Off to the right she heard two men arguing. She closed her eyes, trying hard to concentrate on what they were saying. Unfortunately she felt an awful throbbing at the side of her head, and any words reaching her ears were incomprehensible.
She went to lift a hand to feel for any lumps on her head when her hand was stayed. With a sense of dread, she discovered the coarse rope that tied her hands and ankles together. Her captors made sure that there was no opportunity for her to escape.
Wriggling her fingers, she tested it. She then yanked at the rope, trying to wrench her hands apart in hopes that it would slacken. However it barely gave way.
Her spirits lifted when she remembered the dagger that was still attached to her belt. If only she could get at it perhaps she could free herself. With renewed hope, she tugged hard at the rope, allowing it to cut at her flesh. She ignored the pain and continued to pull at the rope, wanting desperately to grasp the cold comfort of her dagger.
How long was she unconscious? Was it morning or night? It was hard to say. She strained her eyes to see through the tiny openings in the sack but she couldn’t make anything out.
When she heard the voices again, she stilled her movements, remembering almost too late that she was not alone.
“You fool,” a man said, his tone harsh. “She hasn’t moved since I arrived an hour ago. I didn’t pay for a dead woman.” The nasal voice sounded familiar somehow but she couldn’t quite place it.
A thick silence followed, and even through the coarse sack, she could feel the heat of their eyes resting on her.
“She’s not dead,” the other man replied in a raspy tone. Eban! Rowena closed her eyes, wishing that she could block out his voice. She was sure it was him. “We got her here for you, didn’t we? We also did what you asked with that young knight. Now you need to pay us our due.”
The man who had spoken first made a sound of disgust. A few seconds later, Rowena heard the rustling of coins. “I’ll give you half the amount that we agreed upon.”
“Nay, we did everything that you asked,” Eban protested. “We want the full payment.”
Rowena felt the bile rising up to her throat. Her captors lured her to the stables, and she fell so easily into their trap. Now that they had her, she could only assume that her capture was about money. Even though her father didn’t care for her any longer, she knew he would pay the ransom.
She yanked once more at the rope, and felt a rush of relief when it gave way slightly.
A movement sounded on the other side of the room. “She moved!” a third voice cut in, which could only be Eban’s companion. “I just saw her move. Dead people don’t move far as I know.”
Rowena froze, afraid to even breathe. What were they going to do with her now?
“I’ll have to see for myself. Here,” the nasal voice said. Rowena heard the clink of coins being tossed to the stone floor. “Now get out of my sight.”
“There are two coins here, sire,” Eban complained in his rough voice. “The deal was five.”
“You’re lucky to get any coins much less escape with your life,” the other man said. “Leave now before I change my mind and kill you both.”
There was the shuffling of feet and more curses as a heavy door slammed shut. Then silence.
Rowena sensed a presence in the room with her even though all she could hear was her own shallow breathing. It was next to impossible to relax when she knew her captor was out there waiting, ready to pounce on her.
After what seemed like hours she heard the sound of heavy footfall approaching. She wrinkled her nose as she caught a waft of old sweat. The movement stopped near her head.
There was a soft rustling noise, as if the man was kneeling beside her. She stiffened her body, bracing herself for a blow that she knew would come.
But the blow never came. Instead the man untied the sack and removed the gag from Rowena’s mouth. The sudden brightness of the room caused her eyes to close. And when she opened them again, she could only stare in confusion. She anticipated some dangerous outlaw, someone who was scary and unfamiliar, the worst member of the infamous Folmort gang. The last person she expected to find was Raulf looking back at her with a grin on his face.
Rowena ran her tongue along her cracked lips. “Why am I here, Sir Raulf?”
“You will soon find out,” he said. His mouth stretched into an even wider smile, although there was no hint of merriment in his eyes. “I suspect that you’re thirsty,” he continued smoothly. He held a goblet of mead in his hand, and placed it to her dry lips. He spoke as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, as if they were sitting in the great hall, exchanging pleasantries.
Rowena eyed him as he tipped the pale liquid into her mouth. And as soon as she tasted the cool mead, she greedily swallowed the sweet drink.
“That should be enough,” he said, taking the goblet away. He lifted a pitcher of the honey wine that sat on the ground, and refilled the cup before setting it aside.
“You can have more if you answer one question to my liking.” He swirled the liquid and brought the goblet to his mouth, sighing and making a big show of licking his lips. “Mead is much more satisfying than ale, especially when you’re feeling quite parched.”
Rowena looked at the cup with longing. “What do you want from me?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“What do I want from you?” he asked, sounding thoughtful. He raised one hand, caressing her face. “Is it not apparent? ‘Tis you I want.” He turned her face this way and that as if he was assessing a prized horse. “When I first saw you, I was struck by your beauty, and I wanted to claim you for my own.”
“I do not believe you,” she said.
Raulf shrugged and pretended as if he didn’t hear her. “When I learned that you had married Jonathan in secret, I was quite upset,” he said, tracing a finger over her cracked lips. She jerked her face away from his touch. “But then you looked so unhappy in the grandstand. And I surmised that you were forced into marrying that bastard. Was I right, Rowena?” he asked, studying her face.
He leaned back. “Ah, I can see the truth in your eyes. You were forced into it but you care for him, don’t you, Rowena? ‘Tis pure folly to care for him. Perhaps you should forget about him and become my mistress instead. Then you can have a chance at real happiness. I hear that is what you desire most.”
Rowena shook her head as if she wanted to unsettle the chill that was now running down her spine. “Nay, never!” she said, her voice sounding rough. “I would choose to stay with Jonathan or even die than be a mistress to you — a killer.”
He raised his eyes brows. “A killer?” he repeated thoughtfully. “You’re calling me a killer.”
“I know ‘twas you who murdered my palfrey,” she said. “I saw you leave the stables the day my horse died. Why did you kill her?”
“Ah, the horse,” he said with understanding. He gave her a trace of a smile. “While I confess that I am a killer, I have killed more than just horses. As for your horse…I went to look at the colt and the mare bit me.” He shrugged. “Poison seems the best method for a torturous demise, don’t you agree?”
“You ruthless bastard,” she hissed.
The smile vanished. “Perhaps I am,” he said. Something dark and evil flashed through his eyes. He let his hand fall. He picked up the pitcher and poured the remaining contents on to the ground. “If I didn’t have other plans for you, I would be happy to grant you your death wish.”
Rowena inched away from him. She took an unsteady breath, trying to stem the panic that quickly rose to the surface, threatening to escape. “What is your plan, Sir Raulf?” she asked. Although she tried to sound brave, a slight tremor sounded in her voice. “Is it to use me for ransom? My father will not like it, but name your price and he will pay it.”
“Your father? I don’t care about your father,” he spat, giving up all pretense of civility. “The amount he can give me in exchange for your life is insignificant. Nay, the real reason you’re her
e is because of Jonathan.”
“Jonathan?” Rowena repeated. Her brow knitted in confusion. She looked around the small chamber as if she expected to find him there. “What does Jonathan have to do with my abduction?”
He gave her a sly smile. “Everything,” he said.
“I — I do not understand,” she stammered.
“I don’t expect that you would,” he said. He gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “My original plan was to use you to lure Jonathan here. But then I thought better of it, and decided that ‘twould destroy him much more if I made you my mistress. But then you ruined that plan by rejecting it.” His eyes narrowed at her. “No matter. We shall stick to the original plan, and things may work out even better than I expect. There is no doubt that Jonathan will come for you. I’ve waited ten long years for my revenge, and it will be all the sweeter with you involved.”
“But he does not care for me,” Rowena said.
She adjusted her position until a section of the sack fell across her lap, obscuring her hands and feet.
“Whether he cares or not, you are his wife, and he is duty bound to rescue you.” Raulf said. He gazed off to the far wall as if he was transported to another place. “You might as well know. I’m the rightful heir to the Blackburn demesne. I was born to rule this land and am denied it because I was born to the wrong mother.” He spat out the last word as if it tasted bad. A look of pure hatred crossed his face. “From birth, Jonathan had everything and I had nothing. I lived my entire life hoping that my sire would acknowledge me. I did everything the old tyrant asked, suffered through his moodiness and felt the sharp blunt of his insults, but it was all for naught.”
Raulf became lost in his dark memories, and Rowena took the opportunity to jerk at the rope again until it finally gave way. She slowly slipped one hand out from the knot.
His eyes suddenly focused on her, and her hand stilled. “That was until you came into the picture,” he continued. “You, my lady, are the answer to what is owed to me. You will be the cause of his downfall.”
Rowena swallowed. “I doubt that I would have that much influence.”
He laughed. “You will have more than enough influence,” he said. “Jonathan will be forced to make a choice between saving your life and keeping the demesne. If I venture to guess, he’ll want to save you. And then he’ll give me the demesne for fear that you will come to harm, just as his precious Amelia did. ‘Tis a fair trade, I think.” He shrugged and bared his yellow teeth at her. “Being a bastard, even I can have my noble moments.”
It took a split second for his words to sink in, and she felt sick to her stomach. “You led me to believe that Lady Amelia was your betrothed, and that Jonathan had killed her,” she said.
“Did I?” he lifted his eyebrows in feigned surprise.
“I did not think that Jonathan would be so merciless as to kill a woman. I assume that it was you who did it,” she said.
The corners of his mouth turned down. “Believe me, it wasn’t intentional,” he said. “But we’re not here to talk about Amelia, we’re here to talk about you, and how you can help me get what I want.”
A look of dismay crossed Rowena’s face. “I am afraid that your efforts are wasted,” she said. “Jonathan does not care for me as he cared for his betrothed. He will not come as you hope. When my father discovers that I am gone, his full wrath will be upon your head. ‘Twould be better for you if you release me. I can make arrangements to have the ransom money sent to you once I return to Ravenhearth.”
“Unfortunately I cannot do that, my lady. You have refused my generous offer,” he said in a mocking tone. “If you had agreed to be my mistress, then there would be no need to keep you tied up, now would it?”
“This is madness!” Rowena burst out in frustration. Her hand found the dagger and she grasped it. “I refuse to have any part of this evil game that you are playing. You will release me this instant!” she said, her voice ringing in the small chamber.
He stared at her, unmoved by her outburst.
“She has no intention of becoming your whore,” a voice said at the door.
Raulf froze, and swiveled his head in the direction of the voice. He cursed when he saw Jonathan standing there.
Seizing the moment of distraction, Rowena quickly cut away at the rest of the knot, releasing her other hand and ankles.
But before Rowena could move out of harm’s way, Raulf pulled her to her feet. Her dagger clattered onto the cold stone floor, and she looked down at it in horror.
Raulf raised his eyebrows in surprise when he discovered that her hands and feet were free.
Rowena chose that moment to break free and run. Somehow Raulf anticipated her movements because he was quick. Before she knew what happened, Raulf reached down for the dagger and dragged her back against him, her own knife placed at the pulsing vein at her neck.
She could feel the cold point and was forced to raise her chin to avoid getting cut. “I didn’t expect you to arrive so soon, brother,” he said.
“You are of no relation to me,” Jonathan said.
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong. We have the same sire.”
Jonathan shook his head in denial. “That’s impossible,” he said. He held his sword as if he could barely restrain himself from running it through Raulf. “You were Richard’s ward and nothing more. I remember how you came to live at the castle. Your father was but a poor farmer.”
“You would believe that lie,” Raulf said, sneering. Looking straight at Jonathan, plainly enjoying his reaction, Raulf’s hand glided up and cupped Rowena’s breast, squeezing it.
Rowena winced at the shooting pain. He then stuck out his tongue and licked the side of her neck. “Tasty. I didn’t intend to cut her pretty throat, but seeing the look on your face, it might be worth it.”
“I give you fair warning,” Jonathan said. “Let her go and I will spare your life.”
Raulf snorted, and tightened his grip on Rowena just as she tried to wrench herself free. She gave a small cry when the dagger nicked her throat, causing her to bleed. “Hold still, wench,” Raulf hissed into her ear. “I don’t want to kill you yet.” A shiver passed through her spine, and she stilled her movements.
Jonathan clenched his teeth. “If you so much as —”
“If you want her alive for rutting,” Raulf interrupted, “then I suggest we make a deal.”
“I don’t make deals with outlaws,” Jonathan said, his face hard. He wanted nothing more to wrestle the knife out of Raulf’s hands, and drive it into his body.
“Then I suppose she dies,” Raulf said. Noises at the side of the chamber made him turn his head. He cursed underneath his breath again when he saw Gareth and Derrik enter the room.
“We’ve rounded up the adversary and have secured the area, sire,” Gareth said.
A look of panic crossed his face as if Raulf suddenly realized that the guards he placed around the castle were subdued, and he was alone with his enemies, severely outnumbered. Raulf tightened his arm around Rowena’s waist, making her gasp.
“Call off your men!” he yelled at Jonathan. He moved to the door, dragging Rowena in his wake. “I know that they’re waiting for your signal.”
Jonathan lifted his hand to stay his men.
“The men waiting outside — tell them to get into the chamber,” Raulf ordered.
At Jonathan’s command, two guards entered the room, their weapons lowered.
Raulf dragged Rowena through the door. “I regret that I cannot take you along with me,” he said into her ear. “But my business with you is far from finished. Dream about me, my lady. Know that I will be back for you.”
And then when he was certain that Jonathan kept his word to stop his men, he cast Rowena aside, causing her to stumble and fall onto the hard floor. “You won’t see the last of me!” he shouted over his shoulder.
Jonathan’s men raced after Raulf down the steep spiral staircase, while Jonathan ran to her. He g
athered her up in his strong arms. She sobbed in relief and buried her face in his chest, feeling safer than she ever felt over the past couple of days.
CHAPTER 28
It was late when Jonathan headed toward his bed chamber. Gareth and his men had returned empty handed, which wasn’t surprising.
The guard stationed at the foot of the stairs stood at attention upon seeing him. Jonathan nodded as he passed the armored man. With Raulf still hiding in the shadows, it was prudent to be on the alert.
Jonathan’s steps echoed as he made his way up the winding stairway, but when he got to the door of his chamber, he hesitated. He shook his head as if to clear away his indecision and pushed open the door. He never experienced indecision before in his life and the idea of it unnerved him.
The maid who slept on a pallet at the side of the bed sat up at the sound of the door opening. She stared at him with wide eyes as if trying to understand his presence in the room. With an impatient wave of his hand, she bowed her head, and slipped out of the chamber.
Now that Jonathan stood in the middle of the dimly lit room, he felt foolish. Rowena was most certainly asleep. It was sufficient enough to have the maid sleeping at the side of the bed, and if he was honest with himself, there was no need for him to be in the chamber. Yet here he was. He couldn’t explain why he felt so compelled to see her. Her nearness intoxicated him, and he felt a need to protect her, to keep her safe from those who wanted to harm her.
“Maddy?” Rowena’s soft voice said through the heavy velvet drapes that surrounded the large bed. “Is something wrong?” She pushed aside the curtains and stuck out her head.
Like the chambermaid, her eyes widened, but it was with relief. “Oh, ‘tis you,” she breathed. “For a moment I thought Sir Raulf had snuck into the chamber.”
“‘Tis impossible for anyone to come in here,” he said. “I have extra guards posted at the bottom of the stairs, and there are others positioned throughout the castle walls. You can be assured that the inhabitants of this castle are safe from that bastard.” He moved closer to the bed and looked down at her, frowning. “Why are you not asleep, my lady? ‘Tis late.”
One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) Page 22
