by Cosby, Diana
Or his heart.
Bedamned! Duncan nudged his mount into a canter, embracing winter’s raw scent, the harsh bite of cold as he rode against the wind. His mulling was a waste of time. Her actions and words assured him she would not change her mind when it came to remaining with him.
Upon his arrival, he would check on Isabel, then be done with her. He could not go on this way with her, trapped within a state of perpetual confusion as to his own wants and wishes.
At first light on the morrow, he and another knight were riding for Moncreiffe Castle to retrieve the Bible. He now knew the layout of Frasyer’s home, and where the Bible wasn’t, which was to their advantage. Isabel would be furious when they returned with the Bible without her knowledge of his going, but at this point, he cared not of her outrage. His goal now was to save her father’s life. Once Lord Caelin was safe, maybe then she would realize that life wasn’t meant to be squandered on the unworthy, and that her path was of her own choosing.
A path he found himself wishing led to him.
With a heavy heart, Duncan cantered beneath the gatehouse, then drew up before the stable.
A lad ran up and took the reins.
“My thanks,” Duncan said as he dismounted, favoring his left side where it was still tender to move his arm.
“Sir Duncan,” an older woman greeted as he entered the keep.
He nodded, recognizing the servant he’d asked to bring up a meal to Isabel last night. The worry on her brow had him halting. “What is wrong?”
“It is Lady Isabel.”
Well aware of Isabel’s stubbornness, Duncan glanced up the steps. “I will tend to her.”
“That is not the problem.” The woman’s hesitation before she continued sent a chill of foreboding down Duncan’s spine. “I cannot find her.”
“What?”
“Last night,” the woman rushed on, “when I brought Lady Isabel a tray of food as you requested, she stated she felt unwell and would sleep in. She asked not to be awoken in the morn. Thinking she needed rest, I agreed.” She worried her fingers in her gown. “But when the bells of Terse rang and she had not come down, I went to check on her.” She shook her head. “She is gone.”
A swirl of emotions balled in his gut. He wasn’t sure how to feel, upset, worried, or furious. “You have searched the entire keep?”
“Aye, including the stables and everywhere else I could think of. Frantic I have been. Thank the heavens you returned when you did.”
He nodded. “I will look for her.”
“I am sorry, Sir Duncan.”
“Nay, it is not your fault.” He knew exactly where that blame lay—with his own assumption that Isabel would cause no more trouble. He was over-reacting. She wouldn’t leave without a single word. After their confrontation last night, most likely, she’d found someplace quiet within Lochshire Castle to be alone.
Several hours later, streaks of orange raced across the sky tangled with hues of blue and purple as Duncan hurried toward the keep, giving in to his one last hope. The search for Isabel had turned up naught. Even with several of his guards and servants joining in, no one had found or seen her this day. He would check the tower chamber one last time.
And pray she had returned.
The slap of his boots upon stone echoed around him as he ran up the spiral steps, his tension building with each level. At the top, the door stood open. Waiting. Inviting. Beckoning him to enter.
Please be there.
Duncan ran inside.
Empty.
Silence hummed around him, potent with erotic memories of Isabel in his arms, of her standing naked before him, of her shudders of desire against his every touch.
He shook away the visions, furious they would come, that her taste haunted his senses. The faeries above him seemed to glow. He scowled at them, and the sapphire amulet at his neck began to warm.
Heart pounding, he stilled, remembering when Nichola had taken Alexander’s halved gem from the bowl before she’d run away. Then later, of how he and Seathan had teased Alexander that her taking it was a token that sealed their destiny.
But now, with the faeries above him seeming as if alive, and the room vibrating with life, he found himself believing such a spell could exist.
No, he was being foolish. Look at the bowl, lad, and you’ll see ’twas a jest that he and Seathan had made up to set Alexander on edge. It held no merit. Duncan drew in a slow breath, released it. And turned.
The half of Seathan’s moss agate lay in the bowl. Alone.
Panic weighed on him, as fast as his denial. It meant nothing except that Isabel must have taken the other half of his sapphire.
And proof that she’d left.
He focused on that, the notion of it being a token sealing their destiny was too ridiculous to entertain.
When had she gone? Last night? This morning? No horse was missing, which meant she was foolish enough, or desperate enough, to leave on foot. With the snow to wade through, she wouldn’t make it far.
Through the window, he surveyed the blast of white broken by forest. What did she hope to prove?
He stormed down the turret steps and strode outside. The bitter wind battered his face, stole through slim openings in his garb to slice into his body, shooting his anger up another notch. And she was out in this? Why was it, when he was ready to wash his hands of her, did Isabel do something beyond foolhardy and rouse his protective instincts to the forefront?
Ready to throttle the stubborn chit, Duncan raced toward the stable.
Crouched within the thick shrubs, Isabel observed Frasyer’s knights, whom she’d stumbled across. Her legs ached from hours of travel, her each breath chilling her throat, and her limbs trembled from fatigue.
With the sun whispering myriad gold and purple streamers across the sky, common sense urged her to carefully back away and make a wide circle around where the knights had camped for the night. Except the sight of their horses tied a good distance away and shielded within a bank of fir trees, lured her to remain.
With a mount, she could travel through the night. And by daybreak, she would arrive at the secret passage she and Duncan had used to escape Moncreiffe Castle. On foot, it would take at least another two days of pushing herself, unless she was caught.
A horse whinnied.
A knight glanced toward the mount, murmured something to the other men, then rejoined them in their discussion.
Relief filtered through her. Since they were on Frasyer’s land, their arrogant belief that they were alone would aid her in her plan. After the sun had set, when darkness embraced them and the men slept, she would untie one of the horses and ride away.
Hours later, shivering almost uncontrollably, Isabel crept toward the horses using the path of trodden snow to shield her presence. A full moon hung in the star-filled sky threatening to betray her presence. After checking once again to ensure the guards hadn’t noticed her, she hurried the last few paces and hid between the horses.
A larger gelding shifted, another snorted and stamped his front hoof.
She froze, awaiting the sound of running men.
The rustle of wind-blown branches clattered above her. A distant owl hooted into the pristine night. As before, with only a cursory check by a man closest to the horses, Frasyer’s knights remained circled around their fire.
She released a slow breath. With care she untied the steed farthest away from the men. Keeping her hand over his muzzle, Isabel led him away. The crunch of snow beneath their every step echoed as if a battering ram. The silence of the night built around her with damning weight.
Not until she’d reached the opposite side of the knoll, did she guide the horse to a nearby fallen tree and mount. The moonlight, which she’d earlier cursed, now illuminated the forest around her with a silvery light.
With a silent prayer that fate’s hand would guide her in finding the Bible and reaching her father in time, she kicked the steed toward Moncreiffe Castle.
At a larg
e outcrop of rocks, Duncan halted his mount, his entire body aching from riding hard all night. Through the thick white flakes, he scanned the snow-covered field he and Isabel had crossed after they’d left Frasyer’s secret tunnel.
A lone set of hoof prints leaving the forest caught his attention. The tracks faded as they entered the field beneath the new fallen snow, but he knew where they led. In the distance, almost hidden within a thicket of trees near the tunnel’s entrance, he caught the flash of a bay.
A guard’s horse? Nay, that he refused to believe. Last eve, when he’d picked up Isabel’s tracks in the snow, he’d followed them, surprised to discover they led to where Frasyer’s men had made camp for the night.
At first, terrified she’d been captured, he’d started around the perimeter in search of where they’d held her. Halfway around, he’d picked up her footprints accompanied by those of a steed moving away from camp.
She’d stolen one of the guard’s horses? With them seated casually at the fire, ’twould seem straight from beneath their unknowing noses.
He shook his head in disbelief. The knights would rue their overconfidence when Frasyer learned of their neglect. Aye, Frasyer would be furious, more so as the cause was one slip of a woman.
Duncan grimaced as he stared at the partially hidden bay, unsure if he should laud her move as brave or foolhardy. A fat flake of snow landed on his cheek, quickly followed by another. To linger would invite trouble, the last thing he, or Isabel, would be needing.
He kicked his horse into a gallop. Outside the tunnel and within the shield of trees, he tied him near her stolen one, thankful for the snow that had started falling before first light. With the increasing intensity of the storm, before long, snow would fill any remainder of their trail.
Dismounting, he knelt beside Isabel’s footprints. Beneath his touch, the half-filled rim of snow crowning the tracks crumbled. They were fresh. He stared at the beckoning darkness of the tunnel, then stood.
“I will find you lass. And you will regret your leaving.” With a quick scan over the landscape to ensure no one was following him, he slipped into the blackness.
Isabel navigated the darkness of the winding tunnel, testing each step upward with the toe of her slipper as she ran her hand against the cold, damp wall. So caught up in her thoughts of Duncan, she’d left his home without taking a candle. An oversight too late to repair.
By now, Frasyer’s knights would have noticed a steed missing and would have begun searching for whoever risked such a dare. Praying the snow that had begun falling at the break of dawn had covered her tracks, she slid her slipper along the stone steps as she climbed them one by one.
The musty scent of stale air and blackness continued to greet her. How much farther? How much longer to Frasyer’s bedchamber? Or, in the blackness, had she somehow taken a wrong turn?
A faint scrape echoed from a distance behind her.
Heart pounding, Isabel halted. Listened. Long seconds passed, each one filled with vivid images of guards storming her, being thrown in the dungeon, and of Frasyer’s laughter as her father was hung.
Stop it! The noise was nothing but a rat or other vermin scuttling in the dank tunnel.
She started to climb.
Another soft scrape sounded, this time closer.
Isabel flattened against the stone wall. Someone was behind her!
The distinct echo of the soft pad of leather upon stone reached her.
Fear clogged her throat. Mary help her, was it one guard or more? No matter, whoever was following her, was closing in on her fast! Did they know she was here? What a foolish thought. Of course they did. The knights she’d stolen the horse from must have tracked her down and discovered the horse she’d hidden in the trees.
Why hadn’t she slapped the steed away upon her arrival? Or better, before she’d crossed the open field? Because with the days to reach her father dwindling, once she found the Bible, she would need the horse if she hoped to reach Lord Monceaux in England before her father was hung.
No, she hadn’t come this far to be caught. Or to give up. There must be somewhere to hide, something she could use to defend herself. Damn them, they would not catch her without a fight.
Isabel hurried up the steps, cold stone scraping her palms as she used the walls as a guide.
A flicker of light fractured the blackness in her wake. Shadows built around her into huge, ominous shapes.
Her heart slammed against her chest.
She pushed herself faster.
“Isabel!” a deep male voice called.
She whirled, lost her footing, stumbled back and caught herself. Barely. “Duncan?”
“Aye.” The tiredness in his voice weighed heavy on her heart. “Nay move.”
“Why have you followed me?” she demanded in the growing light; Duncan’s shape slowly conjured into form as he rounded the corner, a candle in hand, the anger carved on his face cast within the flicker of flames. Unforgiving, his eyes bore into hers.
“Why did you leave the safety of Lochshire Castle?” he demanded. “I gave you my oath to help.”
Isabel backed up to the next higher step, refusing to allow him to intimidate her. “Nay, that you gave to Symon. And kept. I told you before, you owe me nothing. Leave me, I do not want you here.”
Duncan reached her, his anger a living thing. “We are in this together.”
“Are we?” she charged, hating that even now a part of her was thrilled to see him. A part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and thank him for having cared enough to come, even knowing the risk of his decision—that if he was caught by Frasyer, he’d not walk out alive.
He caught her hand; warmth pulsed through her. Tired, afraid, and with her defenses down, if he drew her to him now, she would cave.
Instead, she went on the attack with a suspicion that had been lurking in her mind. “After you left with your brothers, you never planned on coming back for me. You had planned to ride on your own to find the Bible, did you not?”
Surprise flickered in his gaze.
She jerked her hand free. “You were not coming back for me,” she repeated, the hurt she’d tried to shield coating her words.
“You were safe at my home,” he stated.
“Safe?” She fisted her hands at her sides. “As if that gives you the right to make decisions about my life without my consent!”
“Nay,” he replied, his words ice. “I learned the cost of trusting you too well.”
“Just like I should not have trusted you,” she snapped. “You were only too willing to be rid of me when it suited your purposes. How long, I wonder, would we have been handfasted before you changed your mind about our pledge?”
He looked as shocked as her at her accusation. Her regret was instant. “I am sorry. I—”
With his jaw set, he moved past her and began to ascend the steps. “Do not flatter yourself. I am here for the Bible to save Lord Caelin’s life. No more.”
Isabel stared at Duncan’s retreating figure as he pushed himself up the steps. “I did not mean it.”
He kept on walking.
She hurried after him. The candle cast sporadic light within the narrowed cavern, revealing trickles of moisture weaving down the wall, bits of moss wedged within some of the steps and an abandoned spider web half hidden on a beam near the ceiling.
“Duncan?”
“I will not hear you speak of Frasyer.”
“I do not love him,” she burst out, unable to withhold the words.
His shoulders stiffened, but he remained silent.
She stared at his back, stricken. She was a fool to admit her true feelings, not that he was likely to believe anything she said. But Duncan’s kiss, his touch still burned in her mind. How easy it would have been to have made love with Duncan when he’d drawn her to him in the tower chamber. What she wouldn’t give to have had that memory.
“The door is up ahead,” Duncan said roughly.
Numb, she looked past him
to where the golden light wavered upon the near invisible slit. A thought struck her. “Do you think Frasyer is in his chamber?”
Duncan arched a speculative brow. “Does your lover normally sleep in late?”
And with that simple question, tragically, they were back to where they’d begun. She wanted to scream her frustration, but for what? Duncan still believed she’d chosen Frasyer for his wealth, a presumption she’d allowed.
“He will likely be out this late in the morn,” she said quietly.
“Likely?” Isabel’s ignorance of her lover’s routine amazed Duncan. “But you do not know for sure?” At her silence, he shook his head with disgust. “Never mind. We will find out together.” But a part of him had wanted her to tell him whatever weighed heavy on her mind.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Aye.”
He said a quick prayer that Frasyer’s chamber would indeed be empty. With his dagger drawn, Duncan pressed his hand against the carved stone and slid open the secret door.
Chapter 13
When the secret door to Frasyer’s chamber slid open, sunlight sliced through the tunnel’s blackness. Squinting against the painfully bright glare, Duncan scanned the room, one hand clasped on his sword.
Empty.
He lowered his hand. They were safe—for the moment.
When Isabel started forward, he caught her forearm and shook his head. He placed his finger over his mouth for her to remain silent. At her questioning look, he pointed to the outer door.
Understanding shone in her eyes. She nodded.
Duncan crept to the door and listened. Several long seconds passed, but he heard not a sound indicating anyone was in the outer chamber.
“This way.” He led her to the other secret entrance. As he passed the massive bed centered against the back wall, Duncan kept his gaze averted. He tried to ignore that Isabel and Frasyer had often slept within the tangle of the sheets. The last thing he wanted to think about was her sharing her body with the bastard, more so since her taste haunted Duncan still.
