Conquer the Night (31 page)

She gasped for breath, and found herself set down. They were back by the water, in a pool of moonlight. Arryn was panting harder than she was. His blue eyes touched hers with fury and warning. He doubled over, gasping for breath, staring at her all the while.

“So you came here to meet Kinsey?” he demanded.

“What?” she inquired incredulously.

“Kinsey, my lady! The great and gentle English lord to whom you are betrothed. Did you plan this escape well, did you know that he was out here, did you come to give him details about the men holding the castle—and to make sure he knew that I was gone?”

She had known they would think that she had come to warn the English, and still … she listened with disbelief and inhaled with ragged, heartfelt anger. “No! You idiot! I—”

“Shut up!”

“Shut up? I'm trying to give you an answer, since you asked me a question.”

“A foolish question.”

“You saw me embattled—”

“Aye, because you didn't realize your position when you worked so hard to lay Patrick low and escape our dominion. I saw you in swordplay—and I saw the man you drugged to make good your escape.”

“I'm trying to tell you—”

He straightened in a flash, and was back before her. His arms were on her, fierce and brutal, drawing her to him. “Shush!”

She went silent, staring at him. A second later she heard horses. She tensed as he did, then felt a tremendous sense of relief. It was Father Michael Corrigan who rode back into her vision, leading Arryn's huge horse.

Arryn turned her around, lifted her, and hiked her onto Pict, leaping up quickly behind her.

“We make a break for it?” Father Corrigan asked.

“We make a break for it—there's no help for it.”

The priest grinned. “Now's as good a time as any!” he suggested.

“Aye, that it is!”

Arryn heeled his mount. They started along the trail at what even Kyra considered a breakneck pace. Leaves smacked her face, the ground stirred like thunder. Arryn's arms were around her, his chest pressing her down so that they were both clutched hard against the horse.

They burst into the long slope of cleared land before the castle, running hard, she and Arryn in the lead, the priest hard behind them.

The wind seemed to whine and shriek around them as they rode, biting the earth, shearing through time and space. She saw the walls looming before them, smelled the scents of leather and horse sweat and lather and the wind. Then she heard a strange whistling … and saw the arrows striking the stone before them.

“My God!” she said softly.

“Greetings from your beloved!” he exclaimed dryly. “For the love of God, stay down, stay low, my lady!”

Kinsey had his bowmen trying to cut them down—it was true; she had been right to fear him. Her life was of little or no value to him now….

“Yah, Pict, yah!” Arryn shouted to his horse. The animal seemed to find a new burst of speed. In seconds, just before a second hail of arrows, they burst through the outer wall. Corrigan made it behind them.

“The gate!” Arryn roared.

He was forced to rein in Pict so sharply that the great horse reared, pawing the air. Kyra was thrown back against Arryn's chest. Still, he kept them seated. Pict landed on all fours, and Arryn instantly leapt down.

“They're coming; prepare the defenses!” Arryn shouted as his men came rushing forward to meet him.

She started to slip down, shaking. His arms came around her, lifting her. She stood before the horse, and Arryn faced her, his eyes a cold, hard, cobalt. He seemed different, harder, colder, more ruthless than he had ever been before. As if he believed that she had really meant to betray him.

“So you didn't know Darrow and his men were in the woods, my lady? You never noted those campfires?”

“I did not!”

“So it was simply by chance that you carried out a cunning charade against Patrick, and it was by sheer chance that you were escaping straight into your lover's arms?”

“You fool! Why won't you listen! You saw me waging war with them, facing his men with a sword. You saw them trying to kill me—”

“They didn't intend to kill you.”

“You're wrong, you're a fool, you're so blind! They were trying to kill me! Sir Richard Egan countered whatever order Kinsey had given to the men; he told them to finish with me.”

“They were nothing more than lackeys rich with the spoils of war who intended their own amusement before turning you over to their lord. You are, after all, tarnished a bit already.”

She lifted a hand to strike him, her desolation and desperation were so great.

He caught it.

She thought that he would surely strike out at her, but he did not. She couldn't read his eyes, but there was a strange, restless passion and fury burning in them that caused a greater fear to seep into her soul.

Her heart shuddered with fear. It didn't seem possible, but he did suspect that she had purposely run….

To Kinsey Darrow.

But why not? She had never claimed to disavow him.

Arryn had saved her life tonight, whether he knew it or not. Why? she wondered. Just to keep her from returning to Kinsey?

He eyed her now with contempt. “You would test a saint, my lady. Take care, because you have taken my temper to the edge of sanity!”

She would have answered, but she saw Jay striding swiftly toward them from the inner tower. “You found her; thank God,” he said briefly, apparently choosing to ignore the fact that she had escaped the castle of her own volition. “The gates are down; the men are ready. The archers are on the walls.”

“Have them fire; the English are at the edge of the woods. If their arrows could reach the walls, our arrows can reach their first wave of men.”

“Aye, Arryn. And—”

“I'll be on the wall myself right now, giving further commands,” he said. “Father Corrigan!”

“Aye!” The priest, having reached the inner walls and dismounted from his horse, stood quickly conveying what he knew to a group of men who had rushed to assist him.

“Escort the lady to the tower, and see that she remains there!” Arryn commanded.

“But Sir Arryn, you'll need me now,” Father Corrigan protested. “I know the walls, the defenses. I can be of use—”

“Every man can be of use, and you're right, I cannot spare you. Bolt her in and return to me.”

Bolt her in
. She was being returned to the tower.

If he turned against her, she thought, she was done. Why this terrible fury in him, this determination that she had intended to betray him?

He didn't give her another glance, another thought.

He turned, and was quickly striding away from her, calling out commands as he went. The courtyard was alive with men running to their positions.

Father Corrigan grimaced and offered Kyra his arm. “My lady?”

She accepted his arm, finding that she was suddenly blinking furiously. Tears. Well, she had done her best to dupe them and escape.

But not to go to Kinsey.

“He's a fool!” she whispered furiously to Father Corrigan, fighting the temptation to cry.

“Ah, but you'd escaped to the forest—and Kinsey was there.”

“I know, but—”

“You're a thief.”

“What?”

“You stole my opium, and my sword.”

“If you hadn't drugged me, Father, I'd not have known you had opium to steal!”

“Ah, well, that's true enough.”

She stopped walking, twisting around to confront him. “Are you even really a priest?”

“Ordained, aye, my lady, that I am.”

“A curious priest, Father, certainly.”

“When there's time, I'll explain.”

“I seem to have time now.”

“I do not,” he said, urging her along.

“But you realize I had to leave, surely you know that—”

“I do know that you didn't go out to find Lord Darrow, my lady.”

“Then why didn't you tell
him
that?”

Corrigan turned, looking steadily at her. “I don't think that it's something he'd believe, coming from me. You see, my lady, Sir Arryn didn't know that you were on your knees praying for deliverance from Kinsey Darrow when he and his outlaws stormed the castle.”

“How did you know that?” she demanded, stopping again.

He laughed softly. “Ah, my lady, I watched you often enough. I knew your true feelings.” He tugged upon her arm to get her moving again. They had reached the great hall, and the stairs, and he wasn't going to let her stop there. “Only a blind man would not. I believe Lord Darrow knew then as well.”

“If they take the castle, he
will
kill me!” she told him.

“They'll not take the castle.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“He doesn't have enough men; the castle is too well defended. Arryn has prepared quickly; there are new defenses using fire and oil, ways to send down sheets of fire on any rams. Kinsey will send his men in first; he'll never risk his own neck!” Corrigan said softly. “And when he sees what has been done here …”

“How can you know all that?”

“I spent some time spying on his quarters in the forest. They waited for the Earl of Harringford and his men to start out, as Cressingham has summoned them to the army he leads. But the earl had ridden on already, so Kinsey has nowhere near the real forces he would need to take the castle. Here we are.” They had reached the tower room. He prodded her in, then bowed. “My lady.”

“Wait!” she implored.

“My lady, I cannot!”

He closed the door and slid the bolt.

“Oh, dear God, Father, please! This is torture! I can't see the battle; I won't know what is happening, please God …”

But Father Corrigan was gone. And the battle had commenced. She could hear shouts, commands … screams.

The whinny of dying horses. Arrows striking the brick of the walls … the thunder of a ram. She paced; she prayed. The sounds kept coming to her.

So many shouts …

Clanging, cries, massive thumps and bangs …

At length, she pressed her palms to her ears and sank down on the rug before the fire. “Please God, let Father Corrigan be right, please God …”

She barely heard a whirring sound, and did not recognize what it was at first. Then she inhaled and frowned. Smoke …

She jumped to her feet, whirled around, searching the room.

Then she saw the fire….

The whirring sound had been an arrow. A burning arrow.

By sheer accident, or with incredible precision, it had soared through the arrow slit in the tower room.

It had struck a tapestry, and now the woven wall piece was aflame.

In a second it seemed that all of the wall was ablaze.

Soon the whole of the tower would be an inferno.

And she would burn….

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The enemy came at them with a head-on assault, cavalry running hard for the walls, foot soldiers coming behind.

Arryn watched coldly. He raised a hand, then let it fall.

The first volley of arrows from his men fell on the riders, causing screams, rearing, whinnying, mayhem. “Again!” he ordered, and a second barrage of arrows flew.

The foot soldiers entangled with the riders. Many of them dropped; many kept coming. “The ram, fire on the ram!” he ordered, looking down as Kinsey's men, shielded with a wood plank roofing, neared the gates with a ram.

His archers dipped their arrows in pots of oil, lit them afire, then aimed straight down, on the war machine. Arryn heard the thuds as the burning arrows pierced the wood. The machine began to go up in flames. The men steering the contraption began to scream and scatter.

But flame wasn't a newfound weapon, and Kinsey had archers sending fire over the walls as well, though he had the harder task; only one out of every ten of his arrows stood a chance. Arryn had men on the parapets and in the courtyard below chasing after the few arrows that did make it over the walls. A few carts were hit; they were quickly ablaze, and just as quickly doused.

Some of Kinsey's men rushed the walls with ladders; Arryn and his men methodically cut them down.

The dead began to pile up by the walls.

A burly man shoved a ladder close to the portcullis; his was a deadly, suicidal intent: sacrifice his own life, but reach the lever, raise the gates.

Arryn caught the ladder and shoved it from the wall. The enemy let out a scream as the siege ladder crashed to the ground below.

A cheer went up; with his fall, the remaining men at the gate began to scatter and withdraw.

It was over, Arryn thought—for the time being. A few more arrows flew as Kinsey's men covered their retreat.

“Take cover!” Arryn shouted, watching a barrage of arrows fly.

One soared very high. He watched as it arced, flew….

And entered the slender arrow slit of the tower room.

Instantly he saw a burst of flame there.

“Sweet Jesus!” he said softly and, shouting, went running along the parapets.

“Dear God!” Kyra exclaimed, staring incredulously at the tapestry that burst so quickly into shooting flames. She raced for the wall hanging, jerked it down, and tried to stomp it out, but the fire had ignited with a vengeance, and beneath her feet the flames began to leap and burn high. Her tunic started to catch. She beat it out.

She raced for the washwater, but it was totally ineffectual against the blaze. The room was going to go up, she thought. The bed would catch, the covers and furs, the rest of the tapestries….

Panic nearly seized her.

She was locked in! Locked in with the fire! No one was about; they were engaged in mortal combat. She had heard the bolt slide, and she could never budge it, never….

She would die.

By flame.

But the door suddenly burst open.

She turned toward it quickly, her heart racing.