His Captive (25 page)
Authors: Diana J. Cosby
He was jumping to conclusions. Many reasons for the stone’s disappearance existed, except to him it confirmed that Nichola was trying to escape.
Alexander strode to the door. “Come.”
Patrik walked in silence at his side. Their boots slapped on the turret steps as they descended.
They scoured the great hall and the courtyard, but found no sign of her. When they reached the chapel, Alexander stepped into the dim interior.
Candles flickered on the walls. A woman garbed in a swath of pale linen knelt before the altar, her head bowed.
Alexander’s shoulders sagged with relief. Nichola. Then the woman turned, and he recognized the seamstress who’d lost her son to an English sword two days hence.
A lump built in his throat as Alexander nodded and backed up. He closed the door behind him.
Patrik studied him, his expression grim. “Well?”
He shook his head. “We will split up. Alert the guards. Discreetly. We do not want to cause a panic in case we are mistaken.”
“And when she is found?”
“Bring her to me.” After which he would make damn sure she regretted her attempt to escape.
Patrik nodded.
Alexander watched his brother go. He could only pray they found her.
A short while later the brothers retraced their steps and met at the chapel. With every minute he’d search, Alexander’s anxiety had built. And from the frown carving his brother’s face, he’d not found her either.
“Nothing?” Alexander asked grimly.
Patrik’s expression was equally serious. “She is gone.”
Alexander allowed himself several moments to curse her rashness and his own stupidity in trusting her. “I am going after her.”
“I will go with you.”
“No, I will ride alone.”
Anger darkened his brother’s eyes. “And allow her greater odds to reach English sympathizers?”
Alexander remembered her hiding in the stinging nettles. “She will be easy to track.”
“It is best if we bring along several men as well.”
“I said I would find her alone.” As his voice rose, Alexander saw Duncan who’d exited the keep glance toward them.
Duncan strode toward them rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A pace away he halted. “What is wrong?”
Patrik shot Alexander a damning look. “Nichola has escaped.”
“What?” Duncan asked.
“Tell him of her treachery, Alexander,” Patrik stated.
Irritated to give Patrik’s claim any credence, Alexander stiffened. “Patrik believes Nichola might be a spy.”
“A spy?” Duncan burst out laughing.
“It is not a tale,” Patrik all but snarled. “I saw her hiding in the shadows during the rebel meeting.”
The laughter faded on Duncan’s face. He glanced from Patrik to Alexander. “You are serious?”
Alexander nodded.
“Then why did neither of you say anything to Seathan?” Duncan demanded.
“She protested her innocence to Patrik,” Alexander explained. “Claimed she was restless and out for a walk.” Still, he couldn’t believe she’d betray him.
“A lie,” Patrik spat, “proven by her disappearance.”
Disheartened, Alexander remained silent.
Duncan looked toward the portcullis. “When did she leave?”
“Her bed has not be slept in, so we estimate last night,” Alexander replied. “She only has a few hours start. Her trail should be fresh and easy to follow.”
Duncan frowned. “If she slipped from her chamber last eve, the gate had been secured and the drawbridge raised.”
“What of the men who left late to rescue Wallace?” Patrik countered. “The gates were kept open later than usual.”
Dread washed over Alexander. A sword’s wrath, he’d forgotten. It would have offered her the perfect opportunity to slip outside, and she would have traveled in the dark. Had she stolen a knife to use as protection? As if she could wield it with any skill. Blast it.
“We will gather a search party,” Alexander said.
“We cannot tarry,” Patrik said. “We still need the ransom she will bring.”
The ransom. At the moment, money was the last thing Alexander gave a damn about.
“A rider approaches,” the guard atop the gatehouse called.
Alexander made out the figure galloping toward them as if chased by the devil himself.
“It is the runner Seathan sent to fetch the ransom,” Duncan said.
The rider flew across the drawbridge, the thunder of hooves hard and fast. He galloped into the courtyard and yanked his horse to a halt before the brothers.
“What is wrong?” Alexander demanded. Nichola. Had he found her en route home? Dead? Oh, God.
The rider dismounted. “It is the Lady Nichola,” he said in between breaths.
Fear squeezed Alexander’s chest. “She is—” He couldn’t utter it.
The horse snorted. The man’s eyes darkened with anger. “She is penniless.”
“What!” his brothers exclaimed together.
At first, the runners words didn’t register in Alexander’s mind. Nichola was alive. They weren’t too late. That’s all that mattered.
Then, the messenger’s news sunk in.
Alexander did not flinch. “It is a lie.” If it were true, she would have told him. How could she have deceived him from the start?
The messenger shook his head. “When I delivered the ransom note as we discussed, I received a missive from the steward. The household ledgers are nothing but paper and ink. Nichola is penniless.”
“How is that possible?” Duncan sputtered, asking Alexander’s unvoiced question.
“Lord Monceaux’s excessive drinking and gambling the past year,” the runner explained.
“There is nothing,” Patrik burst out. “Nothing to justify our acceptance of her during her stay.”
The knight nodded. “The debtors have already begun to seize her property in return for outstanding debts owed.”
“Christ!” Patrik snarled. His expression grew violent. “The cunning bitch. The entire time, she deceived us.” He glared at Alexander. “Tell me that she did not hide her poverty from us from the start?”
Stunned, Alexander shook his head. She’d known. Her subtle comment as they’d traveled here that she had nothing to go back to had been the truth—a truth she’d never trusted him enough to tell. What did she think, that if he discovered her monetary state, he would kill her? Did she distrust him so much?
Yes. ’Twould seem so.
And when Nichola had said she loved him, ’twas said in desperation. She’d sought to buy time.
And what of her spying on their rebel meeting? Had she done so with intent to be paid for information she passed to the English? Aye, apparently she was desperate enough.
The softer emotions he’d sheltered yielded to anger. He turned to his brother. “Duncan, stay behind. When Seathan arrives inform him of Nichola’s escape.”
Duncan nodded.
“Patrik, tell the master-at-arms that I need several of his best men—immediately.”
“I am riding with you as well,” Patrik stated as he started toward the stables.
Alexander nodded, beyond denying his brother’s help a second time. His heart ached at her distrust, that after they’d made love, after she’d told him she loved him, she could leave. They would find her, and God help her when they did.
Chapter Nineteen
Nichola shoved a limb up and ducked underneath. Sweat trickled down her face and clung to her gown. It’d taken most of the night, keeping covertly to the side of the road, to reach the loch shore. Precious time she could ill afford to waste. Now, the sun sat high in the sky, its golden rays coating the earth and the fresh smell of pine sifting through the air.
Her heart squeezed as she thought of the man she fled. By now Alexander would have noted her disappearance. How had he reacted to her missive? To the revelation of her lack of funds? Would he hate her? Understand her fears?
What of Patrik? He would be furious, anger that would skew his telling his brothers that she was spying on the rebels.
Alexander would come after her, she had no doubt. Not because he believed she was a spy, but because of his wounded pride that she had escaped.
A loud crack sounded in the distance.
She whirled, her heart pounding. Had Alexander found her already?
A raven’s cry pierced the shush of wind. Then silence.
With trembling hands, Nichola relaxed her grip on the sack that held her precious food stores. Exhaustion from traveling was allowing her imagination free rein. No one was out there.
After taking her bearings, she started walking south. The forest floor once again curved up. Muscles screamed as she pushed herself on. At the top of the small hill, Nichola leaned against a tree, her breaths coming in gulps. She rubbed her aching neck. A moment’s rest, then she would continue.
Through the break in the trees, the loch came into view. The angled banks, the swaths of shore that framed the blackened waters now rippling with waves. To the right, seeming to rise from the water, stood Lochshire Castle.
She thought of Alexander. His smile. His tenderness when they’d made love. No matter what the future held, right or wrong, she would always love him.
He, meanwhile, chose war over her. The past over the future.
Twigs cracked behind her.
Her nerves jumped. Nichola searched the nearby stand of trees. Again, she saw nothing.
Another crack of wood in the distance, this time accompanied by muted voices, sounded to her right.
Alexander!
Nichola stumbled forward, damning each snap of a stick beneath her slippers, every shuffle of leaves as she shoved a branch aside.
“Scour the hillside,” a deep, terse, male voice ordered. “I want every possible hiding place searched. She could not have traveled far.”
“Aye, Sir Patrik.”
Patrik? Of course he would come. He wanted her dead. She needed to hide! The thinning trees to her south offered little cover. To the east and down the sharp slope, a denser swath of trees lay. She couldn’t turn back. Nichola sprinted east.
The ground rushed into a steep decline. The grass and leaves of the forest floor shifted to loose rock peppered with an errant spray of flowers and vines.
Nichola stumbled and barely righted herself.
“Alexander?” another male voice called, a man she didn’t recognize.
They were closing in on her! She half stumbled, half slid the rest of the way down the embankment. Rocks cut her hands, loose dirt around her clogged her throat, but she kept moving.
At the bottom, her legs aching, she crossed the small valley. Thankful, she slipped within the forest that grew denser on the other side.
Another voice called out, this time farther away. A reply echoed throughout the woods, even more distant.
Hope built. They’d turned their search elsewhere, leaving her free to find her way to England.
She moved deeper into the thick shield of leaves interspersed with pine. A fallen tree loomed before her, thick tangles of brush cluttering each end. She dismissed wasting time to go around the jumbled mess. The men were too close.
Gathering her strength, she ran and jumped over the moss covered trunk. A tearing rent the air as the hem of her dress caught on a limb. Her body was jerked back. Nichola slammed against the ground.
For a dizzying second, she lay there, gasping for breath, the forest spinning around her. On a groan, she rolled up into a sitting position to untangle her dress from the broken branch. The fabric held.
“Give way!” She gave a hard pull. The linen ripped free, and she tumbled once again onto her back. She closed her eyes, frustrated. All things considered, it could be worse. At least the men were searching elsewhere. Ready to continue, she opened her eyes.
And stared straight into Patrik’s triumphant face.
Hazel eyes pierced her with an enthralled fury. “You thought you would escape?”
Fear pounded in her heart. She dug her slipper into the soft earth to scoot back, but he reached down, clutched the front of her dress and hauled her to her feet.
“You will not escape me. I am not Alexander who is swayed by your comely face or your willingness to become his whore.”
“Let me go!”
“You were a fool to believe the cover of night would give you any advantage.”
Last night? The memory of the unidentified footfalls, then seeing Patrik cross the courtyard flashed through her mind.
“You saw me leave? Why did you not alert the guards?”
“And have them return you to your chamber?” he said with loathing. “What good would that have done?”
Then she understood. “You kept the guards occupied to ensure I could escape,” she accused, her voice shaking with fear. “So when Alexander found me gone this morning, he would believe your claim when you told him I was a spy.”
He sneered. “With you gone, who would doubt that with your brother’s ties to King Edward, your intent was to warn the English king of the rebel plans?”
Tears burned in her throat. His twisted plans all made sense. “And my missive to Alexander?”
“Destroyed.”
Mary’s will!
Insanity cradled the violence in his eyes. “He hates you.” The caustic joy of his words further battered her heart. Patrik wrapped his hands around her throat.
She fought, but his iron grip held her.
“When he finds you dead, he will be thanking me for destroying another English traitor.”
Nichola screamed.
He tightened his grip, making it impossible for her to yell a second time.
She gasped for a breath that never came. The forest dimmed. Blackness flickered before her. The need for air burst through her lungs.
In the murky light, hooves thrummed across the forest floor.
As the world dimmed around her, she couldn’t understand if she was being saved or delivered straight to the bowels of hell.
Nichola!
Alexander urged his mount faster toward where her scream had cut through the forest. He burst through the shield of trees.
Alexander urged his mount faster toward where her scream had cut through the forest. He burst through the shield of trees.
Patrik knelt several paces away, pinning Nichola to the ground, choking her.
Clods of dirt and twigs flew as Alexander jerked his mount to a halt and jumped to the ground. “Release her!”
Surprise whipped across Patrik’s face as he turned.
His grip easing, Nichola slumped to the ground and fell into a fit of coughing.
In a lightning swift move, Patrik unsheathed his dagger. He caught her shoulders and pressed the blade against her neck. “Stay where you are.”
The wild look in his brother’s eyes made Alexander take a step forward. “Patrik, a sword’s wrath, what are you doing?”
“She cannot live,” Patrik stated with a mundane calm as if asking for no more than a crust of bread. “She is a spy. When she feared she would be exposed, she ran.” His voice jumped to a fevered pitch. “From the runner this day, we have learned that she is a pauper. She has lied to you over and again and proven she cannot be trusted. She must die.”
Nichola’s fearful gaze pleaded with Alexander.
Stunned, he stared at her. God in heaven, did she think he would let Patrik kill her? That he could harm her in any way? Hurt built inside as she waited for his response, her eyes like mirrors to her soul. He saw the doubts, the nerves, but also a fragile trust in him as well.
In that moment, matters of war and treachery paled in significance to Nichola. Without her his life would be empty. The freedom he sought an hollow victory.
He loved her.
It was that simple. And that complex.
“Sheath your blade,” Alexander said. “I will take her to task for her deceptions.”
Patrik shook his head. “She will wield her well-honed lies. In the end, you will forgive her.”
Alexander took another step toward them, fear for Nichola’s life driving his every step.
Patrik jerked her back against his chest; she screamed. “Another step and I will kill the English bitch!”
“No,” Alexander replied, keeping his voice calm as he searched for a reason to convince Patrik to set her free. “You want Nichola dead because she is English.” He stared at his brother straight in the eye. “She does not deserve this.”
“We will send a missive to the English with regrets that during her travel home she was killed by thieves,” he rambled as if he hadn’t heard Alexander. “They will believe that. If anyone even cares of a penniless woman’s demise.”
Nichola’s eyes widened with pure terror.
Alexander hadn’t felt this helpless since the day he’d held his dying father in his arms. Frustration built to fury. No, he would not lose her. He’d watched his father die. He would not lose her as well. Whatever it took, he would save her.
“If you kill her,” Alexander said, drawing his brother’s attention, “it will be murder.”
Crimson stained Patrik’s face. “Murder? As if the English hesitated to butcher my family while they slept in their beds. No, they claimed their actions just, of preserving peace between our lands. Enough of this foolery! You had an opportunity to leave. Now you will witness her death.”
In that second, Nichola tore her hand free. A scream gurgled from her throat as she fought to shove the knife away. “The missive I left for you,” she cried out.
“Quiet!” Patrik secured her hand with a rough grab.
“What missive?” But even as Alexander asked, he remembered Patrik’s fisted hand as he had walked away from her bed and the sound of crumpled parchment after he’d found her gone.
“She would say anything to save her life,” Patrik spat.
“I left a missive explaining everything on the bed,” she whispered, her tone frantic.
Patrik pressed the knife harder. A trickle of blood slid down the blade. “I said quiet!”
“You had it in the chamber, put it in your pocket, didn’t you?” Bedamned his brother’s order. Alexander strode forward.
“Stay back!” Patrik panted, his eyes wild, that of a rabid wolf. “Do not force me to harm you as well.”
As if Patrik had left him any other options. “Seathan, now!” Alexander yelled.
Patrik whipped his head to the side.
His brother’s distraction gave Alexander the break he needed. He lunged forward and caught Patrik’s hand. He ripped the knife away from Nichola’s neck. Jamming his forearm against his brother’s throat, Alexander pulled her free.
“Run!” Alexander yelled as Patrik struggled.
Nichola jumped up and staggered back.
Patrik yelled. He shoved his feet against Alexander’s chest and pushed him away. He attacked, his fist plowing into Alexander’s jaw.
Stars burst before Alexander’s eyes, then his brother’s furious expression swam into view.
“He still has the knife!” Nichola screamed.
“Nichola run!” Alexander’s vision cleared. He feinted to the left, then dove straight toward Patrik. He caught Patrik’s wrist and squeezed. “Stop. Do not do this.”
He caught Nichola digging in her bag. She withdrew a dagger. Alexander shook his head in warning for her to stay away, then turned back to his brother.
Hazel eyes glittered with fury. “I warned you.” Patrik drove his knee into Alexander’s gut.
Air rushed from him in a painful exhale. With a yell of pure rage, Alexander lunged forward, toppling them both. Fists flew, grunts of pain spewed.
Alexander gained his feet. He withdrew his dagger. “I am taking her back.”
Blood oozed from a cut in Patrik’s brow as he shoved to his feet, his breaths coming hard, his eyes black with malice. “Touch her and you are dead.”
Alexander’s heart broke. “You are my brother.”
“Am I? My brother would never choose a traitor over blood.”
“Damn you, Patrik—”
With a cry of outrage, Patrik charged.
Alexander delivered a solid blow.
Patrik’s head jerked back. His brother staggered, his lip already swelling. He charged again; his blade aimed toward Alexander’s heart.
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