His Woman (Zebra Historical Romance)

by Diana J. Cosby

  She nodded.

  Duncan lifted the candle and turned toward the stairs. "There is one thing I cannot figure out."

  "What is that?"

  "Why would Frasyer need a private passageway from his chamber to the dungeon?" He started up the steps.

  A frown wedged between her brow as Isabel fell into place behind him. "It makes no sense to me as well. It is not as if he has

  a covert chamber within the dungeon where he hides his secrets." She stilled. "But what if he did?"

  Duncan halted, turned. The flicker of possibility in his gaze matched her own thoughts.

  "What if Frasyer has a discreet chamber down here where he hides what he wishes others to never find?" she asked. "If so, the Bible may be in there as well."

  "Isabel," Duncan cautioned, "there may be another reason for this secret passage." Like Frasyer being so twisted he would covertly watch from a hidden chamber, enjoying as the prisoners within were punished.

  "Nothing else makes sense."

  "There are other reasons, but on this I agree."

  "It is here. I can feel it." He looked far from convinced, but she knew in her heart it was so. "Wait. Why have I not remembered this before? At times, when Frasyer spoke with me, an odd, sour smell clung to him. I had dismissed it as that from hard travel, but I should have placed the smell before, that inherent of the dungeon!"

  "We will search the dungeon first," Duncan said. "Though no guards are posted there, they will return on rounds soon enough."

  "Then let us hurry."

  They retraced their steps. Duncan pushed open the secret door, scoured the dank surroundings, then moved forward. "Stay close behind me."

  Torches, spaced at regular intervals within the dungeon, cast splotches of yellowed light, leaving the musty stone walls a jumble of macabre shadows.

  Isabel scanned the dimly lit corridor. "Where should we begin?"

  "A fine question indeed," Duncan replied. "I doubt that Frasyer would keep anything of value in one of the cells."

  "True, but what if one of the doors does not lead to a cell, but a private room?"

  "Nay," Duncan said. "When I was searching for you, I scanned most every chamber."

  "But not all."

  He grimaced. "Nay, not all. Fine then. We will search those cells I did not view first." He pointed to several cells at the end of the corridor. "Those four are the only ones that I did not check."

  She glanced past the door where she'd been imprisoned. Sickened by the stench, standing so close to where she'd once been incarcerated, made her want to wretch.

  "Isabel?"

  "I am fine." She lied, but she couldn't fail now, not when she was so close. "I will take the two doors on the right."

  He nodded.

  With her stomach threatening to purge, Isabel hurried along the dank hallway, the groans of men suffering in the distance too clear a reminder of what awaited her and Duncan if they were caught. That was, if after, Frasyer allowed them to live.

  At the first door, she peered within the slats, half afraid of witnessing one of Frasyer's unfortunate captives firsthand. Daylight filtered through the narrowed hole carved midway up the wall. Inside, she saw naught but abandoned straw.

  "Anything?" Duncan whispered.

  "No."

  "Nothing here either."

  Isabel hurried to the final room and peered inside the narrowed slit. Nothing. Her heart sunk. "Do you see anything?" she asked, praying he had.

  "Only another cell."

  She touched the chain with Wallace's pendant around her neck. "Damn Frasyer and his game. Where else could a chamber be hidden?

  Duncan shook his head and motioned toward the secret passage. "We need to return to Frasyer's chamber and find garb to masquerade ourselves in while we search."

  Isabel fell into step beside him.

  "Besides the cells," he said, "there is only the stairs leading to the great room."

  "What if a secret panel is hidden in the wall up the steps?"

  He shook his head. "If indeed another secret chamber exists, it could be anywhere."

  The odds against them finding the entry to yet another secret chamber somewhere in the castle was enormous. Each moment lost deprived them of time needed to travel. She scanned the flame-lit corridor, the yellowed light dancing across the indents leaving macabre shadows.

  "We should check the stairs before we leave."

  Duncan frowned. "Aye, a necessary risk. If we hear anyone coming from above, hurry to the passage." With the groans of the prisoners around them, they hurried to the stairs leading to the great room.

  Vivid memories of Duncan's initial appearance overwhelmed her. How he'd appeared within her cell when she'd believed all was lost. How he'd brought garb to help her escape. How he'd stood by her when he'd learned she could not leave without the Bible. And of how he'd been wounded in creating a diversion so they could safely continue their search.

  They started past the dark inlet behind the stairs, and another memory jolted her. The shelter she had used to change into the squire's garb.

  As they passed the indent, a cool breeze had their candle sputtering. Light from the sporadic wick flickered along the dungeon walls and illuminated the black void behind the steps.

  "Wait." Duncan lifted the candle. Yellow light illuminated the shielded door behind the steps, to yet another cell. Or was it. "Look there, where you changed into the garb when I came before."

  "Another cell?"

  "When I first saw it, due to the lack of grates, I dismissed it as a room Frasyer used to flog his prisoners or worse."

  "Mayhap it is a private chamber," Isabel said, trying not to get her hopes up.

  "Mayhap." He stepped toward the narrowed inlet shielding the entry.

  The creak of a door sounded above. Male voices echoed down the stairway.

  Duncan hurried over, jerked open the door. It slid soundlessly open. "Hurry."

  She didn't have to be told twice. Nerves slammed her body as she rushed into the chamber, Duncan in her wake.

  Candlelight illuminated a room complete with a massive desk, hand-drawn maps of Scotland, claymores, and myriad other war- honed items.

  The pounding of the guard's steps on the stairs increased. Duncan pushed her inside, shut the door behind them, and caught her hand.

  The guards voices echoed from outside.

  Duncan hauled her behind the desk. "Get down."

  Heart pounding, she ducked, and he knelt by her side.

  taint of

  He blew out the candle. The room fell to blackness, the smoke from the wick strong.

  "Or can

  "Do you think they saw our candle?" Isabel whispered, smell the smoke?"

  "Shhhh.

  Silence swarmed them, punctured by the sound of their breaths and the murmurs of the guards.

  Seconds passed.

  Nearby, a cell door scraped open. The voices grew distant.

  Isabel sagged back. "They did not see us."

  "Aye, but now we must wait until they have left."

  She relaxed, the darkness heightening her senses. Duncan's warm breath slid over her neck with a soft, familiar warmth. He was so close she could feel the heat of his body, the honed muscles a fortifying strength to her frayed nerves. Though she fought to be strong, she wanted him to assure her that they would find the Bible and reach her father in time to save his life. And more, to forgive her. A foolish thought indeed. With all that she'd put him through, she deserved naught of his forgiveness, only contempt.

  The scrape of doors and muted voices from the corridor seemed to last forever, the wait made bearable only by Duncan's presence at her side.

  Her mind drifted to thoughts of the tower chamber when she and Duncan had almost made love. Her skin prickled with awareness as she remembered the feel of his hands upon her skin, the male taste of him upon her tongue, the erotic sensations his touch invoked.

  No, they'd not made love, but for a while, he'd looked at her w
ith the passion she'd believed she would never see in his eyes again.

  "They are leaving," Duncan said, drawing her from her musings.

  Isabel angled her head and listened, thankful to hear the guards' fading voices as they headed up the stairs.

  Leather slid against the stone floor as he shifted beside her. "Wait here."

  She caught his arm. "Where are you going?"

  "To one of the torches outside so I can light the candle. Stay here until I return." Quiet steps echoed in the silence. A soft shush sounded as he opened the door. Torchlight cut through the gloom a second before she was again plunged into darkness.

  Each scrape, each indefinable sound beyond the stone wall had her tensing.

  After a long moment, the door reopened. Duncan stepped inside. Candlelight breeched the blackness like a beacon, illuminating a surprisingly complex chamber.

  She gave a shaky exhale.

  Unaware of her worry, Duncan gestured toward the chests lined up against the far wall. "I will look through those, you search the desk. If the Bible is not in either place, we will comb through the other chests within the chamber."

  Isabel nodded. With the guards surely to return on their rounds in a short while, she prayed the search wouldn't take long. She quickly scanned the top of the desk while Duncan began rummaging through the first of the chests.

  Rolled maps, ledgers, and scrawled notes by Frasyer addressing issues of the keep lay ready upon the hewn wood, but there was no sign of her mother's Bible. Not as if she'd expected it to be lying out for her to find.

  "Anything?" Duncan called.

  "Not yet." Isabel opened several bindings wrapped in oiled leather, frustrated when only more ledgers for Moncreiffe Castle filled her hand. She glanced over at Duncan. He was searching through the third chest.

  She studied the chests along the opposite wall. What if the Bible wasn't there, either? There were so many places within the castle where the Bible might be, but they didn't have the luxury of time to search them all. And if the guards had discovered their hidden mounts, they could be caught before they found it.

  Isabel started to step away from the desk when her foot caught on a small wooden chest on the floor.

  "Duncan!" Excitement rattled her voice, but she didn't care, if indeed what she suspected lay within.

  He shoved the lid of the trunk he was searching shut and stood. "Did you find it?"

  "I found something. This may be the Bible!" As Duncan hurried over, Isabel hauled the small chest up, then lifted it onto the table. A part of her feared the Bible wouldn't be inside. She met Duncan's gaze.

  "Open it, lass."

  With her fingers trembling, she caught the sides of the cover. After a silent prayer, she raised the sturdy top and peered inside.

  Isabel's covered her face with her hands. "Oh, God!"

  Chapter 14

  Isabel's face paled, then she began to sway. Duncan caught her as she crumpled against the desk. "Isabel?" He drew her against his chest. She turned into his arms, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.

  "Oh, Duncan," she said, her voice strangled with emotion.

  A worn leather bag was crammed into the small chest. Not the Bible. Damn Frasyer for putting her through this, her torment as each search had come up empty, and her every new hope of having found it destroyed. After they'd freed Lord Caelin, he'd find Frasyer. With his bare hands, the bastard would pay.

  He stroked the soft tangle of her hair, her trembling body feeling so fragile against his. "Nay worry, lass, we will find the Bible. On that I give you my vow."

  "No." Still clutching the leather sack against her chest, she pushed herself away. "This is the Bible." A tremulous smile curved

  her lips as she tugged open the sack and withdrew a leather-bound book. A tear rolled down her cheek. "We can leave."

  Relief poured through Duncan, but another part of him acknowledged a hard truth. This was the beginning of their end. Aye, they could go. Once they reached Lord Monceaux, turned over the Bible and her father was freed, Duncan would ride away to never see Isabel again.

  A decision she had chosen.

  A decision he should be overjoyed to accept.

  Except, standing here, with her but a hand's width away, he realized he'd never stopped wanting her. With the sweet lavender scent of her hair filling his nostrils, and her soft body in his arms, he was hard pressed not to give in to temptation.

  At the tower chamber, why had he asked that once they'd delivered the Bible, she not return to Frasyer? What was he thinking? He grimaced. Nay, 'twas more like what was fuelling his thoughts.

  With the sweet taste of her kisses lingering on his tongue and his body demanding he claim what it believed was his, lust had guided his request. Not that he didn't care for her more than was good. 'Twould seem with her, some things would never change.

  "We will use the sack to carry the Bible," Duncan said.

  Isabel met his gaze, then she looked away, but not before he caught a hint of regret on her face.

  Unease twisted in his gut. "What is wrong?"

  "We need to be leaving."

  "Aye, but I have known you too long to deny another thought churns in your mind. Tell me."

  She scraped her teeth across her bottom lip, then she shot him a nervous glance. "Now that I have the Bible and a mount, you can return home."

  A muscle worked in his jaw. "Had I wanted to slink away after first freeing you from the dungeon, I would have been long gone. I thought you knew me." He gave a bitter laugh. "I thought I knew you. Seems we were both wrong."

  "Duncan."

  "If you think that I am going to—"

  "No," Isabel interrupted, aware that the time had come to push Duncan away for good. As much as she wished it otherwise, the false words she must say to convince him to go without her would hurt him. But there was still time for his escape, for him to be safe. That's all that mattered.

  "You are wounded and should still be abed recovering from your injuries. Instead, you take yourself off to travel with your brothers to meet with Wallace, to prove what?" she demanded, allowing her worry for him to fill her words, her anger at his recklessness to drive her forward. "Then, when you returned home and found me gone, when you should have dismissed me and taken care of yourself, you tracked me down, risking your life yet again. For what? You claim for Symon." She shook her head when he made to speak. "Your vow to Symon to help me escape the dungeon has ended." She couldn't keep her voice from quivering at the last. "As is the life we once planned."

  His jaw stiffened.

  "I belong to Frasyer now, not you," she rushed on. "Do not delude yourself that the kiss we shared in the tower was anything more than a release of frustration, a wanting inspired by our fatigue, of that any man or any woman would have experienced under our circumstances." She despised the words that would hurt the most, a glaring lie to Duncan, a man she would always love. "I was lonely. You were there. Had Seathan stood in the chamber instead of you, had he drawn me to him, I would have kissed him the same. And had he asked"—she swallowed hard—"welcomed him into my bed."

  Anger darkened Duncan's face to such a dangerous hue that she took a step back. But if she didn't finish, his pride would force him to remain. "I wish to be with Frasyer. I cannot say it any simpler. Hear me, Duncan. I do not want you anymore. I do not need you to help me carry the Bible to safety. Be gone."

  His green eyes darkened to black, the fury banking within them making her take another step back. She'd pushed him, mercilessly, but it would take his anger to ensure he left.

  "And you will ride to Lord Monceaux on your own?" he said, his voice so dangerously quiet another chill rippled through her. "Having not a care for Frasyer's men who search for you?"

  She angled her chin. "I am aware of the challenges I face in my journey ahead."

  "And you claim what is between us is over?"

  "Yes."

  The pain of her words lanced through him with fiery precision. Yet, something
didn't feel right.

  Duncan watched her every breath, the nuances of every shift of her eyes. And then he saw it—the slightest quiver of her mouth. Understanding ripped through him. She lied. He drew her toward him with male satisfaction.

  "Do not," she whispered, the slight yearning in her voice giving further credence to his belief.

  Fury that she dared deny her true feelings for him pounded in his veins. Did she think him a fool? He raised her up on her tiptoes until their faces were a hand's width apart. The flare of her nostrils and the widening of her pupils told him she was as moved as he.

  "It is not I who has lied," he growled.

  He claimed her mouth, hot and hard, demanding her response. For a moment her body remained stiff. Then her lips quivered, softened, and accepted. At her moan, he angled his head and took the kiss deeper. Leather slapped upon the desk as she dropped the Bible. Her hands clung to him, dragging him closer, her mouth aggressive, making its own demands.

  This was no lie.

  The deeper they delved, the more it seemed as if the moment was bigger than them both, as if they were swept up in an otherworldly tide of passion that would consume them both.

  Her mouth parted and he plunged his tongue deep inside, savouring her taste, wanting her even more. As her body willingly pressed against him, his hands roamed her every curve, touching, lingering against her silken skin, peeling away garb that denied him the feel of her flesh.

  With his blood flowing hot, he scraped his teeth gently against the length of her neck, tasting, teasing until her body trembled helplessly against him.

  She gasped, then tried to push away.

  He held her tight.

  "Duncan, we cannot."

  "No?" He slid his hand down to cup her breast, watched as her eyes glazed with passion as he skimmed his mouth along the soft curve. With their eyes locked, he leaned over and swept his tongue across the hardening tip.

  She groaned.

  "Tell me," he demanded, his breath spilling over her sensitized flesh glistening from his taste. "Tell me that if I chose, we would not be making love here, upon this desk in a trice."

  A blush rushed up her cheeks. She looked away, her chest heaving, her body taut. "I cannot."