Having secured her mother’s blessing, Elisabeth knew that Gabriel’s would come that much easier. Tears of gratitude sprang into her eyes, and despite her lingering queasiness, she smiled. “I’ll enjoy that very much.”
***
Though he tried mightily, Eric couldn’t yank the shaft from between his shoulders. A dull throb was his only pain, and he grumbled over the hunter who clearly needed more practice with his bow. An icy sweat began to soak his tunic, and the trees before him blurred into a mass of green broken by black spots. His fingers would no longer hold the reins, but he trusted Micah to find the way back. He was so tired.
Hearing an anxious whinny, Eric came up with a jerk. He’d pitched forward and nearly slid from the saddle. He couldn’t command his legs to grip the seat. In truth, he felt very little but a rapidly descending chill.
He wanted to spur Micah to a trot but feared he’d fall if the gait were any faster. In a few moments, fall he did, his chest striking a rock as he hit the forest floor. He struggled to his feet and staggered several paces before falling to his knees. With an urgent nicker, Micah nosed at his arm. Eric reached for the horse’s neck, only to have his hand drop to the ground beside him.
Through the bare winter trees he could see the gates of Caileann. Surely he could reach them now.
His back felt weak, unable to hold him upright even on his knees. He tried to call out but couldn’t summon his voice. Crawling through the underbrush, he felt his throat beginning to close. Choking gasps couldn’t fill his lungs with air, and he collapsed, oblivious to Micah’s frantic shrieks.
***
Christian was sparring with Brodie when an unholy sound drew his attention to the end of the barbican. Micah pounded through the gates, snorting as though demons were chasing him. The horse galloped madly toward them, and Christian instinctively pushed Brodie behind a stone trough.
Micah pulled up in a cloud of dust, hooves shaking the ground as he whirled and stamped in a fit of equine temper. Then he stilled, shaking his mighty head with what Christian could only call an apology. The horse nuzzled under his arm, nearly knocking him over.
Then he saw the blood. The stallion’s gleaming shoulder was spattered with it, and without thought, Christian leapt into the saddle.
“Brodie, fetch Elisabeth!”
He had no illusions about guiding the powerful stallion. It was obvious to him that Micah knew precisely where his master lay. As they raced through the forest, Christian prayed they’d find him in time.
“Eric!”
He threw himself to the ground beside his friend. With great care, he dislodged the arrow, puzzled by its design. It was little more than a sharpened stick, and even around the wound, there wasn’t much blood. So why was Eric barely breathing?
Christian carefully propped him in the saddle and swung up behind him, locking his arms tightly about Eric’s waist. “Go, Micah.”
That was the only prompting the destrier needed to lurch into a full battle run back to the castle. Elisabeth was waiting for them, and Micah called to her in an anguished screech. David and Brennan lowered Eric to the ground beside her, and Christian quickly dismounted.
“’Twas this that felled him,” he said, showing his brothers the deadly shaft.
Brennan turned the curious arrow in his hands. “This couldn’t kill a fox, much less a full-grown man.”
“I suspect it was poisoned.”
“Who would do such a thing?” David demanded angrily.
“An assassin.” Christian kept his voice low to avoid upsetting their sister. “I saw no sign of a battle, so he must have been ambushed. That arrow was meant for Eric, and it was meant to kill him.”
The brothers looked to the imposing knight whose head was pillowed in Elisabeth’s skirts. He lay unmoving while she called his name through her tears, her cheek on his, begging him to answer her.
Quietly, Brennan said, “It may succeed.”
Chapter Ten
Always, he must rethink his strategy. John had proven a much more challenging obstacle than he’d once thought. Kill him, secure Elisabeth. It should have been simple, but the resourceful Highland laird had escaped more than one trap before he finally succumbed. Removing a lowly born French soldier from the tapestry should have been simpler still.
With a sigh at his reflection, Grant took a small vial from the uppermost drawer of his bureau. Closing it in his fist, he strolled the length of the corridor to Jordanne’s chamber.
His knock went unanswered. “Elisabeth, it’s Grant. May I come in?”
The bolt slid, and she peered out at him. “What do you want?”
“I may be able to help.”
She hesitated, then stepped back to allow him inside. A roaring fire heated the small chamber like an oven, and her damp gown clung indecently to her body. Grant forced his attention from her and made a show of examining Jordanne.
That he still lived was a miracle, yet barely perceptible breaths lifted the heavy covers over him. A hand held to his face would finish him, but Elisabeth hovered like a watchful angel. Apparently, she had no intention of letting Grant close enough to do any harm.
He stood, his expression grim. “He’s a breath from dying. What have you done for him?”
“Mother says if we can’t identify the poison, we could kill him with the wrong cure.” Tenderly, she smoothed her hand over the knight’s dark jaw. “So I’ve been praying.”
“It seems to have worked.” Grant held up the vial, smiling when her gaze lifted to his. “I’ve brought you the cure.”
With a startled look, she made to snatch the potion from him. When he closed it in his hand, her eyes narrowed to glittering slits. “You did this. You hired that archer.”
“You left me no choice, my love. You spurned me for a bastard with nothing.”
“’Twas you in the forest yestreen,” she seethed.
“It was. And now, I offer a trade.”
“What sort of trade?”
“A simple one.” He held the bottle where she could reach it. “His life for your vow of marriage.”
Elisabeth felt the warmth drain from her face. It was all she could do to quell the scream threatening at the back of her throat. Closing her eyes, she searched for some alternative to Grant’s heinous bargain.
“Quickly, Elisabeth. He hasn’t much time.”
She could think of no other way to save Eric, and she quieted her misgivings with a deep breath. “I’ll do it.”
When she reached for the vial, he held it fast. “Do what?”
“If you give me that potion, I’ll marry you.”
“I want your word you’ll never lay eyes on him again. I don’t want you running back here to cuckold me with your lover.”
She gasped at his vulgar language. “You were the one in my study last night.”
“You’re a lovely sight dripping with water.” With an elegant finger, he traced her lips. “I’ll quickly replace those memories, I assure you.”
“If you live a thousand years, you’ll never have what I’ve given Eric.”
“Mind what you say. I hold his life in my hand.” Dangling the precious bottle by its neck, he paused a moment to let her absorb his meaning. “Swear to me that once we’re wed, you’ll not lay eyes on him again.”
“I swear it. Give that to me.”
Grant turned it over to her and watched her coax the worthless mix past Jordanne’s uncooperative lips. The lady could weep and pray the night through, if she wished.
By morning Jordanne would be dead and at last, Briarton would have its treasure.
***
Walking through the dark in a chilly mist, Eric came around a bend. One path went straight off into the distance, packed and smooth, the footing easy. The other fork curled into the mist, and he couldn’t see where it led. Through the haze, he heard a whisper of his name. He followed it, stumbling a few times as he tripped over obstacles hidden by the heavy fog.
After struggling up a steep incl
ine, he saw a bright light in front of him. He floundered as things clutched at him, trying to hold him back. His heart urged him forward, and he kept moving toward that light.
As he drew closer, he saw it was Elisabeth. Her white silk gown shimmered in the moonlight, the wide sleeves like an angel’s wings. A breath of wind swirled about her, ruffling the skirt around her bare feet. She smiled and reached out to him, encouraging him. Something grabbed his legs, and he went down hard on the rocky path.
Though he fought to stand, he couldn’t gain his feet. Arms outstretched, Elisabeth stood waiting for him. While he gulped for air, he realized that she was moving farther away. He dragged himself over the sharp rocks, silently cursing as they sliced into him.
But he couldn’t follow her, and he called out as her image faded into the darkness. “Lise!”
The strained whisper broke the silence, and Elisabeth grasped the hand feebly reaching for something she couldn’t see. “I’m here, Eric. Right here.”
His faint pulse strengthened for a handful of beats, then receded into its languorous pace. She kissed his palm and held it to her cheek as he’d so often done. His stiff fingers grew wet with her tears. “I love you, my fine knight. Please don’t leave me.”
The hand she clasped began to warm ever so slightly. Slowly, his fingers curled about her face, the most welcome touch she’d ever felt. “Eric?”
A soft whisper answered her. She flung herself across his body, embracing him until she heard him groan. Regretting the impulsive reaction, she pulled back and rested her hand over the bruises on his chest. “Did I hurt you?”
“Just a little,” he replied in a rough echo of his voice.
“Don’t try to talk. Mother has a tonic that will help your throat. I’ll get it.”
“Stay,” he croaked, bringing her hand to his lips. “Love you.”
“And I love you. So much, I couldn’t bear to let you go.”
“Brought me back.”
“Quiet, now. We’ll talk later, when you feel stronger.”
Clearly spent, he nodded. And cradled in her arms, he fell mercifully asleep.
***
His eyelids felt leaden, and Eric fought mightily to open them only to have them slam closed again. A tremendous weight crushed his chest, and his throat felt as if it were filled with sawdust. His legs seemed to have dropped from his body, but his arms and hands obeyed him, albeit sluggishly.
Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he recognized his name. Slender fingers twined through his, the ice in his veins melting under their touch. He heard the voice again, the one that had called him away from the path of death. It was asking him to open his eyes.
With all the strength he possessed, he willed himself to comply. Rewarded with Elisabeth’s most beautiful smile, he lifted a corner of his reluctant mouth. “Oui?”
Her twinkling eyes told him she appreciated his humor. “Drink this. It will help your throat.”
It was the foulest concoction he’d ever smelled, and he clamped his jaw shut as he glared at her.
“Drink it.” She lightly patted his cheek. “Or I’ll pinch your nose and force you to swallow it.”
At his warning growl, she laughed. Her high spirits lifted his own, and he managed to choke down the vile brown liquid.
“Now this.” She spooned something from the wooden bowl in her hand. A suspicious sniff told him it was honey, and he opened his mouth, savoring the sweetness as it eased down his aching throat.
He was greatly surprised to feel no bruises on his neck, for he’d been certain someone had throttled him near to death. “What happened?”
She tucked the heavy blankets more snugly about him. “You don’t remember?”
“I recall an arrow.”
“’Twas coated with some mixture of things even Mother couldn’t identify. The poison was powerful enough to kill most men. Apparently, the archer mistook your size.”
Eric grunted at the merry twinkle in her eyes. “And then?”
“Micah took Christian into the forest and they brought you home. I’ve been tending you ever since.”
Hours of worry were etched into the fatigued lines of her face. Gently, he traced the hollows beneath her eyes. “You haven’t slept.”
She lifted her shoulder carelessly. “I wished to be here when you woke.”
“So certain were you that it would happen?”
Her brave composure crumbled, and she began trembling like a frightened child. His right hand was the stronger, and with it he guided her head to his chest. While she shook with sobs, he curled his arm about her, soothing her with kisses.
A curt knock sounded on his door, followed by Grant Colton’s smoothly accented voice. “Elisabeth, may I come in?”
Her entire body stiffened, and she bolted upright, wiping her cheeks free of tears. She stood and slowly went to the door. When she opened it, Grant smiled at her, then angled an odd look at the bed.
“It’s a miracle, to be sure,” he pronounced. “How are you?”
“Alive.”
“Indeed.” His visitor chuckled and took Elisabeth’s hand. “Your family is waiting for us.”
Trouble sang along his nerves, and Eric struggled to rise. “Why?”
“Grant, please.” Elisabeth gripped his arms, her eyes begging him for something. “I haven’t told him yet.”
“Told me?” Eric despised the weakness in his voice, making him sound helpless as an infant. With growing dread, he glanced to the mantel. Where was his sword? His knife was missing from its sheath, and he knew without looking that his dagger wasn’t on the table beside his bed. She’d disarmed him completely.
Rage gave him the strength to sit, braced against the solid headboard. “Lise, what the Devil is going on?”
“No need for curses, Jordanne,” the arrogant earl taunted him in a silky tone. “It’s a simple matter of the better man prevailing. I’ll leave my betrothed to explain it to you.”
“Your what?”
Eric would have been at Colton’s throat if Elisabeth hadn’t grabbed his shoulders to keep him in his bed.
“I’ll thank you to leave now, Grant. I’ll join you all shortly.” He seemed ready to argue, but she silenced him with a blazing glare.
Bowing to her, he pulled the door shut behind him.
Eric felt as if every nightmare he’d ever known had returned to him threefold. He fought down his anger and willed patience into his voice. Certainly, this travesty was not Elisabeth’s doing. “Tell me.”
The story was mercifully brief, relayed calmly and without tears. That alone told him how she felt about her bargain. She’d done what was necessary to save him, and now she’d live with the consequences. Once again, out of loyalty she would marry a man she didn’t love. The very thought of it made Eric’s heart twist with anguish for her.
And there was nothing he could do.
So many things he wished to say, but every one would only make it more difficult for her to go. She’d sacrificed her life for his, and for that he owed her a parting free of torment. “Briarton isn’t far, milady. Should you ever have need of me, send someone for me and I will come.”
Cradling her tear-stained cheek in his hand, he kissed her one last time. And with a trembling smile, she left.
***
Elisabeth stood against Eric’s door, desperately fighting the urge to go back inside and bolt it against what she’d sworn to do. He’d come so close to dying. Never would she forget watching him struggle to breathe, clinging to life through sheer, stubborn will.
Though she looked for the best in everyone, she was no fool. Instinct told her that if she broke her promise to Grant, he’d not hesitate to exact his vengeance on Eric. Already the knight had suffered greatly in his bid to protect her, and she owed him her life. The time had come to repay that debt.
He could build his fine house and fill it with children. Though she’d not be its mistress, she must content herself with the knowledge that he’d be safe and happy.
Perhaps—somehow—so would she.
She paused outside her parents’ chambers for a fortifying breath, anticipating her family’s myriad questions and how to answer them. No one could suspect her sudden marriage to be anything other than a glorious surprise, one she embraced with a joyous heart. Resigned, she turned the handle and walked into their private receiving room.
“Elisabeth!” Her father greeted her with a warm hug. “Grant has just told us you’ve accepted his proposal.”
Seated in an elegant chair, Sarah blanched as if she’d been dealt a stiff blow. Elisabeth shared the feeling, but she forced a smile for her soon-to-be husband. “He’s startled me so, I hardly know what to think.”
Warning flickered in Grant’s eyes as he moved to her side. “For my part, I never doubted she’d answer as she did. Once she understood how very much I love her, she agreed easily.”
Never easily, she vowed silently as he raised her hand to his lips. You make take this body, but I will never be yours.
“When do you plan to be wed?” her mother asked, sending Elisabeth a bewildered look.
“Today,” Grant answered quickly. “Now.”
“You can’t be serious!” she protested. “A lady needs time to prepare for her wedding.”
“Elisabeth will find all she requires in Briarton. I left many things undone, and I must tend to them. I’d very much like for us to leave as man and wife.”
Gabriel looked to Elisabeth, concern edging the joyous expression he’d worn only moments ago. “This is your wish, as well?”
“It is. An elaborate celebration would be unseemly under the circumstances.”
Grant cast her a venomous look, and she responded with a demure smile. Though he’d finally gained what he so desired, she’d make certain he paid dearly for it.
“You can’t possibly do this,” Sarah objected weakly.
“’Tis done,” Grant assured her briskly. “Father Blair is waiting for us.”
“Elisabeth–”
“I see no reason to delay,” she interrupted, hoping to ease the tension that had suddenly taken over the room. “As Grant said, the arrangements have been made, and he’s in a hurry to return home.”
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