Amanda Scott (36 page)

“As you see, I still live,” Adela said. To the earl, she said, “I do not suppose you will believe I came here looking for my cloak.”

“No,” he said. “Doubtless you overheard what my indiscreet friend said a moment ago, too. Don’t bother to deny it,” he added. “It is no more than a dozen feet from this chamber to the one containing the sally port. Indeed, one wonders what purpose this one serves.”

Ignoring the chilling thought that he would somehow guess accurately, Adela shrugged and said, “As I’ve been here only a few nights, I do not know. But I’d surmise that supplies are stored here when the castle is used regularly.”

“Yet you knew where the sally port lies.”

“I’ve been tidying the place,” she said. “I looked into every chamber first to see how great a task it would be to set the castle to rights.”

Realizing she was talking too much, she stopped.

“Come with me now,” Fife said, standing back as if to let her go first. “We’re going to have a talk.”

As she passed close to him, he grabbed her arm in a viselike grip.

She sighed. “Do you fear I shall run from you again, my lord?”

“You should have heeded me when I told you not to make me wait. But before I hang you, you are going to answer my questions. You’ll tell me everything, not just about Ardelve but also about the time you spent with your abductor.”

“You may ask anything you like, sir, but I can tell you nothing. Waldron of Edgelaw was an evil man. He did not confide in me.”

“She’s likely telling the truth, my lord,” de Gredin said. “As I told you, Waldron was not a man likely to share secrets with anyone, let alone a woman.”

“Yet she would have us believe he did not ravish her,” Fife said.

Adela said quietly, “He did not believe in ravishing women. He said that God forbade it. Since he believed that in all other instances God would forgive what he did as long as he served His cause, he took care not to defy Him. I’m told you are a religious man, too, my lord,” she added, recalling what the abbot had said.

“What else did Waldron tell you? Did he not tell you he sought something stolen long ago from Holy Kirk and from the Pope? Something he meant to return?”

Adela met his steady gaze. “If he did seek such a thing, sir, he did not find it whilst I was with him. And I don’t know where it is.”

“That is a pity,” Fife said. “But we will see if you are telling the truth.”

Tightening his grip, he pushed her toward the open door.

“My lord,” de Gredin protested. “You cannot really mean to—”

“Shut your mouth,” Fife ordered. “I don’t know how your masters can have thought you would be at all useful to them, as lily-livered as you are. I will show you how one extracts information from unwilling subjects.”

Casting aside dignity, Adela resisted with all her might. But Fife pushed her inexorably toward the open door and the long drop to the river.

Although she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream, she dug in her heels until he lifted her off her feet and strode with her to the opening.

“Now then,” he said grimly. “Have a look and tell me if you think the drop is worth continuing to conceal what you know of Waldron and what he learned.”

“I’ve told you,” she said through still gritted teeth, “he told me nothing. He did not believe, as you seem to, that I had any reason to know about his business.”

“My lord, please,” de Gredin said. “We’ve no cause to disbelieve her. She was his prisoner, after all. How likely is it that he told her anything of value?”

“I told you to be silent,” Fife snapped. “You’d believe anything she said. She was with him night and day for a fortnight. How likely is it that she learned nothing? We know what he was seeking. Even a hint of where he looked would be useful. So, lass, just begin at the beginning and talk until you’ve told us everything, or …”

Abruptly, he swung her out through the opening.

Chapter 19

O
n the shore opposite the castle, Rob and Henry had seen the dangling rope, the open sally port, and the chevalier de Gredin peering down at the river.

Terrified that Adela had tried to escape by using the rope, Rob was nearly frantic. “I can’t lose her, Henry.”

“I’m telling you, she did not climb down that rope. Think, lad! I ken fine that you scarcely know the lass—”

“I know her as I know myself,” Rob snapped. “I don’t know why that is, I just know it. I’ve known it since my first moment with her.”

Henry looked at him without speaking.

The echo of his own words reverberated through Rob’s mind then, and he began to relax. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ve been comparing her to Isobel and Sorcha, thinking she would act as impulsively as they do. But she doesn’t. She thinks first. I’ve got to get across the river, Henry. Fetch those ropes.”

They had to move upriver a short distance, and even as they tied the ropes together and wrapped one end around a stout tree, Henry remained skeptical. “You’ll have to swim hard,” he said. “What about your shoulder? Will it serve?”

“It will have to,” Rob said, tightening his sword belt across his chest and adjusting the sword snugly in its scabbard on his back so the crossbar on its hilt would keep as much water out as possible. “Sakes, I nearly forgot,” he said, pulling off his boot to extract his half of the map. “Keep this for me,” he said, handing it to Henry. “And for the love of God don’t get caught with it.”

Pulling off the other boot, he tossed them both aside then sent his leather jerkin after them. Making a noose, he slipped the rope over his shoulders, and with Henry holding the coil of rope to play out as he swam, he plunged into the river and began to stroke hard for the opposite shore. The water was so icy that it was hard at first to breathe, but at least it numbed the pain in his shoulder.

He came in sight of the sally port just in time to see the Earl of Fife about to throw Adela into the river.

Screaming as Fife swung her out over the river, Adela grabbed him around the neck, hoping to carry him with her if he dropped her. But he did not let go.

By the time she realized that he still held her, de Gredin had grabbed him and was trying to pull him away from the opening.

“My lord, don’t be a fool! If you throw her out, we’ll learn nothing.”

“Let go of me,” Fife snapped.

“I beg your pardon,” de Gredin said, jerking his hand away. “I have spent much time in France, my lord. In France, they do not threaten women.”

“Then go back to France. You are of small use to me, God knows.”

Fife turned back toward the doorway, but Adela had had enough. Grabbing his nearly shoulder-length dark hair, she held on tight, wrapping it around her fist and pulling hard. “Put me down, sir, at once!”

“Damnation!” he yelled, dropping her to her feet and angrily reaching to make her release her grip on his hair. His hand clamped hard on hers.

Adela brought her knee up as hard as she could.

Clearly recognizing her intent, he deflected her aim enough to prevent dire consequences to his manhood, but he grunted nonetheless and released his grip.

As she stepped back, however, his free hand swept up and struck her face hard, knocking her toward the open doorway. Terrified that her own momentum would carry her out, she twisted wildly and crashed to the floor.

Fife lunged toward her, but again de Gredin leaped to her defense, catching the earl by an arm.

As Fife turned to strike the younger man, Adela saw that the rope in the doorway had strained tight and was twitching. Without thought for her own safety, she scrambled to her feet and rushed toward the two struggling men.

Another blow from Fife sent her sprawling again, but this time she managed to fall as far from the doorway as possible, landing near the entrance to the pit passage. Leaping to her feet again, she hitched up her skirts and pulled her dirk from its sheath. Straightening, she took a breath to steady herself and held the dirk in a fold of her skirt.

As she did, Fife felled de Gredin near the stairs with a mighty blow, and the chevalier lay on the stone floor where he had landed, unmoving.

“Mercy, have you killed him?”

“Who cares?” Fife said, brushing his hands on his breeks as if to wipe the dust of de Gredin from them. “You have more to answer for now, my lass.”

“I am not your lass, sir,” she said with dignity, watching his eyes and not looking toward the still twitching, straining rope as she took a step away from him.

“Stay where you are,” he said. “You know there is no escape. You have resisted rightful arrest, which in itself is a hanging crime.”

“Is it?” She took another step back.

He glanced at de Gredin’s still body, then at her. “I should think you’d want to soothe my temper, lass, and evidence suggests that you know ways to do that,” he said. “I’ll wager Waldron taught you many. If not, surely Lestalric has taught you a few. But if they failed to do so, I’ll teach you myself, if not now then when you’ve told me all I want to know about the treasure and—”

“Treasure! What treasure?”

“That is what you are going to tell me. You will also tell me if Lestalric is hiding the same thing Waldron sought or something more valuable.”

“You talk in riddles. What could be worth more than treasure?”

“Mayhap something that will gain me the Scottish crown if I find it.”

She still watched his eyes, determined to hold his attention. “How could anything do that?”

“We waste time,” he said, and at last, he moved toward her.

Gripping the dirk, she took another step back. She had no idea if the rope still twitched, for she dared not look away from his evil eyes. Logic, and what she had seen of the roiling river below, told her she would have to defend herself. But she had stopped him once. Mayhap, this time, she could stop him permanently.

Rob heard Fife’s words and saw the situation at a glance as he eased himself up the last few inches to peek over the sill of the sally port. If Fife turned or Adela saw him, he would be finished. But if Fife continued to concentrate on Adela, and if de Gredin stayed quietly where he was, he might slip in before Fife saw him.

Because the rope was anchored well up on the wall by the door, climbing over the threshold was no more difficult than climbing up in the first place had been, but he was wet and cold, his muscles resistant to commands from his brain. His fingers, numbed by the icy river water, had made the initial few minutes of his climb more treacherous in their own way than the last ones would be. His clothing was still wet, his body still chilled, but his fingers, hands, and legs would obey him.

His shoulder, surprisingly, scarcely bothered him. He knew the arrow had to have damaged muscle, but he had not noticed any pain as he climbed the rope. He had thought only of getting to Adela, and would have climbed the damned rope with one arm if he’d had to. He gave some credit to the countess’s willow bark decoction and her salve, but for the rest, he thanked the Fates.

Adela’s right hand twitched where she held it in a fold of her skirt. Knowing instantly what she held, he felt new terror. If she dared to threaten Fife with her wee blade, he would wrest it from her and use it against her if only to teach her a lesson.

And if that happened, Rob would never forgive himself.

As Fife took another step toward her, stalking her now as a beast might stalk its prey, Adela gripped the leather-wrapped hilt of her dirk tighter and backed up step by step. She knew instinctively that he enjoyed the hunt.

“Give me the blade, lassie,” he said.

Shivering at his tone, she realized that her movements must have revealed what she held. Still, she said with forced calm, “I prefer to keep it.”

“I’m sure you do, but I think I shall enjoy taking it from you, then using it to teach you obedience to my commands.”

“If you want to use a blade, Fife, try your own—on me.”

Fife whirled, and Adela gave a sigh of relief, recognizing Rob’s voice. But as Fife moved, she caught sight of her husband’s face, and the fury she saw there sent fresh waves of fear through her body.

It had been one thing to have a vague understanding of what might happen to her if she were to stab one of the King’s sons. But she had known the likelihood was small that she could kill Fife. Not for a moment did she think Rob meant anything other than to cut the earl to pieces— as swiftly as possible.

Fife snatched his sword from its scabbard and leaped forward to engage Rob’s blade. Both men used two hands at first to hold their swords, and both swung hard. The sally-port chamber was large enough to allow them to fight, but Adela saw that it left little room for maneuvering.

And the sally port, with its hundred-foot drop to the river, remained open.

Fife lunged, Rob deflected his blade, and the momentum of their thrusts carried each man past the other. As they turned, she realized Rob was barefoot and wore only his shirt. He had taken off his protective heavy leather jack to swim.

Rob faced the open door now. Fife faced Adela.

Looking straight into the earl’s eyes, she lifted her skirt and replaced the dirk in its sheath. When Fife’s eyes widened, Rob lunged.

Fife seemed to hesitate. But at the last minute, he stepped aside, raised his sword high, and slashed down as Rob’s lunge carried him forward.

Adela clapped a hand to her mouth.

Rob leaped sideways, and the heavy blade missed by inches.

Snarling, Fife leaped forward again, and again the men changed places.

With Rob facing her, and still fearing he would kill the Stewart prince, Adela backed deeper into the passageway, seeking anything that might serve to distract Fife or make him stumble. She wanted to render him helpless long enough for Rob to recover his temper. His eyes still burned with fury.

She felt along the wall by the pit. But although she found a sconce there, doubtless to hold a torch, it contained nothing and was bolted to the stone wall.

The clanging continued. Turning back to be sure Rob still held his own, she saw de Gredin begin to stir.

Neither of the other two seemed to notice him.

If he were still inclined to side with her, she did not want to give him away. But if he went for Rob …