Her Lord and Protector (formerly titled On Silent Wings) (13 page)

Beams of sun
glistened on ivory-cream tiles that surrounded the ornate fireplace and mantel
hearth. It twinkled off the glass of the cabinet above the mantel and brought
to life the blue and white china showcased within. Two tapestries woven,
embroidered in once colorless shapes now came alive with reds, golds, and
greens of an autumn hunting scene. Oak tables on either side of the sea-blue
velvet couch shone, and the lyre and flute near the corner showcased their fine
blond wood.

Tiny dust motes
floated above the glistening wool threads on the thick blue and green carpet
covering the polished wood floor.

And finally,
Katherine was able to see in its glorious detail the exquisitely carved oak
paneled wall that enclosed the room.

“M’lady,” Millie
said, and then sat heavily in the chair. “Oh, m’lady....”

Katherine,
smiling, retrieved her tree—of—life embroidery and sat back on the couch, perusing
the room once more. She would close the drapes the instant his horse passed by
on the drive. At a snuffle from Millie, however, she looked over at her with
concern.

“If I may
speak?” Millie asked, her voice thick with emotion.

Katherine sighed
and nodded, fully expecting another reminder of the silly rule.

“Lord Drayton
hasn’t had the curtains opened since Lady Drayton died.”

Katherine
dropped her needlework onto her lap. Surely he grieved the loss of his wife,
but his quality of mourning seemed to stretch into unreasonable actions. Still,
she waited for further explanation.

Millie spoke
hurriedly. “She fell from her window, like I told ye. The night she died, Lord
Drayton told us he didn’t want t’see a window in his house ever again. He
shouted at the servants, said he’d take his rod to us if we ever opened them.
And then he went around and tore her portraits off the wall.” Millie lowered
her eyes and added, “I don’t know if his threat of whippin’ ye was real or not.
But if it is true, ye will not be able to call for help. Please, m’lady. Ye
must
do what he says.”

Fear invaded
Katherine’s self-assurance. She hadn’t taken his threat seriously. Now she wondered
if she’d been wrong, again, about the type of man he was.

Millie gasped as
the trotting of hooves sounded outside. Katherine spun toward the windows.

And locked eyes
with Lord Drayton as he rode by on his gray horse.

She gulped in
alarm at the sight of his eyes narrowing into twin blue glaciers, and then she
doubled over with one hand on her stomach and the other over her mouth in a
bout of frantic coughing.

Millie dashed to
each window. Seconds later, dimness once again encased the parlor and shrouded
everything in muted colors.

The echoing slam
of a door sounded. Booted footsteps rang closer. Katherine straightened and
stared at the open entrance of the parlor.

In he strode,
glancing at the drapes before returning his gaze to her. His chest rose and
fell with a deep breath, and he stood for a moment as if making a decision.
Then, his eyes swept over her. “I see you are ready to explore the keep.”

Would he not he
reprimand her for opening his drapes? His caginess kept her from knowing his
thoughts. She clasped her hands together so he wouldn’t see their shaking.
Forcing her mouth into a smile that felt wooden and false, she nodded.

“Then we will do
so now. ’Tis best to go in bright daylight. Are you ready?” With no expression
save the coolness of his gaze, he turned and offered his elbow.

Katherine shot a
desperate look at Millie.

“Millie may
accompany you.” A bare twinkle, gone before she had time to examine its implications,
flickered in his eyes. But he did not smile. “It would be the proper thing, I
suppose. Millie may bring your slate along since paper and pen will not be feasible.”

Katherine
hesitated. She’d hit him, called him names. Fool!

“Come,” he said.
His eyes bore into hers.

With lead feet,
she walked to him and, with trembling hand, took his proffered arm.

Panic swept over
Katherine’s features. She trembled visibly as if yearning to dash far away from
Alex. That was nothing new to him, her alarm acutely reminiscent of Mary during
her feral-like spells of clawing terror.

He would say
nothing of Katherine breaking his rule, and focused on the tour in an attempt
to allay her fear. As they walked through the Hall, he gave her a reassuring
smile and said, “There are several entrances, but the one I am taking you to is
the safest. Do you enjoy exploring new places?”

She nodded and
sent him a furtive glance.

Perhaps he might
venture a question, and said casually, “You seem to have a keen inquisitiveness.
You went into the closet to see my wife’s portrait, did you not? I noticed it
had been moved.”

Again she
nodded, this time staring straight ahead.

They’d arrived
at the back corridor and turned right. “I am curious. Did something frighten
you so much that you fainted?”

Katherine
frowned and shook her head.

“What happened
to you, then? The closet door handle was not broken.”

She glanced at
the slate Millie held.

“Please do.”
Relieved to finally know, Alex stopped and, taking the slate from Millie,
handed it to Katherine. He tried to hide his grimace in anticipation of the
chalk’s squeak.

It is my concern
only
,
she wrote.

The unseen wall
of distrust thickened between them. Annoyance made him retort, “Was your
eavesdropping in my study yesterday also only your concern?”

Katherine
lowered her eyes and bit her lip, then wrote,
No
. She hesitated and
added,
You were kind to them
.

“Clara is a good
person,” he said with a shrug. “Stephen helps in the barn. He is a fine lad.”

They walked on.

Taking her to
the keep was a bad idea. He should turn around now and escort her back to the
parlor, and then leave her there until Wiltshire arrived. But the battlements
were special, a connection to his past that he felt compelled to share with
her.

The battlements
held no ghosts from his past.

Katherine could,
perhaps, see him as a man wishing only to live a solitary life instead of the
indifferent rogue she surely regarded him as now.

And he could
give her over to the baron tonight with no further thought that he could have
done more to ease her mind.

****

At the end of
the long, dark corridor, another wing extended to the left. It seemed they were
walking toward the back of the house.

To break the silence,
and to gauge Lord Drayton’s temperament, Katherine paused to venture a question
on her slate.
Is this your family home?

He brightened as
he read her words. “Yes. Built two centuries ago in front of the keep.
Cromwell’s men took possession of it during the king’s exile, but Charles
reclaimed it for me after he came into power.”

He loved his
home, she noted as she felt the old floor boards echo beneath her heeled shoes.
She no longer trembled, but instead looked forward to the tour.

The passage
began to narrow and descend. They stopped at a heavy oak wooden door at the
end. When Lord Drayton grasped the handle and pulled it open, the ponderous
creak of its old hinges seemed overly loud in the quiet.

He led Katherine
and Millie through the door and down two dozen or so stone steps that were
smoothed and dipped from centuries of the feet that had trod them. “The
original steps of the keep,” he told them, “built in the thirteenth century
during Henry III’s reign.”

The air cooled
as they descended.

At the bottom of
the stairway, he opened another door that led to a long straight tunnel of
rough gray stone walls and floors.

“Stay close, Katherine.
You as well, Millie. ’Tis dark, and there are rats about.” Without hesitation
he stepped forward, holding out his lantern. His footsteps rang hollowly.

Katherine peered
ahead and saw...nothing.

Dear God. All
was swallowed up in blackness. Then the air grew stale and dank and the tunnel
shrank all around her. She wanted to keep her distance from Lord Drayton and fought
against the roiling panic, but the old terror tumbled her closer to him. The
toe of her shoe almost touched his booted heel and it was all she could do not
to clutch at his waistcoat.

Maybe she could
turn and find her way back. Millie had procured a lantern for her and the
tunnel was a straight path back to the door. But she couldn’t retreat.

Unaware of her
paralyzing emotion, Lord Drayton abruptly turned down one twisting passage,
then another, and another until Katherine had no idea where she was. Perhaps
her confusion was exactly what he’d intended.

The passage grew
more constricted and airless with every step, and ragged breaths tore from her
pounding chest.

Up ahead,
skittering sounds warned of the rats.

Lord Drayton
glanced over his shoulder. “Can you see why we worried for you on the night we
couldn’t find you? I thought you might have gone exploring. No one would hear
you if you became lost or hurt among these twisting paths.”

His words took
on a sinister meaning, and Katherine glanced behind her at Millie. The maid’s
face was obscured in the shadows thrown by the lanterns.

Hideous fear
knotted Katherine’s belly as the passage further narrowed and Lord Drayton had
to duck his head. She dabbed trembling fingers at the beads of perspiration on
her upper lip. Her legs shook and she could barely move them. One more moment
and it would be impossible to conceal her utter disintegration.

“M’lord, Lady
Katherine—she is feeling poorly,” Millie called out in alarm.

Katherine sagged
against the wall, gasping with short breaths. Both lantern and slate slipped
from her numb hands and made echoing clatters as they hit the damp stone floor.

“What is it,
Katherine?”

Lord Drayton
touched her arm, and she reached out to him like a lifeline. His features
wavered and blurred. Her gaze slid from him to Millie, but darkness invaded her
vision. The rough stone wall tearing at her back was her only sensation as she
slid toward the floor.

Struggling for
breath, she was vaguely aware of something sturdy and gentle wrapping around
her waist. Her head lolled against solid warmth, and the rhythmic beating of a
heart sounded in her ear.

A faraway voice
gurgled as if speaking through water. “We are almost there.”

Distantly, she
heard the working of a latch and a deep groaning of hinges.

A soothing voice
murmured in her ear. “’Tis all right now, Katherine. We’ve arrived at the
keep.”

She was lowered
to a sitting position on cold stone, and then felt herself enveloped in the
warmth and strength of his arms.

After several minutes,
her racing heart and panting slowed. She remained motionless, unwilling to be
free of the captivating heat that surrounded her.

His heat, his
strength. So natural to be held by him. Unabashed and unafraid, she turned her
face into his chest and breathed him in. Her heart again quickened, but for a
different reason altogether.

She felt languid
and warm and never wanted to break away, loving the way he cuddled her against
his body, the way his hand caressed her cheek.

“How do you
feel?”

His words broke
her bizarre state of mind. The man holding her like a lover was the turbulent
and obstinate Lord Drayton. The desire, the sensation of sheltering
protection—no, it was all wrong and quite improper. And yet...she couldn’t let
go.

She disliked
him, she reminded herself, feared him, needed to be gone from his home so that
she would no longer have these ridiculous feelings.

Summoning all
her will, she pushed at his chest and felt his body stiffen under her hands.

Abruptly he
released her and stood. “Tend to her, Millie.” His voice held a rough edge.

Stark emptiness
filled her where the warmth had been.

The maid came
forward, her kindly round features creased with worry. She knelt and dabbed at
Katherine’s forehead with the corner of her apron.

Katherine waved
her away. She was more in control of herself now and there was no need to fuss.

Lord Drayton
held out his hand. Obligated to take it, she let him help her up. He didn’t
release his hold on her hand and remained close, his face hard scrutiny. “I
want the truth. What happened in the closet?”

The closet? She
shook her head, confused.

“I found you in
there curled up like a babe, with your fingertips torn to bits. The wall in the
back of the closet is embedded with the scratches you made.” He released her hand
and took the slate from Millie, and thrust it toward her. “What happened?
Answer me.”