The Rose Red Bride JK2 (26 page)

The timeliness and good sense of her argument stole the thunder of Erik’s anger.

“Well, indeed,” Ruari said, his color rising anew as he adjusted his belt.

Vivienne crossed to a bench which the guard must have used, and reached for a familiar weapon. “And here is your blade,” she said.

To Erik’s astonishment, she handed it to him, ensuring that he was armed once again. He wondered at her intent even as he welcomed the familiar weight of the blade into his hand. This deed made no sense, given what she had already done.

Perhaps he had been loosed for sport. One heard tales of the unholy entertainments demanded by nobles in the south, and truly these lands were alien in a thousand small ways. Perhaps there was a greater challenge ahead and even Vivienne did not perceive it to be fair for him to be without a weapon. Though Erik did not grant much weight to rumor, the prospect made him deeply uneasy.

The sisters clearly did not share his trepidation, which was no good sign. The younger one nodded and spoke crisply. “We must enter the caverns before they realize we are gone.”

“What caverns?” Ruari and Erik asked in unison.

“The labyrinth that stretches beneath the keep of Ravensmuir,” Vivienne explained. “There are many disguised entries to it, and many portals along the coast. It offers the best chance to escape undetected.”

“It is not the provenance of women to make such schemes,” Ruari said gruffly. It was clear he shared Erik’s discomfiture, for he too looked over his shoulder, then up at the ruckus still erupting from the hall overhead. The men exchanged a glance of uncertainty.

Vivienne granted Ruari an arch glance. “And what would be your alternate plan for escape? We can scarce pass through the hall undetected, as Erik is tall and has already been displayed as my uncle’s prisoner.”

Ruari colored and for once had nothing to say.

“But how shall we find our way, if it is truly a labyrinth?” Erik asked, not troubling to hide his skepticism.

“We shall follow the spriggan, of course,” Elizabeth said.

“What is this?” Ruari demanded in a yelp, then crossed himself with vigor.

“A spriggan is a fairy,” Vivienne said.

“I know what a spriggan is,” Ruari retorted hotly. “Though little good comes of them and their kind, to be certain.” He eased closer to Erik. “Spriggans are more mischievous than most fairies, which says little good of them indeed. And they are said to be able to change form on demand, becoming as large as a house and as terrifying as a storm on the sea.” He dropped his voice. “Only a fearsome sorcerer would ever claim to command such an unholy creature.” And he crossed himself again.

Vivienne was dismissive of this warning. “The spriggan is named Darg and she is not so fearsome as you claim. Only Elizabeth can see Darg, unfortunately, but she has agreed to grant her aid.”

“This child commands the spriggan?” Ruari said with awe and regarded the younger sister with new wariness.

“You were the one to claim she had a healing touch,” Erik reminded the older man, who blanched. Erik, for his part, placed no credence in this spriggan’s presence.

He tightened his grip upon his blade, fully convinced that he was being led into a trap. He did not care. He could and would fight any man, now that he was freed from the cell and had his sword once more. Erik had but to triumph in this challenge to see himself free of Ravensmuir, that much was clear.

The error the Lammergeier had made was that in failing to understand how much he needed that victory.

* * *

Chapter Eleven

The sisters seemed oblivious to the men’s concerns. They turned as one and lifted torches from the wall, so at ease with their mention of fairies and labyrinths that Erik was only more convinced that the tale was a lie.

“This way,” Elizabeth said, resting her hand upon the hewn stone of the far wall. There was a shadow that had been hidden by the torch she had lifted away, and that shadow tilted beneath her touch. A gap appeared in the stone there, and the sisters fitted their hands into the space, forcing a portal to open there.

Vivienne glanced back at Erik, her eyes alight with determination and some other emotion that made his heart skip in a most unruly manner. He told himself that it was only natural that his body responded with such vigor to her, for she was beauteous and he knew already of the depth of her passion.

All the same, he hoped that the price of escape from the labyrinth was not a triumph over this particular beauty.

The light of the flames gilded Vivienne’s auburn hair and caressed her cheek, making her look regal and far beyond his aspirations. Her vitality made a lump rise in his throat, the bold sparkle in her eyes made him yearn to meet her abed once more.

For a dangerous moment as their gazes locked and held, Erik did not care whether she was the spawn of relic traders and thieves, or whether she had condemned him to captivity and torture. He saw only that she stood fearless on the threshold of a terrifying darkness. Her bravery was not due to folly, for he could see the intelligence in her gaze, which only made him admire her audacity all the more.

And for that potent moment when time stood still, Erik Sinclair knew only that he wanted to be with Vivienne again, for as many or as few moments as were possible, for any time in her company would be well worth any price demanded of him.

This he knew was the true threat of Vivienne, this descendant of sorcerers with her unholy allure. She had betrayed him and, without a word of explanation or apology from her, he was prepared to forget what he knew and to trust her anew -- or at least to bed her once again. His body defied his own good sense, and desire would trick him into error.

He knew better than to be so readily seduced.

Erik forced his expression to become grim as he steeled himself against Vivienne. He claimed a torch and stepped past her as if she were not awaiting him, as if there was no expectation in her eyes, as if the scent of her flesh did not make his very innards clench. He told himself not to feel a cur when the shadow of disappointment touched her expression.

He did not trust Vivienne; he dared not do so. She had saved him only to lead him to greater peril. At least, she would abandon him in a labyrinth and leave him to wander until he died of starvation and thirst. No fairy which could only be seen by one of the sisters was going to be his salvation.

“It might well be a trap, but I suppose we have little choice, lad,” Ruari muttered, unconsciously echoing Erik’s thoughts. He cocked his head at a sudden crash from the noisy hall above. “We will not cross that hall unobserved.”

Erik nodded and lifted his sword high. “A man can only choose the path that looks less dire and hope for the best,” he replied as he stepped over the threshold of stone.

To his surprise, there were steps hewn out of the rock, steps that led downward. A waft of sea air teased his nostrils and he felt a burgeoning hope that he truly would escape Ravensmuir.

It was enough to send him striding into darkness, following the dancing flame of Elizabeth’s torch.

* * *

Like Elizabeth, Vivienne would have preferred to remain out of the caverns beneath Ravensmuir.

Unlike Elizabeth, Vivienne did not particularly trust the spriggan Darg to lead them out of the labyrinth. She dared not show her trepidation, not when both Ruari and Erik were so clearly skeptical of this course, but her heart skipped in fear when she stepped into the chill of the labyrinth.

It was so dark. The flickering torches did not seem to cast their light far into the endless blackness of this place, nor did the heat from the flames seem to disperse the coldness emanating from the rock.

Vivienne knew that there were a thousand branchings of the path, a thousand false corridors, more than a thousand dead ends. The network had been partly carved by nature, partly expanded by men who sought places to hide. It was like the comb of a hive, and Vivienne had always been convinced that there were caches of bones from those who had entered the caverns and not been able to find their way out.

She hoped they would not join that company.

“You should close the portal,” Elizabeth said with authority, pointing back to the opening that gaped wide. As Ruari was the last to step over the threshold, he crossed himself, visibly muttered a prayer, then reached to do her bidding. The dungeon disappeared as the large stone settled audibly in place.

Vivienne swallowed, for the shadows grew even deeper and the air seemed colder than it had just a moment before. Their torches flickered in unison at the change in the air, then settled. She could hear the whistle of the wind and the crash of the sea.

There had been a storm coming, she recalled, though here she felt more at its mercy than within the stronghold of Ravensmuir’s high walls.

“There is a draft,” Erik said, his words echoing around them. “It smells of the sea.”

Indeed, the flames now all appeared to be blowing back toward the dungeon. Vivienne inhaled deeply, relieved by this evidence of an opening somewhere below them.

They had only to find it.

“This way!” Elizabeth said with a confidence Vivienne did not share, and darted down the wide steps of hewn stone. She disappeared quickly, for the descent was tortuously curved, though the light from her torch guided the others onward.

There was no rail, only the stone wall to steady oneself upon, and the steps were neither level nor of the same height. Occasionally, a trickle of water made its way down a stone wall, splashing in some unseen pool far beneath them. The shadows seemed more ominous with each step, their secrets just barely kept at bay by the light of the torches. Each time an opening yawned wide on one side of the path or the other, Vivienne wondered what threats lurked within it.

It would have been easy to stumble, though Vivienne did not ask either man for aid. If anything, they were more concerned than she. Ruari mumbled his paternoster over and over again, the sound more reassuring than Vivienne would have cared to admit. Erik was as taut as a drawn bowstring, though he said nothing at all.

They made their way ever downward, the chill of the earth enfolding them. Erik held his blade high as well as his torch, and the men halted at each opening before they passed it by. Both were vigilant in watching their surroundings, as if they too expected an unpleasant surprise. Vivienne felt Erik’s distrust, though she did not wish to argue with him before the others.

And she knew that a deed would go further to regain his trust than any pledge she might make. Once he was freed of Ravensmuir with her aid, she could better explain her innocence to him.

“Why, for the love of God, would a man suffer such a warren beneath his keep?” Ruari demanded finally.

“My family traded in religious relics for years,” Vivienne said, well aware that that was no honorable credential. “My great grandfather, who built Ravensmuir, began the trade. He claimed this site, it is told, because of its natural caverns, then had them enlarged into a labyrinth.”

“Claimed or stole?” Erik asked softly, and Vivienne flushed at the condemnation in his tone. She supposed that no honest man would find merit in her family’s history and source of wealth.

“Stole, no doubt,” Ruari said. “One has always heard tales of the Lammergeier and their disreputable trade. Such caverns as these would well suit a family needing to hide dark deeds and plunder.” He snorted. “No honest man would have need of them.”

“Do you call yourself dishonest?” Vivienne asked, well aware that her family had a tainted history but protective of her kin all the same. “For you clearly have need of them on this night.”

The men exchanged a glance but said nothing.

Vivienne continued with her tale, for she ached to fill the oppressive silence. “My grandfather had no desire to continue the trade and used his ship to trade in cloth instead. He brought silk and cloth-of-gold from Araby, as well as gems which were coveted at the courts of kings and barons.”

“Which explains your family’s uncommon affluence,” Ruari muttered. “Though it is ill-gotten, at root.”

“My grandfather’s brother secretly pursued the trade for some years before abandoning it,” Vivienne said, ignoring this charge.

“How could he do so secretly?” Ruari asked. They caught up with Elizabeth then, who was deliberating between the two choices offered by a fork in the path. She nodded and strode to the right, which again led downward, her hem flying behind her.

“There were many ways into the labyrinth and Gawain knew them all,” Vivienne said, hoping that her sister truly did follow a good course. “He came without his brother’s knowledge and took what he desired from the horde here. There were many relics remaining even after he abandoned the trade, so many that the last of them were only auctioned this very year.”

Elizabeth continued the tale. “They were auctioned because our Uncle Tynan, who is Laird of Ravensmuir now, decided to be finally rid of the relics. They were a cause of a dispute between himself and his cousin.”

“What manner of dispute?” Ruari asked, clearly as anxious for the conversation to continue as Vivienne.

“I would expect that the cousin wished to have the relics, for they are valuable even in these times,” Erik said grimly.

“Indeed, she did,” Vivienne agreed.

“She?” the men asked in unison.

“Our Aunt Rosamunde continued the family trade, for she was taught well by her foster father Gawain.”

Ruari whistled through his teeth. “A woman, trading in religious relics. She must have been intrepid, indeed.”

“That she is.” Vivienne frowned. “We have always called her aunt, though in truth she shares no blood with any of us. My grandfather’s brother Gawain adopted her when she was abandoned as a babe. He and his wife raised her as his own child.”

“The same brother who pursued the trade in relics?” Ruari asked.

Vivienne nodded, feeling the weight of Erik’s disapproving silence. She knew theirs was no respectable family history. In contrast, she was very aware of the weight of his family blade, still hidden in her belt, and had no doubt that the Sinclairs had a more illustrious and valiant past. “The very same.”