Silver Enchantress

by Patricia Rice

  From a distance, the boom of thunder rocked the ancient walls, and Eileen pulled him close again.

  “Can it be so difficult to prove that you were not one of the traitors?” she asked. “Surely it can only be Edmund’s machinations that has caused a warrant to be issued?”

  Drake trailed kisses along her lips to her earlobe, punctuating every few words with a kiss. “I traveled incognito, princess. No one can say where I was these past weeks. And I did some questioning. A man using my name and arms was known to be among Charlie’s army.”

  As his teeth fastened upon her ear, his hand wreaked havoc with her breast, and Eileen moved closer. She learned the result of this foolishness quickly. A heated lance drove between her thighs, making her gasp with surprise.

  “You have friends. They will prove your innocence,” she murmured as Drake’s hands found new territory to explore. She now knew the meaning of the ache rising between her legs, but perversely she fought it.

  “But meanwhile, I am a hunted man. I must run as if I truly am a traitor, simply to protect my hide. It could take months, years, Eileen, and I may never prove my innocence. They will take my house, my lands, my title, and then forget about me. It has been done before. I am no friend of the court. I will fight, Eileen, with every breath in my body, but it will not be an easy fight.”

  Years. He could be years from her, and he thought he would protect her by leaving her behind. That was what he was telling her—with his words, with his hands, with his body. He was saying his farewells. And she would not have it.

  Fiercely she gripped his shoulders and molded herself along his length, covering his throat and jaw with her kisses. Drake responded without hesitation, tumbling her back to the bed and covering her with his greater weight. Eileen struggled for dominance, nipping his fingers and writhing away from him. She wanted to show him her strength, her independence, but he would not have it. With the greatest of ease, Drake pinned her to the bed and smothered her protest with kisses. Within minutes he had spread her legs and penetrated that part of her that had been inviolable.

  Eileen cried out her despair as his body captured hers with such ease, carrying her where he wanted to go, when he chose. She could offer him no comfort but a target for his anger and bitterness, and, what was worse, she craved more. Even as he carried them both to the brink of ecstasy, she was demanding more. And he complied.

  By dawn, exhaustion had taken its toll. Drake slumbered by her side, holding one hand possessively around her waist. Eileen ached in places she had never known existed, and her face felt bruised and chafed from Drake’s fierce kiss. The pleasure he had taken and returned left her drained and longing for more. She finally understood he did not return her love but merely needed a receptacle for his desire. But she could not leave his bed for another man’s arms, and while he needed her, she must stay. Whether he allowed it or not.

  The thunder no longer rolled above. The weather must be clearing.

  Meaning only to return to her room for Drake’s laundered clothing and those few things she could take with her, Eileen slipped from Drake’s arms. It felt odd to be without clothing, odder still to be lying next to this large man who had possessed her more intimately than she had dreamed possible. In the darkness he seemed a stranger, and she rubbed her breasts where he had bruised her.

  But simply the act of moving from his side brought Drake to wakefulness, and he reached to prevent her leaving. He kissed the tip of each aching breast, then pressed his lips to hers.

  “I must find Quigley,” she protested, already feeling the dangerous languor stealing over her.

  “Stay here. Let me remember you lying upon the sheets where we shared the night,” he murmured. Drake rose with the tawny grace of a lion, striding about the small cell, stirring the dying embers, lighting candles.

  Eileen lay against the sheets, wishing she had the talent to capture that rippling musculature on canvas. He returned to her side, holding a candle high as he inspected the damage to her delicate skin.

  “You may have some difficulty explaining that to your Uncle John.” Drake spoke with a hint of amusement as he rubbed his fingers along reddened skin. “It is a good thing you need explain nothing to your maid. I am sorry, princess. I did not mean to be so rough with you.”

  Still, he thought she would stay behind. She must dissuade him of that nonsense, but talk had long ceased to be her strong point. Eileen sat up, holding the sheet between her breasts. “Let me go with you, Drake.” She willed him to understand.

  He refused to see. Shaking his head, he turned to find his clothes. “No, princess. What I did last night was barely forgivable. To lead you into the kind of life I must seek in France would be beyond the realms of decency. I wish I could leave you without fear of de Lacy, but Michael will protect you.”

  Eileen heard the edge in his voice as he said this, and her heart took a leap of joy. He was trying to be a gentleman, but she was not a lady.

  She gained her feet to dress. “Let me find food and your clean linen. You will need your own clothes if you are to seek out your relatives in France.”

  Drake watched her with suspicion. “I have tarried too long, Eileen. Every moment brings us closer to disaster.”

  She ignored this gloomy prognosis and wiggled into her bodice and petticoats. “Lace this,” she commanded, “and I will show you the hiding place I spoke of last night.”

  Drake obliged her with this last intimacy, adjusting the modesty piece to better suit his tastes.

  Once dressed, she perched on the edge of the cot and tugged a board beneath it. When the board gave, she triumphantly pointed to a dark opening revealed.

  “The door lifts, but I don’t have the strength to lift it far. I suspect they kept their gold there once upon a time. It looks large enough to hold a man. You cannot be any safer than here.”

  Drake whistled at this ingenious contraption. “I’ll stay only until you find Quigley. Hurry, for I fear we have lingered too long as it is.” Drake caught her as she turned to face him, burying his hands in her hair and kissing her hard before parting. “Don’t forget me, princess,” he whispered.

  “I would find you even should you be a frog, my lord.” Hastily Eileen kissed his cheek and turned to go.

  Drake caught her by the shoulder and swung her back around. “Eileen, I am serious. What happened last night was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You will leave here and go to Michael and forget this moment of madness. He can provide for you and keep you safe. I don’t want to see you dressed in rags again. I can give you nothing but the life of a beggar. You have been deprived of your rightful home for too long. I will not deprive you of it again.”

  “Do not condescend to me, my lord. I am not yours to command.” She shook loose of his grip.

  “Nor am I yours,” Drake informed her. “My gratitude does not extend to being weighed down by a capricious sprite while I try to put my life back together.”

  She could have smacked him for that, but there was little time for arguing. Eileen swung back to the door. Quigley would be waiting for her. “Don’t worry, my lord,” she replied sarcastically, “I take care of myself.” With that, she left him cursing.

  Eileen could hear servants stirring in the kitchen, but the early morning darkness let her hide in the shadows. She darted up the stairs to her chambers. She could not send a maid for Quigley until she had returned herself to some sort of order.

  Eileen barely had time to draw the brush through her hair when a furious pounding echoed through the empty halls below. Shouts and the jingle of harness came from the kitchen gardens at the same time. Heart quaking, she dashed to the upper hall. She could hear Sir John’s voice in the foyer and her spirits plummeted. She had not expected his return so soon. The angry pounding continued, and the significance of the orders being shouted began to dawn. She ran to the stairs and peered down.

  A bemused and half-dressed footman opened the wide front portals under Sir John’s baleful glare. A moment later the
morning sun streamed through the opening, illuminating the scarlet and gold glory of His Majesty’s military finest standing on the doorstep.

  Eileen had never known fear for herself, but fear for Drake and her uncle nearly caused her to scream at the sight of so many rapiers. She recovered her composure as Sir John listened to the words of the warrant read by the soldier in command. They meant to search the house, as Drake had predicted. Fiends. She would show them how to search a house.

  With a blindingly innocent smile Eileen stepped daintily down the broad front stairs. Her disheveled appearance drew the eye of every male in the foyer.

  “Eileen!” Sir John bellowed. “Go back to your room! This is none of your concern.”

  Eileen continued down the stairs, smiling blindingly at the captain in his scarlet coat and fierce frown. She curtsied prettily to her uncle when she reached the foyer and made a gesture of questioning.

  “They think Lord Sherburne might be on the premises. There has been some little mix-up and they wish to question him. You have not seen him, have you?” Sir John spoke as if to a simpleton, playing his part well.

  Lying came easily when it meant only a shake of the head, which was what she gave now. She gazed with interest at the commanding figure of the captain.

  Sir John shrugged and explained to the man. “She does not speak, but she sees everything. If Neville were here, she would know it. You will disturb my wife greatly if you insist on this search. I have never given His Majesty cause to doubt my loyalty. I must register full protest if you carry out these ridiculous orders.”

  “You have that right, sir, but my orders are to search the premises until Neville is found. You have just come from Sherburne. You must admit we have some right to suspicion.”

  “I admit no such thing!” Sir John replied angrily. “Sherburne is an innocent victim, and I only did my duty by my late friend to see to his daughter in time of trouble. Search if you must, but you damned well better not overset so much as a teacup or I’ll have my solicitor writing up charges that will keep us all in court until we die!”

  With a smile of amusement, Eileen watched this performance with admiration. “The Englishman defending his castle” the charade could be called. Searching Summer Hall could keep an entire army occupied for a week. It needed no defending.

  Still, if Edmund had done his work as well as she suspected, these men would tear the place to pieces to find Drake. They couldn’t possibly know where he hid, but they could very well know she would be an accomplice. She daren’t leave them for a moment.

  So she danced along at their sides as the soldiers spread through the towering foyer, switching their swords under tapestry-draped tables, jerking back velvet curtains that loosed clouds of dust. She laughed as they peered beneath footstools too small to hide a kitten, and aided the hunt by opening the iron visors of long-dead Summerville knights. Her giggles echoed in the emptiness, and the captain frowned at her mockery.

  “Gregory, post men at every exit. If he’s here, we’ll flush him out. Make certain the men are prepared to deal with an armed and desperate traitor.” The captain’s stentorian tones sent the hapless Gregory to shoving his men out the door. Exits would be easier to locate from outside the rambling hall.

  The description of Drake made Eileen pout, and she deliberately trod on the captain’s boot as she brushed past him, swinging her skirts huffily.

  A commotion at the door indicated Michael had returned. Eileen ignored it, proceeding proudly into the ancient hall of the keep, flinging the doors wide and bowing like a servant to beckon their entrance.

  Sir John observed her rebellious performance and decided that Michael had best not be audience to it. The lad had a good head on his shoulders and might easily discern what Sir John already surmised—and feel honor bound to report it.

  Sir John left his niece to her theatrics and returned to the main portals and the irate ex-soldier demanding entrance. “Michael, keep an eye on my stable. Don’t let any of these rogues near my horses or I’ll have their heads!” he roared.

  On the other side of the watchdogs at the door, Michael looked grim but nodded obediently. He disappeared without further word, and Sir John sighed with relief. It was a blessing to deal with a man of few words but swift action. If only that was all that was needed to deal with his wayward niece.

  Dreading the progress of this search, Sir John followed the remaining soldiers into the cavernous keep. Used only when entertaining, the hall lay cold and dark at this hour of the morning. But Eileen danced in its center as if all the chandeliers were lit and the fires roaring. The little hoyden of the forest was back in full spirit, gliding in and out of the shadows, thoroughly confusing the awkward young soldiers who tried to keep her in sight.

  She flitted from corner to corner, pointing up the giant chimney so one young fool walked in and covered himself with soot to search it. She darted behind swag tapestries and laughed as she spun around, entrapping her follower in the folds. She fell to her hands and knees and crawled as swiftly as any crab beneath the long trestle tables and had half the searchers doing the same in a breathless game of follow-the-leader until the red-faced captain shouted a few choice phrases to return them to their senses.

  Shamefaced, they moved woodenly about the room, ignoring Eileen’s light-footed actions as best they could. Bored with this entertainment, she perched upon the carved timber that served as mantel, swinging her slippered foot—and whistling. Sir John cringed at this most unladylike habit, wondering where in heaven’s name the little heathen had picked up such knowledge, but he’d rather not know. It was enough to see her perched for all the world like some exotic bird upon his mantel.

  But her ploy was effective. The unnerving whistling had the soldiers glancing uneasily over their shoulders, hurrying through their tasks, rushing on to the next room where they could hope the noise would not follow.

  The noise did not, but their mischievous faerie did. Wherever they went, she was underfoot, laughing, mocking, and generally making them look foolish as they prodded among elegant French furniture or kitchen pots and pans.

  By the time they reached the cellars, half the men were sweating, the other half grinning. It had become more than obvious the spirit of the Hall dared twit the nose of His Majesty himself, had he been foolish enough to appear.

  Eileen’s bland smile hid her nervousness as the captain indicated the door to the cellars, but her heart pounded like thunder. She felt certain it leaped from her chest with every thud.

  “We’ve not been through the wine cellar, sir. Is it unlocked?” The captain asked.

  “Of course not, man, use your head. Only my man is allowed down those stairs. They’re dangerous at the best of times, and I’ll not have some damned fool maid set on a lover’s tryst breaking her silly neck. The walls are none too safe, either. I’ll not be responsible for anyone fool enough to attempt the place.”

  “Nevertheless, sir, we must search it. Call for your man and have it unlocked.”

  Eileen had prayed she would be able to divert them from even noting the cellars, but now that the damage was done, she would have to disarm their suspicions. With her demurest smile she pushed her way to the door and made a lovely curtsy. Then putting her fingers to her lips as if promising them a secret, she stood on her toes and with a grandiose sweep produced the key from a hook beside the door frame.

  With any luck at all, they would think her so innocent as to be revealing all Sir John’s secrets. With a conspiratorial smirk she unlocked the door and opened it only slightly, peering into the blackness with a dramatic gesture of caution. Years of muteness had brought out the actress in her, if it had done nothing else at all.

  With a grand sweep of her hand she opened the door to give them entrance. Both amused and irritated, the captain stepped forward, only to find his arm appropriated by a her hand. Lifting her skirt as grandly as any lady, Eileen bestowed a sweet smile upon him and set her foot on the first step.

  Not knowing
how much of the search Drake had heard or understood, Eileen sought some manner of warning him. As one of the soldiers lit the torch, she remembered the crate of empty wine bottles left upon the bottom stair. As the captain strode down the last of the steep stairs, she accidentally became entangled in his buckled sword and fell against the crate on the stair’s edge, shattering bottles with a crash that would have raised skeletons from the dungeons had there been any.

  Sir John leapt to her elbow, helping her to right herself while red-coated soldiers hovered anxiously, and the embarrassed captain apologized. Eileen waved away his apologies, and bravely and pathetically stepped forward on her obviously injured foot.

  “Eileen, you must return to your chamber and let your aunt see to that foot. This has gone on far enough.” Sir John blocked the stairs as he pleaded with his adamant niece.

  “Sir, if you wish, I will carry her back to her room while my men continue searching. I am most abjectly sorry that this has happened.”

  Before Sir John could launch another tirade, Eileen interrupted him by smiling and laying her hand against the captain’s arm, indicating that he continue with his search. Unable to determine if she played him for a fool or if she genuinely wished to show him something, the military man hesitated, waiting for some decision from Sir John.

  “I suspect she does not wish to miss the fun when you bring one of these crumbling old beams down upon your head,” Sir John grumbled as he took Eileen’s other arm and led the way.

  The baronet knew when they came close to wherever she had stashed the fugitive, for Eileen’s fingernails nearly pierced the thickness of his coat. The soldiers ripped the lids off crates and barrels and pounded on walls. No hiding place seemed safe.

  When a soldier’s rap echoed hollow on an open space amongst the crates and barrels, Eileen was prepared. Ignoring the shouts of excitement from the soldiers, she tugged on the captain’s arm and demanded his attention. When he turned to look down upon her, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she pointed at his men with delight—until they pried with swords at the old stones, knocking the mortar between them to the ground.