Siobhan eyed him frantically. “Don’t hurt—” Marcus strode toward her and struck her brow with his hilt. Pain exploded in her head. Marcus’s arms gripped her as her knees buckled and darkness consumed her.
Chapter Twenty
Siobhan woke up to pain in her arms. Her heavy eyelids struggled open. William gazed at her from across a short distance. His hands were bound together and he was suspended from a rope as she was, hanging over a deep open pit with sharp metallic spikes at the bottom. Above them were several beams of stout wood that made up the flooring for the room abovestairs.
A surge of panic shot through her. “Where are we?” she asked, pulling against her bindings.
“Don’t struggle,” he said calmly. “The men partially cut our ropes. If we move much, we’ll fall.”
The chamber was lit by a single torch set against the wall near the stairs. They were alone except for the scurrying sounds beneath them—almost certainly rodents.
Siobhan became chillingly aware of the dank earth that surrounded them, the scents of decay and death. She swallowed roughly. “A dungeon?” she asked.
“It would seem so.”
“William, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean for any—”
“Stop,” he said gently. “I will accept your apology when we get out of here. Until then—” He stopped speaking at the sound of a latch moving across the door.
De la Roche entered, clutching the Spear. A lanky older man followed him, then Marcus. “You’re awake.”
“I suppose it’s foolish to ask why we’re here,” William asked.
“Very,” de la Roche replied with a slight smile.
The older man stood next to de la Roche’s side, while Marcus moved across the chamber and drew a bolt onto the crossbow he carried in his hands. He aimed the weapon at William.
“You wanted a trade.” Siobhan kept her features neutral. She was so scared, she was sick to her stomach, but she wouldn’t let de la Roche know that. “You have the Spear. Release us.”
“You expected a trade, milady. I gave you no such guarantee.” His smile faded. “I’ll give you both the end you deserve.”
“You’re going to kill us?” Siobhan asked.
“Not I.” De la Roche waved at the man beside him. The older gentleman set a leather satchel he carried upon the ground at the edge of the deep pit they both dangled over. He flipped the bag open and uncoiled a long leather strap. He coiled the whip around his hand, then let it fly at William’s face. The leather struck his cheek. William tensed but did not cry out. A red welt marred his flesh. The man lashed out at William several more times until his lip was split, his cheek and eye swelling.
William took the blows in silence. Each flick of the whip met with hard muscle. The tension in William’s body pulled against the rope. Slowly, the frayed cord unraveled, leaving less and less of it to bear the warrior’s weight.
“Don’t hurt him,” Siobhan cried out, unable to watch the abuse any longer.
“Tell me where the treasure is.”
“Where is my father?”
“He lives,” de la Roche said. “But not for much longer if you do not tell me where that treasure is located.”
“If I tell you, will you release us?”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps no matter what you do, you’ll end up pierced clear through by the stakes that line the bottom of that pit. The rats will feast upon you.” De la Roche smiled. “Seems a fitting end for you, Keith. Too bad for you, Lady Siobhan, for getting involved with this Templar. Now you must die as well. That is, unless you tell me what I want to know.”
“Nay, Siobhan.” William’s voice was icy and sharp. “He will kill us no matter what we tell him.”
De la Roche frowned. “So little faith…”
“In you. Aye,” William ground out as the whip bit into the flesh of his arms, his neck.
Pain contorted his face as he suffered silently. Siobhan knew he would take it all into himself rather than let de la Roche experience any sort of pleasure from his torment.
“Does it bother you to watch him suffer?” de la Roche asked, no doubt picking up on the horror and fear she failed to disguise.
“Yes. Please. Stop.” The whip fell still, and Siobhan heaved a relieved breath.
De la Roche nodded to the older man, who coiled his leather strap. “Good. Because it was never my intention to torture William in such a way.”
The old man sent the whip flying. The strip connected with Siobhan’s back. She released a startled cry and arched against the pain. The rope partially gave, and she slipped closer to the opening of the pit.
A snicker echoed about the small chamber. “It was always my intention to make this Templar watch while I tortured you. Now that he knows the pain you’ll endure with each stroke, my own satisfaction will increase tenfold.”
Siobhan couldn’t speak. Her throat was locked in terror as she stared into de la Roche’s pale blue eyes. He nodded his head. “Whenever you are ready, Lemar.” The older man let the whip fly. He struck her again and again. Siobhan bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.
“Cease!” William’s roar filled the chamber.
De la Roche’s lips thinned. “Then tell me where the treasure is hidden.”
“Why?” William asked. “You won’t let us live anyway.”
“No.” A flicker of disgust passed over his face. “But you might save yourself some suffering.”
The Frenchman reached up to Siobhan’s rope with the Spear and poked at what remained of the fiber with the weapon. Several more strands gave way.
The rope jerked above her. Siobhan gasped. She glanced up. Only one section of rope remained whole. She closed her eyes. Regardless of everything she and William had already suffered, they were going to die.
Agony tore through William as he watched de la Roche’s henchman strike Siobhan’s back, her shoulder, her neck. He took each strike into himself, feeling her pain. Rage burned in his chest as he watched the rope stretch as a result of the abuse the older man inflicted upon her.
His own rope continually unraveled beneath his body’s tension. Only a few more strands remained between him and certain death. His arms and shoulders were numb. Yet the places where the whip had ripped his flesh burned.
Icy fury consumed him. William forced himself to breathe. Siobhan might be in pain, but she was not dead. He forced his gaze away from the abuse. He had to think. He had to stay in control. Only then could he reason a way out of this trap.
He concentrated on the younger man, Marcus, on the opposite side of the pit. The crossbow remained aimed at William’s chest, but the warrior was transfixed by what was happening to Siobhan.
William felt his pulse pound in his jaw. If he did nothing, de la Roche would prevail. Damnation! It wasn’t right for de la Roche to succeed after all that they’d gone through to defeat him. He closed his eyes for a simple, desperate prayer, then opened them once again.
William coiled his body, bringing his legs to his chest, and shifted his weight in one heaving motion. He heard the rope snap and the floorboard crack as he flung himself to the side of the pit.
He hit the ground, and hot blinding pain stabbed through his shoulder. In the space of a heartbeat, William grasped Marcus’s ankles with his bound wrists and twisted him to the left. The crossbow fired.
Using what he could of his hands and his legs, William pulled Marcus to the ground. He brought his elbow up into the young man’s nose. Marcus collapsed as a cry of pain rent the air. The bolt hit its target. The old man dropped the whip, midstrike. He crumpled to his knees, clutching the bolt in his chest.
De la Roche roared and surged toward William.
Siobhan screamed.
The sound of her rope snapping filled the chamber. Sheer terror tore through William. He reached down with numb fingers and plucked the dagger from his boot, quickly slashed through the ropes at his wrists, then sent the dagger flying across the pit to imbed itself in de la Roche’s thigh. The man dropped
to his knees with a howl of pain.
As though in a slowed stream of action, Siobhan fell. William got to his feet. He took a step toward her, then another.
The pit gaped wide below. He snatched the whip from the older man’s fist and sent the leather flying. With a smack the leather connected with Siobhan’s waist. “Grab on!” Her bound hands reached out. Connected.
Her weight and the momentum of her fall propelled them together toward the pit. “Let me go, William. Save yourself.”
“Hold tight. Hold on,” he chanted over and over. He jerked the rope, hard.
With a mighty heave, William pulled her back to the surface. She scrambled onto the ground, trembling. Tears filled her eyes. “That’s the third time—William!” Her eyes focused behind him, wide with terror.
He twisted. His hands came up. With his forearm, he blocked the blow de la Roche aimed at his chest with the Spear. William brought his fist up and connected with the man’s chin. De la Roche staggered backward and shook his head, then took several more steps back, toward the stairs. “Let’s see how you fare against my troops, Templar!” de la Roche snarled as he fled to the main level of the broch.
“My lord,” the younger man called after de la Roche. The Frenchman paid him no heed. Marcus staggered to his feet. Blood streamed down his chin and onto his chest from the blow William had planted against his nose. The young man’s legs buckled and he collapsed back against the ground in a faint.
William knelt beside Siobhan. He grasped the dagger de la Roche had removed from his thigh and tossed to the ground. He sliced the rope at Siobhan’s wrists. “Are you well?” He gave the dagger to her.
“Scared, but whole.” She grasped the dagger in her right hand. “This is all my fault. If I’d only listened to you, you never would’ve been endangered. Why didn’t you stay where you’d be safe? Why did you come after me?”
“Hush.” His finger touched her lips, silencing her.
“How could I stay away when I knew you were in trouble? We’re in this together. But it’s not over yet. Can you stand?”
She nodded. “We have to get out of here.”
He helped her to her feet, then moved back to where Marcus lay on the ground. William seized the sword from the downed man’s scabbard, pleased to see that it was William’s own. The man had taken it when William was unconscious.
“Ready?” he asked when he returned to Siobhan’s side. “We’ll have to fight our way out of here.”
She nodded. “We have to find my father.”
“We’ll find him, Siobhan. We will.” With his sword at the ready, he made his way up the stairs. Siobhan matched him step for step. She wore one half boot. Her clothes were slashed, and blood showed through. He knew she had to be in pain, tired and terrified of what lay ahead for them. And yet she refused to give up.
Admiration tightened his throat as they made their way up the steps. At the top he paused and turned to her. “Let’s do this together.”
She nodded.
Together they burst through the doorway.
They paused in the doorway side by side as the main floor of the broch filled with de la Roche’s men. “Take my sword. Remember what I taught you.” He took the small dagger from her fingers and pressed the hilt of his sword into her hand.
“You’ll fight with only a dagger?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice, to remain calm. Inside she quaked. Forty men stood before them.
“Trust me,” he said calmly, tucking the dagger into his boot.
She clamped her fingers around the hilt of his sword. Her heart raced. “I trust you.”
In a blur of motion, William shot forward. He grasped the man in front of him by the throat and tossed him backward so hard he took four other men with him when he fell. A heartbeat later, William had pulled two swords free from the men’s hands and set upon the others.
“Stay behind me, lass,” he called out as all the men in the room rushed forward. A broadsword came crashing down, slashing in an arc close to William’s head. Siobhan’s shriek alerted him to the danger. He easily spun away, but into the path of yet another challenger. The steel of the blade barely missed his neck and shoulder, slicing harmlessly through the air. William kicked the man in the stomach and sent him back into the fray.
Two warriors made it through the melee and closed in on Siobhan. Their eyes told her they had more than combat in mind if they caught her. She raised William’s sword. One man lunged. She brought the heavy sword down, yet kept it close to her body as William had taught her. When her attacker left himself open with the swing of his blade, she brought her weapon back up and clipped the man in the chin. He roared and fell back through the open doorway.
The other man charged, his sword at the ready. Siobhan prepared for the impact. As he rushed forward, she easily stepped aside, then brought the edge of the blade down against his back. He collapsed at her feet.
She stepped over the man and the trail of bodies William had left in his wake. Her heart thundered in her chest. They were halfway to the door. The floorboards beneath their feet groaned.
William dispatched one warrior with the sword in his right hand, then struck another with the sword in his left. His strokes were swift and clean. The men before them charged. William struck out. He sliced the ear off one man and hit another in the neck. The first man roared in pain and fell back, while the second man’s eyes widened, his fingers clawing at the hole that was left when William pulled his sword back. He staggered back several paces before he toppled sideways as a sickening hiss and gurgle of air escaped his throat.
They had advanced to the center of the room. Twenty or more men still blocked their exit, pressing in on all sides. She twisted around, positioning her back to William’s. They would never make it. Not this time.
The cracking of wood broke through the clang of steel that echoed in the chamber. Siobhan turned to William. He glanced back at her. In his eyes she saw a plea to once again trust him as he fended off one attacker with one sword and struck the floorboards with the other.
Another crack sounded, this one more ominous than the last. He struck the floor hard once more. A terrifying groan filled the space. For a heartbeat, the men ceased their fighting and confusion settled over their faces.
William reached back, grasped her by the hand and hauled her with him to the door just as the center of the room dipped. Two of the floorboards cracked. The floor suddenly sloped down. The men scrambled to follow them to the door. The floor fell away, and the men along with it.
She and William burst through the door into the night air, the roars of fear and deep-chested cries of outrage echoing behind them. Hoofbeats sounded off to their right, and they could barely discern the shadow of a horse and rider fleeing in the distance.
De la Roche.
“This way,” he said, racing for the horse he had left hidden in a grove of trees up the bank from the shore. He tossed his borrowed swords on the ground and untied Ares’ reins from the bushes.
When he returned to Siobhan, she handed him his own sword. “This is better in your hands than mine.”
He accepted the weapon and returned it to his scabbard. “I don’t know about that. You did well.” He mounted behind her, tucked her safely in his arms, and with a jerk of the reins, set off in rapid pursuit into the dark, mottled shadows of the night.
Ares flew across the terrain. The sound of hoofbeats echoed in the night ahead of them, and although they could not see de la Roche clearly, they could hear him.
“Where’s he headed?” Siobhan asked.
“Most likely to wherever the other half of his troops are located.”
“Do you think my father will be there?” Siobhan’s voice was serious but steady. Truly a surprise, for all they’d just lived through.
“Aye.”
“Make this horse go faster.”
He put his heels to Ares’ sides, encouraging him to greater speeds. “Is there anything I can say that will dissuade you from coming along
with me? I could send you back to the monastery. Lucius is gathering men to fight. You’d be safe there.”
“Would I?” she called out as the wind whipped her hair about her face. “It’s obvious de la Roche wants not only the Spear, but the entire treasure. He’ll do anything to get what he wants.”
William frowned into the darkness ahead. He had considered the possibility that separating the two of them was exactly what the Frenchman hoped for. He could get Simon to watch over Siobhan while he followed de la Roche, but he knew he’d still be frantic with worry all the time she was out of his sight.
“I’m going with you,” she said as though reading his thoughts.
“We started this adventure together. Let’s end it that way, too.” He tightened his grip on her. He had no right to dissuade her from finding her father. He knew how important it was to her. He could only try and protect her from any more harm.
Chapter Twenty-one
William could tell by the untamed breeze that they were nearing the coastline once more. The air smelled wet, and oddly sweet. A familiar scent? He wasn’t certain why.
He scanned the ghostly scenery of trees and rocky outcroppings as they flew past on horseback. His mind wandered, remembering the courage in Siobhan’s soulful green eyes as the leather whip had sliced into her flesh and as they fought together in an attempt at freedom.
She hadn’t blamed him for her torture. Instead she’d tried to apologize for something his stubbornness had forced her to do. “Siobhan?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“You are not to blame for what happened back there.”
She tensed. “The Spear is in that evil man’s possession because of me. I was so desperate to help my father, I never fully considered what would happen as a result of my actions. I wouldn’t blame you if you no longer wished to help me. I betrayed you.”
“We can’t change what has happened. I admit I was upset when I woke and found you gone. That you had gone off alone hurt me more than that you’d taken the Spear.”
To Tempt a Knight Page 18
