His Woman

by Cosby, Diana

  “Enter,” Frasyer said.

  The master-at-arms strode in. “My lord, Lady Isabel is not within the keep.”

  “Continue looking,” Frasyer ordered. “She has to be here somewhere. When she’s found, secure her in the dungeon, then inform me.”

  “Aye, my lord.” The master-at-arms bowed, then left.

  Water sloshed as Frasyer stood. “Incompetent fools. Once I have Isabel back, I will show them how to break a woman’s will.” His squire rushed to dry him off. After Frasyer had donned his robe, he stormed into his bedchamber and slammed the door.

  Isabel jumped, and Duncan squeezed her hand in reassurance. If the bastard hadn’t subdued Isabel’s spirit after three years, how did he believe he could do so now?

  The earl poured himself a drink.

  Duncan willed Frasyer to keep drinking. If the earl passed out, that would solve their immediate problem of his noticing when they made their escape.

  After downing the single goblet, the second since his arrival, Frasyer walked toward them. The bed shifted above them as he settled in for the night.

  Duncan gritted his teeth in frustration. Frasyer had not consumed enough to inebriate a toad. Unless he was exhausted from this day’s travel, then all chances of escaping were for naught.

  Duncan pantomimed Frasyer sleeping to Isabel. Then he mouthed, “Is he a heavy sleeper?”

  In the meager light cast by the taper, she shrugged.

  Unbelievable! How did one not know how soundly their lover slept? Duncan closed his eyes and waited.

  At this moment, their only option.

  Time dragged on. The throbbing of his body a potent reminder of his weakening condition. After what seemed an eternity, Frasyer’s breaths became regular. Another long pull of time passed before, finally, he began to snore, a fact Duncan owed to the earl’s hard travel this day.

  The bells of Matins tolled.

  Duncan glanced toward the open window. They’d lain here for two hours.

  He shifted, muffling a groan as he tried to relieve the cramping of his joints. He and Isabel couldn’t wait until daybreak. Delaying would serve to weaken him further. However slow they traveled, the cover of nightfall would shield their movements as they crossed the open field to reach the woods.

  “Let us go,” Duncan whispered.

  “Can you make it?” she asked in his ear, her soft breath feathering across his skin. The bed creaked above them, and her eyes widened with fear.

  He held up his hand for her to remain silent, then he reached for his dagger. If Frasyer discovered them, Duncan might not last long, but he’d give the bastard a solid fight.

  With another shifting of the bed, the earl’s feet came into view. He lumbered across the chamber. Frasyer was leaving! Then he paused at the table and extinguished the tapers.

  Blackness smothered the room.

  Steps closed, then the bed sagged.

  With a silent curse Duncan closed his eyes and fought to suppress the shudders that continued to rack his frame. So much for making it through one of the hidden doors. It would seem they were doomed to remain here this night. He could only pray that if they weren’t discovered before morning, when it came time to leave, he could physically make it.

  The scent of freshly extinguished candles singed the air as Duncan continued to tremble beside her. Isabel reached over and touched his brow. Heat greeted her touch. Panic welled inside her. He was consumed with fever. If she’d tried, she couldn’t have dreamt of such a disaster.

  Why hadn’t he told her about his injury and its severity when he’d returned to the chapel? However much she needed to find the Bible, she wouldn’t have remained at the risk of his life.

  His admission they needed to leave convinced her that his condition was grave.

  But with Frasyer asleep above them and his squire standing guard in the antechamber, how could they escape? Even if they managed to slip past the earl, how far could Duncan travel in his injured state?

  Tears burned her eyes as she struggled to overcome the sense of impending doom. Nay, she’d lost Symon, but to her last breath, she refused to lose Duncan as well.

  Mayhap she should surrender to Frasyer. Then Duncan would be safe. That wasn’t an option. In his deteriorating condition, Duncan couldn’t escape by himself.

  Neither could she allow Frasyer to find Duncan within his bedchamber. The earl wouldn’t hesitate to end Duncan’s life.

  And her father. If she were caught, proof of his innocence would never be found and delivered to Lord Monceaux.

  “Isa…”

  “Duncan?”

  His teeth had begun to chatter.

  Guilt clung to her. As much he needed to rest, before he began to ramble and expose them, she had to get him out.

  “Shhhh,” she whispered into Duncan’s ear. Isabel glanced toward where moonlight illuminated the tapestry upon the wall. Before she’d hoped one of the doors held her mother’s Bible. Now, she prayed one of them held a route from which they could escape.

  “Duncan,” she whispered in his ear. “Stay here and be quiet. I will be right back.”

  “Wh-Where are you going?”

  “To crawl over to one of the secret doors and see if I can open it.”

  “It is too risky.”

  This was so like him. Stubborn to the point of unreasonable. “And you are thinking with your wounded arm and a fever you could be doing better?”

  He wiped the sweat from his brow. “I promised to keep you safe.”

  “And you have.” She gentled her voice, aware he was persecuting himself for their situation, when in fact, this was all her fault. Why did he have to be so noble? “This once you will do it my way. After I have the door open, I will wave you over.”

  He reached over and clasped his hand over hers, his hold a pittance of his strong grip in the dungeon. “I…” He hesitated. “Be safe.”

  “I will.” Isabel withdrew her hand from his and immediately missed his touch. Even after three years, he still felt so much a part of her. A part she could never again have. Her body ached with the need to have him hold her, want her as he once did. She longed to tell him the truth. That she still loved him. A fact she never could.

  “What is wrong?” Duncan asked, tearing her from her musings.

  “Naught.” She inched to the edge of the bed. Holding her breath, Isabel rolled from beneath and then lay still.

  Above her, a cool breeze sifted into the room, spinning up fragments of dust to shimmer within the moonlight like a faerie’s trail. The occasional shout from a guard outside blended with the blustery wind and Frasyer’s occasional snore.

  After peeking over the edge of the bedding to ensure Frasyer still slept, Isabel crawled across the floor. Each placement of her hand seemed to form another drip of terrified sweat upon her brow. Each second a dark promise that Frasyer would awaken and catch her.

  At the bottom of the tapestry, she ran her hands over the cold, rough stone. A finger’s width from the floor, her nail slipped into a crevice.

  She’d found it!

  Taking a deep breath, she ran her finger along the outline. Halfway up the side of the door, her nail dipped into a smooth, half-moon crevice carved into the stone.

  Cloth rustled on the bed.

  She froze. Expecting to find Frasyer sitting up on the bed glaring at her in outrage, Isabel turned.

  Instead, she found Duncan inching his way over.

  What was he doing? She’d told him to wait until she had the door open! Isabel waved him back, but Duncan continued forward. Was he addled? Aye, his fever was causing him to make poor decisions.

  She glanced toward the second secret chamber where her mother’s Bible might be within. Once Duncan was a safe distance and she’d tended to him, she would backtrack to search the hidden room.

  A sleepy grumble sounded from the bed. In the moonlight, Frasyer’s face turned toward her. “Isabel?”

  Chapter 6

  A saint’s curse, Frasyer ha
d seen her! Panic tightened Isabel’s throat. She couldn’t have answered him if she wanted to.

  She motioned Duncan to halt.

  He continued inching toward her. No! He had to go back and hide under the bed before Frasyer saw him!

  Mumbling, Frasyer shifted.

  Isabel froze.

  Duncan stiffened.

  Grumbling, Frasyer turned his head toward the opposite wall, his limbs tangled in the sheets. After a moment, he lay back and his breathing slowed. Quiet snores began filling the chamber.

  Isabel’s entire body sagged with relief. Heart still pounding, she glanced at Duncan as he reached her side.

  “You lackwit!” she whispered.

  He ignored her. “Hurry!”

  As much as she wanted to rage at him, they had to go. Her fingers trembled as she wedged them into the carved indent and pulled. Stone scrapped with a soft hiss as the door inched open. Air, musty and damp, poured into the room. She glanced toward Frasyer.

  He hadn’t moved.

  She pulled harder.

  Finally, the door swung open enough to allow both her and Duncan entry.

  His hand flattened against the door frame. In the moonlight, his determined gaze underscored his intent to leave by his own means, but the paleness of his face as he struggled to stand exposed the cost.

  She hurried over and wrapped her arm under his right shoulder. He tried to shrug her off, but the slight tremble in his body made her stay close. His weakness before her wouldn’t sit well with him, but right now, he needed her. However much he loathed her, she’d be there for him.

  Duncan’s grip was heavy on her shoulders as she glanced at Frasyer still snoring in his bed. If he hadn’t heard the scrape of stone, he was indeed a heavy sleeper. A grim smile touched her mouth. At least that answered Duncan’s earlier question of how soundly Frasyer slept.

  Isabel lifted the tapestry, helped Duncan inside and secured the door. Blackness engulfed them. “Stay here,” she whispered, as she helped him lean against the wall. She pulled her hand away, shaken at how after three years she could be so aware of him and want him with her every breath. “Do not move. I will check your injury as soon as we are safe.”

  “It is fine,” he gritted out.

  She didn’t dignify that with a response.

  Cold stone ran beneath her hand as her fingers moved over the uneven surface, searching for a candle that should be stowed nearby.

  At least with Frasyer never having allowed her into his bedchamber, the earl would believe her ignorant of the tunnels and dismiss them as a choice to make her escape.

  Still, that wouldn’t stop his search for her.

  Or recover the travel time she’d lost to deliver the Bible to Lord Monceaux.

  Duncan’s boots scraped the dirt as he waited on shaky legs.

  She caught his shoulder and steadied him. “I said do not move.”

  “I am—” He drew in an hard breath. “I am looking for the candle.”

  “I will find it. You need to rest.”

  “I will help.” It wasn’t a request.

  Her protest died. If he was strong enough to argue, she’d be thankful for that.

  She renewed her search. Their fingers touched, the warmth luring her to lean against Duncan. She pulled away and returned to her task. With him injured and growing weaker with each passing moment, his survival was up to her.

  The steady drip of water played cadence with Duncan’s raspy breathing as she continued her search. The cool air of the passageway and the musty smell made her wish for a fire to warm by and dispel an unsettling feeling enshrouding her.

  “Over…Over here,” Duncan said, his voice too faint for her liking.

  She moved to his side, the heat pouring from his body reaching her. “Pass it to me and I will light it.” She tried to keep the worry from her voice. How much longer before he collapsed? Please let them escape from the castle before he did so.

  Clothing rippled.

  “Duncan?”

  Silence.

  Isabel reached out. Her fingers brushed his robe. “Do you need to sit?”

  “I am…I am fine.”

  Far from it, oh dear Lord, help them. She followed the stiffness of his arm to where his hand clenched upon the stone.

  His fingers shifted to brush against hers. Despite the completely ill-timed response, warmth stormed her body. Her pulse raced, desperately searching for a sliver of the bond that had existed between them. A fragment of trust, however fragile.

  Duncan muttered a curse and shoved the candle and flint into her hands. “Light the blasted candle.”

  Why was she torturing herself wishing for what never could be? Isabel busied herself stacking dry tinder wedged in the crevice, left for such a desperate purpose.

  Kneeling, she struck the knife to flint. Sparks raced through the darkness and then faded to black. She scraped the flint again. Sparks rained on the slivers of wood like stars of hope streaking through the midnight sky. Several fragments flared within the tinder. A tinge of wood glowed for several moments, then ignited.

  Isabel held the wick over the tiny flame; it flared to life.

  The waver of candlelight illuminated the narrow corridor. Near the edge of darkness, steps carved of stone faded downward. An escape route?

  Isabel raised the candle chest high. The pale, yellowed light framed the fever burning in Duncan’s eyes. By the strain on his face, he was struggling to stay on his feet.

  She moved to his side. “Lean against me.” When he stiffened, she lifted his arm over her shoulders. “If not for me, then for my father’s sake.”

  A muscle worked in his jaw as he clung to a wedge of rock. Duncan grunted his assent, then he leaned his full weight against her. She steadied herself and started forward, slower than she would have liked. At this pace, how long would it take them to reach the safety of the forest? An hour? Two? One step at a time. She’d focus on that. They would make it.

  She refused to believe otherwise.

  With care, they worked their way down the hidden passage. Each step an achievement, each floor a miracle. Several times she tried to stop to allow Duncan time to rest, but when she began to slow, he pressed on.

  “Bedamned, move!” he growled.

  “I am moving for both of us,” she snapped irritably and continued on.

  At long last, after both of them were gasping for breath and her muscles straining under Duncan’s weight, the passageway leveled out. Her head pounded as she tried to remember what level they were on.

  “What is wrong?

  At Duncan’s ragged voice, her fear of leading him from the castle escalated. “Nothing.” And prayed they hadn’t taken a wrong turn.

  Hot wax dripped on her left hand. Isabel flinched. The candle flickered and then the flame steadied. She would have to pay closer attention. If the candle burned out before they reached the exit, they might become lost in the catacomb of tunnels.

  “We need to move.” With Duncan shuffling at her side, she started forward. Instead of solid ground, her foot dipped into a crevice. She yelped as she lost her balance and fell forward, her momentum dragging Duncan with her. She landed hard, and the candle flew from her hands.

  Duncan cursed as he landed beside her.

  “No!” She lunged for the candle that was rolling away. As she caught the base, the flame flickered. Then died.

  Blackness engulfed them.

  The ripe scent of candle smoke filled the darkness. Sounds magnified around them. Water dripping in the distance. Their breaths rushing out. Duncan’s heart beating inches from her own.

  With a groan, Isabel sat up. Pain sliced through her right knee. Holding her leg, she slowly bent it back and forth.

  “Are you all right?” Duncan’s voice pierced through the darkness.

  “I am fine.” Thank, Mary, it wasn’t broken.

  If only they could find the correct tunnel that led outside. As they’d descended, the catacomb of tunnels branching off to various pa
rts of the castle had stunned her. She’d never imagined such an intricate web of secret passages existed within Frasyer’s home.

  Hot sweat greeted her palm as she touched Duncan’s brow.

  With a grumble, he swatted her hand away.

  “Can you get up?” she asked.

  “Aye.”

  By the weakness of his voice, she wasn’t convinced. Without giving him an option, she caught his arm and helped him sit. “We need to relight the candle.”

  Cloth scraped against stone as Duncan leaned against the wall next to her. “Did you bring the flint?”

  “I…I did not think we would be needing it.”

  He sighed. “No use regretting it now. We will have to find the exit in the dark.”

  Isabel ignored the stabbing pain up her right leg and stood. Bracing herself against the wall, she reached down to help Duncan and then paused.

  Like a faerie hill to wish upon, a shaft of light cut through the darkness. “Duncan, look up ahead.”

  “An exit.”

  “But to where?” she asked. “The bailey? An entry behind the gatehouse?”

  “Wherever it leads,” he rasped, “it is better than rotting in the dark.”

  Mayhap, but at least here, however temporary, they were safe. Isabel half pulled, half dragged Duncan to his feet. She braced herself for his weight as he leaned against her.

  “Take it slow.” Uneven rocks jabbed into her slippers as they inched forward. Near the exit, he stumbled. “No!” She caught him. Barely.

  “I am fine,” he panted out.

  He wasn’t. If he didn’t rest soon, he’d pass out from exhaustion. If fever didn’t overwhelm him first. “We will stop here for a short rest.”

  “There is no time.”

  Isabel wet her lips. His brother Seathan, Earl of Gray, lived but a day’s travel from here. “I have an idea. You stay here, and I will go for help.”

  “And who would you be seeking aid from?”

  “Seathan.”

  He snorted in disbelief.

  His suspicion of her good intent hurt, but why would he be believing her after she’d hurt him three years ago?

  “What if you are caught?”

  “Unless Frasyer’s guards have extended their search beyond the castle, I should be safe.”