Authors: Diana J. Cosby

His Captive (10 page)

BOOK: His Captive

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The old man smiled. “On their way to be greeting ye I would be saying. They would not want to miss your return. It is good to have you home, lad.” With a nod, the old man turned and hobbled away.

Nerves roiled inside her as she glanced toward the practice field. Through the mill of armor and curses, three men strode toward them. From their garb and the high sheen of sweat, they had been practicing with their swords.

The tallest of the three shoved back his mail hood and padded coif. Hair, black as Alexander’s, clung damp to his head and fell to his shoulders. Though the sun had only reached its apex, a hint of a beard already shadowed the hard angles of his face. The man’s walk held an air of absolute authority. As he neared, green eyes narrowed upon her with interest, then his gaze flicked back to Alexander.

The ball of nerves in Nichola’s stomach tightened. From Alexander’s description, this must be his eldest brother, Seathan, the Earl of Grey.

She studied the other brothers. Both had removed their headgear as well. They were of the same height and breadth as Alexander. The sandy-haired man on the right walked with an almost catlike grace, while the blonde-haired man on the left strode with a more relaxed, confident gait.

From his youthful appearance, she would pick the man on the left as the youngest brother, Duncan. The cleft in his chin combined with the hint of dimples when he smiled at Alexander confirmed her suspicions.

The man on the right with the sandy hair and unfathomable eyes must be Patrik, his adopted brother.

“I had meant to meet you at your arrival,” Lord Grey said as he reached them. He caught Alexander in a fierce hug, then stepped back. “But I had to teach Patrik a lesson about wielding a blade.”

Patrik gave an indignant snort as he embraced Alexander, then backed away. He turned to Seathan. “I almost cut off your bloody hand.”

Seathan arched a brow with an amused, but dangerous look. “How soon we forget who knocked whom on their arse?”

“Another round,” Patrik challenged. He clasped his sword’s hilt, the fierce light of competition heating his gaze.

Though playful, the hint of seriousness entwined within Patrik’s words piled atop Nichola’s unease. As if within her enemy’s castle she could ever relax? Their practice was to keep their skills honed for their next attack upon the English.

“I see you have brought home a new lass,” Duncan said, striding past the feuding pair as if well used to their bantering.

His warm, beguiling smile fell upon Nichola, demonstrating exactly why women would be drawn to a man like him. If she were to give a name to his appeal, she would call it charm. He all but oozed with it.

Lord Grey scowled at his brother. “Duncan, it is unwise to try and sway Alexander’s mistress.”

Mistress? Heat crept up her cheeks at the reminder of her disheveled state. Why would they believe otherwise? Alexander had been sent to abduct Griffin.

Oblivious to her plight, mischief sparked in Duncan’s eyes. “From the look of you lass, it would seem my brother’s care falls far short of what a beautiful woman deserves. And I have not a tight hand with my coin as Alexander. If you tire of him, I will aid you in shedding the oaf.” He gave her a wink. “As well as ensure your bed is kept warm.”

If possible, her cheeks grew hotter.

Alexander glared at Duncan. “Do not touch the lass.” His warning fell between them.

“Enough,” the eldest brother commanded.

Nichola silently thanked his intervention. To have them quarrel over her would have made her humiliation complete.

“You can discuss the woman later,” Lord Grey continued. “I will dispatch the runner with the ransom demand.” He glanced toward the gate, a frown growing on his face. He looked at Alexander. “You have already secured the Baron of Monceaux in a guarded chamber?”

“No,” Alexander replied, again debating the wisdom of abducting Nichola. ’Twas too late now for regrets. “I will explain once we are inside.” He walked over to his bay and caught Nichola’s waist. He saw the fear in her face, but the determination to do what she must to survive as well.

Pride filled him at her strength. Nichola had the resolve of a Scot. But she was English. And his captive. A woman who he could never claim, nor keep.

Seathan arched a dark brow. “About Lord Monceaux?”

Alexander nodded.

Concerned looks passed amongst the brothers.

“See to the lass,” Seathan said. “Then we will meet on the wall walk.”

Alexander lifted Nichola to the ground, her skin soft and warm against his hands.

Duncan stepped forward. “I will care for the lass.”

“No one will touch her,” Alexander stated.

“Leave it be, Duncan,” Seathan warned. “There are more important issues to discuss than bedding a lass.”

His brothers headed toward the keep.

Nichola tried to pull free of Alexander. “Please do not bring me inside,” she whispered.

Tired of her distrust, Alexander tugged her forward. “Move.”

In silence, she walked by his side and behind his brothers who all towered over her. Alexander could all but hear her mind churning as he caught her desperate glance toward the portcullis.

Alexander scowled at her. “It is too late.”

Guilt flickered on her face and she dropped her gaze.

He drew her closer. She tried to distance herself, but Alexander kept her by his side.

Fresh rushes scented the air as they entered the keep. The mix of onions, sage, and meat from a stew simmering over the flames in the hearth made his stomach growl.

Servants called to Alexander as they saw him.

He returned their friendly welcome, then followed his brothers up the winding turret stairs.

At the entrance to the wall walk, Alexander guided Nichola before him.

Seathan blocked her path. “This has naught to do with her ears. Put the lass elsewhere until we are through.”

Alexander met his brother’s hard stare. “Our discussion is about her.”

Skepticism edged his gaze as he looked first at her, then back to Alexander. With a grimace, he stepped back.

On a nervous breath, Nichola swept past him. Even in a gown no more than rags, her bearing was that of a lady.

Alexander’s smile was automatic, his respect for her, to hold her own under the most stressful situation, grew another notch. Would she never quit surprising him? His smile faded. With the meager time she would remain here, he would never find out. A good thing he assured himself.

So why wasn’t he convinced?

Or relieved?

Alexander led Nichola onto the wall walk. A gust of wind greeted him, the scent of water and the hint of grass and heather a familiar welcome. The view across the loch, embraced by the rugged mountains, stole his breath. It was always such as this, from the first day his mother had led him up here as a lad.

Seathan halted beside him and leveled his gaze on Alexander. “What happened?”

“Upon my arrival at Rothfield Castle,” Alexander began, “I learned Lord Monceaux was not in residence.”

Irritation flashed in Patrik’s eyes as he stepped forward. “What? My source within the keep assured me Lord Monceaux would be in residence through the next fortnight.”

“So you came back with a woman?” Seathan asked.

“Not just any woman.” Alexander turned to Nichola. “May I introduce you to Lady Nichola Westcott, the Baron of Monceaux’s sister.”

Surprise flashed in Seathan’s gaze a split second before the fury. “Lord Monceaux’s sister?”

“Aye, I abducted her for ransom instead. With the siblings close, I had thought—”

Seathan held up his hand. “Secure her within a chamber.”

Confused by his brother’s anger, Alexander frowned. “But she is—”

“We will finish speaking of the ransom once you have returned,” Seathan stated.

A potent silence fell between them, fractured by the wind and a stray voice from the courtyard below. Duncan cleared his throat. “Lady Nichola, you will forgive my ignorance. Had I but known, I would not have made a disparaging remark on your person.”

She nodded, her face pale.

“I will take her to the tower chamber,” Alexander said.

Seathan nodded. “And the other information?”

“It is secured on my mount,” Alexander replied. He’d retrieve the maps marking the positions of English defenses around Berwick after he’d secured Nichola. “I will bring them when I return.” He took Nichola’s arm.

Panic filled her gaze as she stiffened beneath his touch.

Why wouldn’t she? Guilt crowded his mind as to the cause of Seathan’s ire, reasons he’d dismissed as unimportant when he’d abducted her. But as Alexander guided Nichola toward the exit, he glanced back one last time at his brother.

And wondered if in abducting her, he’d pushed his brother’s temper too far.

Chapter Eight

“You will be allowed every comfort within reason,” Alexander said as they climbed the steps to the tower chamber.

Nichola remained quiet, disturbingly so. If possible, her face had grown more ashen, and her eyes held a hint of defeat. Throughout their entire journey she fought him at every turn. At this moment she’d become fragile.

Because he’d taken her from her home and a brother she loved.

With the rebels need for coin, he’d had no other choice. In hindsight, he recognized desire had swayed his good sense. When he’d first watched her from across the solar, he’d wanted her. Except he’d not counted on his feelings becoming involved. Or her becoming hurt.

He’d achieved both.

At least he could offer her comfort. Perhaps she envisioned the tower room to be barren and unwelcoming. The chamber had belonged to his grandmother who held the second sight. A room where he’d spent many an hour listening to her tales of fairies and their mischievous acts.

A chamber she’d told him was magical.

An impressionable lad during his youth, he’d sworn he’d heard the fairies flitting among the shadows. After his grandmother’s death, the chamber and any magic it held was sealed away. Except for the airing each spring, the room remained untouched.

When he’d announced Nichola would be kept in the tower room, Alexander hadn’t missed his brothers’ surprise, but no more than his own. ’Twas sacrilegious to allow an Englishwoman entrance to the chamber of a woman they’d so loved.

So why had he suggested it?

More disturbing, why had no one objected to Nichola’s presence in the tower room? ’Twas as if the assertion itself were crafted by magic; he had made the statement and his brothers had agreed.

Alexander frowned. No, little magic guided his decisions. Concern by Nichola’s weariness had evoked his offer of such comfortable surroundings.

Near the top of the turret, he halted and turned to her. Sunlight from a carved window above cut through the dull, torch-lit gray to haunt her pale face. The urge to hold her overwhelmed him. He kept his distance. If he touched her now, wanting her more than was right, his good intention might unravel into forbidden intimacies.

“The tower room is far from a cold dungeon,” he explained.

“Is it?” she asked, her voice absent of the flare of temper he’d grown accustomed to.

Blast it. Alexander drew her hand between both of his. “Lass—”

She tried to pull her hand free. “Do not.”

He held tight, thankful for her resistance, however weak. “What is wrong?”

Nichola stared up at him, her expression wounded.

That he’d somehow quelled her spirit made his heart ache. On a muttered curse, he gave into temptation and drew her into his arms, her shudders leaving him floundering.

“I am sorry, lass.” More than he wanted to be. He cupped her face in his hands, wanting to kiss her, to shelter her from her troubles. Her eyes watched his, their lackluster unsettling. “I promise you, you will be treated well here.”

She remained silent.

Alexander stepped back. She was upset. Mayhap from shock. Or the impact of meeting his brothers. And they’d traveled a good distance since they’d begun their journey. Sleep and a hearty meal would help ease her mind.

“Come.” He led her to the top of the turret steps.

She followed him without protest.

They arrived at the entrance to the tower room. He removed the bar from the door with a soft scrape. “You will be locked inside as I explained.”

Her lower lip began to tremble.

Maybe he shouldn’t lock her in? He tensed. Since when had he lost his spine? He was a warrior. He’d served far worse fates to his opponents during daily sword practice.

Alexander shoved the door open. The rich furnishings within could be termed anything but those befitting a prison. She would see it as such, regardless of the finery. Or his words of assurance.

“It is best if you accept your lot,” he said in a firm voice. “You will be here for a short time, weeks at best. Look around, lass. Your confines are far from brutal.”

“A prison, however you drape it,” she said with a cold finality, “is one and the same.”

“Think of it as you must. You will remain within this room until your ransom arrives.” He drew her inside, pleased when she twisted and tried to break free. The loss of her spirit was something he could never forgive himself for.

“Please do not leave me locked in here alone,” she pleaded.

“You will be safe.”

She shook her head. “Do not do this.” Her voice rose to a frantic whisper. “At least leave the door unbarred. With the castle’s fortifications and rebels at every turn, what chance is there that I could make it past the gatehouse?”

He shook his head. “Had you not tried to escape before, I would have allowed you the freedom to move about. Your actions have left me no choice.” Before he could soften, be swayed by the panic ripping through her gray eyes, Alexander stepped back, closed the door, and dropped the bar into place outside the chamber.

The echo of her fists pounding on the other side reverberated in the hallway. “Do not leave me locked up here alone! Alexander, please!”

The desperation in her voice tugged at his conscience. He smoothed his fingers over his scalp where his head still throbbed from her last attempt. Turning on his heel, he walked down the hall with sincere regret, Nichola’s fierce pleas to leave the chamber unlocked unheeded in his wake.

“Alexander!” Nichola continued to beat upon the hewn door. Her breath hitched as she paused to listen.

Silence.

He’d left her alone!

She slumped against the door.
Stay calm.
As if calm was an option? She was imprisoned in the tower until they received payment from Griffin.

Ransom that would never come.

But at this moment, worries of empty coffers far from competed with her greatest fear. Her heart pounded as she pondered on these emotions. It felt as if the walls within the chamber were slowly closing in on her.

Nichola caught the pendant at her neck and squeezed until the metal bit into her palm, shaken by confinement of any manner; in a thunderstorm, more so.

Except she hadn’t told Alexander of her deep-seated fear. Already he could leave her in emotional shambles by a mere touch. She refused to give him anything more to use against her. Her survival from this moment on depended on her own wits.

Panic fluttered in her chest. Taking a deep breath, Nichola looked around. Sunlight spilled in through a single, arched window and cast the room in a calming, dreamlike glow. She stepped cautiously forward and laid her hand on the warmed pane; the heat a welcome balm to the chill inside her soul.

For several seconds she stood there, absorbing the warmth. Quiet seemed to settle around her, to ease her fears. Slowly, her breathing grew even.

Nichola crossed to the small, but well cared for bed. The coverlet, the color of moon-kissed daisies, beckoned her to touch. Fascinated, she ran her fingers over the finely embroidered cloth, impressed at the detail of each stitch. Whoever had crafted this bedspread had done so with love.

Curious, she padded to a small table, where a myriad of items sat as if awaiting the return of their owner. She stopped, stunned by the many personal items: the bone comb etched with a bouquet of heather, the intricately carved jewelry displayed with a tender hand; each piece seemingly woven around a beautiful gem.

She turned in a complete circle, taking in every nuance of the chamber. This wasn’t a prison at all; the room belonged to someone of great importance in the brothers’ lives.

From Alexander’s grim reserve, she’d expected a stark chamber cast in shadows. So why had he given this lush room to her? She was far from welcome.

Or a guest.

Perplexed, she moved around the chamber, drawn to the lingering aura of whomever had once lived here. A woman obviously. Where was she now? Would she soon return?

Unsure why, she sensed the room’s owner would not be coming back, ever. She frowned. That was a foolish thought. How could she know such a thing?

A glitter of light caught her eye. Within a sturdy bowl on the table lay four halved, shimmering stones. She picked up the halved, gold encrusted rock.

Intrigued by the stone in her palm, Nichola studied the contrast of the rough gold shell to the milky white interior. More interesting, caught within its center was a petrified, mossy-type plant.

She laid down the rough half stone then picked up another. This delicate beauty swirled with deep reds as if inside the gem blazed an eternal fire. She moved the stone within her hand. Strange, heat from the gem seemed to seep into her skin.

Nichola picked up the third stone, its color inside the deepest, darkest blue she’d ever seen. A sense of calm filled her. The rapid beat of her pulse slowed further. Like a silent balm, the last of her tension ebbed.

A yell from the courtyard pulled her from her thoughts. Through the open window, the sky began to darken with a hint of night, and a whisper of wind slid into the chamber, scented with the fragrance of heather.

She stilled. Moments ago the window had been shut. Her hand trembled as she returned the dark blue stone to sit amongst the others. A trick? Had Alexander rigged the window to scare her? But why?

She started to walk toward the window, but with each step her legs grew leaden and her head swam as if in a fog. Nichola rubbed the back of her neck. She was tired and her mind was imagining all kinds of things. That must be it.

Turning, she managed to reach the bed and all but crumbled onto the mattress, not surprised by the room’s other adornments, to find the downy softness of a feathered bed.

If she’d wanted to move, she couldn’t. Sleep. It embraced her, beckoned her with an easy grace. When Alexander had departed moments ago, she couldn’t have contemplated the thought of ever finding a sliver of peace imprisoned within the tower chamber. Now, as if she’d drunk a magic sleeping potion, she could think of nothing else.

With the heaviness of exhaustion embracing her, she curled up into a ball beneath the coverlet, embroidered with a gentle hand. And without reason or cause, for the first of many a day, lost herself to a deep and peaceful sleep.

“Christ’s blood, the baron’s sister!” Seathan hurled at Alexander the instant he stepped back onto the wall walk. “What were you bloody thinking?”

Alexander’s fingers tightened on the map in his hand as he took in his other brothers’ reactions as well; Duncan and Patrik glared at him. “Lord Monceaux was not in residence. Aware the siblings are close, logic bade her brother would pay the ransom without hesitation.”

Seathan shook his head with disgust. “Aye, he will not hesitate, but not to pay the ransom. When he learns of his sister’s abduction, he will bring his knights north and attack Lochshire Castle.”

Alexander stiffened. “I considered this, but with the few knights in residence and King Edward’s demands for support from his nobles, many have barely enough arms to protect their castles—much less attack.”

“What of her status as a maiden?” Seathan demanded. “Or the consideration that with their parents’ death, she is all the kin he has left? Think you the baron will allow the fact his sister’s reputation is in tatters to go unchallenged? Or with his having King Edward’s ear?”

“I had . . . Our need was for coin. Her ransom assured that.” Alexander blew out a hard breath, cursing himself. Instead of weighing the dangers of abducting her, he’d become lost, intrigued by a spirited woman. He deserved the censure his brother meted out. Neither would he forgive himself.

Patrik muttered a curse.

Duncan scanned the shoreline with a frown. “We will keep watch for the baron’s men.”

“It is unnecessary for the time,” Alexander said. At least he could offer that. “I ensured we were not followed.”

Seathan’s jaw tightened.

“Your concerns may be for naught,” Alexander continued. “Even if the baron is away, with their close bond, the steward will ensure payment is made immediately.”

“Mayhap,” Seathan said, sounding far from convinced. “Nevertheless, the deed is done. Until the coin is received, we will keep extra guard upon the walls.”

Shame washed through Alexander as an uneasy quiet settled between them. Since his father’s death, never had he allowed a woman to sway his thoughts. Now, without wanting to, he found himself caring for her, feelings that had no place in his life.

Now. Or ever.

Steadier, Alexander unrolled the map and pointed to a forest marked in the south-central portion of the parchment. “Here is where King Edward is positioning his troops.”

His brothers crowded around him.

Seathan grimaced. “I have received word he has brought in archers from Wales.”

“They are a nasty lot,” Patrik added. “I would rather not tangle with them.”

BOOK: His Captive

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