flint from the pouch at his belt, he lit the rush nip, setting a golden light flickering through the cavernous space.

  It was as he imagined the dark space in his mind—an open room with a barred door on one end that led down a corridor of cells.

  “What are ye doing here?” he demanded.

  Greer looked through the barred door to the row of cells. “Please let me go. I’m the only person who can save him.”

  Him.

  Something dug into Drake’s chest. Was there another man Greer cared for?

  Only then did it occur to Drake that he had never asked her if there was anyone else.

  This could be like Anice and James all over again, leaving his heart to crumple under the burden of unrequited love. Except this time would be far, far worse, as the extent of his emotions for Greer ran much deeper than those that he’d had for Anice.

  Shouting was discernible from beyond the other side of the bars.

  Greer grabbed Drake’s arm, her grip like a vice. “We canna be here.”

  “Of course, we can,” he protested. “I’m with the guards.”

  “No’ with this prisoner. He’s different.”

  “The light is coming from beyond the gate,” someone shouted amid the thunder of footsteps.

  In a huff, Greer blew out the light and tugged Drake toward the stairs.

  “Ye always wanted my trust,” she hissed. “I’m prepared to give it to ye fully, but I am asking for ye to do the same in return. We have to leave now.”

  Keys rattled in the barred door. The guards were coming.

  Logic told Drake he ought to stay where he was, but something else entirely pulled at his heart and dragged his feet up the stairs. Greer continued to pull at him, not only up the stairs but into the dimly lit hall that she navigated with surprising ease as if she’d done it before.

  At last, they stopped before a set of doors she pushed through. The harsh scent of lye soap clung in the air, and large, empty barrels filled the open space, highlighted by a sliver of moonlight. The laundry.

  Before he could ask any questions, she hauled him to the back of the room and ducked behind a barrel blanketed by shadows, indicating he should do likewise. The slam of heavy feet sounded just outside the door. Drake ducked low, and the door flew open, bathing the room in light.

  “No’ in here,” a gruff voice called out.

  The door slammed closed, and darkness fell over everything once more. Ire rose in Drake, not only for the guards’ ineffective search—for he and Greer should have been caught—but also the risk he had put himself in for her.

  In that one moment, he might have sacrificed everything to help her. To help her lover if that was who this “him” was.

  The thought made his insides clench.

  He ought to have known better than to trust her, than to want this, than to have opened his heart again to the possibility of love, a future.

  He frowned at her. “What is the meaning of all this?”

  She looked over the barrel once more, confirming no one was in the room with them before putting her back to the curved wooden slats.

  Moonlight trickled in around the outline of shutters against the far wall and filtered into the room. It was in that bit of silver-white light that her expression took on a look of chagrin. “I havena been entirely
honest with ye.”

  Drake’s stomach churned with dread, and his heart beat so loud, even the lackluster guards would surely hear it thrumming from behind the door. “What havena ye been honest about?” he asked through numb lips.

  “What I needed the coin for,” she said. “Why I left ye the other night, why I couldna reply to yer marriage proposal.” The last part was delivered so softly, it was nearly inaudible.

  “Ye love him.” Drake left it as a statement, not wanting her to answer for fear that it might forever wound his heart in a way that it would never recover.

  Regardless of wishing she wouldn’t answer, she did. “Aye, of course I do.”

  * * *

  Greer’s mind worked so fast that she could scarcely keep up. Part of it was due to how very nearly they’d been caught. Another part was the crippling fear of what would happen to Mac if she couldn’t get to him. And then there was the fierce expression on Drake’s face…

  “I need yer help,” she said gently. “My brother has seen two summers less than Bean. If I dinna get him out of the dungeon tonight, tomorrow, he…” Her words trailed off, unable to finish the grim reality little Mac would soon face.

  A confused crinkle across Drake’s brow smoothed. “Yer brother?”

  “Aye, ’tis why I needed the fifty marks.” She pulled the purse from her pocket and handed it back to him. “Less one for a bribe that dinna do anything more than give me dire news.”

  Drake slowly accepted the purse. The coins clinked against one another inside and echoed off the stone walls around them. “I need to know everything.”

  Everything…did they even have that kind of time?

  With her gaze constantly flicking toward the closed doors, she explained as quickly as she could how she’d found the dead noblewoman and Mac missing, as well as how the guard had offered to help get him free for fifty marks and how she’d gone first to the king for help, but how she’d been refused an audience. She even admitted to her plan to steal on the journey back to pay off the guard.