Blood Marriage (20 page)

By the time they'd returned to Heaven's Edge and run the day long gauntlet of staff and house guests offering congratulations -- and in the case of Countess Glenbury fishing for tidbits of lurid information -- Elizabeth was exhausted. She'd had Katie order a warm bath brought to her room, hoping to soak away some of the soreness that still lingered in intimate places.

It was after Katie left the room, when she was alone, that Elizabeth discovered the twin puncture wounds. How long had she sat in the tub, numb with shock, before Nicholas found her? The water had gone cold around her. He'd lifted her from the tub, toweled her off, and carried her to the bed, tucking her beneath the covers. He'd stripped off his clothes and lain beside her, holding her close, warming her with his body. 

And strangely, he'd asked no questions. 

When she'd gathered the wits and words to tell him what she'd found, he'd silenced her with his mouth and hands and body, distracting and befuddling her. Afterward, she'd fallen asleep in his arms, only to wake to find him gone. She'd lain in bed for a long time waiting, and thinking, as a slow creeping cold spread through her. Once again he'd met her questions not with answers, but with the diversion of his body; just as he had so many times before: the wedding at Maidenstone, Father Vlad's odd religion, Bergen's 'protective' eavesdropping, Vlad's attempt to examine her in the tower. In each case Nicholas had avoided her questions, seducing her to silence. And she'd allowed it. 

Elizabeth bit her lip. She'd blinded herself to what she didn't want to know. 

But after so many years of loss and pain, was it wrong, knowing she was dying, to close her eyes to anything that might spoil the joy she'd found in her husband's arms? Who would be hurt if she remained ignorant? Did the whys really matter with so little time left to her? 

Nicholas had accepted the revelation of her condition with good grace. She'd married him knowing she could offer him nothing. No children. No lifetime of companionship. Nothing but death. Yet not once since learning the truth had he upbraided her for her deception. He'd never even mentioned it again.

So when he quieted her questions with his body, she allowed it. Because she was weak. Because she was intoxicated with the man. Because she had so little time left.

Elizabeth laid the book on the nightstand and reached for the tie at her waist. She undid it and let her robe drop to the floor. 

Hiding was not the way she'd lived her life. She'd never refused to face truth before. As a young girl, she'd faced the nearly unbearable sorrow of her father's death, along with the financial ruin that had followed. She'd dealt with her brother Robert's sudden death when she was only fifteen. And less than two years later, she'd endured a short yet endless eternity of heartbreak as her brother William had choked to death. She'd held his hand, never turning her gaze from his as he'd struggled through his last breaths. No, she'd never been a coward when it came to facing truth. 

Not until she'd allowed a handsome man to lure her into a rose garden.

Elizabeth crossed the room to the wardrobe and selected a simple blue dress with a white lace at the hem. Nicholas's cloak was missing. The smaller one he'd used to cover her when he'd taken her from this room on their wedding night hung on a peg on the wardrobe door. Elizabeth put it on over the gown, not bothering to button it, just tying the string at her throat. Her fingers moved lightly over the unmarked skin of her neck, lingering above the pulse where her husband's lips so often pressed.

Nicholas had offered no explanation for what had happened to Margaret. That was what had sent her to the maid's room tonight, the need for answers. She still needed them.

Elizabeth left the house through the kitchens and went to the stables. There was no sign of Lucy and her companion. Inside the stables, the horses stirred and whinnied as she passed each stall, searching for her husband's stallion. The roan the duke had ridden on her wedding night stomped its feet in a corner stall. She stopped to stroke its head. The stall next to it was empty.

"Who's there?" The voice warbled between childhood and manhood. A young lad sat up from a shallow pile of hay, peering in her direction, his eyes bleary with sleep. His hand fumbled along the top of a nearby feed box and a flame was struck. Lamplight filled the little corner of the stable. The roan whinnied in protest. 

The boy's eyes widened when he recognized Elizabeth. He came to his feet smartly, brushing at the straws stuck in his mop of brown hair. Elizabeth stared, perplexed, not by the boy, but by the lamp. She'd left a similar one in her room. How had she made her way through the house, across the lawns, and into the stables without benefit of light? 

"Can I help you, my lady?"

"My husband's horse is gone," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, Lady Devlin, he took it near an hour ago, so I've been waiting to go to bed until he returns," the boy continued without pausing for breath, "not that he asked me to, of course, Lord Devlin never asks a lad to wait up, or even get up, when he rides at night, takes care of things himself, but, I'm Jimmy, my lady," --the boy tugged with dirty fingers at a non-existent cap-- "I'm planning to make trainer 'fore I'm fifteen, like my dad done, so I wanted to show his lordship that Jimmy doesn't sleep when the horses need brushing." 

Elizabeth smiled. The child was quite a self-promoter. She wouldn't be surprised if he did become a trainer soon. 

"Not," the boy continued, "that I'm trying to take ol' Grubner's job here at Heaven's Edge, you understand, 'cause Grubner's the best trainer in England, I know, and he's been here since before my dad was born, but the Duke of Marlbourne has other properties and--"

"Where did my husband go, Jimmy?" Elizabeth cut across the boy's chatter.

"Not sure, my lady. He took the path into the woods that leads toward the ruins, but you can also get to the village going that way. There's a shortcut through the woods."

"Thank you, Jimmy." Elizabeth started to turn away, but then paused, her teeth worrying at her lip. She could think of no reason Nicholas would go to Maidenstone in the middle of the night, and yet somehow she knew that was where he would be. But why? 

The sensible thing would be to march back into the house and await his return. But Elizabeth knew her newfound willingness to face the truth might not survive the night. And questioning her husband in the privacy of their bedroom seemed doomed to failure. He had only to touch her and she would forget everything in her need for him. Better to confront him now, before her resolve faded. 

For a moment Elizabeth considered asking Jimmy to saddle a horse for her, but she'd never had the opportunity to become a skilled rider and taking an unfamiliar horse through the woods at night was beyond her abilities. She'd have to walk. Something in her face must have betrayed her thoughts because Jimmy cleared his throat.

"A lady can't go about at night, not after what happened to Margaret." Jimmy's face paled, but his shoulders squared. "If you need his lordship, I'll go look for him."

The boy's words weren't merely bluster. There was courage in that young heart and no small dose of chivalry as well. Elizabeth shook her head. 

"No need, Jimmy. I'll speak with Lord Devlin in the morning. Now, I probably should return to the house. Don't wait up too long." 

The boy nodded, his face reflecting his relief. Elizabeth left the stable, pausing outside only long enough to make sure the lad hadn't followed her. She had no intention of returning to the house. Not without some answers. And Devlin was the man who was going to give them to her. Elizabeth headed for the trees.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The bravado that carried her across the lawn faded once she was on the forest path. A few nights ago when she'd raced down this same path wrapped safely in Nicholas's arms she'd been thrilled by the mysterious beauty of the forest. Tonight, alone, on foot, it seemed a very different place.

Thick trunks rose on either side of her like the wooden bars of a cage, their leafy canopy arching to smother the stars. Barren branches and fallen deadwood from seasons past jutted into the path, their limbs black and twisted like the clawing arms of fairytale monsters. Unseen creatures skittered in underbrush and Elizabeth couldn't help imagining the larger beasts that might wait among the trees ready to spring. Each snap of a twig or crackle of leaves caused her to increase her pace until she was half-running, her skirts gathered high, her breath coming fast. Twice she slowed to look behind her, certain she heard something following, but there was nothing except an endless tunnel of trees.

She'd been a fool to enter the forest alone. She ought to return to the house, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the way back was more dangerous than the way forward. So she rushed on. 

Though her knees hadn't ached in days, they began to hurt. And the strange night vision she'd noticed in the stable was leaving her. The forest around her darkened; the path ahead became less clear. What was happening? 

Just when she thought the ache in her knees would allow her to go no further, she broke free of the trees. Maidenstone stood before her, its gray walls bathed in moon glow. Elizabeth glanced back at the path from which she'd emerged. Nothing stirred, yet the hairs on the back of her neck rose and instinct urged her on, quickly, across the moat bridge and into the castle's courtyard. Once inside, she stayed close to the wall. Bending where the wall had been knocked low, she darted past gaps in the stone, always aware of that presence she sensed in the forest beyond. 

She was breathless by the time she reached the well. She knelt beside it, squeezing herself into a tiny space between the well wall and a pile of rubble. Huddled there, she closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against her knees. The sound of her own panting was loud in her ears and she imagined whatever stalked her would find her easily because of it. She swallowed back heavy huffing breaths, willing herself to calm, to listen for the sounds of pursuit. There were none. Whatever had trailed her through the forest must have stopped at the edge of the clearing. 

Elizabeth scanned the walls of the castle above, her eyes going first to the window of the tower room and then traveling the shadowy length and height of the tower's gray stones. Her heart slowed, her breathing returned to normal, and the ache in her knees eased. As she calmed, the strange ability to see clearly in the night returned, although the waning moon might be responsible for that.

A flash of movement near the main entrance told her she wasn't alone. There'd been no sound of footsteps, no rustle of clothing, just a momentary flit of movement as someone entered the castle. Out in the forest a horse whinnied. Was it the black stallion? Had it been Nicholas who'd entered the castle? Elizabeth crept from her hiding place and scurried across the courtyard to the castle entrance. She pressed her back flat against the cold gray stone, listening.

Silence. But she was certain she'd seen someone pass this way. She looked out at the forest. It too had gone strangely mute; even the insects had lost their voices. Yet there was a presence in that silence. Something waited there. Fear drove Elizabeth inside the castle's open doorway. She would look for Nicholas, but if she didn't find him, she couldn't face the walk back to Heaven's Edge tonight. She wouldn't enter those dark woods alone again. There was a lock on the door to the tower room. She'd spend the night there and return to Heaven's Edge in the morning.

Inside the castle a tomblike stillness shrouded everything. An eerie cold seeped from the stones piercing Elizabeth's cloak and sliding over her flesh. Just days ago Nicholas had led her through the blinding darkness of the great hall. Yet tonight Elizabeth had no trouble seeing the remnants of the ancient oak staircase rising to the chambers above. 

She and Nicholas had spent time exploring the upper rooms during their honeymoon. Though the stairs looked impassable, Nicholas had shown her that there were some solid places to put your feet. With caution, someone who knew them well could rise safely to the upper floor. But there would be no reason for her husband to be up there. There was nothing upstairs but empty rooms and dangerously rotted floors. 

Elizabeth crossed the great hall and entered a corridor that led past the tower entrance. At the end of the corridor, a tapestry covered a doorway. What had drawn her back to the chapel? She didn't know, but her hand found the edge of the fabric. 

Behind her a rock scuttled across the floor. Her heart stuttered, then screamed a frenzied warning inside her chest. She spun toward the sound, her hand still gripping the edge of the tapestry.

But the corridor was empty. Could it have been a mouse? Surely the castle was full of them. 

A second rock thudded down the tower stairs and rolled into the corridor, coming to rest just inches from the hem of Elizabeth's cloak. This time there was no mistaking the tread of human feet that followed behind it. Someone was coming down.

Had Nicholas returned to their honeymoon room to retrieve something? What would he think if he found her lurking in the castle? Elizabeth didn't care. She would willingly endure whatever embarrassment and scolding awaited her. Anything rather than make that frightening journey through the woods again, or spend the night here alone.

She started to move away from the tapestry, but a sudden thought stopped her. What if it wasn't Nicholas? The slow click of boot heels on stone was clearer now, closer. Whoever came down the stairs was in no hurry.

The deliberateness of that approach alarmed Elizabeth for reasons she hadn't time to consider. Shoving aside the tapestry, she ducked into the chapel. Rotten-pear soft, yet unyielding, the body she slammed against knocked the breath from her lungs.

Scarlet filled her vision. Voluminous silk clung to her fear-dampened flesh. She jumped back, batting the web-sticky fabric away with her hands, her skin crawling with disgust.

"Who are-?" For the space of a heartbeat she gazed into faceless darkness beneath a blood red hood. Then she felt the drag of air, as if a great breath was being drawn. And released. The sickly sweet stench of decay -- of rot and death and evil -- washed over her. She screamed.