His Conquest

by Diana Cosby

  “I am going as well,” Duncan said.

  Seathan shook his head. “I need not your help.”

  Alexander walked to stand at his brother’s side. “You will have our help anyway. Lady Linet’s treachery affects us all.”

  Seathan wanted to speak with her alone first. But with anger fueling his emotions, mayhap his brothers’ presence would offer her a measure of safety.

  “So be it.” Seathan exited the chamber with his brothers.

  “Where is she?” Duncan asked as he strode down the corridor at his side.

  “Most likely asleep,” Alexander replied, a step away, and with Nichola on his heels.

  “Nay, she is awake,” Seathan said, fury stroking him with every step. He rounded the corner, then stormed up the tower steps, Linet’s betrayal cutting deep.

  Sunlight poured through the tower window above like a glistening promise.

  Promise? Nay. Linet had lied to him from the start, her every act planned, carried out with deceptive precision.

  Except now her treacherous charade was over.

  “What are you going to do to her?” Worry trembled through Nichola’s voice from several steps back.

  “Do?” Seathan continued up the steps, the slap of his boots echoing with solemn promise. “That depends on her.” When he asked Linet the truth this time, God help her if she lied.

  At the tower chamber, he unlatched the door and shoved. Handcrafted wood slammed against the wall. Seathan glared around the empty room.

  Alexander halted at his side. “She is not here.”

  “I bloody see that!” The chamber’s pristine condition left Seathan unsettled. The bed’s linen lay taut as if made by a steady hand, the room sparkled as if wiped clean, the air held a slight tang as if scented with newly strewn rushes, and the window stood open, spilling the warmth of the morning sun within. It was as if Linet had not stayed within the chamber last night.

  But she had. He’d seen her, touched her, and had he not thought of Dauid, would have foolishly made love with her.

  Bedamned!

  Nichola stepped past him. Slowly, she walked around the room, stopped at the window, then turned. “She might be within the great room breaking her fast.”

  “She might be.” Instinct warned Seathan otherwise.

  Duncan strode to the bowl containing the halved gemstones and frowned. “Seathan, your moss agate is gone.”

  Unease cut through Seathan as he stared at the empty space where but hours ago the match to the halved gem he wore around his neck had lain.

  “The lass took it,” Alexander stated.

  “Aye,” Duncan agreed.

  A twinkle from the ceiling caught his attention.

  Seathan glared at the fairies painted above, then toward the woven tapestry where mirrorlike images of the fey hid within the patterns.

  Nay, love spells did not exist, his choices carved his future.

  Then he remembered his confrontation with Linet this morning. Relief swept over him. “I know where the lass is,” Seathan said.

  “Where?” his brothers asked in unison.

  “I had a servant move her to another chamber.” A detail he’d forgotten. Neither did he inform them of his earlier visit, nor how he’d almost made love to her. He needed not a reminder of his insanity, especially since she’d proven herself untrustworthy.

  “I still cannot believe it.” Duncan’s almost dazed tone stopped Seathan’s swift exit. His youngest brother lifted the remaining halved gem within his palm, somber light glistened from its deep olive core. Duncan faced Seathan. “It is as Nichola said, ’tis Patrik’s malachite.”

  His youngest brother’s pain echoed in Seathan’s chest, in a place even Linet’s lies couldn’t numb. “The reason for its return must wait. We must find Linet.” He turned and strode to the door. She would tell him the truth or by God he’d cast her into his dungeon until she confessed, Tearlach be damned!

  Heart pounding, Linet pressed against the stable wall, the rough boards digging into her skin. Daylight erased the shadows she desperately needed to slip from Lochshire Castle. She’d planned on stealing a horse to make good her escape. Now, after several delays and with the sun high above, any attempt to leave would ensure her capture. What was she going to do?

  Linet squeezed the halved moss agate within her palm, the soft warmth a soothing balm to her rattled nerves.

  A horse whinnied behind her.

  Linet started. She needed to remain focused on her escape, not think of Seathan. God help her when he discovered her gone.

  She peered toward the tower. The window stood open as if nothing was amiss, as if it were an ordinary day when it was anything but.

  Had anyone noticed she’d left her room? If she chose, she could slip back within the tower chamber. A safer choice with daylight upon her. After a short wait, then she could descend to the great hall and pretend to have overslept. No, that wouldn’t work. Seathan had ordered a servant to come and help move her to anther room.

  A shadow appeared in the tower window.

  Linet froze. Seathan! Even in the distance he looked like an enraged god. Sweet Mary, he’d discovered her gone. If Seathan suspected she was trying to escape, the stable was the first place he’d order searched.

  She scanned the bailey. With the men engrossed in cleaning their swords across the grassy expanse, Linet tucked her hair beneath her gown, pulled her cloak tight. She kept her head averted and walked at a pace that would not draw their attention. Nervousness rippled through her with every step, but thankfully, she made it to the side of the building nearer the exit.

  The echo of hooves sounded. A group of knights cantered in from beneath the gatehouse. Several warriors cleaning their swords glanced toward the men at the entrance before returning to their task. Two guards strode toward the exit, paused, facing the opening and continued to talk.

  They blocked any chance of escape!

  She scanned the bailey. Sunlight saturated the brilliant blue sky. It would be foolish to try to leave Lochshire Castle now. Her only hope was to hide until this night, and pray that Seathan failed to find her.

  On the far side of the bailey, children swung their carved swords in mock games of battle as their mothers washed clothes nearby in wooden tubs. A smith patiently heating a rod of iron within a fire stood waiting until it glowed. In the outer bailey, knights sparred with aggressive determination.

  It was all too heartbreakingly familiar. Over the years she’d witnessed similar activities within Breac Castle. Except now, each task was not only a daily routine, but a preparation for war. The knights honing their skills, the smith crafting a weapon to kill, and the children practicing for the reality they would one day face. Heart heavy, Linet slipped into the building before her.

  The thick oak door, secured against quarried walls, softly moaned as she pushed it open. She stepped inside, shoved it closed, welcoming the shield of blackness.

  No, not blackness.

  As her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim interior, candles flickered before her. The unmistakable scent of beeswax tinged with the hint of frankincense and myrrh filled each breath. Curious, she stepped forward, took in the flagstone upon the floor sprinkled with fresh rushes. She’d entered the chapel.

  Melancholy touched her. Once she’d believed she’d find hope within sacred walls. After her father’s death, Fulke had allowed her to believe that she would be able to choose her path of life. Lies, naught but mistruths concocted to serve his cause. If her brother thought to wed her to the Earl of Fallon to strengthen his royal ties, he could go to Hades.

  Guards’ voices echoed from outside; grew closer.

  Heart pounding, she whirled toward the entry. They were coming in. She had to hide!

  Guided by candlelight, she bolted down the aisle, skirting the thick wooden benches. Frantic, she glanced up, found thick beams securing the ceiling above. If only she had a rope to climb, a chest to crawl into, something, anything.

  The door was s
hoved open.

  Linet dove beneath a solid wood bench and held her breath.

  Footsteps slapped the sacred ground. “A woman entered moments ago?” Seathan’s ominous demand echoed throughout the chapel.

  Fear tore through her. She pressed herself against the earthen floor, her entire body trembling. Oh please God, let him not find her!

  “I am not sure, my lord,” a guard outside said. “I saw a lass near the chapel. For a moment, I looked away. When I turned back, she was gone.”

  Fear crowding her every thought, Linet prayed he’d leave. If Seathan came farther inside, bent down, he would see her. Should she stand and give herself away?

  Seathan walked past her row, stilled.

  Sweat slicked her brow.

  “What color was her hair?” Seathan asked.

  “I but caught a brief look at her face, my lord, and I cannot say.”

  But Seathan knew—a luxurious amber-gold, hair that felt like silk a man could touch forever. “Join the others,” he ordered, letting his eyes adjust to the dim, candlelit interior. “I will finish searching here.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Quick steps echoed within the chapel as the knight hurried away. The door thudded closed. Silence, thick, harsh, and unforgiving filled the void.

  Hands on his hips, Seathan scoured the darkened chamber. Soft candlelight outlined the sturdy pews. Unbidden, the fragrance of frankincense and myrrh drew his memories back to his youth. To the time he’d prayed as they’d laid his father deep within the earth, to the angry words between him and his father before he’d died, and a wrong he could never apologize for, a wrong he would forever regret.

  Throat dry, he forced the memories back along with any softness for the woman who deserved his wrath.

  “Linet?” His voice boomed into the fragile silence. He scoured the play of flickering light in search of any sign, any shadow exposing her. “I know you are here.”

  His men’s voices echoed from the bailey. He heard Duncan calling to Alexander from farther away.

  “You think I do not know you are hiding within the chapel?”

  Nothing.

  With methodical precision, he took in every curve, each slope of the bench. Though the chapel remained silent, he sensed her presence.

  He took another step forward. “You will regret trying to escape.”

  A rustle of clothing sounded to his left. Then, a darkened image crawled from beneath a pew. He caught the outline of her slender form, a body he’d burned for.

  He stepped forward, severing any avenue of escape. “Do not try to run.”

  Linet stood, faced him, the wash of pale candlelight upon her at odds with the challenge etched on her face. “Run? I came here to pray.”

  Outrage that she dared lie to him poured through his soul. “Is that what you call hiding beneath the pew?”

  At her challenging silence, he stormed over, caught her, and hauled her to him. “I am tired of your lies.”

  Her eyes widened. “I—”

  He leaned to within a hand’s width of her face, close enough to smell her woman’s scent, near enough to have claimed her mouth. In that moment, he hated her for the way she made him feel. Confused. Aroused. Angry.

  “Tell me,” he hissed, “when were you going to let me know your brother was the Viscount of Tearlach?”

  Chapter 12

  He knew! With his hand locking her against his solid frame, Linet stared at Seathan, riveted by his fury, terrified at the outrage in his eyes. Her entire body shook as her mind scraped for words to temper his rage.

  Tell him the truth, a voice whispered in her mind.

  A hysterical laugh swirled in her throat. As if explaining that she’d freed him to take revenge against her brother would pacify this enraged Scot?

  A muscle tightened in Seathan’s jaw. “You were not going to tell me.”

  “Had I told you Fulke was my brother,” she said, amazed at how calm her voice sounded, “you never would have accepted my help.”

  A muscle tightened in his jaw. “Tell me exactly, my lady, how you helped me?”

  “I freed you.”

  “Freed me? Nay, you released me from your brother’s cell but always stayed by my side, leaving me far from free.” He leaned within a hand’s breath from her face. “Tell me, did you and your bastard brother raise a toast after you devised this twisted plot?”

  She ignored his sarcasm. Under the circumstance, she expected his suspicions. But after all she and Seathan had endured, that he believed her in league with Fulke hurt the most.

  Linet shook her head. “There is no plan. As I told you, I despise my brother.”

  “You are so convincing, but then, any liar worth their coin twists words to convince, spews them with the expertise of a seasoned bard. Tell me,” he seethed, “how much were you paid, or rather, what were you promised for your role in this depraved scheme?”

  Anger, pure and sharp, pierced her. Before she realized her intent, her hand shot out.

  His head jerked; the angry slap upon his cheek echoed between them.

  Trembling, she let her hand fall to her side. The slash of red sweeping across his skin made her nauseous. His hold on her tightened. Never before had she reacted with violence, but then, never before had she been in love. “How dare you offer such an insult!”

  “And how dare you infiltrate my home, act the innocent to gain information of rebel plans and hideouts in order to pass them back to the English.”

  Hurt didn’t begin to describe the pain of his accusation. “You believe me a spy?” Her words shook with emotion.

  “A spy? My lady,” he said with cold precision. “Do you forget that you live in Breac Castle? Or mayhap that your brother, the Viscount of Tearlach, has sworn fealty to King Edward?” Green eyes flashed with fury. “Nay, I believe your memory is clear, as is your intent.”

  She fought to keep the angry, frustrated tears from her eyes and jerked against his grip. “You may dismiss the fact that I am half Scottish, and the fact I have vowed never to return to Breac Castle, but damn you, you will listen to what I have to say!”

  He arched a dismissive brow, irritating her further.

  Linet angled her jaw. “I would never betray you, ever. You want the truth, fine. I released you as pay-back to my brother.” When his eyes narrowed, her explanation tumbled out, the memories spilling through her mind with painful clarity.

  “Growing up, my father promised me my choice of a husband when I came of age, except he died and Fulke became my guardian. He had been away on campaign serving King Edward, but upon our father’s demise, he returned. I owed my brother’s detachment during his stay to grief, to the pain of losing our father.”

  At his silence, she rushed on. “I was inconsolable, but Fulke assured me naught would change, and that in Breac Castle I would always find a home. Grieving, I clung to his words, believing them true, or…perhaps”—she shrugged—“I wished them so. Regardless, my brother requested that I oversee the running of our ancestral home. In return, he swore he would honor our father’s promise that I would marry the man of my choosing, and on my wedding day, I would receive a generous dowry.” The painful memories faded beneath the harsh slap of reality. “And fool that I was, I believed him until the day he betrothed me to the Earl of Fallon, a man known for his abuse, to strengthen his ties.”

  Seconds passed, each one drowning in deafening silence as Seathan studied her. He gave a slight nod. “A finely woven tale. Indeed, a few bits might hold truth.”

  Cur! She fought to break from his hold. “Release me.”

  “Your freedom, you lost with your deceit.” He tugged her toward the chapel door.

  Fear, cold and vile, cut through her. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “Do?” He turned. Candlelight strafed the hard planes of his face, carved shadows of dark intent. “’Tis unwise to give the enemy the advantage of knowledge.”

  “After everything we have been through,” she whispered, “the risks
I have taken to save your life, tell me, do I look like the enemy?”

  “Yes.”

  As if a sword had sliced through her heart, her body went numb. If he had wanted to hurt her, he could not have done a finer job. She looked away, not wanting him to see her tears, or to expose any sign of the horrible, heartbreaking truth.

  She loved him.

  If he learned of her feelings, then he would hold the ultimate weapon.

  Seathan caught her shoulder, turned her to face him, his hard gaze unnerving her further. “Tell me, my lady, how far would you have gone, what would you have sacrificed to have gained the coveted rebel information for the English?”

  “I detest you!”

  His eyes lowered to her mouth, then flicked to meet hers. Male satisfaction settled on his face. “I think not.” He slid his thumb over her lower lip in a slow caress. “If I wanted, I could take you here, now, and you would let me.”

  She stiffened, furious to feel the heat only he inspired. Ashamed, humiliated that even after he believed her Fulke’s pawn, she could want him, Linet closed her eyes. She wished they’d left, that he was now locking her within his dungeon. At least then she would be safe from him.

  “Open your eyes.”

  His rough demand rumbled through her. For a moment she refused, then as if he’d cast a spell over her, with aching slowness, she complied.

  Seathan leaned toward her.

  “No!”

  His mouth covered hers, hard, hungry, demanding her response. “Open for me,” he commanded and took the kiss deeper, drawing her flush against him, the hardness of his body making it clear that as much as he despised her, he wanted her as well.

  Her mind swam with confusion as warmth coursed through her. She struggled to break free; a war waged and lost.

  With a half cry, she accepted him, hating her weakness when it came to Seathan, damning the way he made her feel, wanting his touch and, shamefully, more. And his mouth, Mother Mary, his glorious mouth edged its way across the outline of her jaw as his fingers skimmed over her skin, lingering against the curve of her cape to where sensitized flesh lay beneath. A shudder of need tore through her.