“Are you blind, man?” Maxim roared. “Do you not see ‘tis red?”
Squeamishly Fitch tested his lord’s patience again. “Red-brown?”
“Gray eyes! Not blue!”
Making no further attempts to reason with the enraged man, Fitch sidled behind his companion-in-folly, allowing him to give answer.
“ ‘Twas easy ta make a mistake, m’lord,” Spence offered. “The chambers where ye told us ta go were dark, and though we waited, this one was the only lady what come. ‘Ere was no one else, m’lord.”
“You were told to take Arabella!” Maxim bellowed, this time startling the girl as well as the pair. He flung his hand to indicate Elise who stood frozen upon the last step. Of a sudden, she understood why the two servants had been so apprehensive about provoking his lordship. By his mere presence he could dominate a room and, now in a towering rage, he claimed their undivided attention. “Instead you have saddled me with this half-crazed chit!” he continued harshly. “And she is useless to me! Edward Stamford loves his riches too well to be concerned about her disap—”
Impertinent as always, Elise dared to interrupt his ranting. “You can send me back”
Maxim stared at her as if astonished by her suggestion, then his face clouded again with darkly brooding anger. “Believe me, madam, if it were at all possible I surely would, but I fear your return is entirely out of the question at this present time.”
“If you’re afraid I’ll reveal where you are or that you were the one responsible for my abduction, I promise to keep my silence. My word is good.”
“I’ve been accused of murder and treason against the crown, Mistress Radborne.” His tone had taken on an edge of sarcasm. “I rather doubt that you could besmirch my character more than it is already. Consider further, madam, that Elizabeth has no authority here, so you see I’m quite safe from the axeman’s blade.”
“You have no need of me here,” she cajoled. “You’ve said as much yourself I’m useless to you. Please let me go.”
“Nevertheless, madam, you will remain.”
Elise stamped a small foot in frustration. “You must let me go! I have to return and find my father! He may be lying somewhere wounded . . . or worse! And I am the only one who has a care to seek him out. He has need of me. Can you not understand?”
“I’m quite aware that Sir Ramsey Radborne was taken,” Maxim commented. “If you be his daughter in truth, then I must also tell you there was a tale that he was placed aboard a ship which later sailed from England. If that is true, ‘twould be useless for you to return there in search of him.”
Elise stared back at him aghast. “Where would they have taken him? And for what reason?”
“Anywhere in the world,” Maxim replied laconically.
“I’ll not stay here!” Elise blurted out, close to tears. How could she hope to find her father when she now had to search the entire world for him?
“For the moment you have no choice but to accept my hospitality,” Maxim said, turning aside with a small nod. “My apologies.”
She flew across the room and tugged at his arm until he condescended to face her again. He gazed down at her with sardonic amusement, and beneath that scornful smile there grew within Elise a strong desire to rake her fingernails across those handsome features.
“Your misguided cohorts snatched me from my uncle’s house,” she snarled. “They locked me in a chest and brought me to these decaying ruins. Now you mewl and beg my pardon. Well, m’lord Murderer, I say your lame apology is not enough recompense for what I’ve suffered!”
His brow arched upward in curious question. “And what amends would you have me make, madam?”
“I cannot rest until my father is found. Don’t you understand? At least in England I’d have a better chance of finding someone who knows where he was taken. You must take me back posthaste.”
Casually he shrugged his wide shoulders. “Impossible.”
Elise gnashed her teeth at his blunt answer and raised on tiptoes to deliver her threats full in his face. Her eyes flashed with fiery sparks as he responded with a mocking smile. “Sir, I would warn you to take care! You’ll not have a moment’s peace in this dungheap while I’m here! I’ll make your life so miserable you’ll regret the day you issued orders to have Arabella seized. Though my cousin may have been willing to give you love and companionship, I’ll give you naught but hatred and contempt. Your waking will be to the cries of the banshee, and when darkness comes, you’ll long for the rest you’ll never find.”
Maxim responded with a dubious chuckle. “Come now, maid,” he chided. “You’re far too fragile to give your threats substance.” He watched the face so close to his own turn livid with rage and laid a gentle, consoling hand upon her shoulder. “Still your anger, and think on what you say. I’ve bested men twice your size on the field of battle. ‘Tis foolishness for me to consider defending myself from so tender a foe.”
“Nevertheless, my lord,” Elise whispered in spitting tones of venom as she flung aside his hand. “I’ll torment you until I’m set free!”
Realizing she was completely serious with her threats, Maxim could only marvel at the girl’s tenacity. Never had he met a wench so full of fight and spirit. “Be reasonable,” he cajoled with a chuckle. “If you pester me overmuch, I’ll have you locked away again, and neither of us . . .”
“Over my dead body!” Elise snatched back an arm and let it fly toward his grinning visage. It was caught before it met its mark and held in an effortless vise.
“Now see how foolish your threats are,” he admonished almost gently. Against her repeated attempts to snatch away he turned her hand over and briefly considered the fine-boned wrist. “Why, if I were a true judge, I would say you’re . . . ah . . . rather puny . . . as maids go.”
Hardly one to stand still for this disparagement, Elise once again drew back a hand, but as she tried to deliver a blow to his head, he ducked, at the same time swooping an arm about her hips and lifted her up high against him. With a strangled gasp of outrage, she clutched his shoulders for support, horrified that he could be so familiar with her person. The limp woolen gown did little to preserve her modesty, and against her buttock she was crushingly aware of the bold placement of his hand. Its warmth singed her through the single layer of cloth and set her cheeks to flaming.
“What say you, maid?” Maxim leaned his head back to book up at her, settling his gaze momentarily upon her rapidly heaving bosom before he smiled into those snapping sapphire orbs. “Who be the fox and who be the hare? Surely I could gobble you for a morsel. A delicious one, too, I would think.”
Elise issued no feminine protests, but deliberately softened her manner. If she could not best the rogue by mightier brawn, then by wit and womanly wiles she would do the service. Leaning close with a coy smile, she feigned a warming that could have stripped away any man’s defenses, but for Maxim, it had a devastating effect. He was a man who had bound himself in the honor of betrothal vows, and after that, there had been long weeks of recuperation from his injuries. The slender, meagerly clad body sliding against his as he loosened his restraint and the soft breasts brushing his face nearby snatched his breath as the womanliness of her flicked awake his longstarved senses. Her mellowing took him completely off guard and allowed her to catch the tip of his ear firmly between her teeth. Like a spiteful shrew, Elise gave the lobe a solid yank.
Maxim’s sudden yelp coincided with her release, and she jumped away, swift as a frightened hare, and darted across the room to place herself behind the table, there to glare back at the Marquess as he held his bloodied ear. Her attack had had the same effect on him as a bucket of icy water. It did nothing to cool his temper.
“Catch me if you can, fox,” she taunted, tossing her head and laughing at him. She feigned a look of sympathy. “Poor cub, did I hurt you, overmuch?”
Incensed by the mischievousness of this little minx and intent upon teaching her a lesson about men that she would not soon forget
, Maxim approached her as he would some untamed prey that threatened any second to bolt and run. Elise eyed him warily, waiting until it seemed that all he had to do was reach out and take hold of her, then she whirled away, avoiding his grasp with an agility that surprised him. As she danced away, she snatched a long-handled warming pan from a peg above the hearth and, with all of her strength, brought it around. He ducked to avoid the vicious swing, but he did not count on her letting it go. In its flying descent, the thing caught him smartly alongside the head.
“Cease, you vixen!” His bellow gave her impetus as he tossed aside the pan. He was sure she had meant to spill his brains.
Elise sprinted in earnest toward the stairs, aware of the jeopardy she was in.
“M’lord! Spare the lass!” Spence cried, his hands almost a-blur in a twisting frenzy.
Maxim was thoroughly enraged and ignored the servant’s plea as he leapt after the girl. Fitch and Spence stumbled after him in hasty but uncertain pursuit, not knowing what they could do to halt him should he become violent. They had never faced such a dilemma, for his lordship was usually quite well-mannered in the presence of the ladies. Still, they had both tasted the spite of this slender maid and could well understand how his temper could have been tested beyond restraint. In truth, she was a rare challenge to any man, whether lowborn or of noble birth.
Elise passed a standing candelabrum beside the balustrade and, with a strength born of desperation, swept it around behind her as she fled. It toppled to the floor in front of Maxim, catching him across the shin in its descent, and sent him sprawling upon the lower steps. In great perturbation, he raised himself to see the girl’s skirts flick out of sight on the higher bevel. A door slammed from that vicinity, and the sound of an inside bar dropping into place reverberated throughout the keep.
“M’lord! Be ye hurt?” Spence questioned anxiously, trying to grasp the Marquess’s arm and haul him to his feet. He was greatly relieved that circumstances had not necessitated the use of force to subdue his lordship.
“Get away!” Maxim snarled and brushed aside the servant’s hands. Pushing himself upright, he tossed a glare toward the upper level, rankled by the fact the girl could remove herself from any confrontation by the simple barring of her door. In truth, she was not as helpless as he had first imagined. No mere rabbit she, but a vixen through and through.
Tugging at his damaged ear, Maxim bent a scowl upon the two who stood watching him. “So! What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“What can we say, m’lord?” Fitch replied, nervously stroking the sides of his ponderous belly. “We made a dreadful mistake, ‘at we did, an’ if ye’ve a mind ta cut off our ‘ands, we’d be deservin’ h’it.”
“Spence?” The Marquess raised a brow as he awaited that one’s answer.
The taller man scrubbed a toe over the stone floor, thinking how a week or so earlier it had been thickly covered with filth. If not for the girl it might have remained so. “I feel a great burden in me heart for the young maid, yer lor’ship, “specially with us makin’ a ragged mess o’ everythin’. Why, if ye were o’ a mind ta give me leave, I’d like ta be the one ta take her back an’ restore her safe and sound ta her uncle’s care.”
Maxim considered the man a long moment, recognizing the heartfelt plea and the longing to right a wrong. “There’s another problem that prevents me from letting her go back.”
“What be that, m’lord?”
“Her father was kidnapped, and ‘tis my belief that she would be in grave danger if we returned her to England before he is set free. She has no one there to give her protection other than Edward, and I know what kind of goat he is.”
“Then, ta be sure, m’lord, we must hold her for her own safety.”
“Precisely.”
“Will ye not tell the girl o’ the danger?”
“Would she believe me?”
“Nay, m’lord, but she’ll hate ye for keepin’ ‘er ‘ere.”
Maxim lifted his broad shoulders in a brief shrug. “I’ve borne the hatred of fiercer foes than she.”
Fitch cocked an eye toward him in dubious doubt. “Humph! Just wait ‘til ye gets ta know ‘er. Ye might change yer mind. I can’t say as I’ve ever seen such a bloodthirsty wench.”
Maxim smiled ruefully as he rubbed the knot on his head. “You have a point there, Fitch.”
“But what o’ yer betrothed, m’lord?” Spence pressed.
After a long moment of solemn musing Maxim heaved a sigh of resignation. “Lost to me, ‘twould seem. I cannot go chasing back to England for her. In this, Edward has been victorious. He has his daughter, my properties, and Reland’s wealth to add to his coffers. ‘Twill be many months ere I can return to confront him.”
“Aye, m’lord, ‘ere be times when plans go awry,” Spence sighed in sympathy. “But on occasion, when all be said an’ done, ‘tis almost as if a wiser hand has held the reins. If Fitch an’ meself, by our bumblin’, have served ta keep the girl from a greater danger, then I’ll be proud o’ the deed for her sake, but sorry for yers.”
Maxim remained silent. He could not argue with the wisdom of the man’s words, but logic did not ease the dull ache in his heart. Slowly he began to mount the stairs, the soles of his boots grating against the stone as he instructed, “Bring food and ale and a basin of water to my chambers, then leave me be ‘til the morrow. I’ve need of a good night’s rest upon a fresh pallet . . .”
“Ah . . . yer pardon, yer lor’ship . . .” Fitch called, once more apprehensive.
Maxim paused on the stairs and half turned to await the servant’s words. He sensed there was more to be told to him, and from the man’s hesitant manner, he would wager he would not find it pleasing.
“Ah . . . we . . . ah . . . set ta cleanin’ the keep right away, m’lord. We scrubbed the floors in the hall an’ the stairs, an’ spent some time makin’ the mistress’s ‘chambers fit . . .”
“Go on,” Maxim encouraged, wondering what the servant’s roundabout discourse was leading to.
“Well, yer lor’ship, we were so busy”—Fitch stroked his belly again in nervous agitation—“we had no time ta tidy up yer chambers.”
Maxim stared at his man in some irritation, yet he knew he could suffice with only a clean pallet to lay his weary frame upon. “ ‘Twill have to wait ‘til the morrow then. All I want is some sleep.”
“Ah, yer lor’ship . . .” Fitch continued squeamishly.
The muscles in Maxim’s cheeks began to twitch. There was something of a more serious nature that the servant was not telling him. “What is it, Fitch?”
“Ah . . . well, ye see, m’lord . . .”
“Get on with it!” Maxim snapped. “What’s wrong?”
“The roof!” Fitch blurted. “We haven’t repaired it yet.”
“And what is wrong with the roof?” Maxim barked, growing vexed with the man.
“She’s got a ‘ole in ‘er the size o’ a large kettle, yer lor’ship. ‘Tain’t likely ye’ll find much comfort up there in the lord’s chambers. Would ye not rather take yer rest down ‘ere by the fire where ‘tis warm?”
Maxim fixed cold green eyes upon the man, and his countenance held no more warmth than his voice. “How long do you think ‘twill take you to repair the roof and make my chambers acceptable?”
“Oh, ‘twould be no more ‘an a good day’s labor ta mend the shutters an’ the door. Ye see, m’lord, it won’t close, an’ then there’d be another day or two, mayhap three, ter patch the roof. An’ ‘at’s not takin’ inta account the cleanin’ an’ scrubbin’.”
Maxim slowly retraced his steps downward. “I’ll sup by the fire, but before I retire, I will expect my chambers to be made adequate for a night’s lodging, even if you have to hang hides to protect the bed from the snow and cold. If you fail, you will spend the winter in the stables with Eddy. Do I make myself clear?”
“Indeed, m’lord,” Fitch hurried to assure the Marquess. His mind had already begun to race, t
aking account of all that needed to be done. There was not a moment to spare. “I’ll set ye out a trencher o’ meats an’ be about it.”
“Never mind. I can serve myself. You have precious little time as it is.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Fitch heartily agreed.
Spence was already running to fetch a broom and a bucket. He had no desire to be a stable companion of Eddy’s all winter long. True enough, there was a room with a hearth and chimney behind the stables, but he did not think his lordship meant them to have such comforts if they failed at their task He was not sure what this frigid northland would be like in the months to come, but he had come to favor the warmth of a well-stocked hearth and a well-stuffed pallet to soften a night’s sleep.
Chapter 9
ELISE PUSHED BACK the fur robes, allowing the crisp, cool air that flowed through the chamber to touch her face and shoulders and, with its fresh and frigid touch, to banish the last lingering traces of sleep. The chill draft raised tiny bumps on her skin and turned her breath into vapors of frosty white. The cold penetrated until a sneeze threatened, and though she held a slim finger beneath her nose, the urge grew stronger. She sucked in air in little gasps, and coming upright in bed, she gave vent to a series of small, but forceful, eruptions that left her red-eyed and sniffling.
“A pox on that blackguard!” She collapsed back upon the bed in petulant displeasure, wondering how the great lord of this dilapidated keep was faring in his lofty bedchamber. She had heard him pass on the stairs near her room the night before, and thus far this morning had not heard him descend. It was only right and just that he should suffer more than she, for it was his blundering folly that had caused her to be seized and brought here. He deserved to feel the bite of this wintry morn in such a way that he would never forget. Indeed, if the roof collapsed upon him and left him bruised and battered amid a pile of timbers and planks, she rather doubted that her desire for revenge would be adequately appeased.
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