And it suddenly felt as though more than just her father’s life was at stake.
Chapter Eighteen
He had disappointed her, but better disappointed than dead.
William watched Siobhan settle in for the night in the hull of the painted dragon ship. His hands curled at his sides. Her cool remoteness told him he wasn’t welcome beside her. ’Twas probably for the best. The overwhelming passion they’d had for each other these last few days had to end.
An empty ache centered in his chest. He forced the pain away. He had to keep his head if they were both to survive. Acquiring the treasure had been the easy part of this adventure. Rescuing her father from de la Roche would be difficult indeed.
He had no choice but to gather an army before they proceeded. To do anything else would be madness. But her father could die in the time it took to amass the troops they needed. In reality, her father could be dead already. De la Roche usually spared his victims none of his displeasure.
William’s gaze lingered on the length of Siobhan’s body. He would make it up to her. When this was all over, he would find some way to set things right between them.
For now, he had to keep her near his side. Even that had dangers, as she had already proved twice. But with her nearby, he could at least minimize those dangers and find comfort in her presence, no matter how remote she was to him. Suddenly, being without her company seemed unfathomable. They needed each other.
And that was the way it would be.
Lucius writhed against the tree Brother William had tied him to in the woods. Darkness enveloped him. He couldn’t breathe. He struggled against his bonds. The bark cut into his flesh as he pulled and pushed against the bindings at his wrists. Damn William Keith for leaving him here, alone.
Lucius stopped to rest a moment, fighting the suffocating fear of the blackness. He’d always been afraid of the dark. It was a weakness that only Peter had known about. And while Peter had lived, they’d fought his fear together.
But now Lucius was alone in the dark once again.
He drew a sharp breath, filling his lungs. He could get through this if he stopped thinking about the blanket of black that threatened to choke him. Leaning back against the tree, he tipped his head toward the sky. Bright white lights glittered overhead. Stars. Light. Safety.
Lucius focused his gaze on the light, let it fill him. His heart rate slowed, and soon he found himself relaxing against the wood at his back. His anger and his fear faded as the chill night air crept over him.
He drew a deep breath, filling his lungs as he kept his gaze on the stars overhead. Peter was up there. At the thought, instead of the pain that had been his constant companion the last few days, a sense of calm descended.
Did his brother watch over him still? The thought startled him. Could Peter see the horrible lengths Lucius had gone to in order to exact revenge for an unjust murder?
He hung his head as remorse washed over him. Peter would never have approved.
Lucius’s behavior was no more honorable than de la Roche’s. Lucius had wanted the Spear. He would have done anything to get it. But for what? A revenge Peter would have disapproved of?
A groan slipped through his lips, filled the quiet of the night. Brother William was right. Revenge wouldn’t bring Peter back to him. It wouldn’t bolster him so that he no longer feared the dark.
Lucius considered for the first time what Peter would have done if their places had been reversed. No doubt, his brother would have joined Brother William to see that justice was served.
Little good the realization did him now. It was his own foolish behavior that had brought him to this moment. He didn’t blame Brother William for tying him to a tree. And tied to that tree he would stay until the knight either came back and untied him or sent someone else to do the deed.
And Lucius knew without a doubt Brother William would do just that. An honorable man like William would never abandon his friends, no matter that they had betrayed him.
Mournfully, Lucius shook his head and stared into the darkness. He let the blackness seep around and through him, no longer fighting his fear. The inky black was the penance he would have to endure. And with the morning light, perhaps he would find himself renewed, if not freed from a fate he had brought upon himself.
Siobhan lay silent and still inside the Viking dragon boat. She needed William to think she had drifted off to sleep. In truth, she felt anything but sleepy, as tumultuous emotions crowded her thoughts.
She never would have imagined a week ago that she would care about anything as much as she cared about her father and his work. But she did. Her whole life had been turned upside down by a gallant knight who had charged into her life on the back of a white horse.
It was the making of a perfect fairy tale. But the pain that tightened her chest and brought the sting of tears to her eyes felt anything but perfect. Siobhan squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the tears that threatened. They had needed each other to find the Templar treasure and locate the Spear of Destiny. But now that he had the artifact, he didn’t need her anymore. He’d proved that with his change in plans to rescue her father.
Or had he changed his plans? They had never truly discussed what would happen after they found the Spear. She had assumed they would leave for her father right away. Every moment he remained in that madman’s hands…
Siobhan remained curled against the wooden hull for what seemed like ages, until the soft sound of William’s steady breathing came to her. He was finally asleep. She sat up and peered out of the boat.
William sat no more than ten paces away, with his back against one of the jeweled chests. His eyes were closed and the sounds of his slow, steady breathing remained unchanged. Carefully, she slipped out of the ship. Her bare feet made no sound as they hit the ground. She stopped, not daring to move or breathe until she knew he still slept.
He didn’t stir, except to release a deep and untroubled breath. How different he looked while asleep. Gone were the lines of worry that creased his brow, and his firm jaw had relaxed. The thick golden crescents of his lashes lay like fallen wings on his cheeks, and his hair, swept back from his forehead, looked like silken gold threads that were as much a part of the treasure as anything else in the room.
Her gaze wandered lower, to the sheer physical beauty that was William Keith. He was bare except for the braies, which covered his groin, and cast in the golden glow from the lit urns.
Dozens of scars, both fine and wide, threaded the surface of his arms and chest. The scar he’d acquired recently looked slightly redder and shinier than the others that rippled across the hard surface of his flesh. His ribs, belly and thighs also bore telltale signs of a hard, sometimes brutal life.
What right had she to cause him even more pain? Going against de la Roche without an army would most definitely gain this man even more scars on his body and on his soul. He’d shared with her the pain of his failures, and she had cast them aside with thoughts of herself and her father’s needs.
Siobhan bit her lip to keep herself from crying out, so great was her remorse. She didn’t want to cause him any more pain. But she also needed to save her father.
If she left tonight on her own, taking the Spear with her, it would indeed hurt William, but not in a physical way. Perhaps in time, he would forgive her. She drew a deep, painful breath. It was better this way.
Moving quietly so as not to disturb him, she slipped toward the back wall. She hesitated, her hand outstretched before the Spear. Did it hold special powers? If she touched it, would it somehow change who she was or what she wanted?
She swallowed roughly as she grasped the wooden shaft, and waited. No frisson of power came to her, nor did anything shift in her mood or outlook. Nothing happened at all.
She drew the Spear to her and silently headed for the entrance of the chamber. At the edge of the waterfall, she cast a quick glance behind her. William remained asleep. Nothing had changed inside her when she touched the Spear, but
this man’s presence had changed so many things.
Never had her heart beaten so wildly out of control at anyone’s approach or at the sound of anyone’s voice as it had with William. Her very bones seemed to melt at his slightest touch. All these things had happened with shocking intensity from the first moment they had met. She could no longer deny she was completely, painfully and utterly in love with him. It was a sweet pain that she would endure for the rest of her days. Because once she left here, she would endure them alone. Her deception would see to that.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then plunged into the back side of the pulsing waterfall. Without William’s help, it was more difficult to navigate through the waterfall and then the pool beyond, but she managed to pull herself up on the opposite bank. She quickly dressed in the clothes they’d left, then patted the pocket of her gown to make certain the scroll remained safe. Reassured, she headed for wooden plank they’d crossed last night.
It took all her strength to climb the ramp, then hoist herself up the lip of the ledge she had almost tumbled over. Finally, tired and grateful she’d managed the feat alone, Siobhan paused in the long hallway that led back to the main cave.
“Good-bye, William,” she whispered. Firmly clutching the Spear, she ran down the hallway, past the paintings, up the stairs they’d uncovered, past the pillars and statues of Templar knights. She kept on running through the cave and out of the opening in the mountainside, before she was forced to slow her pace by the treacherous, rocky path.
The first hint of morning light filtered across the land, illuminating everything in shades of pink and gray. Siobhan reached a small band of trees and bracken that lay just ahead of where they’d left Lucius, when she heard footsteps coming quickly behind her. She took a deep breath and prepared to confront William.
She turned. It wasn’t William who skidded to a halt behind her. It wasn’t William who wrenched her into his arms, forcing her to drop the Spear. It wasn’t William who clamped a brutal hand over her mouth to stifle her scream.
Siobhan. William sat up, instantly sensing something was wrong. He shot to his feet, his hand on his sword, and searched frantically about the chamber. The boat was empty. Siobhan was nowhere is sight. The Spear was gone.
She’d left on her own with a weapon she had no idea how to control. The power of the Spear was great. To one so innocent, it might also prove deadly. And if de la Roche came upon her before William could intercept her…“God in Heaven,” he groaned. He had to find her—fast.
William grabbed his sword and Excalibur before he ran to the waterfall. He moved through the barrier as if no water could hold him back. Nothing would keep him from finding Siobhan and containing the power of the Spear. Some legends claimed that it gave men power in battle. Others spoke of how it took over one’s mind, sending the owner in search of a constant flow of blood.
He ran through the pool on the other side, sweeping his garments up as he continued to run. At the ramp that led up the ledge he stopped and hastily donned his clothing, mail and boots. It wouldn’t help Siobhan if he wasn’t prepared for whatever might await them. When his armor was fully in place and his sword strapped to his side, he ran up the ramp and through the hallway, not bothering to conceal the stairs once more. He raced out of the cave and into the early-morning light.
As he ran, he replayed her impassioned speech from last night over in his mind. He was entirely to blame for her leaving this way. If only he’d taken the time to discuss his plans for rescuing her father more fully. Instead, he’d allowed his pride to get the better of him. When would he ever learn to overcome his pride? He should never have let her stew. He should never have done a lot of things where Siobhan was concerned, like staring into her bright green eyes, or kissing her, or touching her satin-smooth skin. He’d allowed his own emotions to go too far, needing to connect with her in a way that he’d never connected with a woman before.
There had been other women, and some equally as lovely and seductive as Lady Siobhan Fraser, before he’d taken his vows. And afterward, he had never been tempted. Not once. So what made her different? Why had he tossed aside everything he held dear for her?
He had wanted her so badly, had needed her as he’d never needed another person before in his life. He’d needed her in ways he hadn’t even dared to consider until this very moment.
“Siobhan?”
He listened for a reply, but there was only the sound of the birds twittering high overhead. A prickle of sensation brought up the hair at the back of his neck. He forced his anxiety away. Siobhan was safe. He would reach her and all would be well.
With his heart hammering in his chest, he continued his descent across the steep and rocky terrain. Was it fear that made the beat pound in his ears, or a message from a part of himself that he had denied for too long—a part that he’d kept prisoner since he was a child?
As he reached the trees, he slowed his steps. “Siobhan.” The uneasy feeling he’d tried to ignore crossed the nape of his neck once more. He stared hard into the trees and bracken, searching for any sign of which way she’d gone. The breeze stirred softly around him, rustling the leaves, but he heard nothing else.
His hand fell to his sword, as much for comfort as protection, when he noticed a splash of color on the ground ahead. He raced to it and bent down beside one of Siobhan’s half boots. He clutched the boot in his hand as he spotted the freshly scuffed earth that gave evidence of a struggle.
There was no movement other than the leaves jostling in the trees and the bracken beyond. No sound other than the breeze. Glittering slivers of sunlight illuminated the forest beyond.
William felt as though someone had slammed him in the chest with his own sword. Someone had captured Siobhan. The question was, who?
The thought of Siobhan in the hands of someone, quite possibly de la Roche, made him physically ill. He wanted to hit someone, to yell and rage and slam his fist against a rock. What was she going through right now? She must be wild with fear.
William tried to get control of himself. He wouldn’t be any help to Siobhan if he didn’t. He had to be calm. He had to think clearly. He had to find her. If de la Roche had found her…If he did anything to Siobhan…
Nay, he could not consider the possibility. He would find her. He had to.
And he knew just where to locate someone who would help him.
The Spear fell from Siobhan’s hand. In only a matter of moments, she’d lost her one bargaining tool. She had no time to scream before the stranger removed his hand and stuffed a length of foul-smelling linen into her mouth. He tied the mass securely behind her head. The need to gag overwhelmed her, but she pushed it aside and lashed out against her attacker. He might have silenced her, but he had not won the battle.
He retrieved the weapon with his free hand, and Siobhan knew a moment’s despair. How easily she had fallen into this trap. William wouldn’t have succumbed to anyone or anything, especially with the Spear in his possession.
She kicked and writhed, desperate to find a way to freedom despite the heavy arm clamped around her waist dragging her backward into the woods. Who was this man? A rogue Highlander? One of de la Roche’s men?
The tall, muscular young man who pinned her to him grinned down at her. “Quit fighting me and this will go a lot easier for you,” he said in a thick French accent.
She dug her fingernails into the viselike grip that held her until she drew blood. The man grunted, then brought the hand holding the Spear down against the side of her head. The staff of the Spear connected with her skull.
The impact sent her senses reeling. Black edged her vision. She drew several short, sharp breaths through her nose, trying desperately to stay conscious. She tripped over a rock. The hard edge scraped against her leg, her ankle, and pulled the boot from her foot.
Without missing a beat, the arm about her waist hauled her to her feet and propelled her into the woods toward a waiting horse.
&
nbsp; The Frenchman tossed her onto the animal’s back, then mounted behind her. Instead of heading back toward the first waterfall that she and William had discovered, the man rode to the south, deeper into the Cairngorms’s steep and rocky terrain.
At their rapid pace, Siobhan could do nothing but grasp at the horse’s mane and hold on. Her captor seemed unimpressed by the steep cliff off to their left and the loose path beneath the horse’s feet as he encouraged his mount to greater speed. Siobhan turned away from the steep ledge, which only brought a sharp chuckle from the man behind her.
“If you are frightened by the cliff, then you best faint now before my lord gets his hands you.”
Fear roiled in Siobhan’s stomach, but she lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze.
“You’re a cheeky one, I can tell by the fire in your eyes.” His grin was little more than a dark, evil slash. “De la Roche will like that even better. He likes nothing more than to break your kind.”
She dropped her gaze so that he couldn’t read her emotions. De la Roche. She didn’t know if the name brought more a sense of relief or fear. At least she was on her way to her father. And the Spear, while not in her control, was still with her. She would have to find a way to use it to her advantage when they arrived.
A shiver of apprehension moved through her. She knew who had abducted her. She also knew why. Where they were going remained a mystery, except that her father would most likely be there as well. If he still lived. She thrust the thought away without further consideration.
What de la Roche intended to do with her once they arrived at their destination was something she didn’t dare contemplate.
Chapter Nineteen
William didn’t stop to think about what he was doing. He ran through the woods to where he’d bound Lucius.
At his approach, Lucius straightened. “You came back.”
Without breaking his stride, William reached for his sword.
Lucius’s eyes flew wide. “Nay! William, stop. I’ve changed—”
To Tempt a Knight Page 16
