My Ruthless Prince (31 page)

"What?"

"Jacques, do we have an extra cell available down there?"

"
Oui, Capitaine,
" the Frenchman said uneasily.

"Good. Then take this haughty little bitch away. By morning, maybe she'll think twice about challenging me."

"Drake!" she burst out, aghast.

He nodded for her removal, playing well the sinister part of the top Promethean chief.

She stared at him in utter confusion, her eyes big, blue, fragile saucers.

Trust me.

Two guards grasped her by the arms and began dragging her off to the dungeon. "
Drake!
"

"Silence!" he roared back. "Don't whine to me! You brought this on yourself, you cheeky wench! Get her out of here."

"Oui, Capitaine
. Come,
mademoiselle
."

"Drake, please! What did I do wrong? Let me go! Drake, don't do this to me!
Drake!
"

As the men led her and Rotherstone away, he steeled himself against her echoing pleas, knowing he could not give in to pity.

The time to explain would come soon enough.

He turned away, returning to his throne-like chair in the great hall, his face a mask of dark, hard indifference. "Good riddance," he drawled. "I was growing bored of her, anyway. Now, then, what is the next order of business?"

Chapter 20

E
mily spent the remainder of the day and the whole night in a dungeon cell, angry, wounded, and bewildered.

What the hell is going on?

Drake had never spoken to her like that before in her life. Another blasted ruse? It had better be. Oh, yes, he had better have a damned good explanation, she thought in unabated fury, even though she gathered that her favorite blackguard had some new trick up his sleeve.

Some of the things he had snarled at her in the great hall had cued her in to the fact that--as usual--there was more to his behavior than met the eye. He usually knew what he was doing. Still, how dare he call her a bitch?

Ruse or not, she was still stung, after all she had done for him. No woman had ever given so much and been so put upon, she thought, feeling justified in sulking in her cell. She wanted to wring his bloody neck.

Thankfully, the presence of Lord Rotherstone two cells down and across the aisle from her helped keep her courage up against the encroaching darkness of this horrible dungeon.

When the guards withdrew, they were able to exchange some basic information in hushed tones. She confirmed that the Prometheans had indeed chosen Drake as their new leader and explained how it all had unfolded on the night Malcolm Banks had invaded the castle with his private army.

She also described the prophecy Falkirk had found in the Alchemist's Scrolls, but for fear of being overheard, she did not even whisper to the marquess that Drake had fully regained his memory and their incarceration was probably just a ruse.

The very walls had ears.

Besides, her own faith on that point was wavering, frankly, after Drake had admitted two days ago that he was tempted to embrace his new role in life.

She wanted to believe he had put that wicked notion out of his mind--but he was not acting like himself.

Ah, she was so weary of it all . . .

She leaned back against the clammy stone wall, staring into the inky gloom of the subterranean prison and battling moment by moment a wave of irrational fear.

Even if it was a ruse, how could he do this to her? Didn't he know being trapped down here in the darkness would plunge her back into the awful memories of her ordeal when she was seventeen?

If it were not for the nearby marquess, she'd have given in to panic hours ago and would have probably been reduced to wild screaming, just like she had been for days in the pit of that well, where she had thought she was going to die.

But Drake had rescued her, she reminded herself, shivering. She hugged herself around the waist, trying to ward off the chill. He had not done this to hurt her, she promised her bruised heart. He had to have a reason.

Nevertheless, the darker it got through the long, cold night, and the longer she remained a prisoner, the harder it got to stay brave and hold on to hope.

If there was one benefit to be gained from the experience, however, it was that it brought her closer to Drake in a strange way. At last she had a firsthand glimpse of what he must have gone through. All those months of being trapped down here. It was hard to stay angry at him when she pondered all he'd suffered.

Tasting the horror of it for herself, she was left wondering if anyone ever really could come back from that, as she had assured him that he could.

Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe he
would
be permanently scarred in his soul, just like they had left their mark upon his body. All the love she had to give might not be enough to truly heal him. Maybe, without telling her, he had made up his mind to quit fighting it and had already given in to darkness . . .

Just then, she heard male voices down the corridor.

Someone was coming. She rose quickly and crossed her cell, grasping the rusty bars as she peered through them, waiting to see who it was. Had Drake finally come to his senses and ordered her release?

The brisk rhythm of bootheels ringing out over the flagstone echoed down the torchlit corridor.

Emily drew in her breath as Drake himself suddenly appeared, marching out of the shadows.

She stared, shocked to see him in this godforsaken pit where he'd endured hell on earth. She could not imagine what it cost him to come down personally and face the place again, when he could have easily sent one of his countless henchmen. Instead, he had come alone.

He stopped outside her cell and immediately began unlocking it with his key; still upset with him, she didn't know what to say.

For that matter, she didn't know what to expect, either--a reprieve or more trouble?

Warily, she studied the stark look on his angular face, but he was closed within himself once more, utterly guarded, mysterious, impossible to read.

In truth, she was so disoriented from being locked up, she wasn't even sure if it was night or day.

He slid the door open and gave her a curt nod. "Come out."

Emily was all too glad to leave her cell, but she darted past, eyeing him in suspicion. "You mind telling me what's going on?" she demanded.

He shut the door behind her. "You and Max are leaving the castle, now."

Her eyes widened. "We are?"

"You'll use that break in the wall where you slipped out to meet me in the woods. It's almost dawn. I want you out of here before the sun rises."

"What about you?"

"I'll follow when I can. It's a bit more complicated. I'll have to bring the boy."

"Right," she murmured, eyeing him mistrustfully.

"Wait here for a moment." He gestured to the guard's empty stool by the wall, beneath a hanging lantern. "I need a private word with Max before you two set out."

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?"

He turned and looked at her in dismay. "No, Emily."

She shrugged, sending him a pointed look of reproach.

His mouth tilted ruefully. "We hit each other harder than that in training."

"Humph."

He looked at her for a long moment. "You're angry at me."

"Oh, how unfair of me! I can't imagine why!"

"I'm sorry, but I had to make it look convincing," he whispered impatiently.

"You fooled me," she said with a snort, folding her arms across her chest as she sat down beneath the light. "Honestly. That's your apology?"

"But surely you knew it was just a ruse!" he exclaimed in a low tone.

She sighed and shook her head. "Oh, Drake, I am so heartily sick of ruses."

He frowned. "Stay here, I'll be right back," he muttered. Then he stalked off once again into the shadows.

D
rake took leave of her and went to free his boyhood friend. His fists were clenched. With every step, he had to keep his mind fixed on the task at hand because being down in this place was too horrible.

If returning to Waldfort Castle was not bad enough in itself, never had he dreamed he would ever come down to the dungeon of his own free will.

He'd had no choice. He had to get them out of there, Emily and Max. All he could do was ignore the volcanic rage and pain coursing through him at the memories, struggling on to do what had to be done.

When he came to Max's cell, the marquess glared at him. "You've really turned into quite a bastard in your old age, haven't you?"

"I know," Drake forced out in a droll tone as he opened the cell door. "Come out."

Max eyed him in suspicion.

"Hurry up! We haven't got much time."

Max took the invitation gladly, leaving the cell with a few swift strides, pausing to glance up and down the dark corridor.

"Sorry about all this," Drake mumbled.

Max turned to him. "What the hell is going on?"

"You're getting out of here, and you're taking Emily with you. I have a plan."

"Really?" he drawled. "And to think, I was beginning to worry."

"Well, don't. By tomorrow, the Prometheans will be no more than a dark legend. Gone."

Max's face instantly sobered. "How? My team's not far. What do you need us to do?"

Drake told him what he had in mind.

When he had explained, Max stared at him. "You're sure?"

He nodded in grim resolve. "It's the only way."

Max studied him, then shook his head. Abruptly, Max hugged his friend. "Go with God, brother."

"Just take care of my girl. If she should be with child, forge the papers for a marriage, will you?"

"It's as good as done." Max grasped both his shoulders and stared imploringly at him. "Are you sure there's no way you can get out of this?"

Drake considered, then shook his head. "There's a slim chance I could get out unscathed, but I don't want you to give Emily false hope," he whispered. "Believe me, I've tried to come up with something else, but this is our last option. I'm confident I can get the boy behind the blast door. Myself, I can't guarantee that I'll be fast enough."

"We'll wait."

"Just make sure the three of you kill any of them who might escape."

"Don't you worry about that," Max assured him with a gleam in his silvery eyes.

"And make sure you collect Stefan from the tunnel as soon as you can afterward. Try to get in there quickly. He's going to be terrified."

"I'll make sure he's safe."

"And take him back to his family."

"We will."

Drake paused, lowering his gaze. "Don't tell Emily what's really going on until you're well away from here. Otherwise, she'll likely do something rash. She'll end up ruining everything."

Max gave him a pensive smile. "She's a good woman, Drake. First-rate. Your parents were wrong to forbid her to you."

Well, it's too late now,
he thought, clearing his throat against the lump that briefly constricted it. "Come on," he said, nodding toward the corridor. "You two need to get out of here before it's light."

"I won't argue that," Max muttered.

Drake walked back to Emily, dreading this moment, hoping he could hide his heartbreak. It was time to say good-bye.

"A
ll right, then," Drake greeted her. "You both have got your jobs."

She stood up hopefully as he returned with Lord Rotherstone.

"Emily, you're going to show Max the way out. He's got his team outside the walls. You'll join them. We've got a few schemes up our sleeves. Max will explain more about it once you're clear. Show us that break. Better hurry," he added, glancing back in case his men were wondering how much longer he'd be gone.

She nodded and sped ahead of them toward the fissure in the foundation wall. Beckoning them toward it, she explained the drop that Lord Rotherstone would come to on the other side.

The tall, lean agent nodded and vaulted up into the break, sliding in horizontally between the heavy stones. "Don't take too long," he warned.

"I'm right behind you," she whispered with a nod.

Then he disappeared into the predawn twilight.

She turned to Drake. "You're coming soon?"

He nodded. "I'll be along as soon as I've got the boy. Sometime later today."

"Be careful, and hurry." Having decided to discard her anger at him for locking her up in the dungeon all day, now that she knew his reasons, she pressed up onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "See you soon."

He grasped her forearm gently. "Wait," he whispered as she started to move toward the opening.

She turned to him in question. "What is it?"

He stared into her eyes. "I've got a favor to ask of you."

"Anything," she said at once.

"There will come a moment where Max is going to ask you to fire an arrow. You have to do it--for me."

She furrowed her brow with a curious smile. "That's all? Fire an arrow?"

"Yes. It's crucial to the plan. Will you do it?"

She shrugged. "Of course."

"Promise me, Emily, that you will not fail."

She took his hand and placed it on her chest, over her heart. "I promise you, dear Westwood, I will shoot whatever blasted arrow you want as long as we're getting out of here." Then she paused, a bit puzzled. "Surely one of your fellow agents is a better shot than I am."

"Not with a bow and arrow. Besides," he said, "I want it to be you."

"Then I will do it, and my aim will be true."

"Thank you." He looked tenderly into her eyes. "I can always count on you, can't I?"

She smiled ruefully at him. "You know you can."

He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her with quiet, soul-searing passion.

She trembled, eager to be free of this place at last. The sooner she left, the sooner their new lives together could begin.

"Let me go," she whispered. He had drawn her into his arms, and even now refused to release her, though she tried to push him away with a doting smile.