She and William burst through the door into the night air, the roars of fear and deep-chested cries of outrage echoing behind them. Hoofbeats sounded off to their right, and they could barely discern the shadow of a horse and rider fleeing in the distance.
De la Roche.
“This way,” he said, racing for the horse he had left hidden in a grove of trees up the bank from the shore. He tossed his borrowed swords on the ground and untied Ares’ reins from the bushes.
When he returned to Siobhan, she handed him his own sword. “This is better in your hands than mine.”
He accepted the weapon and returned it to his scabbard. “I don’t know about that. You did well.” He mounted behind her, tucked her safely in his arms, and with a jerk of the reins, set off in rapid pursuit into the dark, mottled shadows of the night.
Ares flew across the terrain. The sound of hoofbeats echoed in the night ahead of them, and although they could not see de la Roche clearly, they could hear him.
“Where’s he headed?” Siobhan asked.
“Most likely to wherever the other half of his troops are located.”
“Do you think my father will be there?” Siobhan’s voice was serious but steady. Truly a surprise, for all they’d just lived through.
“Aye.”
“Make this horse go faster.”
He put his heels to Ares’ sides, encouraging him to greater speeds. “Is there anything I can say that will dissuade you from coming along with me? I could send you back to the monastery. Lucius is gathering men to fight. You’d be safe there.”
“Would I?” she called out as the wind whipped her hair about her face. “It’s obvious de la Roche wants not only the Spear, but the entire treasure. He’ll do anything to get what he wants.”
William frowned into the darkness ahead. He had considered the possibility that separating the two of them was exactly what the Frenchman hoped for. He could get Simon to watch over Siobhan while he followed de la
Roche, but he knew he’d still be frantic with worry all the time she was out of his sight.
“I’m going with you,” she said as though reading his thoughts.
“We started this adventure together. Let’s end it that way, too.” He tightened his grip on her. He had no right to dissuade her from finding her father. He knew how important it was to her. He could only try and protect her from any more harm.
William could tell by the untamed breeze that they were nearing the coastline once more. The air smelled wet, and oddly sweet. A familiar scent? He wasn’t certain why.
He scanned the ghostly scenery of trees and rocky outcroppings as they flew past on horseback. His mind wandered, remembering the courage in Siobhan’s soulful green eyes as the leather whip had sliced into her flesh and as they fought together in an attempt at freedom.
She hadn’t blamed him for her torture. Instead she’d tried to apologize for something his stubbornness had forced her to do. “Siobhan?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“You are not to blame for what happened back there.”
She tensed. “The Spear is in that evil man’s possession because of me. I was so desperate to help my father, I never fully considered what would happen as a result of my actions. I wouldn’t blame you if you no longer wished to help me. I betrayed you.”
“We can’t change what has happened. I admit I was upset when I woke and found you gone. That you had gone off alone hurt me more than that you’d taken the Spear.”
“I felt I had no choice.” Her words sounded tortured.
A familiar sting pierced his pride. “I gave you no choice. I understand that.”
“I am sorry that I disappointed you. I made a bad
decision. One I wouldn’t make again if given the opportunity.”
He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his finger. “Life isn’t always filled with decisions or moments that are simply good or bad, black or white. It’s in the shades of gray where most of us live, Siobhan.”
His mind moved back to the battlefield at Teba. It had been a massacre. There had been no hope for any of them to survive, and yet some of them had done just that. They’d defied the odds and lived.
He’d never been happier about his survival than he was at this moment. He brought her body back against his chest. His heart beat firmly against his chest, and in some mysterious way through him and into her, as though they were one. She was part of him. He was part of her.
They were together in this moment because he
had
survived. And they hadn’t gone through all the struggles and traumas of their lives just to have it end in defeat. “We’ll get the Spear back and save your father,” William said.
The light of dawn began to press against the darkness, painting the world around them in hazy shades of gray and pink. In the distance he could see the outline of a man and horse riding along the cliff that dropped into the water far below.
A feeling of unease passed over him. He recognized those cliffs. He recognized the ocean beyond. “I’ve been here before,” he said.
Siobhan straightened in his arms.
“Something is amiss.”
“What?” she asked.
William slowed the horse, then pulled him to a stop as a large fortress came into view. A muscle in his jaw tensed.
“A castle.” Siobhan’s voice was laced with confusion.
“Not just any castle.” William’s heart pounded as an
ger and shock took root inside him, growing to colossal proportions. “The castle my uncle stole from my father and me.”
Siobhan gasped.
In that moment, William knew to the depths of his soul that his uncle was responsible for de la Roche’s presence in Scotland. He also realized his uncle had encouraged de la Roche’s attack on the Templars in an effort to keep William from going after what had been stolen from him as a child.
But William was no longer a child. He was an adult with resources at his disposal. “My uncle and de la Roche are in this together.” As the sun started to rise, William gazed upon the home he’d been forced to flee.
The castle was perched on a spit of land thrusting into the Atlantic Ocean. Its tall, stark fortress walls rose sheer from the edge of a bluff, and the cold, gray stone facings presented a monstrous and deadly fortification incongruously nestled in a setting that looked almost idyllic—though William’s uncle had seen to it that his memories were less than idyllic. The castle itself consisted of four round war towers capped with turrets. The inner rooms were long, and carefully designed to fit one upon the other in staggered tiers. Rounding the whole were crenellated battlements where the sentries could see the terrain in all directions.
The castle was approached along a well-packed road of earth and stone that seemed to go on forever. De la Roche traveled upon that path now. He rode furiously to the entrance of the castle, to the gates set between two enormous barbican towers, and vanished inside. The clang of a heavy iron portcullis sounded in the morning air.
“What do we do now?” Siobhan asked, turning to face him. “We can’t breech those walls without help.”
“We’ll have help.” William gazed down at the woman
in his arms. She looked tired, her dress was shredded and splotches of blood stained the fabric from hem to bodice. She hadn’t eaten or slept for nearly two days. Even so, determination shone in her eyes.
“I’ll do whatever you need of me,” she said.
He leaned forward and kissed her lips. She responded instantly, softening beneath him. He drew in the sweet, honeyed scent of her, taking it into himself, using it to soothe his emotions and bolster his resolve. “Since we now know where de la Roche and presumably your father are, we must go for help.”
Siobhan nodded. “Then let us go.”
“You don’t wish to rest a while?” They had been riding for the better part of the night.
“I couldn’t sleep now if I tried.”
William smiled. “Then we ride for the monastery.”
At nightfall they reached the monastery. The journey had taken some time because of the need to rest the horse. William had walked at times, allowing Ares a break from carrying two riders. And after a full day on horseback, Siobhan struggled to keep her head up, so great was her exhaustion.
The wooden gates of the monastery flew open at their approach. Brother Kenneth rushed out to greet them. “Praise the saints,” he said as he helped Siobhan to dismount. “I had feared for both your lives when Brother Lucius returned and told us what had transpired.”
“We are safe,” William said, coming to stand beside her.
Brother Kenneth frowned as he took in their tattered and bloody clothing. “What has happened?”
“De la Roche has the Spear and Sir John, two things that will soon change. But for now, Siobhan and I need a good soak and a hot meal.” With a hand on the base of
her back, William guided her into the monastery and down a long hall.
“Where are you going, William? Shouldn’t you be heading for the dormitory?” Brother Kenneth followed behind.
“We go to the baths.”
“You cannot take her there.”
William stopped. He turned to face Brother Kenneth, his gaze hard. “I can. I will. Her skin is torn and bleeding. The baths will help.”
“But they are only for Templars,” Brother Kenneth said, shrinking back from the anger that radiated from William.
Siobhan placed her hand on his arm. “It’s all right. I can use a washbasin.”
William ignored her. “She is the daughter of the Keeper of the Holy Relics. That gives her access, does it not?”
“She’s female.” The abbot’s eyes went wide.
William’s frown turned dark. “And God does not accept females in the holy waters?”
“William,” the abbot pleaded. “You know it’s not done.”
“Everything changes. Perhaps it’s time for the baths to change as well.” William turned back around, encouraging her to do the same. They stopped in front of an overly large wooden door carved with the face of Christ in the center, his hand raised in blessing, surrounded by alternating rows of five-pointed stars and roses.
William pushed the ornate door aside to reveal a large room with a black and white mosaic floor. He waved her inside. “This is the changing room.”
He stepped into the chamber. He pointed toward a set of stairs off to the right of the door. “Down there is the cleansing pool. You need to start there. The waters there will cleanse the impurities from your body.”
Siobhan peeked down the stairs to see a round, white marble bath at the base of the stairs.
“After you finish cleansing, you will pass through the warm room to the calidarium, the hot bath. Once you feel relaxed proceed to the frigidarium, or the cool bath.” He handed her a long length of linen. “Dress yourself in this between each bath.”
Offering her his arm, he guided her to the changing room. “Stay in the cool bath as long as you can tolerate it. The healing waters will help your wounds.” He released her arm.
“William, I—”
“I’ll meet you when you are done.” Before she could stop him, he vanished into the inner rooms of the bath.
Siobhan pressed her lips together as she looked around the beautiful chamber. Blue and green and yellow mosaic tiles lined the floors and walls, bringing a sense of peace to the chamber.
She looked down at the brownish red blood on her gown and reached for the ties. The sooner she cleansed the memories of today’s events from her mind and body, the better. She dropped the gown on the floor, then wrapped the linen around her body and headed down the stairs to the cleansing bath.
Siobhan proceeded through the rooms, taking time to relax in each of the baths. In the hot bath, wisps of steam floated up around her. The pleasant heat brought her out of her exhausted lethargy. Her body tingled with an awareness that she hadn’t known until William had entered her life. That awareness was longing. A dull ache throbbing between her thighs had nothing to do with any of the abuse she had suffered today. She stood and proceeded to the next bath.
In the cool bath, her body came fully alive, tingling and throbbing as the waters bathed her flesh. A sense of
sacred calm descended over her. By the time she stepped from the cool waters, not only did she feel refreshed, but her muscles no longer ached. The red welts that marred her skin had grown angrier at first, but were already fading. And the deep gashes upon her body no longer pained her in any way.
William had mentioned holy waters. Had the baths helped to heal her in some way? Would he use them as well? The thought had barely materialized when William appeared behind her draped in a sheet of linen much like hers. He had followed her through the cycle of the baths.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much.”
“Then allow me.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her out of the room and down the long hallway.
At the end of the hall he stopped and pushed the wood door open with his foot. He stepped into a small chamber like the one she had inhabited earlier, then set her on a small cot. He tucked a woolen blanket around her. “I apologize for the lack of clothing. I have sent one of the brothers to the nearest town to find a woman who will part with one of her gowns for your use. Until then…”
She reached up and touched his cheek, which no longer bore the red welts that had marred it earlier. “What magic did those waters contain to take away the pain and evidence of what we endured today?”
“No magic.” He reached down and smoothed the damp strands of her hair away from her cheek. “It is faith alone that heals us. Sleep now. I’ll be in the chamber across from yours, should you need me.” He turned to leave.
“William?”
He turned back to her, and she could see tension in his face and desire flaring in his eyes. “Aye?”
“Thank you.”
His gaze traveled over her wet, tousled hair, her bare shoulders, to her body hidden beneath the heavy wool. “I must go, Siobhan, or something that should not happen in a monastery will happen here this night.”
At the heat in his eyes an answering warmth flared within her. Her body tingled, throbbed—not from the effects of the baths, but from the look in his eyes that said he wanted to consume her. She bit down on her lip to keep from calling him back.
William returned to his chamber and quickly pulled on a fresh linen shirt, breeches and his boots. Once dressed, he strode down the hallway in the opposite direction from Siobhan’s chamber. He had to move away from the temptation she posed—from his own desire—until he could get himself back in control.
He proceeded to the chapel and forced himself to slow his steps as he made his way to the altar. At the stairs of the dais, he fell to his knees before the crucifix that hung upon the wall. He allowed the burden of what he’d done, of what he’d turned away from, to swamp him.
Many years ago he’d knelt in this same place, filled with purpose and determination to change the world, to right the wrongs that he saw all around him.
But something had changed. He had changed. His ideals had taken the lives of so many others that he loved. Could he sacrifice any more and still remain whole?
He stared up at the image upon the cross. “My vows to you, Lord, were the reason I lived for so long. You protected me in my childhood and as a warrior. But now I find myself pulled in another direction. I feel as though you are guiding me to another purpose, that I can serve Your will more fully by protecting Siobhan from those who would seek her knowledge of the treasure.”
He dropped his gaze to the hands he held folded in
front of him. “My loyalty, my life, will always be yours, Lord, but my heart calls me to another path. Please give me the strength to do what must be done.” Crossing himself, he rose.
He turned to find Brother Kenneth standing ten paces behind him. The man offered William a gentle smile. “As you stated earlier, things change. Change can be good.”
“That wasn’t meant for your ears.”
“My ears are God’s ears,” Brother Kenneth replied.
William frowned. “My path in life calls me in a different direction.”
“As it should. You came to us as a boy, William. I’ve often wondered if you chose this life with us because it was before you. That’s why I forced you to go away as a young man, to go to the king’s court, to find who you truly were. When you met the Bruce and became his guardsman as a Templar, I knew your heart was in your commitment, but still something of your soul was missing from your choice. I could see it in your eyes every time you looked at me.”
Brother Kenneth came to stand before him, searching his face, his eyes. “That emptiness is gone, William. Lady Siobhan is the reason.”