To Tempt a Knight (18 page)

William tried to get control of himself. He wouldn’t be any help to Siobhan if he didn’t. He had to be calm. He had to think clearly. He had to find her. If de la Roche had found her…If he did anything to Siobhan…

Nay, he could not consider the possibility. He would find her. He had to.

And he knew just where to locate someone who would help him.

The Spear fell from Siobhan’s hand. In only a matter of moments, she’d lost her one bargaining tool. She had no time to scream before the stranger removed his hand and stuffed a length of foul-smelling linen into her mouth. He tied the mass securely behind her head. The need to gag overwhelmed her, but she pushed it aside and lashed out against her attacker. He might have silenced her, but he had not won the battle.

He retrieved the weapon with his free hand, and Siobhan knew a moment’s despair. How easily she had fallen into this trap. William wouldn’t have succumbed to anyone or anything, especially with the Spear in his possession.

She kicked and writhed, desperate to find a way to freedom despite the heavy arm clamped around her waist dragging her backward into the woods. Who was this man? A rogue Highlander? One of de la Roche’s men?

The tall, muscular young man who pinned her to him grinned down at her. “Quit fighting me and this will go a lot easier for you,” he said in a thick French accent.

She dug her fingernails into the viselike grip that held her until she drew blood. The man grunted, then brought the hand holding the Spear down against the side of her head. The staff of the Spear connected with her skull.

The impact sent her senses reeling. Black edged her vision. She drew several short, sharp breaths through her nose, trying desperately to stay conscious. She tripped over a rock. The hard edge scraped against her leg, her ankle, and pulled the boot from her foot.

Without missing a beat, the arm about her waist hauled her to her feet and propelled her into the woods toward a waiting horse.

The Frenchman tossed her onto the animal’s back, then mounted behind her. Instead of heading back toward the first waterfall that she and William had discovered, the man rode to the south, deeper into the Cairngorms’s steep and rocky terrain.

At their rapid pace, Siobhan could do nothing but grasp at the horse’s mane and hold on. Her captor seemed unimpressed by the steep cliff off to their left and the loose path beneath the horse’s feet as he encouraged his mount to greater speed. Siobhan turned away from the steep ledge, which only brought a sharp chuckle from the man behind her.

“If you are frightened by the cliff, then you best faint now before my lord gets his hands you.”

Fear roiled in Siobhan’s stomach, but she lifted her chin and boldly met his gaze.

“You’re a cheeky one, I can tell by the fire in your eyes.” His grin was little more than a dark, evil slash. “De la Roche will like that even better. He likes nothing more than to break your kind.”

She dropped her gaze so that he couldn’t read her emotions.
De la Roche.
She didn’t know if the name brought more a sense of relief or fear. At least she was on her way to her father. And the Spear, while not in her control, was still with her. She would have to find a way to use it to her advantage when they arrived.

A shiver of apprehension moved through her. She knew who had abducted her. She also knew why. Where they were going remained a mystery, except that her father would most likely be there as well.
If he still lived.
She thrust the thought away without further consideration.

What de la Roche intended to do with her once they arrived at their destination was something she didn’t dare contemplate.

William didn’t stop to think about what he was doing. He ran through the woods to where he’d bound Lucius.

At his approach, Lucius straightened. “You came back.”

Without breaking his stride, William reached for his sword.

Lucius’s eyes flew wide. “Nay! William, stop. I’ve changed—”

The ropes that imprisoned him dropped. “Where is your horse, Lucius?”

The man didn’t move. He stared at William, his mouth slack.

“Where is your horse?” William repeated more harshly.

Lucius grasped his hands before him, rubbing his wrists. “I can’t feel my arms.”

“Lucius, please. I don’t have time for this,” William growled, gripping the man by the throat. “The horse.”

Lucius motioned to the right with his eyes.

William released him. “Show me.”

After sucking in a breath, Lucius frowned and rubbed his throat, which now bore the red imprint of William’s hand. “Brother, I’m sorry I challenged you. I deserve your anger, but know that I’ve changed. I want to help you.”

“Then lead me to your horse.”

Lucius frowned. “Did you not find the Spear?”

William sheathed his sword. “The Spear is gone. Quite possibly to de la Roche or his men. I need to recover it.”

Lucius’s face paled. “Where’s the girl?”

“She’s missing,” William said, striding in the direction Lucius had indicated.

“Was she abducted? Or did she steal the Spear out from under you?” Lucius said as he leapt through the underbrush, trying to match William’s stride.

William stopped. “Don’t push me.” His tone was hard, harder than it had ever been with any of his men before. “Lady Siobhan has been abducted with the Spear. And for every moment we waste with useless discussion, the men who took her gain precious time on us. Now, for the last time, where’s your beast?”

“Follow me.” Lucius darted ahead of William and led him down a steep incline. “I had to leave Ares at the bottom of the cliff.”

After several long moments, Lucius paused. “I apologize, William, for being so difficult. I miss my brother.”

William frowned. “Loss is difficult, but villainy and deceit will never take the pain away.”

“I realized that last night.” Lucius sighed. “As much as I hated being tied to that tree, the time alone with my thoughts helped me see things more clearly.”

“I appreciate your change of heart, but we need to hurry. Can we not discuss this later?”

Lucius nodded and moved down the mountainside once more until, finally, a large black horse came into view. “We ride together,” William said, mounting, then offered Lucius a hand up to sit behind him.

Lucius had barely settled against the animal’s flesh before William set the horse in motion, heading south. It was the right direction. He could feel it in every muscle of his being.

“Where are we going?” Lucius asked.

“To de la Roche.”

Lucius tensed. “We’re going to see the devil himself? Let me off. I want no part of it without the Spear for protection.”

“What happened to your need for revenge?” William asked as he flew through the trees, feeling the occasional sting of pain as the branches lashed at his legs, his arms, his face. The pain was nothing compared to the constriction in his chest.

Siobhan needed him.

“With the Spear, there was a chance I could triumph over de la Roche. Without it, I’d best put the flames to my own feet. We’ll be walking directly into a trap if we proceed without help.”

“I’m going to de la Roche. You’re going back to the monastery to gather the men.”

Lucius gasped. “You’ll go to him alone? He’ll kill you.”

William kept his gaze fixed on the land before him. He knew it was dangerous to go it alone. “I must do something.”

“What is it about this girl that has changed you so much? You’re not yourself. You’re not thinking rationally.”

William frowned. “I feel different when she’s near. Through her, a part of me came back to life, the part that I thought I’d left in Teba.”

But it was more than that. Her presence warmed the places in his heart his uncle had crushed so many years before. “I can’t lose anyone else I care about. I can’t stand by and let something happen to her, not even if I have to fight my way into the devil’s den myself.”

There was silence between them filled only by the rhythmic sound of the horse’s hooves. Then Lucius spoke,
his tone gentle, understanding. “You’ve told me more than I deserved to know. We’ll catch de la Roche and get the Spear back.” He brought a hand up to rest on William’s shoulder. “You’ll never have to fight alone. Not while there’s still a Templar with breath in his body.”

Some of the tension drained from William’s taut muscles. “My thanks, Lucius.”

“Since we are in this together, I know another way across this pass. ’Tis shorter, but a lot more dangerous.”

“Tell me.” William didn’t care about the additional risk. If it closed the distance between himself and Siobhan, he was most grateful.

Siobhan was faint from cold and terror as they dismounted outside an isolated tower from ancient Viking times. The cylindrical broch sat at the edge of an inlet to the North Sea. Her abductor dismounted near the structure with the Spear in his grasp, then pulled her to the ground beside him. Her legs would have given out beneath her had he not had a firm hold of her arm.

The imposing structure loomed before her. “I wish to see my father,” she demanded with a lift of her chin. She couldn’t let this man see how frightened she was to be there alone, without the Spear in her hand to offer as a trade.

“We are not at court, milady,” the young man scoffed. “You’ll do what you’re told. And you’ll see your father when de la Roche says you can.”

He drew her forward with a painful grip on her arm, toward the thick gray stone walls of the broch. They walked around the tall structure until they came to an opening, a doorway no more than four feet high. He released her arm only briefly to force her head down to clear the low structure, designed no doubt to make those who entered feel vulnerable.

He clamped her arm again when they proceeded to the ground gallery. An older man of medium height turned to greet them. His eerie light-colored eyes gleamed with appreciation as he appraised Siobhan. “Marcus, what have you brought me?” the man said in a thick French accent.

“Monsieur de la Roche.” The younger soldier offered the man a quick bow. “The daughter of Sir John Fra—”

He held his hand up, cutting the younger man’s words off as his gaze shifted to the Spear. His pale eyes widened, and he took several halting steps forward until his hands clamped around it. He held the Spear before him. His pale eyes filled with an almost fanatic gleam. He stood barely breathing, frozen in place, caught in a trance for several long moments. “The power of the centuries is mine,” he said at last.

His eerie gaze landed on Siobhan once more. “Sir John’s daughter.”

Making an effort to appear undisturbed by the calculating way de la Roche looked at her, Siobhan straightened. “Where is my father?”

“Things are as they should be.” A smirk came to his lips.

“Yes. You have the Spear. Now I want my father in return.”

He crept closer and ran two fingers up the length of her arm. “I made you no promises.”

A shiver coursed through her.

He must have felt her response, because he drew closer and ran the same two fingers along her jaw.

“Where is my father?” She twisted her head away from his touch.

“Why the haste?” He sneered and brought his fingers to rest along the ridge of her collarbone.

Siobhan drew in a slow, steady breath, trying to contain the terror that pounded in her chest. Why had she
thought she could handle de la Roche on her own? Once again William was correct. Why had she not listened to his wisdom? “I ask you humbly, take me to my father,” she said with calm civility.

His fingers dropped from her. He turned away. “He’s not here.”

“What do you mean, he’s not here?” she said, surprised and not caring if he detected her displeasure.

He twisted back toward her, the Spear pointed at her chest. “The Spear wants blood. Your blood. Your father’s blood. Even William Keith’s blood.” He pressed the tip against her chest.

She gasped as the Spear pricked her. A blotch of red appeared on the bodice of her gown.

“I do thank you for bringing me the Spear.” He pulled the tip back and ran his finger along the blade, gathering a drop of her blood. He brought his finger to his mouth and licked the droplet with his tongue. “Sweet, so sweet, but a heretic nonetheless,” he sneered. “And heretics must die.”

She bristled. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“No, you’ve done everything I’d hoped you would. I know William Keith well enough to suspect that he’ll follow you anywhere and gallantly try to save you.”

“You had no intention of releasing my father, did you?”

He smiled an evil smile. “None. He’s a Templar and deserves to die a slow and painful death.”

“He still lives?” There was still hope to save him.

De la Roche’s gaze narrowed on her. “And now that you are in my possession, he’ll tell me everything I wish to know about the Templar treasure when he watches me question you most thoroughly.”

A chill flew up her spine. She could guess what the methods for thoroughly questioning a woman might be.
Her father would go wild with impotent fury if forced to watch such a thing. He’d grow angry enough that he just might surrender the secrets he’d kept hidden for so many years.

Not only that. Also because of her impulsiveness, William would come looking for her instead of trying to move the treasure.

William will come looking for me.
Most likely out of anger at her deception. Siobhan raised her chin. She could handle William’s anger. She might also be able to endure de la Roche’s interrogation. But she couldn’t allow either of the men in her life to die because of her mistakes.

She had to do something quick. The doorway was blocked by the young man who’d captured her—but she saw a set of stairs to his left.

She sped to them, reaching them with ease before either man reacted. She surged into the dark stairwell, unable to see where she was going. Stumbling over her skirt, she darted up the stairs, deeper into the blackness.

Footsteps sounded behind her as she passed a second floor. She kept going until she hit something hard in front of her. A door? She fumbled against the wooden surface, searching for the latch. Her fingers located cool metal. She sprang the latch free and stepped out onto the parapets.

“Get her,” de la Roche growled. “I want to know where that treasure lies.”

In the open, she searched frantically for an escape. There was nowhere to go but down. She looked over the edge of the broch. A wave of dizziness swamped her. The ground lay far below. Could she throw herself over the edge and survive with nothing to break her fall?

Did she have a choice?

The trail Lucius and William followed had deteriorated to nothing but a sheep track along the edge of a cliff.
Below them the earth fell away at a sharp angle that dropped onto jagged rocks far below. William had never feared heights, but a less-needful man might sanely have turned back to more steady ground.

“’Tis called the Devil’s Lip,” Lucius said.

It didn’t make William feel any better. The horse stepped with care onto a ledge no wider than three of his own feet placed end to end. He willed all his thoughts to surefootedness and balance for the beast that carried them both near the abyss.

Hazy clouds scudded across the sky, and William almost prayed for darkness. At least then he wouldn’t have to see what they traveled through at a slow and steady pace. A dozen ravens circled the sky above them, possibly searching for prey or waiting for any misstep to supply their supper for the night.

Halfway across the ledge, the wind picked up, and William was forced to lower his head to protect his eyes from the bits of dirt and grit. He found he was holding his breath even as his heart raced, and that his skin had turned clammy and cold.

Step by step they made their way over the aptly named divide. They both breathed a genuine sigh of relief when they reached the other side.

“Hellish enough for you?” Lucius asked.

“Indeed.” William drew his first full breath since they’d started across the side of the mountain, grateful to be on solid land once again.

William slid from Ares’s back and began searching the ground for signs that Siobhan and her abductor had come this way. He forced himself to proceed slowly so as not to miss anything. His heart stumbled when he finally found the tracks. With a renewed sense of urgency, he remounted and continued down the mountainside. At the base of the mountain, William pulled the animal to a
stop. “This is where we part,” he said to Lucius. “You must head to the monastery on foot.”

Lucius nodded and jumped down.

“Before I left, Brother Kenneth said he would have the monks assembled for when I came back with the Spear. They should be waiting for you.”

“How many?” Lucius asked.

“Nearly two score at the monastery. And probably some Highlanders as well.”

Lucius frowned. “’Tis not nearly enough to go up against de la Roche.”

“It must be,” William said. “We have no other resources.”

“What about the girl? How will you get her away from de la Roche so that we can attack?”

“You leave that to me.” With a parting nod, William put his heels to the horse’s flanks. “Make haste, Ares. With all your strength, I beg you to get to Siobhan. I can’t lose her.”

The horse obeyed, charging like the wind across the open terrain and following the tracks that headed directly for a gray, stone broch in the distance. William neared the ancient fortress just in time to see Siobhan running across the parapets with de la Roche at her heels.

Before she could even react, de la Roche grabbed her arm in a viselike grip. “Oh, no you don’t. I’ll have my answers before you harm yourself.” The younger man blocked the door, waiting to respond, should de la Roche need him.

Siobhan met the Frenchman’s steady gaze. “You may ask anything you like, sir, but I can tell you nothing.”