“What else could I have done? Would you have preferred that I had let him do his worst?”
Erik regarded her, as if considering whether she spoke the truth. “You profess concern for me, yet you refused to wed me.”
The true reason for her refusal rose to Vivienne’s lips, but she did not want to speak of love in this moment, when Erik seemed to not even to like her. “Because you argued in favor of a handfast,” she said instead, forcing herself to sound calm, as if she had been persuaded by logic alone.
In truth, she thought of beauteous Beatrice and how poorly she must compare with that wifely paragon who had defended his rights to her own death.
“Your reasoning for a handfast is sound,” she said with care when he said nothing. “For you will have need of another maiden if your seed does not bear fruit in my womb. I would not tempt failure by demanding that you cede to my family’s expectations. I would not risk your daughters so readily.”
“And what do you gain in this?”
“The chance to aid two young girls.”
Erik frowned and turned abruptly away. Vivienne thought he might leave, but he only peered down the passage into which Ruari had disappeared.
Apparently reassured, he turned back to her, his gaze bright. He spoke more slowly now, his condemnation seeming to lose its vigor. “Doubtless I would have faced some more dire fate on the morrow, rather than simple abuse, courtesy of your kin.”
“Perhaps so, if I had not ensured your escape.”
Erik watched her so keenly, though, that Vivienne imagined that he tried to read her very thoughts. She returned his regard steadily, hoping he would see the honesty of her intent.
“Perhaps this feat is intended to provide some amusement for your family,” he suggested softly. “There is much interest in hawks and horses and hounds in this hall, after all. Perhaps I am to be hunted anew.” He took a backward step. “Perhaps I but leap from the fat to the fire.”
“My family would not do such a horrific deed!” Vivienne cried. “How can you be so certain that I mean you ill?”
“How could I trust you, after all that has occurred?” he demanded in his turn, his voice rising. “All has gone awry since I came to Kinfairlie…”
“It went awry long before that.”
Erik shoved a hand through his hair, then spoke with determination. “All was to change with this plan, and yet it does not. Clearly I have erred yet again. Since Fortune offers me a chance to survive, I mean to seize it. I will follow you and your sister no longer. It would be folly to sacrifice what slender advantage I have in this moment.”
They stared at each other in silence in the flickering light. Vivienne did not know what to say, just as she knew she could not let him leave her behind. She knew that she could be of aid to him, she knew that she must hold a key to his ultimate success for she had a sense that their partnership was no mere coincidence. She did not know how to persuade him, a man so dubious of the unseen, of such a conviction.
“Come along, lad!” Ruari roared from some distance. “I make ready progress here and soon will not be able to retrace my steps back to you. I can fairly smell the stables, upon that you can rely!”
Erik held Vivienne’s gaze, unswayed. “What has been between us will remain our secret for so long as I draw breath,” he vowed with such intensity that she believed him. “You need fear no repercussions from a loose tongue of mine.” She made to speak but he held up his hand. “And I shall ensure that Ruari holds his peace, as well. Wed well, trusting that none will reveal that you are maiden no longer. Farewell, Vivienne.”
Vivienne stared at him, shocked to her toes that he would truly leave her side, dismayed beyond belief to hear the clamor of her heart. He stood so resolute, so certain that he could triumph alone, so noble that he would die in the attempt to save his daughters.
She knew then that, against all odds, she had lost her heart to Erik Sinclair. She might never be able to claim his affections, but she could not let him walk away. Love, Vivienne Lammergeier knew, was too uncommon and of too great a value to be discarded.
It was love that would ensure Erik’s victory in the end.
But she dared not argue as much, not yet.
So she shook her head and argued otherwise. “Erik, you cannot do this. If you leave us and Darg, you will only become lost. You will imperil yourself and your daughters in truth! I swear to you, I mean you no ill. I swear to you that I knew nothing of my family’s pursuit and I only try to set matters aright.”
“Vivienne…”
“Erik, I would accompany you. I would yet try to bear your son. I would keep every pledge I have made to you.”
“But why?”
Vivienne dared not utter the truth, so fresh and fragile to her, so she impulsively offered another more earthy explanation.
She closed the distance between them with a quick step, reached up and touched her lips to his.
Erik did not move. Indeed, he stood so utterly still that she feared he would reject her again. Undaunted, Vivienne slipped her hand into the hair at his nape and slanted her mouth across his. She kissed him with a gentle ardor, coaxing his response.
Erik remained motionless while she kissed him, and she might have thought her efforts futile had she not let her hand slide around his neck. She felt the thunder of his pulse beneath her palm and knew then that he was not so immune to her caress as he would have her believe.
He felt the link between them, as well, though still he denied its potency.
Reassured, Vivienne cast aside her torch then and cupped his face in her hands, straining to her toes to sample him fully. She kissed him again and again, urging him to join her. She heard him catch his breath, she felt his erection, she did not cease her kisses. Indeed, she slipped her tongue between his lips and was rewarded with his gasp.
And then, his resistance crumbled with astonishing speed. His arm locked around her waist and he lifted her against his chest, his kiss plundering her mouth with unmistakable fervor, as if he would devour her whole. Vivienne kissed him back with joy, knowing she had swayed his choice, knowing she could win his love.
Erik abruptly broke their kiss and put distance between them, his eyes narrowed as he regarded her. “It is a more common sorcery that you command,” he said. “But one that no sensible man would trust, all the same. Turn back and return to all you know. Farewell, Vivienne.”
With that, Erik turned to pursue his companion, raising his voice to call to the older man. “Ruari! Shout directions to me that I might find you.”
“No!” Vivienne cried and lunged after him. She took a deep breath, knowing that a confession would not improve Erik’s view of her but it was the sole way to keep him from abandoning her. “I lied about my courses,” she admitted and he froze.
He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowed. “What is this?”
“I had to stop Alexander, so I lied. I do not bleed as yet. I have not bled in over two weeks. You cannot leave me, as your seed might well be taking root within my womb.”
Erik swore and his brow darkened. Vivienne held her breath, for she could see that he did not truly believe her, yet was tempted by the possibility.
Before he could reply, Elizabeth screamed from some point far below.
“Darg!” she cried then, apparently in anguish. “No, Darg, no!”
There was a resounding splash that made Vivienne freeze in terror. A woman screamed.
“Elizabeth!” Vivienne cried, though no one answered her.
A mere heartbeat later, Ruari swore with gusto, his exclamation echoing through the passageway he had followed. There was a crash, as if someone had fallen, and a tumbling of stone. A fierce wind surged up the stairway with sudden force, extinguishing Erik’s blazing torch as readily as a puff of breath will douse a candle.
Vivienne was cloaked in darkness, utterly uncertain of where she stood, much less where her companions might be found. “Erik?” she whispered, her mouth dry in fear.
She could hear him breathing, but he did not answer, and that was no good portent at all.
The woman addled his wits. Erik dared not linger long with Vivienne, not when she could so readily persuade him of whatsoever she chose. He had been prepared to abandon her, until she admitted that she had lied about her courses. He did not know what was the truth, whether she bled or not, whether she lied to him or to her brother, though he dared not abandon her when she might carry his son.
At least that was what he told himself. The truth was that he could not turn readily away from this woman. Even when he thought the worst of her, her kiss seared his very soul. He could not tell truth from fabrication, not when she kissed him with such dizzying abandon.
He feared that she lied, only to have him do her bidding.
Erik was utterly aware of the lady behind him, no less so when she whispered his name. The tremble of uncharacteristic fear in her voice had him turning, reaching out his hand to her. She was so bold, this maiden, so resolute, that he suspected she must be deeply afraid to have given any hint of such weakness.
“Vivienne?” he replied, reaching his hand to where he thought she must be.
He heard her take a step toward him, heard the quaking breath she took, then felt her fingers collide with his. “I hate these caverns,” she said, trying to cover her fear with a laugh that only made that fear more evident.
Her bravado had Erik lacing his fingers protectively with hers, had him drawing her closer to his side. “It is no different in darkness than in light,” he said. “We still stand in a cavern below the keep.”
“It seems much worse,” she said, then unexpectedly leaned her cheek against his chest. “Please do not leave me, Erik, not alone in such darkness.”
Erik’s arm was around Vivienne’s waist before he could consider the wisdom of his impulse. In the darkness, his other senses were more sharp. He could smell the sweetness that clung to her skin, as well as the tang of her terror. Her hair wound over his arm and through his fingers like fine silk, the curve of her breast was crushed against his chest. He felt her breath against his throat and knew she had tipped her head back, knew her lips would be parted, knew she would not spurn his kiss.
But too much temptation lay that way.
Indeed, this would have been the perfect moment for some scheme against him to be launched. He had even lowered his sword and was no longer listening to his surroundings.
“Nay,” he said with resolve, putting the lady an increment from his side. “This changes naught.”
“But…”
“Ruari!” he bellowed before she could argue the matter.
There was no reply, except a muffled grunt. Had Ruari been attacked? Or had he fallen?
“I missed a step, lad,” that man shouted, his voice wavering. “And dropped my cursed torch in so doing. I am as a blind man, nay a blind man with a hobble!”
Erik sighed with relief. “I am coming, Ruari,” he shouted, then added a few words to make the older man smile. “Upon that you can rely.”
Ruari’s snort of laughter echoed down the stone corridor.
“Farewell,” Erik said, though he could not discern the lady’s presence. He could hear her breathing, though Vivienne did not return to his side. Some other emotion than fear tinged the air, though, and he thought it might have been annoyance.
Despite himself, he could not leave the matter be. “You do not argue my departure any longer,” he said. “Does this mean that you agree with my course?”
“No,” she said sharply. “It means that I will not waste my breath endeavoring to persuade you of the truth. My mother counseled against ever begging a man for any due.”
Had she lost her desire for him, so quickly as that? Erik was dumbfounded by the prospect, and in truth, a bit disappointed.
To his further surprise, Vivienne exhaled with what might have been a laugh. “Do not imagine that you have seen the last of me, Erik Sinclair,” she said with uncommon resolve. “You might abandon me here, but I will follow you. I know, after all, your destination and your goal.”
Erik wished he could have seen her in this moment, for surely her chin was tilted high and her eyes burned with determination. There would be a flush upon her cheeks and a set to her lips that both defied argument and demanded a kiss. He had called the matter right: she was a veritable Valkyrie and perhaps it was folly to protest her collection of his soul so vehemently.
Or perhaps her vigor was yet another element of her inescapable spell.
Another scream rose from below them, followed by a splash which concealed Erik’s muttered curse.
“I am coming, Elizabeth,” Vivienne shouted, though Erik heard the tremor in her voice. He heard her hands brush the stone wall and knew she meant to feel her way in pursuit.
Whatever his convictions about the lady’s objectives, he could not abandon her to seek her sister alone, not given her fear of the darkness.
He told himself that he merely returned her favor, that he aided her to find Elizabeth as she had aided him to escape Ravensmuir’s dungeon. It made good sense, though even he knew it was not the sum of the argument.
He simply did not wish to be parted from Vivienne as yet.
“I will come for you shortly, Ruari,” he shouted. He would find the sister first, then leave Vivienne in the company of her sister and the supposed fairy-guide. Then he would seek out Ruari, tend the other man’s injuries, and they both could be upon their way.
Erik reached out and claimed Vivienne’s hand, hoping he was not falling prey to whatever scheme she might have concocted with her family. “You feel the right wall and I shall feel the left,” he bade a silent and likely astonished Vivienne. “We shall seek each step together. Make no haste and we should be able to descend without incident.”
It seemed, like so many of Erik’s schemes, to be a plan that offered ready success. That, and the presence of Vivienne, should have warned him of potential complications.
Vivienne heard a splashing in the distant depths ahead, its sound echoing through the caverns with dizzying speed. Behind that sound were whispers that might have been voices.
“Elizabeth?” she called, her own voice echoing wildly.
There was no reply, merely another muffled scream.
Vivienne would never forgive herself if some foul fate befell Elizabeth, especially after she had persuaded Elizabeth to aid her. She hastened onward as well as she could.
To her relief, Erik seemed to feel the same urgency, and within moments, she had to rush to keep pace with his long strides. He took only one step on each stair, while she needed two or three; he strode into the darkness with a confidence she did not share. They reached a confluence of passageways but Erik did not hesitate in making a choice.
They might have been alone in the labyrinth, for there was only the echo of their footsteps and the distant dripping of water. Vivienne could faintly hear the lapping of the sea. Though she knew that the caverns played tricks with sound, and she knew that Elizabeth and Ruari were in the labyrinth as well, the lack of sound from either of them made her grasp Erik’s hand more tightly.
To her relief, he did not seem troubled by her anxious grip. He moved with a surety she could only envy, as if he was well accustomed to being lost in dark places.
They reached a second intersection, a salt-tinged breeze wafting through one of the openings. Vivienne smelled a snuffed torch as well, though she could not discern its source.
“This way,” Erik said without hesitation and urged Vivienne boldly onward.
“How do you know? What if you are wrong?” she asked, knowing she would have wasted precious moments weighing each choice.
“Only one course descends at each intersection,” he said. “Your sister chose always the downward path.”
“She followed Darg,” Vivienne corrected and heard Erik’s snort of disbelief.
“Her scent comes from this way, as does the smell of the snuffed torch,” he explained, his tone patient. �
��Can you not discern it?”
“What scent does she have?”
She felt his shrug. “I cannot explain it. It is the smell of warmth, of a person, and thus different from the scent of the stone and water surrounding us.”
Vivienne wondered what sort of scent she had, and whether he found it as alluring as she found the scent of his skin. She dared not ask when his manner was so grim. “You know how to pursue someone who leaves no trace of their path, then.”
“All men and women leave a trace of their path, even when they strive to not do so,” Erik said. “Ruari taught me to discern it.”
“And he used his skill to find you.”
Erik’s grip tightened suddenly on her hand and he pulled her to an abrupt halt. He did not have to bid her to be silent, not when he stood so abruptly still. Vivienne remained motionless, wondering what he discerned, for she could tell that he fairly prickled with watchfulness.
She could see nothing.
She could hear nothing.
She tried to smell her sister’s scent and failed.
What Vivienne smelled was her aunt Rosamunde’s perfume. She had never smelled that enticing scent save in her aunt’s presence. It was exotic and rare, and she felt Erik’s start of surprise when he evidently caught a whiff of it.
Vivienne strained her ears and then heard the faint grunt of men at labor, the muffled tread of boots on the stone. There was another scream, one more infuriated than fearful, and she guessed who had emitted it.
All made perfect sense to her in that moment, the sounds from below and Darg’s insistence upon descending ever lower.
“Aunt Rosamunde!” she whispered to Erik in excitement. “That is her perfume. She must have returned to Ravensmuir, after all.”
“Perhaps it is not your aunt,” Erik said quietly.
“It must be,” Vivienne insisted. “So few souls know the labyrinth, and even fewer would care to visit it.”
“One cannot be certain of that. If the labyrinth has been unused, any curious soul could have explored it.”
All's Fair in Love and War: Four Enemies-to-Lovers Medieval Romances Page 86
