Dangerous (8 page)

“Elisabeth! Don’t—”

His warning came too late. She’d no sooner opened the door than the man grabbed her in a stranglehold.

“Stay as you are,” he ordered, drawing a knife from its sheath on his belt. “Toss me your weapons.”

Eric slid his dagger across the floor, keeping a wary eye on the blade pressed to Elisabeth’s throat. In her eyes, he saw a worrisome mix of fear and anger. She wouldn’t go easily.

The intruder studied Eric a moment and nodded in recognition. “Eric Jordanne,” he acknowledged in a silken French accent. “So you escaped, after all.”

“As did you, Rafael. But you’ll not leave this castle alive unless you release her.”

“Come now, brother,” Rafael taunted. “You wouldn’t kill me over a woman, would you?”

“What the Devil?” Christian charged from his rooms wearing a pair of loosely laced trews. His sleepy eyes widened, then grew calm as glass. “Let her go.”

“For the love of God! Does no one in this house sleep?”

Christian’s chuckle was strained, but somehow he smiled. “Very seldom. So many interesting things happen this time of night.”

Eric knew Christian was stalling, allowing him time for the torturously slow progress he was making toward Elisabeth. Fortunately, the rest of the family slept in another wing. If luck were with them, no one else would join the fray. Men tended to become unpredictable when surrounded.

“Surely you can find a more willing maid somewhere about,” Christian said amiably.

“This one suits me. I have very fine taste,” Rafael boasted, pulling Elisabeth closer. “Roses,” he murmured with a lewd smile. “How I love roses.”

As he rubbed his cheek over Elisabeth’s, his fingers drifted to the laces closing her dressing gown. Deftly, he untied them and slipped his hand inside to fondle her breast. Willing her to allow the groping, Eric prayed the distraction would enable him to surprise Rafael.

His silent plea went unheeded.

The intruder hissed as her teeth sank into his arm. “You little heathen. You’ll pay dearly for that.”

When he drew his hand back to strike her, Eric rushed him. Shoving Elisabeth toward Christian, he kept a cautious eye on the fighting knife. He’d retrieve his own, but he dared not take his eyes from his opponent. Wily and without a conscience, Rafael had always been a formidable adversary.

Eric took a fist on the jaw, ducking as the blade whistled past his ear. Having thrown his attacker off stride for a single precious moment, he seized the opening he’d created.

He went to his knees as if dazed. When the mercenary bent down, Eric came up behind him. Grasping his waist in one hand and his head in the other, Eric twisted.

Elisabeth gasped as a sickening crack echoed along the wide corridor. With a last pathetic wheeze, the breath left the man’s lungs, and he sank to the cold stone floor.

Eric spared him not even a glance. He stepped over the body as if it were just so much litter blocking his path.

“Milady—”

She shrank against Christian, and Eric abruptly halted. In his eyes, she saw nothing of her champion. The jovial blue had cooled to steel, flat and soulless. As he regarded her, his visage slowly warmed. The monster she’d glimpsed gave way to the fine, courageous man who’d emerged from the darkness and saved her once again.

Bewildered by the transformation in his appearance, she could only stare at him. Seeming to sense her disquiet, he shifted his gaze to her brother.

“Stay with her, Christian. I’ll deal with this.”

Eric hefted the corpse onto his shoulder as if it were a sack of wheat headed for the grainary. He limped while he made his way down the corridor, and a chill swept over her as she watched him go. He’d killed his own brother to protect her.

What sort of man did such a thing?

***

With weary steps, Eric ascended the winding staircase. ’Twas long past the witching hour, and he welcomed the silence of the castle. While he’d dispatched his grisly duties, his thoughts had grown more tangled, until now they felt irreversibly knotted.

Never would he forget the horror in Elisabeth’s eyes.

The memory of it struck him like a physical blow, and he reached for the rail to steady himself. He had only to drag his leaden feet down the short corridor and collapse into his bed. Perhaps now he could sleep.

As he rounded the last curve in the wall, he froze in mid-stride.

Slowly, Elisabeth turned toward him. Alone in the dimly-lit corridor, she seemed a vision risen from the mist. The crimson gown swept the floor behind her, rising in graceful folds to the fitted bodice. The burnished richness of her hair cascaded to her waist in luxuriant curls.

He could imagine no sight more enchanting than Elisabeth Redmond silhouetted in torchlight.

Lust put a sharp edge on his tone. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for you,” she answered evenly. “Where have you been?”

“I found a horse tethered outside the walls. I lashed Dumont to the saddle and sent the horse into the forest. No doubt, it will find its way home to be fed.”

He’d thought it impossible for her to look any more horrified than she had earlier, but he’d been gravely mistaken.

“The poor horse. Why would you do that?”

“Beyond disposing of the body, I wished to send a message to the others.”

“What message could they possibly receive?”

Eric grimaced and fought for control of his rage. He didn’t want to frighten her any more than he already had. “Another attempt to take you will meet with the same result. Even mercenaries value their lives above gold.”

“Dumont. That was his name.”

“
Oui
. Rafael Dumont.”

She absorbed that in silence, pacing a few steps away. When she faced him, he steeled himself for the question he’d known she would ask him. “Was he truly your brother?”

“No.”

“A Templar?”

Eric nodded, and her lips compressed into a harsh, disapproving line. “Have you any idea who he might have been working for?”

“None. I had no idea he was in Scotland. I haven’t seen him in more than a year.”

As he closed the distance between them, he saw the mark of Dumont’s blade on her slender throat. Without thinking, he tipped her jaw up toward the light. He traced the wound with his thumb, paused over the beat fluttering just beneath it.

Her day dresses covered her from chin to toes, but the velvet gown flowed over skin softer than the finest silk. As he fingered the gold cording that trimmed the open neckline, her delicate shiver raced through his blood.

“You’re safe from him, milady,” he said as he withdrew his hand. “He won’t harm you again.”

Canting her head, she studied him with a grave expression. “You don’t regret killing someone you once considered a brother?”

“He’d have taken you from your own home to a fate I don’t wish to consider,” he replied darkly. “My only regret is that I cannot kill him again.”

Chapter Seven

Elisabeth glanced up as someone paused before her. Eric stood beside her chair, her heavy mantle held open in his hands. So handsome was he with a length of Redmond plaid tossed carelessly back over his shoulders. Worn over gray trews, the creamy tunic and doublet accented the deep blue of his eyes.

Of late, those eyes had been dulled by fatigue and worry. His devotion to her cost him dearly, yet he’d prepared for a walk in the damp, chilly air. Such a maze was he, it would surely take an entire lifetime to understand him.

“Is there something you wanted?” she asked.

“During breakfast, you mentioned needing linen and cording. I thought perhaps you’d like to go to the village and get them.”

“I hardly require an escort for a short walk down the hill.”

“With respect, Lady Redmond, you do.”

She raised a defiant chin. “I do not.”

He dropped to his knee and balanced a massive forearm across his thigh. “I understand that you detest my trailing after you, but ’tis the only way I know to keep you safe. If you’ve another suggestion, I’ll gladly listen.”

In truth, she didn’t mind him trailing after her. She only wished he’d do it of his own accord rather than as her paid protector. “It’s been a fortnight since Dumont was here, and nothing more has happened.”

“That doesn’t mean the danger to you is past. Often, an opponent will draw back to regain his strength while he plots his next attack. This man has expended considerable effort to take you, and I don’t believe he’d surrender so easily.”

She heard the meaning beneath his cautious words. “You mean he won’t stop until he has me.”

The hand balanced on his leg curled into a tight fist, his eyes blazing like furious sapphires. But when he spoke, his gentle tone brushed away some of her fear.

“I swear to you, milady, no one will take you from Caileann against your wishes.”

Because it was Eric, she believed his grim vow. For good or ill, he was a man who’d proven he would do whatever was necessary to protect her. While she didn’t always approve of his methods, she couldn’t deny feeling comforted by the fierce warrior’s dedication to keeping her safe.

Out in the bailey, she cast a longing look toward the stable nestled against the far wall. “I haven’t taken Cassandra anywhere in ages. I visited her this morn with her favorite apple treats, and she was delighted to see me. When I left without saddling her, she looked so crestfallen, I felt horrible.”

“If you wish to go riding, perhaps the soldiers will allow you to use their training corral.”

His suggestion was a sound one, but plodding about in circles didn’t appeal to her. She missed the freedom she’d once enjoyed to go where she pleased, when she wished to go. At the risk of sounding petulant, she let out a resigned sigh. “It’s not the same.”

“You’re obviously very fond of her,” he said, clearly attempting to lift her spirits by a change of topic. “Have you owned her long?”

“She was a wedding gift from my late husband. One of many, but the only one I kept.”

“Might I make a suggestion?”

Glancing over at him, she nodded. “Of course.”

“You may find it better to remember those days while you learn to live in this one.”

She considered him for a long moment and in spite of her dark mood, she smiled. “Eric Jordanne, I think you have the heart of a poet. How did it come to rest inside such a fierce warrior?”

“I’ve no idea. A legacy of my father, perhaps.”

“Who was he?”

“I’ve no idea. He was a Spanish troubadour who visited Marchet one year. Even my mother knew only his first name, Leandro.” He added a soft chuckle. “That, and he was the most handsome man she’d ever met.”

“Like his son.”

Eric glanced down at her, his brow raised. Realizing she’d spoken her thought aloud, Elisabeth felt embarrassment heat her face. “Forgive my audacity, but you must have been one of the most pleasing men in France.”

“What know you of the men in France?”

“I’ve been to Rouen and Paris,” she assured him haughtily. “I was married, not blind.”

As they entered the village gates, he gave her a look that was more wince than smile. “’Tis an honor to know you think so highly of me.”

His exalted treatment of her still rankled, but repeatedly correcting him had done her no good, so this time she held her tongue. Their first stop was a cozy storefront that kept all manner of goods for its customers. When she and Eric stepped inside, the proprietor’s wife Davina greeted her with a warm hug and nodded to her escort. “
Fáilte
. Welcome to you.”

He responded with a slight bow, and the older woman eyed him with forthright approval. Apparently, the Frenchman’s appeal extended beyond the young maids at the keep.

“I’ve been saving something for you, Elisabeth.” Disappearing into the tiny storeroom, Davina returned with a square package wrapped in sheepskin. “Fergal bought it during his last trip to Paris.”

Inside she found a volume bound in rich brown leather that had been carved into a fanciful design and accented with gold leaf. Fanning through the illuminated pages, she smiled. No doubt Fergal would be mortified to know he’d purchased a volume of provocative poetry for her.

“It’s wonderful
.
” She barely managed to quell her laughter. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy reading it.”

Davina drew herself up proudly, a smile lighting her heavily lined features. “He’ll be pleased to know you like it. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

While Elisabeth considered the array of slippers and brooches, Eric passed behind her. It seemed that he’d noticed something she hadn’t, and she watched him stroll around the wall that separated the business from the living quarters.

“Eric!” Fergal greeted him with an enthusiasm that told her they’d already met. “I’d no idea you were here. I must thank you again for your help with my cart the other day. Without you, I’d have been sore pressed to return home before dark.”

“I’m pleased that I could be of assistance.” He joined the merchant in the far corner. “’Tis quite a hole.”

“That it is.” Fergal rubbed his left arm, which hung in a sling. “I’ve been trying to patch it, but the thatch keeps falling.”

“A difficult job with only one hand. Would you care for two more?”

“I’d welcome them. I can hold the lengths if you’ll weave the cross pieces.”

Eric did as he was asked. While he patiently wove in the new section of thatch, the two men talked, their deep voices blending harmoniously in the small room.

When they’d finished, Eric crossed his arms and surveyed the roof. “I fear this won’t last you the winter.”

“The rains have been heavier than usual and with my arm still mending, I’ve not been able to repair it. So I’ve been praying for sunshine.”

“We all have,” Eric assured him with a rueful grin. “But that may not be enough. I’m accompanying Lady Redmond on her errands, but if you’d like I could come back later and help with the rest.”

The merchant beamed in gratitude. “’Tis a generous offer, but I canna accept.”

“Why not?”

“You’ve much more important duties.”

Eric chuckled. “More important than keeping the rain off your bed?”

“Listen to him!” his wife called out while she folded a length of heavy wool for her display.

“Very well,” Fergal relented, “but I must pay you.” When Eric shook his head, the shopkeeper pressed. “I may not be a wealthy man, but I’m a proud one. I won’t be indebted to anyone.”

“As you wish.”

They walked back into the front room, and the owner motioned about him. “What do ye fancy?”

Elisabeth watched Eric’s gaze sweep the shelves, then light with interest on a book far above her view. He reached up and drew it from its spot, tracing the tooled cover with his finger.

“I’d very much like this.”

She peeked over his arm at a green volume with the profile of a horse’s head on the cover. He held it out to her, and she flushed at being caught observing him. She took it and leafed through the pages filled with stories of legendary horses from Pegasus to silver-horned unicorns.

“The pictures are beautiful,” she commented as she returned the book to him.

“They are. Perhaps you might teach me to read some of the stories.”

It was the first time he’d asked her for anything beyond keeping his identity secret, and her heart leapt at the knowledge that he now trusted her enough to ask for her help. “I’d enjoy that.”

His eyes softened as he returned her smile. “
Merci
, milady. You’re very kind.”

A few moments later, the smile faded, and he pulled back a step. Not far, but far enough to make it plain that he felt she’d drawn too close. He began sliding her purchases into the bag she’d brought, and she stopped him with a hand on his. Artfully, he slipped his hand free and resumed his task.

“Eric, you’re not my servant,” she murmured as they left the shop. “There’s no need for you to carry my things.”

Without meeting her eyes, he said, “’Tis my pleasure to help a lady with her parcels.”

During their walk back to the keep, she jested with him, trying to dispel the stiffness that had suddenly arisen between them. When he was with Christian, he seemed much more at ease, and she repeated some of her brother’s droll comments, with no success. Perhaps she didn’t have them quite right, or Eric was distracted by something.

Or, she thought with a little smile, perhaps it was her.

Her bright mood dimmed when Eric stiffened beside her. Though he maintained their leisurely pace, he smoothly shifted her purchases to his left hand, grasping the hilt of his sword beneath his cloak.

“Keep walking,” he murmured, his eyes sweeping the expanse of trees at the base of the hill. “Reach to my belt and unsheathe the knife. Take your new book from me and hide the knife inside.”

She did as he bade her, a difficult task with her heart in her throat. She prayed she’d not need the blade he’d given her, but she blessed him for thinking to arm her. This time she wasn’t defenseless, and that knowledge gave her a measure of comfort.

The castle walls didn’t seem to be getting any closer. She was unaware that she’d quickened her steps until Eric gently drew her back to match his stride.

“Chatter and laugh as if you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Enjoying myself?” she echoed in disbelief. “Are you mad?”

“Do you recall my promise to you, Lady Redmond?”

When she glanced up, she met a very somber pair of eyes. They weren’t the flat gray she considered his knight’s stare, neither were they the warm blue she’d come to adore. This was a mixture of the two, a determined blend of soldier and something else she couldn’t define. Swallowing her fear, she nodded. “I remember.”

“Good.”

Resuming his watchful mien, he said nothing more until they reached the castle. It was all she could do not to embrace the guards at the gate, so grateful was she to be back safely.

As they paused at the base of the bailey steps, she surreptitiously returned his knife. “Thank you, Eric.”

“I’m pleased that you enjoyed your walk.”

“I did, and I’m grateful to you, but that wasn’t what I meant.”

Eyes narrowing, he asked, “What did you mean?”

“I meant thank you.” Heedless of who might be watching, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “For being my knight.”

***

Hard as he tried, Eric couldn’t make his quill behave. While a storm pelted the window with shards of ice, he diligently strove to copy the phrases Elisabeth had written. While hers flowed across the page, his clumsy attempts were spattered with black. To make matters worse, the ink stained everything it touched, including his fingers, which were far too large for such a dainty pen.

For years, he’d longed to gain the ability to read and write for himself. In an effort to fill the dreary days when he was confined to the keep, he’d gladly accepted Elisabeth’s offer to tutor him. Sadly, though his mind had proven more than capable of understanding her directions, his coordination was sorely lacking. With a muttered curse, he began again.

Laughing, Elisabeth looked up from her book. “What did you say?”

“I need a larger quill.”

“Or more practice with that one.”

Eric threw the offensive thing down in disgust. “This is hopeless. I’m not suited to such delicate work.”

“Surely, it’s not that bad.”

She looked over his shoulder, the corner of her mouth quivering.

“Laugh if you like.” He chuckled at his clumsy efforts. “’Tis most amusing.”

Laugh she did, though she eased it with an encouraging smile. “Don’t give up hope. You’ll do better with time.”

As she returned to her seat, Eric crossed his arms and leaned back to survey the snug sitting room. Elisabeth had transformed it into a library of sorts, with shelves full of books and sketches she’d done since returning to Caileann.

“What is it you’re reading, milady?”