Falling for Her Captor (8 page)

He climbed into the cart and offered his hand. Aline turned her head away. She climbed out, paying no attention to the new guards, instead brushing her skirts down with infinite care.

The Sergeant’s forehead wrinkled. ‘Sir, forgive my impudence, but the Duke insisted the prisoner was to be brought in irons. Why is she not?’

‘I’ve travelled with Lady Aline for days and I’m
not
putting her in chains,’ Hugh answered curtly. ‘What sort of threat do you think she will be with seven of us to guard her?’

The guard shuffled from foot to foot. ‘My lord, I’m sorry, but those are my orders,’ the unhappy looking man replied. ‘I’m not going to put my own neck in a noose because she’s convinced
you
she’s not going to escape.’

Hugh’s fists clenched impulsively. He took a step towards the man, his face like thunder, and then Aline’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

‘Thank you for your consideration, Captain, but you of all people should understand the need to follow orders.’

Her voice dripped with contempt and Hugh felt his forehead grow hot.

Aline allowed herself to be shackled, glancing at Duncan and Jack with a sad smile. Jack looked on the verge of tears. Aline refused to meet Hugh’s eye as she climbed into the carriage. He did not blame her.

‘I’ll travel with the prisoner,’ Hugh announced.

He climbed in before anyone could protest.

Aline had huddled in the furthest corner, her lips pressed so tightly together they were white. She pulled her legs away as Hugh seated himself opposite. Hugh cleared his throat, but the lump that threatened to choke him refused to go. Eventually he settled back into his seat and watched the passing of the countryside.

Chapter Eight

W
ith fresh horses and a lighter vehicle the rest of the journey was much faster. The carriage raced along the rough path, rocking alarmingly. Aline’s stomach lurched in response. As they came closer to Roxholm an ever-growing knot in the pit of her belly replaced the feeling of nausea: nervousness and loneliness. Duncan and Jack had been left behind to return with the slower cart and the horses. Aline would be arriving in her enemy’s lands without the two companions she now almost considered friends.

After Aline had made it clear that she had no wish to talk to Sir Hugh he had pulled his cloak close around himself, huddling deep into the corner with a baleful look at Aline. Now he sprawled opposite her, soundly asleep, his long legs outstretched, almost touching her own, hair flopping across his face and arms folded across his chest. Aline scowled at the sleeping figure, envious of the easy way he had nodded off.

Aline’s eyes kept closing, but as soon as she began to doze her mind flitted to what awaited her and she would wake with a start. Giving up the hope of sleep, she watched the soft rise and fall of Hugh’s chest.

Since their encounter behind the cart that morning Aline could no longer deny his attractiveness. It seemed like a dream now, and she regretted the harsh words that had passed between them since. She did not want to examine her motives too closely, though she could not forget how her heart had sunk when he had offered her only friendship. Perhaps it was not too late. She leaned across and hesitantly touched his hand. He shifted, but carried on sleeping, and Aline’s courage left her.

The sky was inky with dark clouds when they finally arrived at the imposing wall surrounding the Citadel of Roxholm. They travelled at a walking pace through the narrow winding streets leading to the centre. Familiar sounds and smells of daily life drifted through the shutters, causing Aline yet another stab of homesickness. They passed through a further heavily guarded gateway into the grounds of the stronghold itself. With a jerk the carriage came to a final stop in an enclosed courtyard outside an iron-studded wooden door.

In the darkness the keep looked foreboding. Torches blazed from iron hooks set into the stones and the walls loomed into the sky. Though Aline had sworn to herself not to show fear, she could not suppress the shiver that ran down her spine.

Sir Hugh woke as the carriage came to a halt. He stared out the window for a few moments, biting his lip thoughtfully. Unexpectedly he reached across and took hold of Aline’s hands tightly. His fingers were warm in contrast to the chill of her skin and she was acutely aware of the tremor his touch sent through her. He watched her warily, as though he expected her to pull away, and when she did not the muscles around his eyes relaxed.

‘Lady Aline, I will accompany you until you meet Duke Stephen, but I will not be permitted to stay, so please take my advice: he has a quick temper and is not accustomed to being opposed in any matter—’ He broke off with a frown, before continuing in urgent tones, ‘For your own wellbeing please guard your tongue and your actions.’

Before Aline could answer him the door to the carriage swung open. Hugh dropped her hand immediately and turned his face once again to the window. The Sergeant took Aline by the arm. A detachment of half a dozen guards had come to meet the carriage. The Duke could not possibly expect her to attempt an escape, so she reasoned it was simply designed to intimidate her. She lifted her head and tossed her hair back in a show of confidence she did not feel.

The guards led them through draughty corridors and up a wide staircase. Hugh walked close to Aline, his footsteps echoing loudly off the walls as he stamped along. He did not speak, and not for the first time she found herself exasperated by the man. He seemed reluctant to leave her side, but in front of his people was not prepared to reveal any of the kindness he had shown over their journey. She watched him from the corner of her eye, wondering what his position in the court truly was.

The Sergeant stopped in front of a door guarded by two sentries in plain uniforms of green. They waited while one of the sentries banged on the door. As the sound echoed along the corridor Aline’s head swam. Every instinct screamed at her to run and she felt her body begin to sway.

A hand took hold of her elbow, gentle and reassuring. She glanced up, already knowing it would be Sir Hugh at her side.

‘Thank you,’ she managed, her voice a mere whisper.

His expression did not change, but the slight squeeze of his hand told her he had heard. He guided her inside a chamber furnished with ornate tapestries and oak furniture. An archway was set into one wall and hung with heavy velvet curtains, drawn back to reveal the glimpse of a high oak bed. These were clearly Duke Stephen’s private rooms.

Duke Stephen sat in a low oak chair beside the fireplace. The fire was lit and the immense blaze sent shadows flickering across his face, giving him an otherworldly appearance. The remnants of a meal were scattered upon a low table at his side and a large jug of wine was close to his hand.

The Duke bristled visibly at seeing his cousin there. Hugh bowed and went to stand by the door. He leaned against the frame in what seemed at first glance to be a casual stance, though Aline was aware of his eyes taking in everything and the way his muscles were tensed, as if ready to spring at any moment.

Aline turned her attention to the Duke, the similarity between the two men striking her immediately; had she not known the connection they shared she would have guessed them as brothers. They had the same build and dark hair, though Stephen was younger, with a neatly trimmed beard and short hair combed back from his face. The Duke was a handsome man, more conventionally so than his cousin, but any advantage this might have given him was diminished by the way his mouth was twisted into a sneer.

His burgundy jerkin was decorated with abundant gold embroidery around the neck and sleeves. It was open to reveal a fine shirt unlaced at the neck, the whole ensemble giving the impression that he was halfway to undressing. The Duke lounged back in his chair with his legs splayed and permitted Aline to study him for a few minutes, staring back at her with ice-blue eyes.

Without breaking her gaze he poured two goblets of wine, picked one up and walked round the table to where she stood. He was taller than Aline, and she had to lift her head to look into his face.

‘Welcome to Roxholm, Lady Aline.’ He bowed deeply, a half smile playing on his full lips. ‘I hope your journey wasn’t too wearying and that your stay as my guest will not be unpleasant.’ He held the wine out towards her.

Aline’s scalp prickled at his words. A captive she might be, but she was still the Lady of Leavingham and his equal.

‘Your guest!’ she exclaimed. ‘Are your guests usually brought to you like this?’ She raised her arms to show the shackles on her wrists.

At her tone Stephen’s cheeks flushed. He banged the goblet down onto the table, close to where Aline stood. He seized hold of the chain between Aline’s wrists and jerked her close. Aline gasped as she stumbled forwards.

‘Stephen, be careful what you do.’ Hugh’s voice was a growl of warning.

The Duke glared at Hugh, though he released his hold on the chain. He brought his face close to Aline’s, his lips almost touching her cheek. ‘You can show me some courtesy and be treated as my guest in warm, comfortable rooms,’ he whispered, ‘or you can spend your time here in the cells in chains. The choice is entirely yours.’

Aline nodded.

Stephen walked to the door.

‘Someone bring me the key to release the lady. She is our
guest
after all,’ he said with a mocking bow. His eyes held Aline’s as a guard unlocked the cuffs and retreated, bowing, from the room.

‘You can go, too, cousin,’ Stephen said, turning to Hugh. ‘The lady will not need your protection. We are only going to talk.’

Hugh glanced at Aline, his brow lined with concern. She wanted to beg him to stay but instead drew herself up tall and gave him a smile she did not feel. Stephen’s eyes narrowed and he motioned to Sir Hugh to leave the room with an abrupt wave of the hand.

Sir Hugh stood to attention and nodded his head briefly at his lord. He cast a final look at Aline that she could not interpret and left, leaving Aline and the Duke alone.

The Duke picked up his wine and carried it to the fire, where he stood facing Aline. She picked up her own goblet and drank deeply. The heady spices on an empty stomach made her head spin slightly.

‘Tell me why you have brought me here,’ she said. ‘What is it you hope to achieve with such a rash act?’

The Duke raised his eyebrows as though he thought her slow-witted.

‘Your family has held dominance for too long, and I grow tired of bowing to your grandfather’s will. The other provinces may be happy to relinquish control while Leavingham dictates trade agreements, collects tax and becomes richer on the strength of your position. I am not.’

‘Do you want independence?’ Aline asked. A flutter of hope started in her chest that her abduction might be so simply explained.

‘No. I want control of the Five Provinces,’ the Duke stated simply, ‘and unfortunately for you, Lady Aline, you are the key.’

The Duke drew out a chair and motioned her to sit. She sank down as his words dashed her hopes to pieces.

‘You will never have control. The other provinces will see this as a direct act of war. Release me now and I can assure you that Leavingham will show mercy to you.’

The Duke smiled at her, his face momentarily charming.

‘Release you? Why would I do that? I want to be High Lord. I was going to ransom you in return for an assurance that I would be named successor when the High Lord finally stops clinging on to life. Of course there is a much simpler solution—I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before. You need to marry. I shall write to your grandfather and inform him of my intentions: you will become my wife and our lands will be joined. You will sign the letter and give your assent.’

‘I will do no such thing.’ Aline spoke as calmly as she could, though she felt almost physically sick at the thought of this man bedding and controlling her.

The Duke moved to stand behind her seat. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in close. Aline flinched instinctively at his breath, warm and wine-scented, on her neck.

‘Oh, come now,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I won’t be a bad husband, and you might even find you grow to enjoy our time together. I can ensure your needs will be met very,
very
thoroughly.’

Aline jerked out of his grasp and stood to face him, her back to the table.

‘The High Lord will never agree to your demands. And, as for your disgusting proposition, I’d rather renounce my title and beg in the streets than marry you!’

‘Oh, Aline, you are wonderful!’ The Duke leered. ‘Maybe I should introduce you to some of the pleasures of marriage to me right now.’

With a cry of disgust Aline closed her hand round the goblet and hurled it at the Duke. The goblet bounced off his chest and landed on the floor with a ringing that sounded ominously loud.

Duke Stephen looked down at the wine stain spreading across his shirt. Without warning he struck Aline across the face with the back of his hand. The blow sent her crashing against the table and she dropped to the floor, stunned and shaking.

* * *

Hugh paced back and forth along the corridor, his fingertips curling round the pommel of his knife. Through the heavy door he could hear muffled voices but could make out no words. The sound of something heavy and metallic falling reverberated down the corridor, shattering the silence. Every muscle in Hugh’s body tensed. The two sentries marched into the chamber and Hugh followed before they could close the door.

His stomach knotted at the scene before him: Aline curled on the floor, shaking, one hand covering her face, and the Duke dripping with wine.

‘Are you still here, cousin?’ Stephen jeered. ‘Don’t you have anything better to do than skulk around outside my chambers? You don’t appear to have taught Lady Aline any manners on your trip, so you can escort her to a cell and see if
that
will help.’

He kicked the goblet across the floor and stormed out of the room.

‘You bloody fool. I warned you not to cross him,’ Hugh muttered, bending over Aline.

He pulled her to her feet but her legs gave way as she tried to stand and she sank down again. Swearing under his breath, Hugh hoisted her up. He wrapped his good arm around her waist, then lifted her into his arms, wincing at the pain it caused in his shoulder and trying to ignore the sensations he felt at holding her so closely.

Motioning to the two sentries to follow, he carried her through the corridors of the castle and out across the courtyard until he came to a door set low into a wall. One of the guards hammered on the thick iron grille and after a few moments it was opened to reveal a steep torch-lit staircase leading downwards. Faint cries drifted up from the depths below and the air smelled foul and heavy.

The coarse-looking man who had opened the gate leered openly at Aline. ‘Are you bringing your toys down here to play with now, Sir Hugh?’ He smirked—until Hugh’s look of undiluted venom made him draw back, muttering apologies.

‘You’ll have to walk now,’ Hugh told Aline, setting her on her feet. She was still shaking so he gripped her firmly around the waist and led her down the stairs. The stench of human filth and blood increased as they reached the bottom. Hugh felt Aline’s body stiffening in horror. He could not afford to be compassionate now or he would never carry out his orders. He stared straight ahead, angrily refusing to meet her eyes, and shushed her when she started to speak.

The jailer led them through the damp communal cells and down a narrow tunnel. They walked past chained and cowed figures who called out insults or pleas for mercy as they passed, or simply lay and moaned, lost deep in their own minds. They finally stopped in front of a door with a small grille set high. The jailer slid the bolt and motioned Aline inside. Hugh led her into the small windowless cell, bare apart from a low pallet in one corner. The door was closed behind them, leaving them in near darkness.