His Woman (16 page)

He kicked his horse into a gallop. Outside the tunnel and within the shield of trees, he tied him near her stolen one, thankful for the snow that had started falling before first light. With the increasing intensity of the storm, before long, snow would fill any remainder of their trail.

Dismounting, he knelt beside Isabel’s footprints. Beneath his touch, the half-filled rim of snow crowning the tracks crumbled. They were fresh. He stared at the beckoning darkness of the tunnel, then stood.

“I will find you lass. And you will regret your leaving.” With a quick scan over the landscape to ensure no one was following him, he slipped into the blackness.

Isabel navigated the darkness of the winding tunnel, testing each step upward with the toe of her slipper as she ran her hand against the cold, damp wall. So caught up in her thoughts of Duncan, she’d left his home without taking a candle. An oversight too late to repair.

By now, Frasyer’s knights would have noticed a steed missing and would have begun searching for whoever risked such a dare. Praying the snow that had begun falling at the break of dawn had covered her tracks, she slid her slipper along the stone steps as she climbed them one by one.

The musty scent of stale air and blackness continued to greet her. How much farther? How much longer to Frasyer’s bedchamber? Or, in the blackness, had she somehow taken a wrong turn?

A faint scrape echoed from a distance behind her.

Heart pounding, Isabel halted. Listened. Long seconds passed, each one filled with vivid images of guards storming her, being thrown in the dungeon, and of Frasyer’s laughter as her father was hung.

Stop it!
The noise was nothing but a rat or other vermin scuttling in the dank tunnel.

She started to climb.

Another soft scrape sounded, this time closer.

Isabel flattened against the stone wall. Someone was behind her!

The distinct echo of the soft pad of leather upon stone reached her.

Fear clogged her throat. Mary help her, was it one guard or more? No matter, whoever was following her, was closing in on her fast! Did they know she was here? What a foolish thought. Of course they did. The knights she’d stolen the horse from must have tracked her down and discovered the horse she’d hidden in the trees.

Why hadn’t she slapped the steed away upon her arrival? Or better, before she’d crossed the open field? Because with the days to reach her father dwindling, once she found the Bible, she would need the horse if she hoped to reach Lord Monceaux in England before her father was hung.

No, she hadn’t come this far to be caught. Or to give up. There must be somewhere to hide, something she could use to defend herself. Damn them, they would not catch her without a fight.

Isabel hurried up the steps, cold stone scraping her palms as she used the walls as a guide.

A flicker of light fractured the blackness in her wake. Shadows built around her into huge, ominous shapes.

Her heart slammed against her chest.

She pushed herself faster.

“Isabel!” a deep male voice called.

She whirled, lost her footing, stumbled back and caught herself. Barely. “Duncan?”

“Aye.” The tiredness in his voice weighed heavy on her heart. “Nay move.”

“Why have you followed me?” she demanded in the growing light; Duncan’s shape slowly conjured into form as he rounded the corner, a candle in hand, the anger carved on his face cast within the flicker of flames. Unforgiving, his eyes bore into hers.

“Why did you leave the safety of Lochshire Castle?” he demanded. “I gave you my oath to help.”

Isabel backed up to the next higher step, refusing to allow him to intimidate her. “Nay, that you gave to Symon. And kept. I told you before, you owe me nothing. Leave me, I do not want you here.”

Duncan reached her, his anger a living thing. “We are in this together.”

“Are we?” she charged, hating that even now a part of her was thrilled to see him. A part of her wanted to throw herself into his arms and thank him for having cared enough to come, even knowing the risk of his decision—that if he was caught by Frasyer, he’d not walk out alive.

He caught her hand; warmth pulsed through her. Tired, afraid, and with her defenses down, if he drew her to him now, she would cave.

Instead, she went on the attack with a suspicion that had been lurking in her mind. “After you left with your brothers, you never planned on coming back for me. You had planned to ride on your own to find the Bible, did you not?”

Surprise flickered in his gaze.

She jerked her hand free. “You were not coming back for me,” she repeated, the hurt she’d tried to shield coating her words.

“You were safe at my home,” he stated.

“Safe?” She fisted her hands at her sides. “As if that gives you the right to make decisions about my life without my consent!”

“Nay,” he replied, his words ice. “I learned the cost of trusting you too well.”

“Just like I should not have trusted you,” she snapped. “You were only too willing to be rid of me when it suited your purposes. How long, I wonder, would we have been handfasted before you changed your mind about our pledge?”

He looked as shocked as her at her accusation. Her regret was instant. “I am sorry. I—”

With his jaw set, he moved past her and began to ascend the steps. “Do not flatter yourself. I am here for the Bible to save Lord Caelin’s life. No more.”

Isabel stared at Duncan’s retreating figure as he pushed himself up the steps. “I did not mean it.”

He kept on walking.

She hurried after him. The candle cast sporadic light within the narrowed cavern, revealing trickles of moisture weaving down the wall, bits of moss wedged within some of the steps and an abandoned spider web half hidden on a beam near the ceiling.

“Duncan?”

“I will not hear you speak of Frasyer.”

“I do not love him,” she burst out, unable to withhold the words.

His shoulders stiffened, but he remained silent.

She stared at his back, stricken. She was a fool to admit her true feelings, not that he was likely to believe anything she said. But Duncan’s kiss, his touch still burned in her mind. How easy it would have been to have made love with Duncan when he’d drawn her to him in the tower chamber. What she wouldn’t give to have had that memory.

“The door is up ahead,” Duncan said roughly.

Numb, she looked past him to where the golden light wavered upon the near invisible slit. A thought struck her. “Do you think Frasyer is in his chamber?”

Duncan arched a speculative brow. “Does your lover normally sleep in late?”

And with that simple question, tragically, they were back to where they’d begun. She wanted to scream her frustration, but for what? Duncan still believed she’d chosen Frasyer for his wealth, a presumption she’d allowed.

“He will likely be out this late in the morn,” she said quietly.

“Likely?” Isabel’s ignorance of her lover’s routine amazed Duncan. “But you do not know for sure?” At her silence, he shook his head with disgust. “Never mind. We will find out together.” But a part of him had wanted her to tell him whatever weighed heavy on her mind.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Aye.”

He said a quick prayer that Frasyer’s chamber would indeed be empty. With his dagger drawn, Duncan pressed his hand against the carved stone and slid open the secret door.

When the secret door to Frasyer’s chamber slid open, sunlight sliced through the tunnel’s blackness. Squinting against the painfully bright glare, Duncan scanned the room, one hand clasped on his sword.

Empty.

He lowered his hand. They were safe—for the moment.

When Isabel started forward, he caught her forearm and shook his head. He placed his finger over his mouth for her to remain silent. At her questioning look, he pointed to the outer door.

Understanding shone in her eyes. She nodded.

Duncan crept to the door and listened. Several long seconds passed, but he heard not a sound indicating anyone was in the outer chamber.

“This way.” He led her to the other secret entrance. As he passed the massive bed centered against the back wall, Duncan kept his gaze averted. He tried to ignore that Isabel and Frasyer had often slept within the tangle of the sheets. The last thing he wanted to think about was her sharing her body with the bastard, more so since her taste haunted Duncan still.

Behind him, Isabel’s soft footsteps scraped to a stop.

Needing to know what thoughts this chamber invoked for her, Duncan turned. Isabel’s gaze was trained on the bed, a flush stealing up her cheeks. She faced him, her amber eyes wide with guilt, then oddly, hurt echoed within her fragile features.

Hurt? That made not a bit of sense. He waited for her to speak, explain, to say anything.

She dropped her gaze.

“What?” he demanded in a harsh whisper.

A shudder flickered over her body. After a long moment, she shook her head.

That was the way of it then? Fine. If she wanted Frasyer, she was welcome to him. He’d nay save her again. No, she’d not asked him to; Symon’s plea had brought him here—to this insanity of a mess.

A cloud shielded the sun, pitching the chamber into gloom. Scowling, Duncan glanced around, finding the dismal shadows appropriate.

Disgusted with the entire situation, he strode across the room, anxious to find the Bible and be far away from here. He ran his fingers up the wall in search of the near invisible indent they’d spotted only days ago when they’d hidden beneath the bed.

Isabel moved to his side, her fingers mimicking his technique. All too aware of her, of her poor decisions that’d tossed them both into this mayhem, he focused on his task. As his finger slid near the corner of the wall, the tip of his thumb found purchase.

“The outline for the door is over here,” he said. “Help me find the opening.”

Isabel crouched below him, the top of her straight whisky hair at knee level. She looked up at him.

Beyond her regret, he saw awareness in her eyes. He damned himself over and again for his inability to withdraw from her. “What?” he asked through gritted teeth.

A long second passed. “We need to hurry.”

Aye, they did, but with her looking like his every fantasy helped naught. In a foul mood, he began to follow the thin line of the hidden door with his fingertips.

“Here,” Isabel exclaimed.

He glanced down as sun spilled into the room. A hand’s length from the floor, a small indent lay within the wall. “Good.” He knelt beside her. With their fingers near each others, they pulled.

Stone scraped as the door swung open.

Isabel jumped to her feet.

“Hurry.”

She slipped into the secret chamber ahead of him. Stilled. “No, it cannot be!”

At the disappointment in her voice, Duncan pulled the door wider. A sizeable stone pallet led to a set of stairs. “Another secret passage?”

“So it appears.” Frustration strained her voice. “I was sure this door led to a secret chamber.”

“It would seem we were both wrong.”

“Now what? I have but days left to free my father and we have yet to find the Bible.” She crossed her arms over chest and turned away.

Though she was trying to hide her emotions from him, her shoulders were visibly shaking. However much he wanted to keep his distance from her, he’d not allow her to suffer alone. Lord Caelin was a fine man, one he would risk anything to save.

“We will find the Bible,” he said as he drew her to him.

She turned into his arms, and her body trembled against his. “But we cannot be sure.”

The echo of her heartbeat pounded unsteady against his; the angst in her voice clawed at his heart. “Nay, we cannot be, neither will we quit.”

“No.” A quiet strength filled her voice as she looked up. Determination shown in her amber eyes, framed by the fatigue haunting them both. “We will find it.” She stepped back, composed once again and nodded. “Let us go.”

Candlelight spilled around them in jagged shadows as he pulled the door closed behind them. Duncan held up the taper that fractured the darkness with its yellowed light. The widened flat stone led to a set of stairs that disappeared into blackness.

“Where do you think they lead?” Isabel asked.

He shrugged. “We will soon find out.” They started down, every curve, each angle drawing them deeper beneath mortar and stone. Several levels down, a sinking grew in Duncan’s gut as to their destination.

The darkness seemed alive, like a thousand tiny eyes following their progress from some secret world. Despite himself, chills prickled up his spine.

“Duncan?”

He shrugged off the foolish sensation that they weren’t alone. “Aye?”

“Should we have not found at least one door by now?”

“One would think.”

Chilled air tainted with a faint stench increased Duncan’s suspicion of their destination.

And he prayed he was wrong.

But with the putrid smell strengthening with each step down, when the stairway flattened out and a door lay before them, he had little doubt to where the passage led.

“Bedamned,” he muttered.

“What is wrong?”

“Shhh.” He laid his ear against the stone. Muted groans melded with the drip of distant water beyond. Thankfully, there was no echo of guards’ voices as they made their rounds. It seemed Frasyer hadn’t added a permanent guard after their escape. He grimaced. Why should he? Only a fool would return.

With care, Duncan inched the door open. Though he’d expected the scene before him, confirmation soured the fledgling of hope he was somehow wrong.

“Duncan, where are we?”

The nerves in her voice had him wishing he could offer her another truth. With a sigh, he pushed the door. “Look.”

She peered through the opening. Even in the dim light, he saw her face pale. “God, no.”

He jerked the door closed, the candle’s flame between them jumping wildly.

“Why would this entry lead to the dungeon?” Isabel asked. “It does not make sense.”

Duncan nodded, as perplexed as she. “No, it does not.”

“If only we had known before.”

“What difference would that have made?”

“After you rescued me, had we known, we could have taken this route to Frasyer’s chamber to search for the Bible.”

“We could have,” he agreed, “but your belief that the Bible was in Frasyer’s chamber was a suspicion proved false.”

Guilt fueled Isabel and she turned away.

“What is wrong?”

“I should have known,” she whispered, damning her ignorance. “I have lived here for the past three years, yet I know little of this castle’s workings or routes of escape besides the common entry doors.”

Hardness encased Duncan’s face and he remained silent, but she knew his thoughts, had witnessed the same damnable look several times as they’d searched for the Bible. He believed that as Frasyer’s mistress, her attention had been too focused on the earl’s bed to think of such mundane thoughts of strategy for the rebels or otherwise. If he only knew the truth.

Regardless of her reasons, her ignorance of the castle’s layout far from alleviated her guilt. Because of her lack of knowledge, Duncan had almost died. As a covert supporter of the Scottish rebels, why had she not explored every inch of Moncreiffe Castle and shared her findings with her brother?

Emotion tightened Isabel’s throat. “We have done naught but go in a circle and are no closer to finding the Bible.”

“You are wrong. We know where the Bible is not.”

Her heart aching, she gave a bitter laugh. “And that knowledge gains us what? Your injury? Days lost. In addition, Frasyer still has the upper hand over my father’s life.”

“Isabel—”

“Only a handful of days remain to bring the Bible to Lord Monceaux. Yet, I have naught the faintest idea of where it is hidden. For all we know, Frasyer might have taken it with him. And, if he finds you here, damn you, Duncan, he will gladly end your life.”

Duncan’s gaze softened. “He will not find us.”

“Empty words,” she breathed, tired of those she loved wounded or dying around her. “Even now his knights could be entering the secret passage, our mounts seized.”

“I doubt such. It was snowing when I followed you. Even a few hours behind you, with the storm intensifying, I barely was able to trace your path. By the time Frasyer’s knights awoke, even if they began trailing you, before long, any tracks either of us made would be filled.”

“You are right,” Isabel said, reassured. “I have allowed my frustration to guide my thoughts.”

“It is a difficult time for you.”

“It is, but for us all. Symon touched so many people’s lives. I still cannot believe he is dead.” But thinking of him would only nurture the hurt, when time for that must come later. “And what of the Bible? Where could it be?”

Duncan leaned against the wall and rubbed the worried indent of his brow. “We have searched several rooms, which narrows down where the Bible could be. I think we need to start at the dungeon and work our way up.”

“How? We will need garb to cover us to get past the guards as before.”

He sighed. “We will have to retrace our steps.” He pushed away from the wall. “If we do not find any clothes in Frasyer’s chamber, another room on his floor might provide us well.”

She nodded.

Duncan lifted the candle and turned toward the stairs. “There is one thing I cannot figure out.”

“What is that?”

“Why would Frasyer need a private passageway from his chamber to the dungeon?” He started up the steps.

A frown wedged between her brow as Isabel fell into place behind him. “It makes no sense to me as well. It is not as if he has a covert chamber within the dungeon where he hides his secrets.” She stilled. “But what if he did?”

Duncan halted, turned. The flicker of possibility in his gaze matched her own thoughts.

“What if Frasyer has a discreet chamber down here where he hides what he wishes others to never find?” she asked. “If so, the Bible may be in there as well.”

“Isabel,” Duncan cautioned, “there may be another reason for this secret passage.” Like Frasyer being so twisted he would covertly watch from a hidden chamber, enjoying as the prisoners within were punished.

“Nothing else makes sense.”

“There are other reasons, but on this I agree.”

“It is here. I can feel it.” He looked far from convinced, but she knew in her heart it was so. “Wait. Why have I not remembered this before? At times, when Frasyer spoke with me, an odd, sour smell clung to him. I had dismissed it as that from hard travel, but I should have placed the smell before, that inherent of the dungeon!”

“We will search the dungeon first,” Duncan said. “Though no guards are posted there, they will return on rounds soon enough.”

“Then let us hurry.”

They retraced their steps. Duncan pushed open the secret door, scoured the dank surroundings, then moved forward. “Stay close behind me.”

Torches, spaced at regular intervals within the dungeon, cast splotches of yellowed light, leaving the musty stone walls a jumble of macabre shadows.

Isabel scanned the dimly lit corridor. “Where should we begin?”

“A fine question indeed,” Duncan replied. “I doubt that Frasyer would keep anything of value in one of the cells.”

“True, but what if one of the doors does not lead to a cell, but a private room?”

“Nay,” Duncan said. “When I was searching for you, I scanned most every chamber.”

“But not all.”

He grimaced. “Nay, not all. Fine then. We will search those cells I did not view first.” He pointed to several cells at the end of the corridor. “Those four are the only ones that I did not check.”

She glanced past the door where she’d been imprisoned. Sickened by the stench, standing so close to where she’d once been incarcerated, made her want to wretch.

“Isabel?”

“I am fine.” She lied, but she couldn’t fail now, not when she was so close. “I will take the two doors on the right.”

He nodded.

With her stomach threatening to purge, Isabel hurried along the dank hallway, the groans of men suffering in the distance too clear a reminder of what awaited her and Duncan if they were caught. That was, if after, Frasyer allowed them to live.