“I’m not a traitor,” Peter declared and tossed Logan a key.
Logan caught it in his open palm. He saw a dagger drop to the ground near his feet. When he looked up, Peter was leaving the cell. Quickly, Logan unlocked the manacle around his throat and tore it off. He moved to the open cell door.
Peter loved Solace. Logan had come all this way, had put his revenge on hold for a traitor! How could Peter love her? Her father had killed their parents. How could Peter hold her in his arms, knowing it was her family that had murdered theirs?
You did, a tiny voice inside him accused.
Logan moved out into the hallway, sneaking up on the unsuspecting guard as he bent to take a bite of his bread. He slid the dagger across the guard’s throat.
I’ll show them, he thought. I’ll retake Castle Fulton.
Peter loved her.
Logan snuck out of the dungeon, the shadows of the night hiding him like a cloaked spy. I’ll reclaim the castle for my own. I’ll rule in my father’s name.
Peter loved Solace.
Logan moved through the courtyard with the agility of a cat, moving from shadow to shadow like a thief
I’ll bring honor to myself.
Peter loved Solace!
Logan kicked open the door to his room with a howl of rage. How could he have let a Farindale get the best of him? How could he have let her manipulate him like that?
Furious, he shoved a blanket into the sack beside the table. He whirled on the table and swept it clean with his arm, pulling his belongings into the sack. He turned to survey the room when a gleam from beneath the mattress caught his attention.
He reverently bent and retrieved the sword, his father’s sword. He ran his hand lovingly over the crest. Peter was a traitor. How could he work for Farindale? How could he have turned traitor? How could he love her? The same questions refused to stop swirling about his mind.
“Logan?”
Logan whirled, bringing the sword around, finding it pointing at his enemy’s chest.
Solace froze with a gasp.
He rose, keeping the sword aimed at her heart. “What do you want, witch?” he asked from between gritted teeth. “How did you know to find me here?”
“Peter told me. I wanted to see if you were all right,” she answered, eyeing the sword.
“What’s your real reason for coming here?” he demanded. “Did you hope to bewitch me as you have my brother?”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
Logan eyed her. Her long, brown hair was unleashed about her face in a flurry of curls. Her cheeks were smooth and touched with pink, kissed by the sun. Her large emerald eyes stared up at him in confusion. Her lips were full and kissable.
Logan tossed aside the sword. It clanged against the wall and fell to the straw mattress. He was before her in one step, grabbing her shoulders. “Why have you come? What do you want of me?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but in the next instant his mouth was covering hers, plundering hers with a hunger, a vengeance, a longing that consumed him. He felt her stiffen and try to pull away, but he held her still against him, kissing her savagely.
Solace yanked her head away from him, shoving at his chest.
Logan thought to punish her for being so pure, so beautiful as to lead him away from his mission. Instead, he felt utter horror and complete embarrassment over what he had just done to her. He stiffened in fury at himself, his face twisting in an ugly grimace. “Get out,” he snarled.
Her large eyes pooled with shock and then confusion.
With a savage cry, he shoved her away from him. She landed in the dirt just outside his room, stunned. “Get away from me, witch!” he hollered.
She stumbled back and tears entered her large eyes. Then she turned and ran.
As she fled, she took with her any compassion he had left. A coldness spread through Logan, leaving a desolate wasteland inside him. He turned back to his room and picked up the sack and the sword.
He marched out of his room, through the courtyard, clutching his sword. His vengeance was just beginning. It was time to finish it.
It was time to retake Castle Fulton.
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Solace ran to her room and threw herself onto her bed. Tears streaked from her eyes and she found she was unable to stop them. Why would he hurt me that way? she wondered. Why would he push me away? There had been no tenderness in his touch, no kindness in his eyes. Only anger. Only hate. With that realization came a searing pain through her heart as if he had slashed it with a sword.
She trembled at the haunting look she had seen in his eyes. She couldn’t believe it was the same man who had kissed her so passionately, touched her body with such devotion, brought her to such a sweet explosive release, the same man she had fallen hopelessly in love with.
She sat up, wiping a sleeve across her runny nose. How could she have allowed herself to love him? Because he was strong and handsome, even with that horrible burn now branded into the side of his face. Did Logan somehow blame her for his branding?
Suddenly, a disturbingly familiar noise rang through the air, a sound that sent shivers up her spine. She stiffened, listening. The clashing of metal echoed distantly in the otherwise silent night air. Solace tilted her head, straining to hear. Like an approaching storm, the sound came closer, and with it screams and shouts. It sounded more like...
Dread filled her so completely that for a moment she couldn’t move. Then she bolted into action, running from her room. A feeling of doom seemed to shadow her steps as she moved toward the Great Hall. She glanced over her shoulder, searching for someone. But no one appeared, no page, no servant, no knight.
She reached an alcove where a large window stood shuttered against the night’s cold. She could hear the muffled sound of clashing swords from behind the shutters. The sound was close. Too close. Solace reached for the shutters, but then pulled her hands back, afraid of what she would find. Hesitantly, she reached again for the shutters and pushed them open. Below her, her soldiers were battling a swarm of men dressed in purple and black tunics; her men were obviously outnumbered. No, her mind screamed. It can’t be!
Slowly her gaze rose and through the open outer ward gates she saw the castle gates were wide open, inviting the steady swarm of attacking soldiers that poured in. A shudder shot down her spine. Open? But how? Had Barclay bribed one of the guards to open the gate? She had heard of such a thing in a siege at Williamsburg.
A chilling scream sounded from down the hallway. Solace spun toward the cry, but stood for a long moment, indecision plaguing her. What could she hope to do against a barrage of enemy soldiers? They were attacking her people! Her heart ached and despair consumed her. I can’t leave the villagers to Barclay, she thought and grim determination filled her as she ran toward the scream.
Then, Father Davis’s words rang in her head. I want you to promise me that if they enter the castle, you‘ll run. To her father. How could she run? How could she leave her castle? Her people? She couldn’t.
The clunk of armored boots reached her ears. She whirled to see Barclay’s soldiers behind her! Where had they come from? It was as though they had materialized out of thin air. Was Barclay using some sort of black magic?
Frightened, she bolted out the open doors into the courtyard. And raced into chaos! Flames engulfed the blacksmith’s shop, its heat threatening to sear her skin. The desperate shouts coming from the battlements thundered in her ears. Smoke billowed out from the doorway of the arrow maker’s shop, the thick black cloud blowing around her, stinging her eyes and stealing the breath from her lungs. All around her, Solace heard the clang of metal against metal. She stumbled from the black cloud, disoriented and scared. Fear made her run through the night, through the turmoil.
She found herself before the mews, racing toward the sleeping compartments. She threw open a door. “Logan?” she called out in a desperate, shaky voice.
But
his room was empty. Everything was gone. His sack. The table was bare. She ran to the side of the bed and dropped to her knees. With trembling hands, she lifted the straw. It was gone. She stuck her hands beneath the straw, searching frantically.
No. No! It wasn’t there. It was gone. Logan’s sword was gone. He had left. Tears welled in her eyes; her throat constricted painfully. Slowly, she rose to her feet.
Why should he have stayed? He had done what he came to do. He had found Peter.
Her body trembled and she wasn’t sure whether it was because he was gone or whether it was because her castle was lost. She stepped out into the night, trying to think clearly. But all around her, she heard defeat, the cries of the dying, flames spitting at the night sky, screams of her people.
“What do we have here?”
Solace whirled to see one of Barclay’s men staring at her. He clutched a bloody blade, which he lowered slightly. His face was red from exertion. “It looks like it’s time for my reward,” he said with a grin.
Solace straightened as he took a step toward her. Think, she told herself. But she couldn’t. Her mind wouldn’t function. She knew that look in the soldier’s eyes. She had seen it before. In Graham’s eyes. In lord Randol’s eyes. An all-consuming fear began closing in on her mind, fogging her thoughts.
“Wait,” she pleaded desperately, holding her hands up before her, trying to ward off the evil gleam glowing in the soldier’s eyes.
“I’ve waited long enough,” he growled and lunged for her, catching one of her wrists in his hold.
Images of lord Randol ripping Anne’s clothing filled her mind along with memories of Graham’s body pressed against her own.
The man pulled her to him, slamming her hard against his chest.
No, she thought. It seemed to be the only word her mind could focus on. She tried to speak it, but the horror of what was happening kept her voice frozen inside her.
“The Baron said whatever treasure we find is ours,” he whispered hotly in her ear. His hands roamed her breasts, squeezing them savagely.
Solace tried to shove his hands away, a growing desperation surging in her soul.
“And I think your treasures will be a mighty fine reward,” he chuckled.
“I’ve got gold,” she said, trying to buy herself a moment.
The soldier paused, pulling back to look at her. “Gold?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with a different kind of lust.
Solace nodded. “I’ll give it all to you if you let me go.”
“You’ll give it all to me anyway. Where is it?” the soldier demanded, his eyes narrowing.
The moment of reprieve set her mind working furiously. Over his shoulder, she spotted a pile of wood. “Over there.” Solace pointed a trembling finger to the stack of logs. “I hid it beneath the wood.”
“Show me,” he commanded.
Solace knew he probably didn’t believe her. But he didn’t have to. All he had to do was look for it. The moment he was distracted, she would break free of him and run to the keep. She led him to the pile, pointing at the bottom.
His dark gaze narrowed, and he seemed to sum her up with one glance. Then he turned his back to her, bending toward the bottom of the pile of wood. “Where?”
Run! her mind screamed. She moved to obey, but her gaze alighted on a loose piece of wood on the ground at her feet. A piece of wood just like the one Logan had used to defend himself against Graham. Slowly, Solace bent to retrieve it. “Right there at the bottom.”
As the soldier ducked his head to peer between the logs, Solace raised the wood above her and brought it down over the soldier’s head. She quickly retreated, shocked at what she had just done. The soldier staggered back against the pile of wood, sending the logs tumbling to the ground with a loud clatter. He shook his head clear and turned to face her, snarling.
Desperate, Solace swung again. The soldier caught the wood in his palm, yanking it from her grip. He threw the wood to the ground and raised his blade over her head.
Solace instinctively raised her hands to shield herself and squeezed her eyes closed against the impending blow. She felt something hit her shoulder and wondered why there was no pain. Then a loud thump jarred her eyes open.
Solace lowered her arms to see the soldier lying prone at her feet.
“Nice try,” a familiar voice said.
Solace snapped her head up to see Logan standing before her, a staff held easily in his palm. Relief crested the tidal wave of joy surging through her body.
“You’re too small. You have to hit him with all your strength or else –”
She threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Logan,” she whispered. She pressed her cheek against his chest, felt his free hand encircle her waist, his cheek brush the top of her head.
“I thought...” It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except that Logan was there.
And that Barclay had entered her home. Her head snapped up to look him in the eyes. “We have to get out of here. Barclay’s gotten into the castle. We need to –”
“It’s all right,” Logan said, smoothing her hair away from her face.
Something in the way he said it made her believe him. Everything would be all right. He took her hand in his and led her out of the mews, past the burning blacksmith shop and back into the keep.
Solace went without a fight. Maybe he was going to get them food before leaving. Or maybe the only escape left open was the secret rear exit. But how would he know about that?
He led her back through the double doors of the keep. He was a Grey. Maybe he knew about the secret escape passage from living at Castle Fulton before.
He led her through the empty corridor toward the Great Hall. One of Barclay’s men stood guard at the entrance. Solace squeezed Logan’s hand tight, anticipating another battle. But Logan did not even pause in his stride as he marched past the man.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. She could feel it. She tightened her grip on his hand. “Logan...” she said as they entered the double doors of the Great Hall.
Her words died on her lips. Barclay’s men were all over the hall! They encircled the room, lining the walls like statues. Solace’s heart pounded madly in her chest, and she pulled at Logan’s hand, trying to get him to leave.
But Logan continued on, tugging her along with him. He stopped a few yards before the flaming hearth. His hand bound hers like a manacle. She looked up into his face, to find it devoid of emotion. She followed his cool gaze to see Beth and Alissa standing near the hearth, its gentle light flickering over them, casting them alternately in shadows and in light. Beth’s face was tear-streaked, her blue eyes red and swollen. Alissa held her hand, her face pale against the darkness around them.
A man stood before the dancing flames with one arm resting on the mantel. He was nudging a log with his plate-mail boots, sending sparks shooting up as a larger log smashed a smaller one. He wore a black cape and his blond hair billowed over it in sharp contrast. He stiffened, raising his head as if sniffing the air, and spun to face them. His stark blue eyes narrowed like a fox’s when sighting a rabbit. Solace knew instinctively she faced her enemy, Baron Barclay.
She glanced desperately at Logan. Surely he had a plan. Had he come to kill Barclay?
“Could this be Solace?” Barclay asked, drawing her gaze back to him.
Solace raised her chin slightly as his gaze ran slowly over her body, a grin curving his thin lips. What was Logan’s plan? Why had he brought her here?
“I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I’m sorry it must be under such unpleasant circumstances,” Barclay said in a sly voice.
Solace’s jaw clenched. Barclay surveyed her and Logan with a cool stare that made her shiver. She still clutched Logan’s hand with fear and desperation. A low rumble of amusement issued from Barclay’s throat.
“Well done, Logan,” he said. “Very well done, indeed.”
Solace wavered, trying to comprehend what she was hearing, but not wanting to understand i
t, refusing to believe it. She looked to Logan for answers, but he refused to meet her gaze.
“It was you!” Alissa accused, stabbing a finger at the falconer.
Solace’s bright eyes shimmered with the tortured dullness of disbelief. She was frozen in some bizarre limbo where all actions and decisions were impossible. She could only stare at Logan, waiting for him to deny Barclay.
But he never did.
“Logan and I have been friends for years,” Barclay explained.
His words didn’t register on her dazed senses.
“He gave us detailed plans for all the secret passageways leading into Castle Fulton,” Barclay was saying.
Solace’s heart refused to believe what her mind was telling her, what her ears were hearing.
“He opened the gates for us,” Barclay gleefully explained.
The screams of frustration remained at the back of Solace’s throat as she snatched her hand from Logan’s grip.
“Secret passageways?” Alissa echoed, casting a confused glance at Barclay.
“Oh, yes. They were elemental to the overtaking of Castle Fulton. We were able to infiltrate from inside, as well as outside.”
Solace backed away from Logan. She felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest, cast to the ground at his feet and trampled. Her vision blurred beneath the onset of tears as she stared at him. But he would not meet her gaze.
“Without his help, we never would have taken Fulton this quickly,” Barclay said, drawing his sword and glancing at himself in the flat edge of the blade.
Solace drew herself up proudly, but her spirit was dead.
“A pity about your face,” Barclay commented. “What were you punished for? Striking a noble?”
Logan shook his head, his dark hair swaying over his shoulders. “Killing one.”
Barclay’s chuckle rumbled through the room.
Solace’s throat closed around unshed tears. She tried desperately to cover her agony and wrenched her gaze from Logan back to Barclay, only to find his gaze locked on her.
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