Jordan moved past the Great Hall quietly, hoping Evan had retired for the night, and toward the large double doors of the castle. She opened the door, pausing to gaze out at the sheets of rain pelting the earth. The storm had arrived so quickly.
“A very nasty night for a stroll, wouldn’t you say?”
Jordan whirled to find Evan standing behind her. Fear gripped her in its taloned fist. For a moment, she couldn’t say anything.
“Tell me why you find it necessary to go out in this horrible weather.”
Jordan straightened slightly. “I was worried about the children.”
“Always the children, isn’t it?” He shook his head and took hold of her arm, pulling her back into the castle. “They are safe.” He closed the door behind her.
Jordan swallowed hard, watching with growing dread as her escape route was cut off. She pulled against Evan’s hold. “You can’t be sure. I –”
“There is another matter I would speak with you about.”
Jordan’s heart hammered in her chest. She allowed him to lead her into the Great Hall, knowing there was no escape.
Evan led her to the hearth. The dancing firelight flickered over her body, but she felt none of its warmth. Evan released her and leaned his arm against the mantel, staring into the fire for a long moment. He reached in and picked up a stick burning on one end. “The prisoners have escaped,” he said quietly.
Jordan waited for the accusations to come, waited for his rage to surface.
“They had an accomplice.”
Was he mocking her? Testing her? “Evan,” she said, taking a step forward. “Why have you felt the need to lie to me all these ten years?” She had to take the opportunity to go on the offensive before he did.
“Lie?” he asked, turning to her. His eyes were strangely alight.
“The letters...” she began.
He rolled his eyes. “We went through all that before.”
“But you never gave me a real answer. Why didn’t you take them to Fox? Why weren’t they sent to the king? They should have known –”
“Known what?” he demanded, stepping toward her with the glowing stick clenched in his hand. “That you were a murderer?”
Jordan gasped. “You read them!”
Evan began to pace. “That you should have been stripped of your title, your lands?” He stopped suddenly. “Never.” He tossed the stick back into the fire. He stared into the fire for a long moment. “Don’t you see, Jordan? I was protecting you. I couldn’t marry some commoner. Some peasant woman.”
“How dare you make that choice for me?”
Evan looked over his shoulder at her. “You were emotional. You were incoherent. You were feeling guilty. I couldn’t let you make that choice. The wrong choice.”
“I asked you to deliver the letters for me. I trusted you to do that.” Jordan stepped away from him. “And you lied to me. I didn’t want to believe it, Evan. I didn’t want to think you would do that. How can I marry you now?”
Evan turned to her, straightening. “You would deny becoming my wife because I didn’t send your letters ten years ago?”
Jordan shook her head. She opened her mouth to reply, but Evan held up his hand.
“Think carefully before you answer,” Evan warned.
Something in his voice was dark and scary.
“The prisoners that escaped... they couldn’t have done it alone. We found some ale the guards drank. It was tainted with some sort of sleeping herb.” Evan lifted his eyes to her. “Do you know what the penalty for aiding criminals is?”
Jordan’s hands clutched together. She swallowed.
“The dungeon,” Evan whispered. “Or possibly death.”
Jordan’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. Death. She lifted her chin slightly.
“You see,” Evan said softly, “even now I protect you.”
“Are you threatening me?” Jordan asked.
“Do I have a reason to threaten you?” Evan wondered.
“Don’t do this, Evan,” Jordan retorted. “You know. You know what happened in the dungeon.”
Evan nodded. “Yes. But no one else needs to know.”
If I marry you, Jordan silently finished the sentence. She had abandoned Fox ten years ago. She would not make that mistake again. She shook her head. “I can’t, Evan,” she said. “I don’t love you.”
Evan’s jaw clenched. He looked at the ceiling, at the hallway, at the Great Hall doors. “I’ve waited for you for ten years.” His fist clenched and unclenched. He took a deep breath. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment before facing her. “I have no doubt the prisoners and the Black Fox will return for vengeance.”
He was acting as though he hadn’t heard her. “Evan –”
Evan’s voice rose to override any interruption from her. “I knew you would be worried about the safety of the children.”
Jordan froze, fear spearing through her body.
“So I took the liberty of seeing them to safety.” He swept his hand toward the door of the Great Hall.
Jordan followed his movement to see all of her children standing forlornly in the doorway of the Great Hall. Two armored guards were standing behind them.
Jordan began to shake. She moved to run to them, but Evan bolted forward, his hand capturing her arm, stilling her movement.
“Again I protect your welfare.”
Jordan pulled her arm free and raced across the Great Hall to her children. “Are you all right? Is everyone all right?’ “ She tried to embrace all of them in a protective hold, but they didn’t fit. She couldn’t hold them all. She couldn’t protect all of them against Evan. She looked into their faces.
They weren’t hurt. Maybe scared, but unharmed.
Jordan pulled Emily into her arms and stood slowly.
“What’s happening, Lady Jordan?” John wondered softly. “Why are we here?”
Jordan turned to face Evan.
A smug, if not somewhat disappointed look washed over his face as he watched the tender scene.
He had her exactly where he wanted.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Fox sat in the darkness staring at the dark silhouette of Castle Vaughn. He had managed to steal a dagger from one of the guards who had carelessly left it on one of the battlements. Fox flipped the dagger in his hand. It wasn’t much aid to him in helping his friends.
He had not taken his gaze from Castle Vaughn. Jordan was there somewhere. What was she doing? Was she looking out into the darkness thinking of him?
The thought sent agony through him. Why had she done it? He couldn’t in his wildest imaginings ever think Jordan would kill anyone, let alone a baron.
He turned his gaze from the castle. All his life had been centered on Vaughn and how his life would end. Now, Fox found his anger and vengeance had been misdirected. He felt lost. He felt confused.
Suddenly, Fox noticed a plume of puffy smoke lifting skyward, visible against the bright moon on the horizon. It was like the smoke from a chimney, but this smoke cloud was much bigger than that. Something was on fire in the distance. It seemed to be coming from Ruvane lands. His eyes widened slightly, an uneasiness gnawing at him.
Fox rose and mounted his horse. He was going to get no sleep tonight. He might as well find out what was burning, and check up on Mary Kate.
As he rode down the road an acrid smell suddenly stung his nostrils. It was faint, but still the very familiar biting smell of smoke. He scanned the surroundings as his horse continued on. Great plumes of black smoke rose into the sky just west of his position, forming dark clouds in the otherwise clear air.
He jerked the horse to a halt, studying the smoke as it billowed upward. The puffs of white against the black night seemed to be coming from the outer reaches of the Ruvane lands. Dread seized Fox’s heart. The cottage. There were no other houses out here.
And then another chilling thought froze his spine. What if Jordan was with the children now? Trapped in some blaze with them?
His gaze dropped to the dirt path before the house. He could make out several sets of tracks. Riders. It looked like a half dozen or so from the hoof prints. He lifted his gaze to the surrounding woods, but the trees were still and the bushes seemed empty. He scanned the area around the house for any sign of a trap.
And saw someone lying near the side of the house.
Jordan! Fox quickly dismounted and raced over to the prone figure, fighting back the queasiness churning in his stomach. As he neared the figure, he saw it was a woman lying in a large puddle of blood. Fox moved to her side, carefully turning her over.
It wasn’t Jordan. It was the old woman who had run the place. Abagail. She groaned softly and opened her eyes.
“Rest easy,” Fox told her.
“The children,” she moaned, clutching her side.
Fox looked down to see her cotton dress was ripped and an ugly, gaping sword wound spurted blood. Fox instantly knew it was a fatal wound; she had lost far too much blood already. He was surprised she was still alive at all. Fox knew all he could do was try to make her comfortable in her last moments.
She grabbed at his shirt with what must have been the last ounce of strength she had left. “He’s taken the children.”
“Who? Who’s taken the children? Who did this?”
“Lady Jordan is in danger,” she gasped, clenching her teeth against the pain.
Fox scowled as her fingers tightened around his tunic.
“You have to get to her.”
“Where is she?” Fox asked. “Is she here?”
“Lord Vaughn...” The old woman paused as she sucked in a deep breath. “He has her.”
“Did he do this?” Fox asked.
Abagail nodded her head, wincing. “You’re the only one who can...” Her voice faded and she jerked her hand from the ground, reaching into the front part of her dress.
Fox watched her for a moment, thinking her heart was hurting her. When she removed her hand from her dress, she held a bundle of papers tied with a neat pink ribbon.
Abagail held the parchment out to Fox. “She loves you so,” she whispered.
Fox took the bundle from her hand, studying it.
Suddenly, Abagail’s eyes rolled back into her head and her last breath released from her body in a soft gush of air.
Fox looked at her for a final moment. Then he set her head down on the ground carefully. He stared at her for another long, sorrowful moment. She had been a good friend of Jordan’s and had done her best to help with the children when she could, and all she had gotten for her troubles was a pointless death at the hands of Evan Vaughn. He lifted his gaze to the burned-out shell of a house, his jaw clenching tight.
Where had Vaughn taken the children? Why had he taken them? Dark and unsettling thoughts filled Fox’s mind. He had an impending sense of doom shrouding his future. Jordan, his men, the children -- all of their lives were in peril.
He clenched his fist and crumbled the bundle of parchment. He looked down at it.
A thin ribbon tied the papers together, a simple pink bow holding the package together. There must have been thirty rolled parchments all bound together. What the devil could they be? Fox wondered. And from whom?
Fox pulled the pink ribbon, opening the stack of parchments, and the documents spilled onto the ground. He picked one up and gazed at the crest stamped in the wax sealing the letter closed.
The Ruvane crest.
Fox stared at the crest for a long time. He glanced at the other letters. All of them were sealed, all unopened. The edges of all of the parchments were crinkling, shriveled and old. They had obviously been sitting somewhere for a long time. Fox grabbed one of the letters and pried open the seal, gently unfurling the old parchment. There was a spider web inside, smeared across the leathery paper, and he dusted it away before reading the letter.
Fox,
I know you will never forgive me for what I have done, for the terrible misfortune I have brought to your family. But I want you to know what happened. Your father has told me not to tell this to anyone, but I must tell you. Please don’t tell him I wrote you this letter.
As you know, your father took most of the visiting lords out hunting that day. He charged me with watching Michael. I love Michael like a brother, you know that, so I gladly agreed. But when you came back from the hunting party early, how could I resist playing hide and seek with you? It is my favorite game! I would have played even if it had not been my favorite.
Michael wanted to play, too. I found the best hiding spot for him -- behind the flour bags in the storage room. You counted and I hid in your horse’s stall. Remember? You found me almost immediately because I couldn’t stop giggling. Then you went looking for Michael. I went to find him behind the flour bags, but he wasn’t there. I thought he had found a new hiding place. You know how he loves to hide inside the wardrobe cabinet in his room. So I went to his room to look for him.
I found him, Fox. I found him.
Fox paused for a moment, brushing away another spider web from the parchment, then continued to read.
It is hard for me to tell you what happened next. Because it was my fault...
The baron was standing over him, over Michael, holding his head, pushing his face down into the straw mattress. Michael was strangely still. His breeches were pulled down to his knees. It was awful, Fox.
The baron heard me enter the room and quickly turned to me. I didn’t know what to do. I called Michael’s name, but Michael didn’t move. Then the baron let him go. He shoved Michael aside and struggled with his pants. Then he came right at me. His eyes were filled with hate, Fox, an ugly, ugly hate. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a dagger. He told me he was going to kill me. And after he finished with Michael, he was going to do the same to me.
I screamed and raced for the door, but the baron caught my hair. I turned and clawed his face in my panic. He raised the dagger and tried to strike at me, but I caught his hand and twisted his wrist as much as I could. He was still coming toward me and... he tripped. He fell toward me, the dagger coming down. Somehow, something happened.
We landed on the floor, he on top of me. Something warm spread across my stomach. Something sticky. I tried to push him away, but he was so big that all I could do was squirm out from beneath him. I was ready to run. But he didn’t move.
Then 1 saw the blood start to seep out from beneath him, moving toward me. I backed up a step and as I looked down at the floor, I saw my dress was stained with red. I lifted my hands to touch it. But they were covered with red, too. It took a moment for me to realize it was blood on my hands, on my clothing. I started to cry and scream.
Your father came in and hugged me and helped calm me. Michael was fine, thank the Lord. Your father made us both leave the room immediately. He brought me to your mother’s room. He cleaned me up himself and bid me change into one of the dresses I kept at your castle for when we visited.
Fox, he made me promise not to say anything to anyone. He didn’t want anyone to know Michael or I was involved. I was so scared that I gave my word. I didn’t know then the baron was dead. I didn’t know until the day they took your title and lands away. I didn’t know. But I had given my word. Your father made me promise again. He said I had saved Michael’s life and now he was saving mine. He told me that if the king knew I had killed the baron then I, too, would be killed. I would be hanged or burned at the stake. The baron was like a brother to the king. I was scared, Fox. I was so scared.
Fox looked up from the parchment, realizing for the first time how much Jordan had needed him all this time. He glanced down at the pile of parchments. Jordan had been just as alone as he all these years. Alone with her shame and guilt. She must have felt he had abandoned her as
much as he thought she had abandoned him. Fox realized with a burning pain in his heart that all of this happened because she had saved Michael from a monster.
His hand ached and he looked down at it to find it curled tightly around the parchment as another memory struck him hard. He remembered that just as he was leaving Jordan’s room, just as he was climbing down the rope, he thought he heard Michael accuse Evan of bringing him to the baron. It made no sense then. But now -- now it all made sense.
All of his misery, all of Jordan’s misery. Everything. It was all because of Evan Vaughn!
The sound of a snapping branch and Fox whirled, his sword out, his lips curled with rage.
He half expected Vaughn to be standing there, half hoped he would be.
But what he saw made him lower his sword.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Beau held up his hands. “We surrender.” Fox moved forward quickly. “What the devil are you doing out? How did you escape?”
“Disappointed you won’t be able to rescue us?” Beau wondered.
“Lady Jordan freed us,” Pick told him.
“Fox,” Michael added, “she gave the guards a sleeping potion. When Evan finds out, she’ll be in great danger.”
Fox’s jaw clenched and he looked back at the smoldering cottage. “I think he already knows.” Fox stalked back to his horse and swung himself up.
“Where are you going?” Beau asked.
Fox looked into the dark forest toward Castle Vaughn. “I’m going to free Jordan.”
***
“Is he afraid to show his face?!” Fox demanded. Fox sat atop his horse before the castle, riding back and forth before the moat. The drawbridge was raised, the castle not yet open. Fox whirled his horse, charging across the field before the castle. “Where is your lord?” he demanded of the battlement guards staring down at him. The rising sun splashed over the guards, and the shifting patterns of light and dark shadows slithered across their faces, making them all appear grotesque.
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