Authors: Diana J. Cosby
His Captive (23 page)
After the rebels departed from the meeting, Alexander sat on the bench with his tankard. He took another deep swallow as he watched the flames waver in the hearth.
The rich scent of wood blended with the echo of angry voices and the lingering stench of ale, but he ignored them. His head pounded, swollen with the emotions rioting through him, heated by his fierce loyalty toward his country, but aching that Nichola had become caught in the midst of the uprising.
She’d had no choice from the start. Torn from her home, she’d suffered the loss of her brother. Now the group of Scottish leaders had agreed to methodically reclaim Scottish strongholds taken by the English, including Rothfield Castle. After everything else, she would lose her home as well.
For her, the cost of war would be monumental. How could it not be? They awaited her ransom, but after it arrived, then they would attack. Nichola couldn’t return home now. Or ever. But the loss of her home, of the people she cared for within, would hurt. He couldn’t allow her to return and witness that. Not to mention that in the fray, she could be raped or killed.
“It has been a bloody long night,” Seathan said with a sigh.
Alexander glanced where his eldest brother took a seat, a tankard of ale in his hand as well. “Aye, it has at that.”
“I still cannot believe Wallace is dead.” Alexander walked over to the hearth and leaned against the side stone.
Patrik crouched before the fire and stared into the flames. “Murdered,” he said with a dangerous calm. “But they will regret it. For each drop of Wallace’s blood, my blade will claim the life often Englishmen.”
Silence fell between the brothers like a quiet promise. Patrik’s fury matched many within Lochshire Castle. Alexander thought of Nichola. Though it was best if she remained here when the rebels began their siege, again he wondered if she was truly safe?
Seathan stood and downed the last of his ale. He set the empty tankard on the bench and glanced at his brothers. “We will all be needing a good night’s rest. Once the fighting begins, the days ahead will offer naught but glimpses of sleep.”
Emptying his tankard, Duncan set it aside, then stretched. “Aye, it is time to be heading to bed.”
“And what is her name this night, Duncan?” Patrik asked as their younger brother stood.
Alexander released a rough sigh. The teasing in Patrik’s tone brought a lightness to the room they all desperately needed. He, along with his brothers, smiled. Patrik’s extreme behavior of late when talk of the English disturbed him, but often, as now, his anger faded as quick.
“I will not be telling you the lass’s name,” Duncan replied.
Patrik hooted at that. “And the same you said about the previous lass you bedded. You dance around commitment with a fine step.”
They all laughed as Duncan threw Patrik a disgruntled look.
And for this moment their world was right. Alexander savored this peace, the love of his brothers. All too aware that once the fighting began, the chance existed that they would never stand together again.
The laughter fell away and somber glances passed between them. Seathan nodded. “Until the morn.”
“Aye,” the other brothers said in unison.
“I am off to console Rois,” Duncan said with a wink and headed toward the door to the keep.
“I do not know how he keeps up with their names,” Patrik said. On a heavy sigh, he leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the hearth to Alexander.
Alexander nodded. “I doubt he does.”
“I think you are right.” A contented silence fell between them. “You are not heading off to bed?”
“In a while.” Alexander grimaced when he found his mug empty. He wanted to be with Nichola, yet she would be furious when he told her she would remain here even after the ransom was paid. Neither would his brothers be pleased by his decision.
“Here.” Patrik leaned over and filled his tankard. He set the pitcher down between them with a solid clunk. “It is a night for ale.”
“Aye.”
“And women,” Patrik added.
“Always for women,” Alexander replied automatically to hide his turmoil.
“You are sounding like Duncan,” Patrik gently chided. “Except after Duncan’s heartbreak when Isabel Adair severed their betrothal to become Lord Frasyer’s mistress, Duncan has never fallen in love.”
Alexander lowered the tankard, the serious undertones of his brother’s words putting him on the defense. “What do you mean by that?”
“It is not a secret of the feelings you hold for Lady Nichola.”
“What I feel for her is for me to sort out.”
“Not when it comes to our country’s freedom.”
Alexander slammed down his tankard. Ale sloshed over the rim. He stood and glared at his brother.
“I told you—”
“And what would you say if I told you she was a spy?” Patrik interrupted.
Feet spread apart, hands braced on his hips, Alexander snarled, “She has lost her home, her family, and she is the furthest thing England has of a spy.”
“Then why did I find her hiding in the shadows outside our chamber while we, along with the clan leaders, discussed our plans to attack the English?”
Alexander hesitated. He’d not seen her there. “She would never do that.”
“I saw her.”
From the resolute expression on his brother’s face, Patrik spoke the truth. Why would she listen in on their meeting? The thought that she would pass along any inside information left a sickening stench inside him.
He stared at Patrik. “She is our prisoner.”
“For now,” he agreed. “But once the ransom is paid, what then? She is free to pass along the information she has gleaned to aid those who would set up an ambush and slaughter our men.”
“She would never share anything she learned this night.” He wanted to believe that, but if she were a spy, neither could he discount that if the English ever caught her, they would treat her as an assumed traitor to them as well. What if they believed her loyalties had swayed toward the Scottish cause during her stay, or they tortured her to see what she knew? What if they learned she and Alexander had been lovers?
Anger burned in Patrik’s hazel eyes. “You claim she would never eavesdrop, yet I found her doing just that. Now you say she will hold her tongue against her own country’s behalf, that she will allow her people and lands to be seized without revealing naught.” Patrik snorted. “Tell me, Alexander, with her brother having had King Edward’s ear, can you assure me that these will be her actions once freed? Or are your views skewed by having bed her?”
“Damn you! Her sleeping with me changes nothing.”
“No?”
He glared at his brother.
As much as he wished to deny Patrik’s claims, doubts remained. If they’d had time together to strengthen their bond of trust, then he would be sure. But their emotions though strong, were fragile. Had she played him for a fool? Were her words of love those to buy time, a cover for actions that would serve England? No, he could never believe that.
“She will remain here,” Alexander revealed.
“After the ransom is paid?” Patrik said in disbelief. “With her wealth, position within the gentry and heiress of a major stronghold against the Scots, do you think Seathan would allow such a folly? Keeping her after the ransom is paid would be an invitation for King Edward to lay siege to our home.”
God’s teeth, he’d naught considered that, but Patrik was right. King Edward would clasp onto her detainment as a direct challenge and attack Lochshire Castle. The number of English troops who would pour down from the hills would wreck havoc upon the untrained men and women remaining within the keep, while his brothers and the rebels were attacking more tactically important English strongholds.
The pounding in his head severed through the warm mists of ale. “I do not know the right answer,” Alexander finally said, his heart aching.
“I do,” Patrik stated as calmly as if asking for a refill of wine. “She must die.”
Chapter Seventeen
“No!” Alexander shot Patrik a furious look.
Patrik bristled. “She is a risk we cannot take.”
“A risk to whom?.” Alexander stilled the urge to grab his brother’s throat. Barely. “The rebels or your hatred toward the English?”
Red mottled Patrik’s face. “I have never lied about my hatred of the English. But her spying is not about my personal feelings toward her or her country.”
“Is it not? Since the day I brought her here, you have watched her with ill intent.”
“Her brother is King Edward’s advisor to the Scots. Think you if she sought an audience, King Edward would not grant it? Aye, and he’d listen, greedy for all she would tell him about our rebel plans.”
A pounding built in the back of his head. He couldn’t believe she would betray him after they’d made love. “You cannot be sure she was spying on our discussion.”
“I know what I saw.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” Even as Alexander spoke, how would he have viewed her actions if he had witnessed her hiding in the shadows and listening to the rebels’ debate?
Patrik paused. “They can be, but I watched her. Her intent was clear. Had her presence been innocent, then when she saw the gathering, she would have quickly left.”
“What—”
His brother slammed his fist upon the table. Empty tankards clattered. “Listen to your claims. You are allowing your feelings for the lass to skew your thoughts. We are at war. Wallace is dead. We cannot risk anything compromising our plans—including Lady Nichola. Once the ransom is received, no other choice remains. She must be killed.”
Alexander stood. He stepped toward him and halted a hand’s breath away. “Whatever her intent, she will not be harmed. Defy me, and it will be my blade you face.
The anger coursing over Patrik’s face crumbled into a mask of sorrow. “Christ, Alexander, do you think it is easy for me to reveal her treachery to you? It is the last thing I would wish. I know your feelings for the lass run deep. If I could aid you, keep her from suspicion or harm, I would.” A weary sigh spilled from his mouth. “I ask you, if the positions were reversed, what would you be asking of me?”
Troubled, Alexander didn’t reply. He set down his tankard. A short while ago he’d looked forward to going to Nichola to make love with her through the night. Now, seeing her brought an uncertain dread.
“I will speak with her,” Alexander finally said.
“No,” Patrik said softly.
Surprised, he turned toward his brother. “Why not?”
“It is better if she has not discovered that we have caught her spying.”
His words made little sense. “But you confronted her.”
“Aye, and promised I would not say a word. She believes she has convinced me that she was but walking through the castle when the sounds of the angry men drew her attention.”
Alexander jumped on her explanation. “It could be true.” Or mayhap she was coming to see him?
Patrik made a grunt of dismissal. “How often since her arrival has she wandered around the castle at night or alone?”
He didn’t answer, didn’t need to. Since he’d allowed her door to remain unbarred, except for the night she’d come to his chamber and he’d rejected her, she’d not once left the confines of her room after they’d supped.
“It is better if she remains ignorant that we have uncovered her scheme.” Patrik pressed his finger against his brow as if it ached, a sensation Alexander could empathize with. His own head throbbed as if battered by a mace.
“We will covertly watch her for other suspicious activities, but for now, we will allow her to believe we think her innocent,” Patrik said.
Alexander wanted to disagree, but by her own actions, she had placed herself under suspicion. The thought of her spying on them stripped him raw.
Trust.
How could a bond grow without this essential element?
“—to ensure she suspects nothing.”
“What?” Alexander asked, realizing he’d missed most of Patrik’s comment.
“I said, you will have to keep your actions normal or she will know I have told you.”
He swallowed hard, disgusted at the thought of this deception. “I will tell Seathan.”
“He has enough on his mind.”
Alexander nodded, too hurt to argue. Helping reclaim Wallace’s body, meeting with Lord de Moray and Wulfe wouldn’t allow any free time to speak with Seathan.
“We will tell him after we have buried Wallace,” Alexander said.
“And it will give us time to see what mischief she is about.”
Or time to prove her innocence. However much he believed her guiltless, he refused to allow her to endanger the rebels’ plans if there existed the slightest chance of her guilt.
Aye, he would heed Patrik’s suggestion, but he didn’t have to like it.
Like a man sentenced to the gallows, Alexander climbed the castle steps. As he neared his floor he stopped. If he were a smart man, he would go to his chamber and sleep. He wouldn’t be standing here staring up the winding steps, wondering if she lay in her bed waiting for him. Or if her thoughts were drenched with wanting.
God help him, even with Patrik’s suspicions of her, he couldn’t stop caring about her. Mayhap if he went to her chamber, she would confess she’d listened to the rebels along with her reason.
With a heavy heart, he climbed the steps up to the woman he wanted as no other, to a woman who if Patrik was correct, might expose his country’s bid for freedom.
The quiet scrape of her door was the only indication that Alexander had entered her chamber. Had Patrik told him of their confrontation? Nichola lay in bed torn, a part of her hoping he’d come to her this night, another, nervous of how he’d act if he did.
She remained still and watched Alexander’s solid form glide through the murky darkness. She held her breath, unsure of what to do, but she refused to hide behind closed lids.
His eyes, she needed to see them, then she would know if he trusted her still. Or if he knew her enough to see the truth in whatever lie Patrik had told him.
He halted by her bedside, but he stood in the shadows and she couldn’t make out his face.
“Alexander?”
His fingers reached out to touch her shoulder, to glide up her neck then skim over her lips.
Currents of heat shot through her. “Make love with me.”
Alexander hesitated. His fingers trembled. He whispered a curse that had her nerves dancing on edge. Then he touched her, lightly, tenderly, and with a passion that usurped her fears. Her doubts.
He knelt and claimed her mouth. His hungry kiss destroyed her while his fingers moved down her arm in a slow caress.
Fire swept through her body, singing her every nerve until she couldn’t think, only want. Him.
His mouth glided down to her neck, his teeth scraping softly over her sensitized skin, while his hand inched up her thin chemise. On a needy exhale, he leaned back and stripped her until she lay naked before him.
She reached up for him, but he caught her fingers and kissed the tip of each.
“No,” he whispered.
The moon peeked out from the blanket of thick clouds. Silver beams spilled through the open window to illuminate her body. He lowered his head to her breast. As he laved the soft swell, she gasped. His lips inched over her with a tender assault, merciless in his sensual siege.
She ached beneath his touch, her body urging him to take her, to drive her wild for more. With his every touch, his every kiss, she sensed a desperation, an urgency that had never existed within him before.
Alexander covered her body with his own, pressing himself intimately against her. “Nichola,” he rasped, his voice almost a haunted ache. Then he drove deep.
Her body convulsed, his every thrust casting her higher until there was only raw pleasure. She called out his name, wanting this to last forever.
On his next drive, she arched to meet him, taking his entire length, crying out as he withdrew only to impale himself in her again. Pressure built. Shudders tore through her body and she spun into sweet release. But he pressed on, relentless, pushing her further.
Sweat covered her body. Coherent thought fled. Somewhere in their erotic dance, her body began to spiral up again. She welcomed his every drive, the tide of heat that ripped through her.
For the second time in minutes, Nichola exploded. Shaken by the sheer beauty of their lovemaking, she cried out as he found his own release. Tears slipped down her cheeks at the beauty of their intimate bond.
He lifted his head. In the moon-washed light, worry crowded his face. “I have hurt you?”
“No, it was beautiful.” Never before had she felt so needed or cherished. “I love you so much.” She tried to convince herself that she hadn’t felt him stiffen at her words. At his silence, nerves fractured her calm. She touched his face. “Alexander?”
He rolled off of her and lay by her side, not touching her, not moving to a more intimate position. “Go to sleep.”
At his rough whisper, goose bumps rippled over her skin. The cool night air that flowed over where his body had lain, where even now his sweat mingled with hers, chilled her further.
“What is wrong?” Doubts stormed her. Did he know she’d been downstairs earlier? Had Patrik informed him that she’d been spying? If so, did he believe his brother?
The beauty of her nakedness of moments before seemed tainted. She drew the coverlet over her. She’d known Alexander less than a fortnight. Though adopted, he viewed Patrik as his brother. His blood.
And what if she told Alexander of her fear of Patrik, her suspicions that in the turret he’d meant to shove her down the steps to her death? Would he believe her? Or, would he dismiss her claim as nerves at being held hostage?
He rubbed the tired lines of his face. “It has been a long day,” he said into the silence. “I am glad you stayed up in your chamber this night. It was an unruly scene below.”
She relaxed. ’Twould appear Patrik hadn’t spoken to him of her presence below. So why did she sense this change in Alexander, an emotional withdrawal?
With slow strokes as if his head ached, Alexander rubbed his brow. “We learned that Sir William Wallace is dead.”
Relief poured through her. That explained his emotional withdrawal from her. He was grieving. “I am sorry.”
He linked his fingers with hers, gave her hand a firm squeeze, then let go of her hand. “I am sorry as well.”
The quiet seriousness of his words again stirred her unease. He’d said he was glad she’d not come down, but what if this was a test to see if she’d tell him the truth?
If she also chose this moment to reveal her fears of his brother, would he believe her words given to cover her guilt? Or would he dismiss her worries, owing any anger toward her from Patrik as due to Patrik’s tragic past?
Nichola curled her hand in the blanket and fought for calm. Why was she concerned about an event now hours old? Patrik had obviously kept his word and no harm was done. What mattered was that a man Alexander revered was dead. Instead of seeking trouble where there was none, she should be offering him sympathy, comfort.
She laid her hand upon his, but he didn’t move to clasp it in his own. The silence of the night fell between them, the chirp of crickets, the feather of the light, summer breeze sliding into her room. He never made a move to touch her or to make love with her again.
When the bells of matins rang, he stood and quietly dressed.
The shifting of the bed woke her from her restless slumber. She peered over to see Alexander standing and reaching for his garb. Despite his indifferent expression, she sensed him withdrawing.
“Alexander?”
“I have to go.”
“Wait.” She sat up and came to a decision. She couldn’t let this go on. Whatever his reaction, she needed to tell him her fears about Patrik, that she’d gone below and overheard of Wallace’s death this night.
Alexander turned, cobalt eyes dark with a sadness that stole her heart. “Goodnight, Nichola.” And without further explanation, he departed.
As the morning sun streamed into her chamber, Nichola dressed with care. She tried to assure herself her unhurried pace was due to wanting to appear her best, but she couldn’t deny the truth. The tension between her and Alexander had not been her imagination. He had left yesterday morning before she could ask, but she refused to let another day pass without speaking with him.
Throughout the night she’d battled her doubts and had come to a realization. She’d told Alexander she’d loved him, then she’d let her wariness toward men still her tongue when she should have trusted him with the truth. After Griffin’s death, she was afraid of losing Alexander as well.
She wasn’t a coward. Whatever happened, she had to try.
Armed with courage, she exited her chamber. She made a somber search for Alexander as she passed through the great hall of the keep, alert for any sign of Patrik. She would avoid being alone with him at any cost.
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