Through The Leaded Glass

by Fennell, Judi

  Kate stepped between them. “Knock it off, guys. We have more important things to worry about. Nick, are you here to help or not? And Alex, where’s the door that key opens? The kidnapper could have used it then put it back to throw us off his trail.”

  That’d been his thought as well. “We need a lantern.”

  Tris left to get one and Alex swept aside the tapestry hanging above a padded bench. He removed a stone block to reveal the keyhole.

  When Tris returned, Alex ushered them inside, closed the door, and pulled a small link chain to reposition the bench in front of the tapestry, all things he’d barely paid attention to when his brother had shown him, believing he’d never have need of the knowledge.

  Someone had been paying attention, though.

  The chill within the narrow stone walls invaded his veins and he lifted the lantern, its golden light reflecting off gossamer cobwebs, making them look like whisper-thin shrouds.

  No. He wouldn’t think like that. He had to find William. Alive.

  He pushed to the front of their group and lowered the lantern to the floor. There, amidst years’, possibly centuries’, worth of dust were a man’s footprints.

  “Bingo,” Kate breathed into the silence.

  “What?” Nick looked at her.

  “Never mind.” She shook her head. “Let’s follow these, Alex.”

  “No need. This corridor ends in one place. We’ll get there faster on the outside.”

  They ran back through the hall and out past the gatehouse, circling the curtain wall to the western edge. He searched the stone fortification for the turret window he knew to be near the sallyport’s exit, counting off the paces, and enlisting Nick and Tristan’s help to fight through the briar bushes to the counterscarp. Bloodied, their clothing torn, they searched the wall for the exit.

  “There.” He pointed to a stone that was misaligned just enough for a man to squeeze through. “Help me up.”

  Perched on Tris’s shoulders, Alex shone the lantern into the opening.

  The bastard had come out this way.

  He dropped to the ground. “Look around for his trail.”

  They fanned out, scouring the hillside, the bushes, and Alex even went down to the stream at the base of the hill, the memory of Rory’s near-drowning too raw.

  Especially when he saw that the footprints disappeared into the water. “Here!”

  He searched the reeds on this side. Nothing. The high grass on the opposite bank, too, was still intact. He looked downstream, but the earthen bank rose up and curled back on itself like a tunnel with the heavily rooted trees above securing it in place.

  “It’d be madness to attempt that climb,” he said when Kate and his friends joined him. “Even if he could swing himself into those roots, how could he do it with William in his arms?”

  “Unless—” Kate looked at the water, then back to the keep. Then she hiked up her skirt and ran back up the hill. “Come on, guys!”

  Alex caught up to her as she reached the turret wall, his heart pounding. “What are you thinking, Kate?”

  “Help me up, Alex. Hurry!” She scrambled onto his outstretched hands and into the narrow opening of the sallyport. “Pass me the lantern.”

  He climbed after her and squeezed through the opening. “What are we doing in here? The bastard came out.”

  “He did. But did William?”

  “Kate, you’re brilliant.” He grabbed the lantern and her hand. “Let’s go find my son.”

  They moved into the murky darkness, following the winding tunnel by lantern light as the sunlight from the exit faded. He couldn’t—didn’t want to—imagine the terror William must be feeling.

  “We’ll be on the main floor soon,” he said when the path inclined. “This corridor rings the western and southern sides and there’s another incline to the upper floors.” He cursed. “He could be anywhere in here, Kate. I ought to open these tunnels and have everyone help.”

  Kate squeezed his fingers. “Let’s get back to his quarters this way and then we’ll get everyone else involved. This will be one less tunnel to check and—”

  There. A noise.

  Alex ran, the lantern low, scarcely daring to breathe. Kate was close on his heels. The sallyport veered to the left and they ran around to find—

  Two eyes blinking at them in the lantern light. A muffled cry came from the behind a gag in his son’s mouth.

  “Oh thank God. William.” Alex sat down and pulled him onto his lap, undoing the bindings as fast as he could.

  With the gag gone, William let out a wail that would have the castle inhabitants crying ghost and it was the sweetest sound Alex had ever heard.

  “Shhh. There, there. I have you.” He rubbed his son’s hair with his cheek and ran his hands over him, making sure he had no other injuries.

  William stuck his thumb in his mouth and patted Alex’s heart with his other hand, slurping “Papa,” around it.

  That was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

  “Thank God he’s okay,” Kate whispered, sliding down the wall to sit beside him.

  “Thank you for thinking as quickly as you did.” He owed her a lot. “Kate, about what I said earlier in the hall—”

  “Shhh, Alex. It doesn’t matter. I know it was the fear talking. I was terrified, too. I’m just glad whoever did this isn’t as smart as he thinks he is.”

  “And that you are smarter.” He linked his fingers with hers and kissed them. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They stayed that way for a few moments, savoring the preciousness of life. Then Alex stood, hefting William on his left arm and offering Kate his right. “Come, let’s get out of here. We have a madman to find.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Shelton, you murderous, stinking son of a she-devil, show your goddamned ass this minute, or so help me, I’ll cut a swath through this place the likes of which you’ve never seen!” Farley shoved Stephen aside as he entered Shelton’s hall the next day.

  Alex didn’t need this. He’d been up half the night checking the grounds without fining a single trace of the whoreson who’d taken his son. His mood was not good and it was only because he had no desire to defend himself in a murder trial that he wasn’t ordering Farley killed on the spot.

  Though the idea had merit.

  “Explain yourself, Farley.”

  Farley strode toward him, his boots grinding the rushes to sawdust. “You’ll pay for this you murdering, lying—”

  “Yes, yes, I believe we heard you before.” Alex rested his boot on the edge of the dais, his knife visible, the jewel in the hilt one he’d won from Simon. He adjusted the sword at his waist. “I trust you have good reason for making such accusations in my home again.”

  “Make light of it, will you?” Farley swung his fist, but Alex was much quicker.

  He dropped low and punched him in the gut. Simon doubled over with a whoosh and Alex ripped the items from his hand.

  “Make light of it? I think not, Farley. My days are anything but light. So tell me, what do you know of—”

  Something pierced his palm and he looked at the objects in his hand. A pair of gold and lapis lazuli hair combs.

  Like the ones he’d given Jeanne for their wedding.

  He grabbed Farley’s coat at the throat and hauled him almost off his feet. “Where did you get these?”

  Farley shoved himself free. “You claim them then?”

  Alex tried to rein in his breathing. Jeanne’s combs were kept in her chambers. Kate’s chambers. “How did you get them, Farley?”

  “As if you didn’t know.” Farley spit at him. “You’ll hang for this, Shelton. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Alex smashed the fist with the combs into Farley’s face. “You’ve gone too far, Simon.” He punched him again. Simon reeled backwards. “I suggest you answer my question if you want to live.” He swung at him again, connecting with his shoulder this time. “And tell me about the ring.” Anot
her punch. “William, too.”

  Farley tried to deflect the blows, but Alex would give no quarter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He ducked. “You’re the one who needs to answer some questions.” He swung at Alex, but missed.

  Alex didn’t.

  Blood spurted from Farley’s nose, but it wasn’t enough. Alex drove his fist into Farley’s gut, then kneed him in the face when he doubled over. He would’ve kept hammering the man into the dust, but Tris pulled him off.

  “Don’t kill him before you find out what he knows, Alex.”

  Alex kicked the bastard for good measure. “Start talking, Simon.”

  Farley staggered to the table. “Me? You’re the one. You killed her.” He looked up through blood-soaked hair. “You killed Calista.”

  The hall went silent save for the wood crackling in the hearth.

  “I didn’t kill anyone.”

  “But she’s dead.” Simon grabbed his head. “She’s dead. I found her. Saw the rope around her neck, pulled her from the branch myself. And these combs—your combs—were in her hair. First her necklace, then the deed, now this. Why, Shelton? Why did you have to kill her?”

  Alex sat on the edge of the dais. Farley might be a thief, but he wasn’t a murderer. And he definitely wouldn’t have killed his lover.

  “I didn’t kill her, Simon.”

  But someone had. And wanted it to look as if he had.

  “Lies.” Bloody tears streamed down Simon’s face. “All lies. But you can’t hide from this. The king will know. He’ll know and he’ll punish you and you’ll lose everything, Shelton. Everything.”

  Alex exhaled. He knew the pain of losing a loved one. For that, Farley would make it out of his hall alive.

  “Come, Simon. Head home. Prepare for her burial.” He put a hand on Farley’s shoulder. “I’m not the man you seek.”

  Farley threw off his arm and drew his sword. “I want justice, Alex. A life for hers.”

  He swung his sword—

  At Kate.

  The sword never made contact. With Kate, anyway. With the floor was a different matter.

  Alex had thrown his knife, knocking Farley’s sword aside without even being aware of doing so.

  Farley cursed and reached for the dagger in his boot.

  Alex’s sword at his throat stopped him. The snake had threatened Kate. Alex didn’t take that lightly. “I didn’t kill Calista, Simon. Nor did any of my men, though someone wants it to appear so.”

  “A convenient excuse.”

  Alex raised Farley’s chin with the flat of his blade. “For your grief, I’ll let you live, Simon. But get off my lands and don’t return. If you do, I will commit murder. Yours.”

  He turned away and sheathed his sword. His men would handle Farley; he needed to see to Kate.

  “How are you, Kate?” He ran his hand over her hair. His shaking hand.

  Alex made a fist, willing the tremors to disappear.

  “I’m okay. Thanks to you.”

  No, she’d been in danger thanks to him.

  He swallowed and touched her chin, more determined than ever to do what it took to return her to her time.

  He called Stephen over. “Gather another thirty men. Give them gold. Enough to get tongues wagging. I want to know where that window is.”

  He watched his men haul Farley out of the hall, the curses still spewing from the man’s lips.

  Was he the madman?

  Or was the madman playing them all?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Later that evening, Kate headed into Alex’s medieval equivalent of a study. She hadn’t had the chance to speak with him in the hours since Farley’s visit because he’d been off strategizing with his men.

  She’d been shaken up—that sword had appeared out of nowhere, and it’d brought home to her just how much she didn’t belong here.

  “Alex, please tell your stable master that despite my spill yesterday, I do know how to ride a horse.”

  Alex sat at the table, staring at something in his hand. He closed his fist around it and looked up. “Why?”

  “I want to head into the village. I’m not used to sitting around doing nothing, leaving my fate in others’ hands. And yours are full with trying to figure out who’s out to get you. You don’t need this added burden, but time’s running out. I have to do something.”

  “Your last horse ride didn’t convince you that it’s dangerous? And Farley. The man’s desperate. You can’t go, Kate. It’s too dangerous.”

  “It’s too dangerous for me not to, Alex.” The long violet sleeves of her gown made her arm-flouncing all that more dramatic. “I have to find that window. I need to go back. I’ll steal the damn horse if I have to, but I can’t just sit here doing nothing. Now, are you going to make this easy or difficult?”

  Alex tossed a ruby and emerald necklace onto the table.

  “What’s that?”

  “Calista’s necklace.”

  “I thought Farley said it’d been stolen?”

  “And planted on my bed. I found it after his departure.”

  Cold slithered down her spine and she sank onto a chair. “The villain?” she asked, though she knew the answer.

  “Obviously. And obviously he’s not Simon. The bastard was here the whole time, heard the entire exchange. Set it up.”

  “Or Simon did to make himself look innocent.”

  Alex shook his head. “I’ve considered it, but his position outside the gate all morning proves he didn’t.” He ran the jewels through his fingers. “There’s a murderer, Kate. Walking around, unchecked, within Shelton. That’s why I can’t permit you to leave.”

  “Maybe I’d be safer away from here.”

  Alex rubbed a hand over his mouth. “If he moves like a phantom within my home—where people should notice—don’t you think he’d be less visible in the village? He could follow you and slit your throat with no one the wiser until you hit the ground.”

  “But no one’s found him, Alex. No one knows who he is. He could do the same thing here.”

  Alex tucked the necklace in a bag on his belt then leaned close to her. “Kate, don’t you understand I’m trying to keep you safe? You can’t just go about the countryside, opening yourself up to danger.”

  “So I’ll take some bodyguards.”

  “I’m your bodyguard, Kate.” He ran a fingertip along her forearm. “Didn’t I prove it when Farley threatened you?”

  Alex’s tenderness was a dangerous thing. Maybe even more so than Farley’s sword, because it took her guard down and made her want things she had no business wanting.

  Or maybe it was the testosterone that was undulating off him in waves, or the scare of a madman walking around Shelton—hell, maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t been with anyone in over a year, but whatever it was, her damn knees got wobbly and her heart rate kicked up a few dozen notches.

  “Do you understand, Kate?

  No, she didn’t understand one damn thing anymore. Why she was here, what she was supposed to be doing, how she was going to get home, and why this man, this exacerbating fifteenth-century alpha male, turned her thoughts—and her knees—to jelly.

  Eyes on the prize, Kate. And, no, that wasn’t Alex. Emma was the prize.

  She leaned away from him. From his touch. “Yes, Alex, I get it. Stay here and wait for my knight in shining armor to rescue me. Do you know how much I hate that Cinderella analogy? Do you have any idea of how it subjugates women? I swore I’d never go through that again, yet here I am smack dab in the middle of an era where knights in shining armor really exist. Well then, damn it, rescue me! I need my window—now. My appointment is in approximately thirty-six hours. Either I’m there or life as I’ve planned it will cease to exist. And that can’t happen, Alex, it just can’t.”

  Damn, she was going to cry. She bowed her head. She hated crying almost as much as she hated admitting he was right. She’d do herself and Emma no good if some medieval madman used her for target pra
ctice.

  She was so tired of this. Tired of the uncertainty, the strain, the constant effort to fit in, and the tremendous inner strength to push panic away as the hours crept by.

  Alex tilted her chin and wiped her traitorous tears away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, Kate,” he whispered. “I will get you your window. I promise.”

  His promise was her undoing, and when he drew her closer, she let him. Allowed herself this moment in time because she needed this. Needed someone to tell her it would be okay. Needed the panic to disappear if only for a few minutes.

  Which it did when he feathered his fingers along the side of her face, tracing the pulse in her throat, and gliding down to the low-cut neckline of her dress, and he drew her to her feet, closing the space between them with a few soft touches.

  And then he kissed her. A full-on, tongues-meeting, teeth-clacking kiss.

  And when his hand closed over her breast, his thumb unerringly finding her nipple, they were right back at the wall scenario. Passion rose hot and quick between them and Kate couldn’t get enough.

  She melded her chest to his. Gripped his biceps so if her knees gave out she’d stay upright.

  He moved then, sliding his leg between hers and she clenched it, reveling in the perfect pressure and the growl he made against her throat. Then his tongue swirled over her collarbone, his thumb mimicking it over her nipple, and she had to move. Had to ease the ache, cut the tension, the wanting… God, it felt so good… He felt so good.

  She couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop and she’d worry about the ramifications later. After all, she was a modern woman. She was allowed to enjoy her sexuality, and whoa boy, was she enjoying it.

  She ran her hand down his chest, wanting to feel his skin, wanted to run her tongue over the hard angles and planes, but his shirt was in the way. She tried to brush it aside, work her hand beneath it, when she accidentally (and maybe on purpose) stroked him.

  Alex groaned as his shaft jerked against her. “No, Kate. Not like this. When I come this time, I want you naked beneath me, tight and hot and wet around me.” He pressed her against his thigh. “As you are now, aren’t you?”