With one hand, Orrin grasped Camden's arm, holding him back. "Are you certain you want to go after her?"
Camden turned to stare at the hand clutching his arm. "Are you suggesting we abandon her to those marauders?"
Orrin released his grip. "I'm suggesting that perhaps they are doing you a favor. They've taken her away, a Ruthven, your sworn enemy. Perhaps it is for the best."
Camden's blood ran cold in his veins. "They are murderers, Orrin. How can I desert her if I am the very cause of her abduction?"
"We have to think this through," Orrin reasoned. "Did they steal her to murder her, or did they do so because they knew you would follow? Who is the real target here? We need to have a plan before you charge into some sort of trap."
Camden knew he wasn't thinking. He was only feeling. I promised to keep her safe. "She's Lady Violet's nursemaid."
"Is that all?"
Guilt twisted Camden's gut. He had unleashed the demon that had captured her. And she needed his help.
Or did he need to help her to appease his own guilt?
Camden released an unearthly growl at the mix of emotions that tortured him — fury and guilt, and if he were truly honest, fear, welled up inside.
"I fear for her life because something changed, Orrin. I don't know when. I don't know how. But I stopped hating the sight of her and find I look forward to seeing her instead. She might be a Ruthven, but she is still a living being. And despite her name, I swore I'd protect her."
Camden clasped Orrin's arm, and the tension between them drained away. "If they had meant to kill her, they would have done so here. They took her away instead. To me that means they're looking for information from her or plan to use her as a trap for you instead."
"I must take that chance." Camden said. "Now that the battle has ended, I will take a small contingent of men with me. You and the others should remain here and set things to rights." He headed out the door toward his waiting horse.
Orrin nodded and followed, carrying Violet with him.
Camden mounted and signaled five of the men who were mounted and ready to join him.
"At least they left us a trail in the snow," one warrior said as he fell in behind Camden, waiting for the order to move out. The other men followed his example until all six were ready to continue the battle elsewhere.
Camden surged forward, leading the way. The wind blew cold and crisp against his face as he rode out of the gate of Lee Castle. An overwhelming sense of urgency spurred him to put his horse into a gallop.
He had to find Rhiannon and ensure her safety. But more importantly, he realized with a sudden start, he had to keep her from learning the truth about what he had done.
What would he see in the depths of her eyes if she learned that he'd hired an assassin to kill her and every member of her family? An assassin who had already killed both of her brothers?
He could picture the pain and the betrayal in her bright tawny eyes. "Nay," he swore into the wind. They would reach her before her trust in him came to a bitter end.
A dark figure followed Rhiannon's captors through the woods. He slowed his horse, keeping his distance. If they caught him now, they would not be kind in their punishment. They wouldn't believe he was merely a spy, reporting what he saw for a few silver coins.
He hung back behind the dormant heather shrubs and scrub trees. Their lanky branches did not conceal him fully, but enough to keep him from being detected by either horse or man when he stayed completely still.
He didn't want to be here, tramping through the snow. What had started out as justified revenge now seemed cruel. The girl hadn't hurt anyone, even though everyone at the castle had treated her poorly. She tried to help. And she was good to Lady Violet, gentle like the girl's own mum would have been.
In return they hurt her. But what could he do to stop the torment? He had to stay out of harm's way himself.
He had no choice but to follow, to observe, and report what he saw, no matter how much he might want to help the poor girl. He'd sealed his fate with that first silver coin he'd taken.
As the cold wind burned his cheeks while he waited, watched, he wished he'd made a different choice.
Rhiannon shivered in the saddle as she sat in front of her captor on the horse. The trail they followed had deteriorated into hardly more than a sheep track as they descended into a gorge sparsely dotted with shrubs and trees. The light of day was beginning to fade. Dusk cast gloomy gray shadows across the land. The sparse pines created a ghoulish scene as their long, leering limbs hung down over the path.
She and her seven captors reached a small clearing and came to a stop. Rhiannon detected a sigh of relief from the man in the saddle behind her. "Now tae set the trap for Lockhart."
Rhiannon startled. "You are using me to lure him away from the castle?"
He jumped from the horse and leered up at her, keeping a firm grip on the reins. "Too true, but I expect ye'll be gone 'afore he arrives."
Rhiannon tried to keep her expression neutral. "You're going to kill me?"
A flicker of grudging admiration lit the man's face. "I'd hoped ye'd be more afraid."
She was afraid and sick to her stomach, but she wouldn't let him know that. She cast a furtive glance at the reins in his hands. If only she could yank the reins away, she might have a chance to save herself. "Wouldn't it be better to use me to bargain with?"
The man's smirk of satisfaction faded. "Why would he bargain for ye? Yer family helped tae murder his kin. I'm sure he is more than grateful tae be rid of ye."
Rhiannon flinched at the truth of his words. Why would Camden waste his time on her?
"Fear not, sweetlin'. I won't kill ye right away. The men and I are looking forward to a bit o' sport." He drew a dagger from his belt, running the blade of his long knife between his fingers. "Get down."
When she remained on the horse, he yanked her foot, hard. She landed in the snow with a thump. Cold, wet clumps of snow clung to her skin chilling her even more.
With a sharp laugh, her captor left her there while he and the others tied the horses to the surrounding shrubs, then lit several torches to illuminate the area.
Rhiannon gained her feet and sprinted away from the men, only to be dragged backward a moment later. "Ye aren't goin' anywhere, sweetlin'," her captor growled. He forced her back toward the others, then tossed her on the ground once more before he joined the other men. Her body ached and her temples throbbed. A crescent-shaped sliver of moon hung in the sky. Stars twinkled by the millions, but their light did little to alleviate the ghostly shadows that had fallen over the land.
Again, Rhiannon slowly rose to her feet. When the men started to argue with one another about what should be done with her, she took two steps back into the shadow of the trees. She hoped her captors were as disoriented by the falling darkness as she was. She cast a glance at the horses several feet away. Should she risk it? Could she slide over to the beasts unnoticed this time, untie the tethers, then slip away?
She took another step toward the animals. A branch, partially hidden in the snow, caught in her skirts. She tugged the fabric, praying for silence. The branch snapped. The sound seemed overly loud in the quiet of the trees, but the others seemed not to notice as they continued to argue.
"We should wait 'til he gets here," a large man growled.
"He won't want her. He's a holy man, ye idiot," a smaller captor said, jabbing the first man in the gut with his elbow.
The big man staggered back a step as he doubled over. His arm flew out to deliver a lashing blow to the right side of the man's face. While the two men brawled, the others surged forward, trying to stop them.
Rhiannon ran for the closest horse and untied the reins with trembling fingers. Her heart thundering in her chest, she threw herself onto the animal's back. She put her heels to the horse's flanks and slipped into the darkness.
A thunderous shout sounded, followed by hoofbeats.
Rhiannon leaned forward and pushed the hor
se into a faster gallop. Wind whipped at her cheeks and the loose ends of her hair flew into her face. With the back of her hand, she forced the hair out of her eyes. All thought centered on the black path before her. She had to find a way to veer off into the trees and hide the horse's footprints before she would be safe.
She pressed her cheek against the horse's trembling neck. The horse was scared. Probably as terrified as she was. "Come on, boy. We have to go faster," Rhiannon urged.
"Ye little hellion. Ye've gone too far this time." A cold, hard edge had crept into the man's voice. He rode alongside her, like a man possessed.
Rhiannon pressed her horse harder, plunging ahead one moment, only to be ripped from the back of her horse a moment later by his cruel grip on her hair. Flung sideways in the darkness with nothing to catch her, Rhiannon hit the ground, her head cracking against something unexpectedly solid beneath the snow. Pain exploded through her right temple moments before she was plunged into darkness.
When she awoke, the world was pitched in darkness, not from the night, but from the blindfold that pressed so tight against her eyes she could not force her lids to open. She realized that she stood upright, her hands bound behind her back. She seemed to be tied to a pole by the waist, arms, and feet. With a surge of panic, she struggled against the bindings, but found no slack.
Robbed of sight, Rhiannon listened to the world around her. She could hear shuffling off to her left. She drew in a quick breath of the pungent odor of her captor's breath.
"It's about time ye woke up," the voice said, from close to her head. "I'd started tae worry I killed ye too early." He chuckled, then stepped back; she could tell by the less intense scent of his rotten teeth.
A shudder of fear rocked her. What did they intend to do to her? By the scent of pine and musty leaves, she knew they had not left the cover of the trees. An odd stack of timber rattled beneath her feet.
They would burn her alive.
"Please," she begged, thrashing her head back and forth.
"I'll make you an offer." The voice was a little more cultured, more sophisticated than the others A newcomer?
"What offer?" she asked.
"Spy for me and I'll let you go."
"What do you mean?" Rhiannon's heart leapt. A way out?
"Tell me where the Charm Stone is kept, and bring me that little girl, and I'll see that you stay free from harm."
"Who are you?" she asked. Betray Violet? Hurt Camden? Rhiannon stilled as she realized that she could never do it. Tears welled in her eyes and slipped beneath the cloth that blinded her. Perhaps she did deserve such an end. After all, she was a Ruthven — a dark and evil seed.
"They would not hesitate to betray you." The man cruelly pressed his finger against the bruised flesh of her cheek. "What's it to be? Death or freedom?"
Rhiannon couldn't speak. Her throat locked up as she desperately twisted her hands, searching for a release. She didn't want to die, at least not this way.
A hand cracked across her cheek with violent force. Agony rocked through her. "What's your answer?" the man demanded.
Rhiannon shook her head, trying to clear it of fear and the ringing pain of the blow. She wouldn't bring further suffering upon Violet or Camden. "I'll never betray them."
He struck her other cheek.
Pain exploded inside her head. "I might be a Ruthven, but I will not hurt those who have helped me."
"Then you're a fool." He backed away, the wood snapping beneath his feet as he did. "Burn her. It is the only way for God to purify her soul." The sound of his voice grew more distant. "I cannot tolerate the scent of burning flesh, so I'll leave her disposal to you. Do not fail me this time."
The sound of hoofbeats came to her ears. For a moment hope burst inside, until she realized the sound moved away, not toward her.
She heard a soft hiss. She struggled against the bonds that held her firmly to the pole, frantic to escape. The ropes stayed tight as the acrid scent of smoke filled the air.
"Damn this smoke," a gravelly voice cursed. "The wood is wet from the snow. Help me fan the flames to get the wood to catch faster." A shuffling of footsteps told her the men drew near, no doubt doing as they'd been ordered.
Oh, God's mercy, this was real. Horribly, hideously real. She wrenched her shoulders back and forth. She tried to kick her feet. But the ropes held. She would die, and Camden could do nothing to save her. Pain compressed her chest as a sob escaped her.
Swamped by hopelessness, she leaned her head back against the pole toward the heavens. She tried to recreate their brilliance in her mind. She had to think of something, anything but the inevitable end that awaited her. But even her imagination had abandoned her.
"Please help me," she pleaded, not really expecting any sort of divine intervention. When had God answered her prayers as of late?
Then she felt it, a featherlight dust of cold against her cheek. Then another. Snow. She smiled up at the sky overhead. An answer to her prayer. Though the snow would never be enough to douse the flames that licked at her feet.
At least she could picture in her mind's eye the flakes as they fell to the earth. A small comfort compared to the agony she would feel very soon. But for any distraction, short or long, she was grateful.
Chapter Fifteen
Camden smelled the smoke before he saw it. "Hurry," he shouted to his men. He dug his heels into his horse's sides, praying for even more speed.
In a surge of motion, both man and beast burst into the clearing. Camden drew his sword and cleaved through the warriors before him without slowing his stride. He had to reach her.
Rhiannon was trapped, flames licking at the wood at her feet. Yet her face was serene, accepting of her fate.
Damn her for not believing she deserved more. Camden charged forward, sword flashing. He knew his men were near, but he only had eyes for Rhiannon.
He did not let fear enter his thoughts, for it would slow him down. He had to reach Rhiannon before the flames consumed her. The world around him slowed. He lashed out, and the men who charged him fell.
He called her name, his throat raw with fury.
Her head snapped toward the sound of his voice. "Camden?"
Hope blossomed in that one simple word. She was still alive. For now.
Through a haze of smoke, he focused on his goal. He guided his horse behind her, away from the others, and dismounted. With a single swipe of his blade, he sliced through the bindings at her waist, wrists and ankles. Free of her bonds, she sagged, her knees failing her. The bottom of her dress caught fire.
The stench of burning cloth filled the air as he yanked her from the flames and smothered the fire. He scooped her up with one arm and held her against his chest. The scent of blood assaulted his senses. He forced the realities of battle aside and with a gentle hand loosened the binding over her eyes. The fabric slipped over her cheeks to settle at her neck.
"You came for me." Her faint voice held a touch of awe and gratitude. Her fingers wrapped around his bloodied sleeve. "Thank you."
"We are survivors, you and me." He reveled in the softness he saw in her eyes, grateful that she did not know the truth.
Camden's warriors emerged on the scene. All around them, the battle raged with the screech and clangor of steel, the grunts of men. Two warriors charged him, swords raised to strike. Camden quickly set Rhiannon on her feet and tucked her behind him. "Get behind the horse."
He hefted his sword.
At the sight of his long curved blade, the men paused, frightened momentarily by the unknown.
Camden took advantage of their confusion and charged. He lunged left, right, using his curved scimitar like a saber. A sharp cry told him he'd hit a target. A body thumped to the ground. The other man, a big one, snarled and made for him. Camden thrust forward, upward, sideways, blocking every blow.
The man heaved his weapon over his head and charged like a giant, ready to cleave Camden in two. But Camden easily spun away as the force of the man's blade came
down to plow through the snow and earth instead.
Camden brought his boot down against the back of a leg, crumpling a man to the ground. Suffocating in the heavy smoke, the man hacked and coughed, then gained his feet.
Camden readied his sword. The hook of his blade sliced clean through the warriors arm, followed by an upswing of his weapon that sliced the man's throat, ending his agony.
In the next heartbeat, Camden turned to block the thrust of yet another warrior's blade, coming face to face with the assassin he'd hired. The world seemed to freeze as they stared at each other, swords locked at the hilt.
"You killed the blacksmith," Camden said past the ache in his sword arm. He blocked out the pain, fixing on his enemy.
"I'll kill whoever I please tae get what I want," the assassin said through his brown and pungent teeth.
"I released you from your obligation." Camden pulled his blade away.
The man's gaze shot to Rhiannon. "I work fer another."
Rhiannon's face appeared pale in the glow of the red, flickering light. Growing flames climbed the pole where she'd been staked.
Camden turned back to his newest enemy and raised his sword. "For Rhiannon," he said as fury propelled him forward. Kill him, kill him, his blood commanded for all the innocents he'd been unable to save. He would save Rhiannon. He would save Violet. He would save himself.
His blade plunged deep, straight through the killer's chest, delivering a death blow. The assassin's sword fell from his hand and he dropped to the ground, clutching the gaping wound.
Camden sheathed his sword and bent down beside the man. "God be with you—"
A hand groped his arm, dug nails into Camden's flesh. "Beware …" He tried to breath, only to choke on his own blood. "The bishop," the man warned before his body went limp and his eyes drifted back in his head.
The bishop? Camden brought his hand down over the man's eyelids, closing his eyes forever.
"Go in peace," he whispered.
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