Stroke of Midnight (11 page)

CHAPTER 6

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Montiori leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowed, as he read the missive from his daughter, sent at the order of Reyes, the Lord of Black Dragon Keep:

Father

I am being held hostage by Lord Reyes. It is his command that you present yourself at Black Dragon Keep before the next full moon and surrender yourself and your arms. If you refuse, my life will be forfeit.

Your obedient daughter, Shanara.

He read the note again, then crumpled the parchment in his fist. Did Reyes think him a fool, that he would give up his own life in exchange for that of his youngest whelp? It was nothing to him if the girl lived or died. He had five sons to carry on the family line, and more daughters than any man needed.

Montiori turned his attention to the man who awaited his answer. "How do I know my daughter is still alive?"

"You have my lord's word on it."

Montiori snorted derisively. "As if I would believe anything that wretched beast has to say."

Mergrid took a step forward. "My Lord Reyes says he will send the girl back a piece at a time until you surrender, or she dies." He withdrew a small bundle wrapped in cloth from his pocket. "This is so you will know that my Lord Reyes means what he says."

Taking the bundle, Montiori removed the wrappings. Inside, he found the first knuckle of a woman's little finger. Grunting softly, he tossed the bloody bit of bone and flesh into the fire. "Return to your lord."

"I was told to wait for your answer."

"He will know it when he sees it."

"As you wish," Mergrid said. Bowing, he turned and left the hall.

Montiori waited until Reyes's servant was out of the room, then motioned for one of his knights to follow the man.

With a nod of understanding, the knight drew his sword and followed Mergrid from the hall.

CHAPTER 7

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Shanara stood at the window staring out into the darkness, waiting and wondering. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he running through the deep shadows of the night in search of prey, or running just for the sheer joy of it? She knew he remembered being a wolf when he was a man, but when he was clothed in the skin of the wolf, did he remember being a man? What a sad and lonely life it must be for him. She knew now why he remained apart from the others in the keep, why he had never married. Why he would never marry. A pity, when he was such a handsome man!

She thrust the thought from her mind. He was the enemy! Why did it grow ever harder to remember that?

She dozed, then woke abruptly, wondering what had awakened her. And then she knew. The moon was setting. He was near.

Rising, she grabbed a long hooded robe and hurried down the stairs to the kitchen. But she didn't leave the garment by the door. Instead, she carried it outside and walked across the yard, following the path he had taken earlier.

She looked up at the moon, so beautiful against the black velvet sky. She wondered if Reyes saw the beauty of it anymore, or if it was a constant reminder of the curse that plagued him.

Frowning, she paused under a tree. If his affliction had been caused by a curse, then there must also be a way to undo it. But how?

A rustle in the underbrush drew her attention. She held her breath as a dark shape materialized out of the shadows. If it wasn't Reyes… but it was. She recognized him immediately.

He trotted to her side, stood there looking up at her. If she had thought it possible, she would have said he was grinning at her.

She held up the robe. "Are you ready to change back?"

He whined softly, his body convulsing, muscles rippling beneath the thick black fur as his body transformed, paws becoming hands and feet, fur receding to become human skin.

It was fascinating and yet frightening to watch as bones and muscle and sinew rearranged themselves until Reyes stood before her, his body sheened with perspiration. She looked at him standing there and thought him the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

It was only when he reached for the robe draped over her arm that she remembered to be embarrassed by his nudity. With a gasp, she put her back to him, but by then it was too late. She had seen all there was to see.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, his voice sharp with disapproval.

"I… because…" She frowned. Why had she come?

"Because you wanted to see the monster?" he asked quietly, but she heard the bitterness in his voice.

"Is that how you see yourself?" she asked, her back still toward him. "As a monster?"

"Do you not?"

She turned to face him. "I see only a man who is being made to suffer for something that happened before he was born."

His gaze searched hers as if seeking to know the truth of her words. Unable to help himself, he took a step forward, his hand stroking her cheek. When she didn't recoil from his touch, he moved closer. And then he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his. As he had the first time he kissed her, he expected her to resist, but once again her response took him by surprise. Her eyelids fluttered down and then she was kissing him back, her innocence and her eagerness more powerful than any aphrodisiac. Her lips were sweeter than a honeycomb, more intoxicating than spring wine. Putting his arms around her, he drank from her lips like a man dying for sustenance. He plunged one hand into her hair, his fingers delving into the thick mass. Her scent filled his nostrils, the heat of her body turned away the chill of the night. She was the reason he had never married, he thought, the reason he had shunned the wagons of the camp followers.

He kissed her again, reveling in her sweet response. For a moment, he let himself pretend he was a normal man, let himself believe that she could be his, that he could take her as his wife and safely spill his seed within her womb. He imagined children born of their joining—strong sons and beautiful daughters, imagined the sound of their laughter filling his dreary keep. He would stop seeking battles to fight and spend his days in peaceful pursuits, and his nights… ah, his nights would be spent in Shanara's arms… Shanara. She was here, in his arms, and yet forever out of reach.

With a low growl, he released her and turned away.

Shanara stared at his back. "Reyes?"

"Go back to the keep."

"Have I displeased you?"

"Displeased me?" An anguished laugh rose in his throat. "Go from me, Shanara, now, before it is too late for both of us."

She started to reach out for him, needing to comfort him, and then lowered her arm. She didn't know what madness possessed her to let him kiss her but there could never be anything between them. He was going to kill her or her father. How could she have forgotten that?

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she ran back to the keep, grateful for the darkness that hid her tears.

She woke to the sound of shouts and harsh curses. Rising, she went to the window overlooking the courtyard. A number of men surrounded a horse. Reyes was easy to pick from the crowd. He stood head and shoulders above the others.

Curious to know what had caused such a tumult at such an early hour, she donned a robe and hurried down the stairs and out the door.

As though sensing her approach, Reyes turned to face her, his expression grim, his eyes hard.

She slowed her steps as she drew near, then came to an abrupt halt when she saw the source of the commotion. The horse she had seen from her window carried a burden on its back. She stopped, one hand covering her mouth, when she saw the headless body draped across the saddle.

She looked up at Reyes. "Who… who was he?"

"The messenger I sent to your father."

His words sent a shiver through her. Caught up in the horror of what she was seeing, she hadn't realized that Reyes had come to stand beside her.

She looked up at him. He had sent her plea for help to her father and this was her father's reply. Coldness settled over her, leaving her numb. Her father would not save her. She had known all along that he would not, yet she had clung to some small scrap of hope, and now that, too, was gone.

As he had been the first time she had seen him, Reyes was clad all in black. He had reminded her of Death on that day not so long ago. And now that her father had abandoned her, Reyes would, indeed, be her death. Because her father would not take her place, her life would be forfeit, and then there would be another war, with more death and more killing.

"How soon?" she asked, her voice a choked whisper. She didn't want to die. She wanted to live, to marry and bear children, to watch them grow, to hear their laughter and dry their tears.

He frowned at her. "How soon? How soon for what?"

"Until you… until you…"

"Speak, woman, what are you trying to say?"

"How soon until you… you take my head in exchange for his?"

Reyes blinked at her. "Is that what you think I'm going to do?"

"Are you not? You said my life would be forfeit if my father did not surrender to you."

Reyes snorted. "I may be a monster but it is not my habit to slay women or children."

She stared at him, feeling suddenly dizzy with relief.

Reyes pulled her into his arms to steady her. Had she truly thought he would take her life if her miserable cur of a father refused to surrender? Reyes knew he would as soon cut off his own hand before he raised it in violence against her. He spat into the dirt. He had known all along that Montiori would never sacrifice his own life for that of his daughter, or for any of his children. Still, he had hoped that Montiori would fall for his bluff, that some spark of fatherly devotion existed in the man. He should have known better. His bluff had failed. To his regret, the finger that his physician had amputated from the diseased hand of one of the serving women had not fooled Shanara's father.

He frowned thoughtfully, his mind forming and dismissing a dozen ploys, and then he smiled. Of course! He knew exactly how to avenge himself on his enemy. Why had he not thought of it sooner?

Shanara looked up at him, obviously confused by his sudden change of mood.

"I have a better way to avenge myself on my enemy," he remarked. "A way that cannot fail."

"You mean to go to war against him?" she asked in alarm.

"No," he said quietly. "I mean to marry his daughter."

CHAPTER 8

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Shanara stared up at him. "And which of my father's daughters do you intend to marry, my lord?"

A slow smile curved Reyes's lips. "The one in my arms, of course."

Numbness gave way to trepidation. She could not deny that she was attracted to Reyes, or deny that the prospect of staying here, as his wife, was far more appealing than returning to her father's keep. But in the next heartbeat, trepidation turned to despair. She could not marry Reyes, could not conceive a child that would carry the same curse as its father. Not so long ago, she had been certain he would never marry.

She twisted out of his grasp. "Nay."

"Aye. You will be my bride within a fortnight."

"But why? You do not love me!"

"Your father's witch cursed me. Perhaps your father will reconsider my offer when he realizes the curse will now fall on his own kin."

"And on your own!" she exclaimed in horror. "Would you be so cruel as to condemn your own son to the kind of life you lead?"

He recoiled as if she had slapped him. Did she truly think he would get her with child, that he would condemn a son of his to the life he led? If so, so be it. Let her think what she would.

"My life is not as bad as it once was." His gaze slid over her body, his eyes dark, hot, and hungry, and filled with yearning.

"Nay!" she exclaimed. "I will not marry you. I will not allow you to use me or any son we might have to avenge yourself on my father."

"You will be my wife or my enemy," he said coldly. "The choice is yours."

She squared her shoulders, her eyes flashing defiance. "I am already your enemy!"

"Are you?" he asked.

His voice, no longer cold, was as warm and seductive as honeyed wine.

She lifted her chin defiantly. "I will take my own life rather than marry you."

"We shall see. Make whatever preparations you need. We wed in a fortnight."

And with those words ringing in her ears, he took her by the arm and led her into the keep.

Shanara paced her chamber, her mind in turmoil. She had to get away from here before it was too late. Save for the witch's curse, marriage to Reyes would have been far more appealing than returning to her father's keep, but she would not bear a child knowing that it would be cursed to run with the wolves at the full moon. How could Reyes expect it of her? How could he consider it himself?

Too upset to eat, she refused the tray that Beatrice brought her later that evening, flinched when she heard Beatrice turn the key in the lock. One way or another, she had been naught but a prisoner since Reyes had defeated her uncle in battle. Nay, even before that, she mused. Being a woman, she had never truly known the kind of freedom her brothers enjoyed.

With a sigh, Shanara went to the window and stared down at the yard below. She had to find a way out of here or, at the very least, get word to her father. Surely he would come to her rescue rather than see her wed to his enemy!

Dropping down onto the window seat, she rested her chin in her hands and stared into the gathering darkness. She wouldn't be here now if she hadn't gone to visit her uncle.

Rising, she began to pace the floor once again. She was still pacing when Alyce came in to light the fire and turn down her bed.

Alyce helped her out of her dress and undergarments, helped her into a long white sleeping gown, and then glared at her. "Why did you have to come here?"

"I assure you, it was not my wish," Shanara replied, startled by the girl's insolent tone and sullen expression.

"Then why are you marrying Lord Reyes?"

Shanara sighed. It came as no surprise that the news had already spread throughout the keep. Did his servants also know that she had refused his offer?

Alyce reached for Shanara's brush. "Lord Reyes deserves a woman who loves him." She brushed out Shanara's hair, her touch far less gentle than Beatrice's. Laying the brush aside, she began plaiting Shanara's hair. "If you had not come here, perhaps…"

Shanara glanced over her shoulder. "Perhaps what?"

Alyce shook her head. "Nothing."

"Tell me, Alyce. It may be that I can help."

A single tear slid down the maid's cheek. "No one can help me."

"I cannot help you if you will not confide in me."

"I love him!" Alyce spoke the words in a rush, then clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in horror. "Forgive me, my lady. Please do not tell him what I said!"

"Alyce, there may be hope for you yet."

"How so? You are to wed in a fortnight."

"I have no wish to marry Lord Reyes, only to return to my father." Strange how, having said the words, she knew them for lies. "Can you help me?"

"There is a little chapel in a copse of trees behind the mews. Meet me there in three hours."

"But the door to my room…"

"I shall unlock it when it is time to go. Do not be late."

Reyes paced the floor of the great hall, wondering what madness had possessed him to tell Shanara that they would be wed. He had vowed that he would never marry, thus putting an end to the curse that plagued him. But he had looked into Shanara's eyes, felt her warm breath upon his face, tasted the sweetness of her kisses, and selfishly wanted more. He could not kill her and he could not let her go. At the time, his impulsive decision to marry her had seemed like the only sensible thing to do.

He turned at the sound of footsteps, surprised to see the young serving maid Alyce up so late.

"Is something amiss?" he asked.

"No, my lord," she replied softly. She filled a goblet with wine and carried it to him. "You look troubled."

He nodded as he accepted the drink. She was a pretty girl. It occurred to him that he had seen a good deal of her of late, and then he grinned inwardly. She was young and impressionable. No doubt she was infatuated with the lord of the keep. It had happened before.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?" She stood near at hand, her gaze on his face. The throaty purr in her voice and the look in her eyes told him she was only too willing to do anything he asked.

For a moment, he was sorely tempted to take what she was offering so brazenly. Perhaps satisfying his lust would enable him to think more clearly, but even as he considered it, he knew he would not touch the girl. He wanted no woman in his bed but Shanara, and if he could not have her, then he would continue to remain celibate, unpleasant as that might be.

Placing her hand on his forearm, Alyce looked up at him through the veil of her lashes. "Perhaps you would like a warm bath," she suggested. "It would help you sleep."

He took a deep, calming breath, certain that, after accepting what she was offering, he would sleep like a newborn babe. Again, he shook off the temptation.

"Go along with you now, girl," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

She lingered a moment more, then turned and flounced from the room. Reyes watched the enticing sway of her hips, then, muttering an oath, he left the hall for the room he planned to occupy until Shanara was his bride. Unfortunately, since he knew he would not be able to share her bed without possessing her, it was the room he would be occupying after the wedding as well.

On that dreary note, he stripped off his boots and shirt and sought his rest, grateful that tonight there was no full moon.

Wearing a dark cloak over her gown, Shanara crept out of her room, down the stairs, and out the back door of the keep. She cast a wary eye behind her, giving thanks for the lowering clouds that hid the moon and the stars and, hopefully, her progress across the yard toward the mews.

Once, certain that someone was watching her, she glanced up at the windows overlooking the yard. No lights shone. No moving shadows betrayed a watchful eye. Telling herself there was nothing to fear, she hurried onward.

The small whitewashed chapel, topped by a carved wooden cross, stood in a copse of ancient oaks and elms. Opening the door, she paused at the threshold. Hearing nothing, she stepped inside the dark building.

"Alyce," she whispered. "Are you here?"

Silence was her only answer.

Heart pounding, Shanara took a step backward and then, hearing a noise off to her left, she whirled around, reaching blindly for the door. Her hand was on the latch when she felt a sharp pain on the back of her head, and then she felt nothing at all.

He woke suddenly, not knowing what had roused him. Sitting up, he stared into the darkness that surrounded him, his head cocked as he listened to the sounds of the night. He could discern nothing amiss, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he reached for his boots, then changed his mind. Padding barefoot across the floor, he left the room and walked quickly down the corridor to his bedchamber. He pressed his ear to the door, listening. There was no sound from within.

He was about to return to his own room when some inner voice urged him to try the latch. The door opened at his touch. Without stepping inside, he knew the chamber was empty.

Muttering a vile oath, he stalked down the stairs and out the kitchen door. Once he was safely in the shadows, he removed his trousers and summoned the wolf. Ah, the pain of it, the wonder of it. He dropped to his hands and knees, stared at his hands as they turned into paws. He groaned as muscles and tendons stretched and changed shape, his body contracting here, expanding there, the whole of it sprouting a thick black pelt.

When the transformation was complete, he shook himself all over, let out a low whine as her scent filled his nostrils. She had been here not long ago, and she had not been alone. Alyce's scent also hung in the air.

He broke into a trot, his nose to the ground. Alyce's scent was soon left behind, but Shanara's led him to the small chapel behind the mews.

His hackles rose when he reached the door. Her scent was strong here, and overlaying it, he detected the scent of a man. A scent he recognized. Ragan. He growled low in his throat at the thought of her sneaking out of the keep to meet another man. A man who had sealed his doom the moment he laid his hand on Shanara.

Reyes intended to have Shanara for his mate, and wolves mated for life.

She was afraid, so afraid. Her head throbbed with every breath. She could feel the sticky warmth of her own blood trickling down the back of her neck. She glanced from side to side, though there was nothing to see but blackness. She had no idea who had struck her or where she was now. She knew she was lying on her side. There was dirt beneath her cheek. When she tried to lift a hand to her head, she discovered that her hands were tied behind her back. When she tried to sit up, she realized her feet were also bound.

Willing herself to be calm, she began to twist her hands back and forth in an effort to loosen the ropes that bound her wrists. She had to get out of here, wherever
here
was. Tears burned her eyes and she blinked them back. She would cry later. Shaking off her self-pity, she thought of Alyce, the lying wench. It was Alyce who had done this to her. But why?

Because of Reyes, of course. The girl had declared she was in love with the lord of the keep. Had Alyce thought that by getting rid of her lord's intended bride, she might be able to win his love?

Shanara frowned. There had been no need for Alyce to do her harm. She had told the maid she didn't want to marry Reyes, that all she wanted was to return to her father. Either Alyce had not believed her, or she had decided to make certain that Shanara would never return to Black Dragon Keep. Deep in her heart, Shanara knew that should Fate decree that she never see Reyes again, she would miss him far more than she would ever admit to herself or anyone else.

Shanara winced as the thick rope cut into the tender skin of her wrists. There was no time to worry about the maid's motives now. She had to get away before it was too late. Had to find her way home…

Home. She thought of her father's keep and the people in it. His knights were taciturn and sullen. The servants were the same. Her brothers spent their days honing their battle skills and their nights whoring, seemingly happy only when they were on the battlefield, or preparing for war. Her sisters had little time for her, preferring to spend their days pampering themselves behind closed doors or gossiping about their neighbors when they weren't simpering over one man or another. Shanara had spent most of her days in her chambers learning the fine arts from her old nursemaid. She saw her father only at meals, considered herself fortunate if he deigned to notice her presence at the table.

As she did so often, she wished her mother was still alive. Her mother had been the only one who cared what happened to her youngest daughter, the only one who took time to speak to Shanara, to cheer her when she was down, to assure her that in spite of her father's indifference, he loved her. Shanara had never believed it, but she had loved her mother the more for trying to spare her feelings.

A sound from above drew her attention. Looking up, she saw a narrow bit of moonlight shining through the clouds. She froze as she heard movement overhead again, a low snuffling sound followed by a low growl.

Panic surged through her. With a grunt, she freed one hand and then the other. A million pinpricks rushed through her fingers as blood flowed into her hands again. Sitting up, she massaged her wrists for several moments and then reached for the rope that bound her ankles. As she did so, her hand brushed against something cold and slippery. At first she couldn't tell what it was, and then she realized it was a chunk of raw meat.

Terror clogged her throat as she scrambled to her feet. She knew where she was now.

She was out in the woods, in one of the pits that were used to trap wild animals. And she was now part of the bait.