by Tarah Scott
Saint George, she silently screamed. Help me.
* * *
“The horses cannot keep this pace any longer, and we’re still an hour from Stonehaven,” Baxter shouted above the pounding of hooves.
Talbot ignored him.
“Talbot,” Baxter called. “You will maim our horses and we’ll be left afoot.”
He was right. Talbot pulled on the reins and slowed to a trot. His horse gave a great snort, its breath curling in the evening chill. Baxter shouted a command to slow, and the men behind them obeyed.
Rhoslyn’s guard and maid were missing, and Talbot knew with certainty his brother had murdered them. It was the housekeeper, found unconscious, who, when revived, told them Dayton was behind her disappearance. Twelve hours had passed since Dayton kidnapped her. She had been at Castle Glenbarr less than a day—less than half a day—under Talbot’s protection.
Two years after Talbot had been sent to train under Sir Hugh, their father sent Dayton to the knight, as well. For the sake of their father, Talbot endured Dayton’s envy, jibes, and cruelty in those years before Talbot left to fight. But a father’s protection wouldn’t save Dayton now. Talbot would kill him.
A rider approached. Another moment, and Talbot recognized Cullen, the scout he had sent ahead, and Ross, Alec Harper’s captain. When they met, the men fell into a trot alongside Talbot.
“Their tracks enter Stonehaven,” Ross said, “but dinna’ leave it.”
Talbot gritted his teeth. “He intends to leave by ship.” Would Dayton attempt to marry Rhoslyn before or after he left Scotland? Talbot had immediately realized his brother intended to marry her. At least that meant he wouldn’t kill her.
“I spoke with the harbormaster.” Ross said.
Talbot jerked his gaze onto the man. “I did not give you leave to speak with anyone. If you alerted Dayton—”
“Dinna’ lose your temper, English,” Ross cut in. “I know how to be discreet.”
“I advise you to remember that I am your lord,” Talbot snapped.
“I advise ye to remember that you are in Scotland,” the man replied without rancor—or fear, Talbot noted. “The old harbormaster is more likely to talk to me than you, English. You might also remember that I have known Lady Rhoslyn since she was a lass of fifteen. I do no’ intend to let an Englishman steal her away from her home.”
So there were those who knew the story of his father’s Scottish mistress, and how he took her and their son away to England.
“What did you learn from the harbormaster?” Talbot asked.
“A man booked passage for himself, two other men, and a woman. They leave tomorrow morning. Though the man does no’ fit the description of your brother, he is the only Englishman to sail. There are two inns near the harbor and one other reputable inn on the road leaving Stonehaven.”
“Did you inquire at the inns?” Talbot demanded.
“We stopped at the inn on the road and had a wee drink. That establishment is so busy, no one took heed of us. The cook is a talkative woman and I learned that no English passed their way in the last day. The inns near the harbor house are for those booking passage or for travelers with more money to spend than most who stay along the road. I wager your brother is in one of the two. ‘Tis better, I think, for us to separate your men and make inquiries. Ye want numbers to ensure he doesna’ escape.”
Talbot nodded. “He will not escape.”
“Dinna’ lose your temper,” Ross warned Talbot forty-five minutes later, as they dismounted at the inn nearest the harbor. Talbot had sent Baxter with a dozen men to the inn west of the harbor and the dozen he’d brought with him waited among the trees, alert for his signal. The remaining five quietly searched the harbor for signs of his brother and Lady Rhoslyn.
“Let me do the talking,” Ross said. “Not all Scots like the English.”
They entered the tavern and Talbot scanned the crowded room.
Ross headed toward the bar, where a large man placed ales in front of two men. “Are ye the proprietor?” Ross asked the man when they reached the counter.
“Who be asking?” the man demanded.
“I am looking for a friend who might be staying here,” Ross said. “Large man with a dark beard.”
“That describes half the men here,” the man replied.
“Aye, but this one is English and he is with a gentle born lady.”
Talbot caught the glint of interest in the man’s eyes before he said, “’Tis not uncommon for such folk to be here.”
“I am willing to pay for the information,” Ross said.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I dinna’ want trouble.”
Ross nodded. “Aye, but if I find out ye know something and you do no’ tell me, there will be trouble.”
The man’s gaze shifted onto Talbot. “Who are ye?”
“I am the lady’s husband.”
“English,” the man said in derision.
“Aye,” Ross said. “And a powerful English knight who will kill ye if he thinks you are lying to him. Then there is the matter of the lady’s grandfather, who will feed whatever pieces of ye that are left to the dogs. Now, be a good lad and tell us what you know.”
The man studied them for a moment. “How much?”
Talbot took a silver piece from the pouch at his side and tossed it. The man caught it mid-slide across the counter.
Talbot grabbed his wrist. “Where are they?”
“Mayhap this man is no’ the man you are looking for,” he said. “Said the woman was wife and he warned us to ignore any cries from her room. Said she isna’ right in the head.”
Chapter Six
Sword in hand, and Ross behind him with his own sword drawn, Talbot turned the knob on his brother’s door. To his surprise, it turned without resistance. He looked over his shoulder at Ross and gave a quick nod, then threw open the door. Nothing prepared Talbot for what he saw. His wife, the woman he had yet to touch, lay on the bed, arms tied above her head, and a gag tied around her mouth.
Fear tightened his chest. She wore the same simple gray dress she had worn on her trip from the convent. The skirt lay bunched around her thighs and thick strands of hair framed her face in tangled disarray. Yet she stared at him, chin held high, eyes aflame with fury. He recalled thinking that when he bedded her he would have to tie her hands to the bedpost, and guilt unlike any he’d ever known rolled over him.
“Sweet God in heaven,” Ross murmured.
Talbot sheathed his sword and reached the bedside in three strides. He was aware that Ross had turned back to guard the door—Talbot guessed, to spare Lady Rhoslyn her dignity. That was a kindness he would not forget.
He noticed a faint discoloration on her cheek that hinted at a bruise. Talbot tamped down his fury as he drew her skirt down over her legs, then pulled the knife from the hilt on his belt. No fear shone in her eyes when he inserted the point into the knot of the gag and carefully cut the fabric. He yanked the cloth from her mouth and she spat out a rag and coughed. He cut the bindings that bound her to the post. She bolted upright, coughing into her bound hands. Talbot gently grasped her wrists. She jumped, her eyes snapping up toward his face.
“Be still,” he said, and inserted the knife blade between the cloth and her wrists, then sliced the cloth in one clean cut.
Talbot glanced around the room, saw a pitcher and mugs on a small table against the left wall, and hurried to them. He sniffed the contents and the strong, fresh smell of ale filled his nostrils. He filled one mug, then crossed back to the bed. Rhoslyn stood, gripping the short post at the foot of the bed for support. She wavered and he grasped her elbow to steady her.
He offered her the mug. “Drink this.”
She reached for the mug with her free hand and he saw the violent tremble of her fingers.
“Sit, lady,” he urged.
She shook her head. “I will never again touch that bed.”
The fury that had been eclipsed by the sight of her tied to the bed
rushed to the surface with a violence unlike any he’d experienced. Then he saw the blood on the sheets.
“Where is he?” Talbot demanded.
Rhoslyn’s head jerked up and, from the corner of his eye, he saw Ross turn. She stared for a long moment, and he noted that her eyes were red with crying.
“Where is he?” Talbot repeated.
“I do no’ know.”
“Ross,” he said, “see to Lady Rhoslyn.” Talbot strode toward the door.
Ross met him halfway across the room and grabbed his arm. “Ye might consider taking care of your wife first, lad.”
Talbot looked at him. “Did you see the sheets?”
Ross’ gaze shifted from Talbot to the bed. Ross cursed under his breath and released Talbot.
“’Tis no’ my blood,” Lady Rhoslyn said in a hoarse voice.
He swung to face her. “What?”
The fire in her eyes had rekindled. “It is your brother’s blood.”
He followed her gaze and saw a dagger lying on the floor between the foot of the bed and the hearth. She looked back at him, a challenge in her eyes, and Talbot realized she was unsure how he would react to the fact that she had tried to kill his brother.
“If it pleases you, my lady, I will bring him here, tie him to that bed, and let you finish the job.”
Her mouth parted in surprise and he was shocked to see her eyes shimmer with tears. The tears were gone as quickly as they appeared and she nodded. The burgeoning respect that had begun to form when she defended herself against him on the road swelled in his chest. How was it possible that he had been betrothed to a woman of such mettle? How was it possible she had been in his care less than a day and she had come to harm?
She took a step forward and gave a small cry. Ross started for her, but Talbot reached her as her knees gave way. He caught her and swept her into his arms.
* * *
Strong arms gathered her close and Rhoslyn wanted to collapse against the solid wall of warmth, but realized that St. Claire was headed for the door. It was enough that he and Ross had witnessed her shame. She could not bear for strangers to see her raw wrists and the hair falling from her braid in a tangled mess about her head. They would discern at a glance what had taken place in this room.
“I will walk.”
“You are safe with me, Lady Rhoslyn,” St. Claire said. “No one will ever again harm you.”
She snapped her head up, startled by the harshness in his voice. The hard line of his mouth was set in the granite of his face.
“Put me down,” she whispered. He didn’t respond. “St. Claire!”
He halted and looked at her.
Ross reached his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Lad, mayhap we can find a more discreet exit. If ye carry your wife out the front door there will be talk. ‘Tis best for Lady Rhoslyn if we avoid gossip.”
St. Claire stared down at her, intense eyes filled with an emotion she didn’t understand. The need to cry nearly overwhelmed her.
“I will walk,” she managed in a shaky voice.
He hesitated, then lowered her feet to the floor. The tremble in her stomach reached her legs and she feared her knees wouldn’t hold her weight. She couldn’t deny that she was thankful he kept a strong arm around her back.
“There must be a servants’ entrance, Ross,” St. Claire said.
He nodded and left. Rhoslyn realized she was alone with the man whose brother had violated her. Her husband. Suddenly, she wanted to be as far away from him as possible, as far away from anyone as was possible.
“You do not know where he went?” St. Claire asked.
He spoke soft and low, but Rhoslyn discerned the ice in his voice. “He did no’ tell me,” she replied. “Though I believe he wanted to speak with the captain of a ship.”
St. Claire’s gaze sharpened. “Which ship?”
She shook her head.
“He gave no hint of anything?”
Oh, he gave a great many hints; said too many things. A noise in the hallway caused her to start. St. Claire laid a hand on her arm. She jumped back.
“No one will ever harm you again, Lady Rhoslyn,” he said.
Ross appeared in the doorway. “There is a servants’ entrance, just as ye said. But we must make haste.”
St. Claire took a step toward him. “Has Dayton returned?”
“Nay, but Seward has arrived.”
“Damn him,” St. Claire cursed in unison with her “Sweet Jesu.”
“He must no’ know—” Her voice broke.
St. Claire hesitated.
“Please,” Rhoslyn begged. “My grandfather can never know what happened here.”
He nodded. “Ross, take Lady Rhoslyn out the back way and go to the inn on the way out of town. I will deal with Seward and meet you there.”
“He will want to see me,” Rhoslyn said.
“Leave him to me. By the time we meet again, you will be—” his mouth thinned “—more rested. Lust for my brother’s blood will distract him once I assure him you are safely away.” He looked at Ross. “Engage a room for Lady Rhoslyn. See to it her room is guarded at all times. No one save myself or her grandfather is allowed in.”
She fought the sudden desire to cry. Ross nodded. Rhoslyn sent up a prayer to Saint George for strength to get through the day.
* * *
It took every bit of willpower Talbot had to turn left down the hallway, while Ross and his wife turned right. He wanted to settle her on his horse in front of him and keep her close until they reached Castle Glenbarr. Instead, he must preserve her dignity. Seward wouldn’t settle for hearing news of his granddaughter from anyone save him.
Talbot neared the bottom of the stairs and Seward’s heated voice met his ears. “I know my granddaughter is here. Either tell me where she is or get out of my way before I knock ye on your arse.”
Talbot stepped off the bottom stair and turned left toward the modest sitting room. Seward looked past the man he threatened and met Talbot’s gaze.
The old man pushed past the man and reached Talbot as he entered the room. “Where is she, ye dog?”
“What are you doing here?” Talbot demanded.
“Dinna’ think to put me off with your highhanded ways,” he shot back. “I know Rhoslyn is here.”
“She is not.”
Seward’s eyes narrowed. “I will kill ye, St. Claire, King Edward be damned.”
Talbot motioned with his head. “Come where we can speak in private.”
Suspicion appeared in his eyes, but he preceded Talbot out the door and halted in the street. When he turned, Talbot said, “First, I will tell you, my wife is well.”
“Where is she?”
“She is safely away from here. For now, that will suffice. Who told you she was here?”
“If ye are asking how I knew your brother kidnapped her, that makes you a fool. I have known those at Castle Glenbarr as many years as ye have been alive. They wouldna’ dare keep such news from me. As to how I knew she was here, the innkeeper’s wife told me there was an Englishman whose wife was mad.” He shrugged. “I took a chance. What happened?”
“My brother hoped to wed Lady Rhoslyn in my place.”
“Craven bastard,” Seward cursed. “Where is he?”
“When I arrived, he was gone. Lady Rhoslyn believes he went to the docks to secure passage from Scotland.”
“Where is she?”
“On the way home. But we shall meet her on the way. Will you help me search for my brother?”
The old man snorted. “If I find him, I will kill him.”
“Nay,” Talbot said. “I will kill him.”
* * *
Ross took Rhoslyn to a quiet inn and they were seated in a corner of the inn’s tavern. Rhoslyn prayed she looked nothing more than a bedraggled traveler. Ross cast her another of the dozen furtive looks he’d already sent her way. Even in the dim candlelight, she couldn’t miss the worry in his eyes.
The innkeeper approac
hed and she released a silent breath when he said the room was at last ready. They climbed the steep stairs to the third floor, Ross following the innkeeper and Rhoslyn following Ross, with one of St. Claire’s warriors bringing up the rear.
They entered a surprisingly large room, where a maid bustled about. Rhoslyn guessed this room to be one of the most expensive in Stonehaven. To the left, a small desk sat in an alcove, and on the same wall a few feet ahead, a short-postered bed filled another alcove. A small chest and table sat on the right wall. But Rhoslyn had eyes only for the tub sitting before the blazing fire. Washing and drying cloths had been laid out on a small table beside the tub and a kettle of water hung over the fire. St. Claire had spent a small fortune to ensure her comfort. She fleetingly wondered if he’d spent her money, then flushed with guilt. He had saved her, then made sure she was cared for.
“‘Tis the best room I have,” the innkeeper said. “I hope it pleases ye, my lady.”
“The room is lovely.”
The maid turned from pouring wine in a mug at the table, hurried forward and curtsied. “Maggie, here, can see to your needs,” the man said.
“I will not need her,” Rhoslyn said.
“I can help you undress, my lady,” the girl said. “Surely, ye need help washing your hair?”
Rhoslyn shook her head. “I will do well enough on my own. Thank you.”
The girl looked at the innkeeper.
“Go along, Maggie,” he said.
She left and the innkeeper asked if Rhoslyn needed anything else. It was all she could do to keep from shoving everyone out the door, but she politely declined and the man left.
Ross followed him to the door. When the innkeeper descended the stairs, Ross looked back, “Ye will be safe here, Lady Rhoslyn.”
“Thank you, Ross.”
“I will be outside your door.”
Heat crept up her cheeks and the urge to cry rose too close to the surface.
At last, he closed the door and the noise from the tavern below cut to a murmur. Rhoslyn almost tripped in her haste to reach the door. She grasped the key sticking out of the keyhole and turned it. Heart beating, she pulled the key free, then hurried to the tub. Tossing the key on the small table beside the bathing cloths, she yanked the ties of her bodice free, then shoved the fabric down her shoulders and arms. She scooped the dress from the floor and threw it into the fire with such force that sparks sprayed across the hearthstone. She lifted the kettle from the fire and set it atop a cloth on the table nearest the tub.
