My Dear Wife—
Meet me at the postern door of the old castle. There is something I want to show you.
Duncan
Now what would Rob want to show her? A glance out the window revealed snow blown by a high wind. The storm must have wrought something interesting or beautiful.
She put away her colors. The painting was done, in any event, and she felt very pleased with it. She carried her paint case and the picture back to her room, careful not to smudge the damp paints. Finding Camille nowhere in sight, Iantha took her fur coat from the armoire and, shrugging into it, went back the way she had come. Rob had shown her the door into the old castle again, and this time she had no trouble finding it.
Going through into the ancient building, she was shocked by the cold the storm had brought with it. She thrust her hands into her pockets and carefully descended the worn stone steps. When she reached the lowest level, she turned through the abandoned kitchen. Her footsteps echoed off the massive stones of the arched roof. Skirting the old well, she found, beside a giant fireplace set into the wall, the crude wooden portal she sought.
“Rob?” Her voice skittered around the room, ricocheting in the narrow arrow ports, which let in the only light. Where in the world was he? Seeing that the bar was off, she cautiously opened the door and leaned her head out. “Rob?”
Suddenly a gust of wind caught the panel and dragged Iantha with it out into the snow. Oh, no! She wrestled with the heavy door until a reverse in the gale tore it out of her hands and slammed it shut.
“Rob? Are you here?” Only the wail of the storm answered her. Obviously he was not. He must have already come and, giving her up, gone back to the new section. The note may have lain on the floor for some time.
She tugged at the portal.
Nothing happened.
Annoyed, Iantha pulled harder. Still no result. What could be the matter with the dratted thing? It must have jammed. It felt as though someone had put the bar up.
A hard gust almost knocked her off her feet, and she clutched at the handle. She had to get back in before she froze. At the thought, she pulled her coat tighter around her and shivered. The cold bit right through it.
Well, she could not stay where she was. She would have to make her way around the castle to the front where the knocker was. She drew her hood firmly over her ears, and keeping as close to the wall as possible, edged her way along the narrow path that skirted it. The ground fell away sharply behind the building, and the stones underfoot were becoming coated with ice. She would have to be careful.
And as if thinking of the hazard brought it to life, her feet went out from under her, and she slid down the slope.
Rob was having difficulty keeping his mind on his studies. He could hardly believe that the woman he had known the night before was the same coolly polite, exceedingly distressed damsel he had brought out of the storm on that first fateful afternoon. How could he work when his hands still felt the tension in her tiny waist, when his body persisted in responding to the memory of her thighs against his flank, her passionate cries?
Sighing with satisfaction, he leaned back in his chair and stared into the fire. He could, at last, feel the icy knot of loneliness inside him slowly thawing. It occurred to him that he had not dreamed of Shakti in several days.
He could not say that about his sweet Laki. She visited his dreams frequently, and Rob wasn’t sure that he even wanted to give that up. It was all he had left of her.
Across the desk Vijaya raised his head from the manuscript before him and cleared his throat. Rob glanced at him. The prince looked amused. No doubt he suspected the source of Rob’s preoccupation.
His friend grinned and pointed to the parchment. “I find a very obscure passage here. Have you read of any references to—”
He broke off as a light tap on the door was followed by the entrance of Iantha’s maid. Pulling himself from his reverie and Vijaya’s question, Rob turned toward her. “Yes, Camille?”
She curtsied. “Excuse me for interrupting you, milord. Have you seen Lady Duncan recently?”
“Nay.” Rob furrowed his brow, a faint disturbance growing in him. “The last I knew she was going to Prince Vijaya’s quarters to paint. Have you looked there?”
“Oui, milord. She is not there.” She held out a slip of paper. “I thought she was with you until I heard your voice in here a few minutes ago, so I went back for this. I found it on her dressing table an hour ago.”
Rob took the note, serious alarm bursting through him when he saw the signature.
“I didn’t write this!” He sprang to his feet. “Find Burnside and Feller and send them immediately to the old postern.”
His heart sinking, Rob dashed out of the room, with Vijaya close on his heels.
How long had she been here? Iantha drew her coat closer around her and tried to hide from the wind behind the boulders that had her trapped. Somehow she had fallen between two huge, icy stones, both taller than she was. Her ankle had been jammed into the cleft between them near the bottom of the narrow space. She tugged at her foot for possibly the hundredth time since she had fallen. It remained stuck fast.
Oh, God! She was so cold.
She had tried shouting for help several times, but only the wind heard her. Where was Rob? Why had he sent her that note, then left the door unbarred, and not waited for her? Perhaps… Oh, no! When the possible explanation struck her, it took her breath away. Had he also fallen? If that were the case, it might be hours before anyone looked for them.
They might both die.
Fear flooded her, and another emotion she could not take time to examine. Iantha reached for control. Strange. She had not thought about needing control for some time. But she needed it now. By all means she must keep her head. She had to get out.
Rob might need her.
Perhaps if she could get her half boot off… But even if she could get her foot loose, she had no way to climb out of the slippery, narrow well formed by the boulders. She could not reach the top. She sagged back against the cold rock. Odd. She was beginning to feel warmer. And drowsy. And then she remembered. She had heard that those who froze to death experienced those things before they died. She jerked herself erect.
No! She had come too far to give up now.
And then faintly, on the wind, she heard something. Someone calling her name.
“Rob!” She pulled frantically at her foot. “Rob, I am here!” Oh, heaven. Please let him hear her. “Rob!” She heard his voice, nearer now. “Rob, be careful! I fell down here.”
She heard a scrambling sound and looked up to see her husband peering down at her from the top of the boulder. “My foot is caught. I can’t pull it out of the crack.”
“Are you otherwise hurt?” Even over the wind she heard the concern in his voice.
“I d-don’t think s-so.” She could hardly get the words out been her chattering teeth. “But I am v-very c-cold.”
“Thank God.” He examined the crevice. “Don’t worry. We will get you out.” He turned and shouted back up the hill. “I have found her. Feller, fetch a rope.” A faint response floated back on the gale.
Rob lay on his stomach and reached down. “Can you grasp my hands?”
Iantha stretched up as far as her arms would reach. Her numb fingers barely touched his. They would not close around them. He leaned farther. Her heart almost stopped. Heaven forbid that he should be injured on her account.
“Don’t! You will fall, too!”
He nodded, looking back over his shoulder. “Feller should be back any moment.”
As though summoned by the words, the groom appeared, sliding down the slope toward them and holding tightly to a rope fastened somewhere near the top. Behind him they could faintly discern Vijaya’s bright clothes through the swirling snow. Relief coursed through Iantha, making her almost dizzy. Perhaps she and Rob would come out safe, after all. In vain she struggled to control her shivering.
The two men descended to R
ob and knelt beside him, peering down into Iantha’s prison.
“Steady the rope.” Rob tied a loop around his waist and eased over the brink, down into the cleft. With feet and back braced on either side of the crack, he slid down to Iantha. “Are both feet stuck?”
“No, only the one. I was thinking of taking off my boot.”
He paused for a heartbeat. “I don’t like the idea. You have had too much exposure already.” He removed the rope from his own body and looped it around hers. Looking up at Vijaya and Feller, he shouted, “Try an easy pull, but be careful—don’t fall in.”
The two men began to draw on the rope, and suddenly pain shot through Iantha’s ankle. She cried out, Rob shouted and they promptly ceased their efforts. In spite of herself, hot tears of discouragement coursed down her cheeks, only to freeze in moments.
“Very well.” Rob’s voice remained calm. “See if you can take off the boot.”
After some struggle, Iantha managed to bend over in the narrow space and fumble with cold fingers at the buttons of the half boot. When she made no progress, Rob, hanging from the rope by one arm, reached down with his knife. She did not even feel the cold steel as it cut the fastenings loose, but suddenly she could lift her foot.
“Can you grasp the rope?”
She flexed her stiff fingers. “I will try.” With all her strength she forced her fingers to close. “I…I can’t feel the rope.”
“Then that won’t do. Can you fasten your arms around my neck?”
Iantha nodded. “I believe I can do that.” She clasped her arms around him, doing her best not to choke him, and clung to his wide back.
“Good. Hold tightly.” He braced his feet on the stone, took a firm grip on the rope and began to climb.
For a moment Iantha thought they were saved, but then, with a teeth-rattling jar, they fell back.
“Damn! I can’t get any purchase.” Rob lifted his head and shouted, “Try pulling again.”
“Nay, me lord. We can’t get no foot grip, neither. Too much ice.” To Iantha’s ears the groom’s voice sounded very far away. “We’ll climb back up and try from there.”
She could feel the swaying of the rope as, with some difficulty, the two men climbed back to the castle. Rob spoke encouragingly. “It won’t be long now. Don’t worry.”
Iantha could only sniffle and nod. Then she heard a shout and felt herself going up. After several moments of agonizing anxiety, Rob got his feet on top of the boulder. Just as she tried to set her own feet on it, her arms began to slip. She cried out and commanded her limbs to obey her.
They refused.
She was certain that she would plunge backward again, but then Rob’s powerful arm closed around her waist and his steady voice sounded in her ear. “I have you.”
Later she could remember very little of their ascent. Suddenly they were out of the wind and a crowd of people were milling around them, myriad hands reaching for them. Not only Vijaya, shivering violently, and Feller were there, but Burnside and Thursby and Camille and…
She caught a glimpse of several other inhabitants of the castle before darkness claimed her.
Rob poured the can of hot water into the tub before the fire himself. He found himself unwilling to allow anyone else to come anywhere near his wife. Great heavens! He had almost lost her. He had insisted on stumbling up the stairs with her in his arms in spite of a wrenched shoulder and rope-burned hands, thrusting away the offers of assistance from the others.
He could still hear Iantha’s startled scream when he had lowered her into the tepid water. Tears of pain ran down her cheeks as her fingers and toes regained feeling, but she kept her teeth firmly clamped together, allowing no further outcry. God grant that they were not frostbitten. Even after sensation returned, she continued to shiver. Gradually, one can at a time, Rob began to add hot water. He leaned around the screen to give the empty can to a weeping Camille and take another from her.
“Do your hands and feet still hurt?” When the maid left the room, Rob knelt by the tub and reached into the water for Iantha’s hand. He turned it this way and that, examining it for damage.
She shook her head. “No. I can feel them now, but they’re not painful. I am getting warmer, also.” A shudder shook her small frame, belying her words. She caught his hand in hers and looked at the palm. “You are injured, too.”
“Nothing to signify.” Rob flexed his sore shoulder. It had been obliged to take their combined weight as they were pulled up the hill. He had needed the other arm to hold Iantha. “Burnside is probably lurking in my bedchamber with salve and bandages for this.” He held up the scraped hand. “I’ll let him deal with it when I have gotten you warm.” He closed his fingers around her hand, his expression turning serious. “You frightened me into gray hair, goddess.”
He dipped his head so that she could see his thick, dark locks. Iantha chuckled. “I don’t see any damage yet. Do I understand that you did not write that note?”
He shook his head. “Could you not see that?”
Iantha pondered for a moment. “No. I cannot remember your ever addressing anything to me before. I have never seen your signature, only your notes on your studies, but they are… They are rather…”
“An undisciplined scrawl.” Rob grinned. “No need to be diplomatic. I can’t read them myself half the time.” He thought for a moment. “You are correct. I don’t recall any occasion when you would have seen my usual handwriting.”
“I was a bit surprised that you signed it ‘Duncan’ rather than ‘Rob,’ but many lords always sign their title. It just didn’t seem that you would use it with me.”
He brushed the damp hair off her forehead. “Nay, I would not be that formal with you.” Especially since the cold spot in his heart was finally beginning to thaw. “Ah, here is Camille with the warm bricks. She can hold the blanket while I lift you out. Don’t put any weight on your ankle.”
When Iantha was dry and clothed in a warm gown, and Camille had positioned several hot, wrapped bricks in the bed, Rob scooped his wife up and laid her tenderly between them.
Somehow that did not seem enough.
He dismissed the maid and began to undress. Moving all the bricks to her back, he lay down beside her and took her into his arms. Rob held her to his body, willing his own heat to flow into her. As she snuggled against him, the moment seemed deceptively peaceful.
Rob did not want to think about the traitor in his house.
He did not want to think about what had happened to Iantha.
Or what might have happened.
God! He had almost lost her.
Chapter Sixteen
“If I knew that, do you think I would be sitting here drinking wine?” Rob snarled at his cousin. The day after Iantha’s narrow escape the two of them were gathered in the drawing room with Vijaya and Iantha, her injured ankle propped daintily on a footstool and a cup of tea in her hand. Rob wished he felt as composed as she appeared.
Even the irreverent Sam looked serious, but he took the snarl in good grace. “But the note must have been written by someone in the house. Who else could have been here in the middle of that blizzard yesterday? I had the very devil of a time getting through today. If you hadn’t sent Feller with that message, and the sun had not been out, I would never have tried it.”
Rob rubbed a hand over his face. His shoulder ached. “I know, Sam. I appreciate your coming. Forgive my being surly. I have been so concerned for Iantha that I have not adequately investigated.” In fact, he had not let her out of his sight for twenty-four hours. He was afraid to. “But it is high time I did so. I was hoping that you would have some ideas—and a clear head. I am so angry I cannot think of anything but murdering someone.”
Sam’s brows puckered in thought. “I suppose you talked to whomever gave her the note?”
“Thursby says he found it by my door.” Iantha set her saucer aside and shifted her foot.
“And where were you?” Her cousin-in-law turned toward her.
“In Vijaya’s rooms. I was painting some of his…uh, interesting furnishings.”
She blushed, and in spite of his foul humor Rob wondered with some amusement what the subject of the painting, now discreetly tucked away in a portfolio, had been. His formerly frozen wife had indeed begun to bloom.
And now someone had tried to freeze her permanently.
His rage returned, and his fist came down on the arm of his chair with a loud thump. Everyone jumped and looked at him. “Damn them to hell! I will not let them take anyone else away from me!”
A respectful pause followed this outburst. Iantha made a small, concerned gesture, and his cousin and Vijaya sipped their drinks quietly, giving Rob time to recover. Finally he shrugged irritably and rubbed his shoulder.
Sam turned his gaze back to him. “Why was Thursby on that floor? Did he have some business there?”
“I don’t know.” Rob scowled. Damn. He was not being in the least effective. “But I shall bloody well find out.” He sprang out of his chair and yanked the bell pull.
After a minute’s wait, Thursby himself answered the bell. “Yes, my lord?”
Rob fixed him with a steely eye. “Thursby, when you found the note outside Lady Duncan’s chamber, how did you happen to be on that floor?”
Thursby’s face turned as red as his hair. He gazed at his shoes.
“Well?” Rob narrowed his eyes.
At length his henchman took a deep breath and looked him in the face. “I was hoping to see Camille.”
“And did you see her?”
“Aye, me lord.” He blushed again.
Rob pondered that for a moment. Apparently the maid had lowered her sights from master to man. Or was it men? If that were so, the woman might very easily create a problem with the staff. He really should discuss her with Iantha. Later. First things first.
Patricia Frances Rowell Page 20
