Summer of the Moon Flower (The de Vargas Family) (12 page)

She knew the wind was from the sea. It was
salt-tanged and occasionally a sour whiff of sour kelp would float through the room.
The keening of seabirds kept her awake at night and when the wind was quiet,
the soughing of the sea sweeping across pebbles slipped into her consciousness.
Two days ago she had woken up to fingers of mist seeping in through the high
windows. She was not in the Alps, that much she knew. But wherever it was, it
was a bleak godforsaken place.

Sofia leaned against the cold stone wall
and stood on her toes. If she stretched high enough she could see the green
leaves of a large tree fluttering in the wind through a small gap in the stone.
It was the only thing moving in her lonely prison.

The fluttering of leaves and the glowing
charcoal on the fire.

Tiredness overwhelmed her. She pulled her
cloak around her throat and touched her bare neck. The communication device
Indigo had given her had not been around her neck when she had woken up three
long days ago. Even if she’d had the device it would have been useless because
she couldn’t have called for rescue; she had no idea where she was. Her
thoughts were confused and ran into each other.

Woken up in a bed alone. Cold. With no
idea of where she was.

She stood with her cheek pressed against
the cold stone wall.
She did not know where Dougal was. Nor did she
really care.

He could rot in hell.

The last time she had seen him was the
moment he had pushed her over the precipice. All she could remember was a
kaleidoscope of images, places and people flashing past her eyes as she fell.

Like one of her nephews’ toys.

To certain death, she had thought as she
screamed.

Now she was alone in this cold, cavernous
room. She hadn’t seen nor spoken to another soul for three full days and
nights. For a time, she had imagined she was dead. Clothed in a long white
nightgown, her hair was loose and her feet were bare. So if it wasn’t heaven or
hell, someone had ministered to her since she had been brought to this unknown
place. If she could get out of here and find Dougal, she would kill him without
a second thought.

Her throat ached with unshed tears as she
imagined the grief Indigo and her family were going through. Oh, God, she
prayed the twins had not seen her fall nor heard her screams. She rubbed her
eyes with the heels of her hands but refused to let the tears fall. Dropping
her arms to her side, she crossed the room and climbed into the bed and turned
her face into the feather pillow

Drifting in and out of sleep for another
night, the room darkened and lightened with the passing of the hours, and Sofia
finally awoke to a freshly stoked fire and food on a tray next to the bed.

She could not live like this. It was the
path to madness.

If someone didn’t come soon…

There was a loud clang as the bolt lifted
on the door and it creaked open. A small woman is a maid’s uniform and a cap
covering her hair scurried in, her eyes downcast. She went over to the fire and
put a large log on top of the lowering flames, before turning her attention to
the bedside table and reaching for the tray.

Sofia had not touched the food. The woman
raised her eyes and said in a soft voice with a strong Scottish burr in her
words.

“You
moost
eat, ma’am.”

“Where am I?” Sofia demanded. “What is this
place?”

The woman bowed her head and backed out of
the room, clutching the tray. The door slammed shut behind her and the bolt
dropped on the other side. Sofia climbed up into the bed and pulled the soft
woolen blanket over her head and cursed the man who had taken her away from all
she knew.

* * * *

The sun shone from a palette of gold and
pink as it rose into the summer sky and Dougal, Earl of Rothmore rode away from
Castle Dean, turning his mount eagerly toward the coast road. He had left
Edward at his manor at Kilmarnock where he had passed the night before calling
into Castle Dean for a private meeting with the Leader of the Council of Five.

A financial reward in gold had been offered
to them however Dougal had assured the Council the spiritual recompense of
recognition by the knights was sufficient payment for their quest.

He and Edward had discussed their plans
late into the night and were satisfied; they would be able to move against the
Council within months. Edward would continue to meet with the local knights to
gain their allegiance, under cover of his official position on the civil parish
board of the Kilmarnock parish. In the meantime, Dougal was anxious to return
to his castle on the island to check on the well-being of Sofia.

He would not use the Astrolaberors until he
reached the coast for fear of being observed, and would travel on horseback
until he reached the small, flat boat he had stored in a cave in a small bay
across from his island. It was only two miles across at the closest point but
once he pushed the boat off shore, and was sure he was not under observation he
would to use the device to reach his island and Sofia.

As he rode, his thoughts turned to Sofia. A
pang of regret lodged in his chest for the way they had staged her murder on
the mountain. He knew there would be much grief and his heart ached for her
family, particularly the boys who had been present. It was only a matter of
time before he and Edward would be summonsed to an investigation.

Edward had reassured him over a gillie of
whisky in the wee hours. “’Twas the only way, Dougal. If there had been any
doubt, the Council would have sent their henchmen to dispose of her and Madame de
Vargas would be deceased by now.” The young man raised his glass. “Patience.
That is what you told me when we first travelled to Vienna. Although—” the
young man looked at him “— I suspect you may be thinking with your heart and
not your intellect. A bit of fondness for the lassie?”

Dougal had ignored Edward’s comment. “I
know, we must be patient but I fear the grief caused by this event, may
override any rational thinking before all can be explained. However an
investigation into our involvement will be the final evidence for the Council.”
He swigged his whisky and it burned all the way down his throat. “I am not
looking forward to meeting with Sofia on Rothmore on the morrow.”

Now Dougal turned his mount onto the narrow
coastal road and focused his thoughts on the meeting to come. He reached into
his pocket and rubbed his fingers on the shiny black stone he had removed from
around Sofia’s neck. She had lain in the huge bed, deeply asleep and breathing
softly. A soft murmur had left her lips when his fingers brushed her neck as
he’d released the clasp and placed the black jewel in a pouch against his
heart, wanting to keep her close.

His instructions to Mary, his young, loyal
housekeeper had been clear. Under no circumstances was Sofia to leave her room
until he returned. He frowned, imagining how cross Sofia would be after three
days locked away in that cavernous room. At least it had a privy. He would let
her show her displeasure before he told her why they had to stage her murder.

But, he could not tell Sofia
everything…not yet.

Mary had at first been resistant to his
direction. “I see a
puir
woman in that room who
dinna kens
her
place in this house an you expect me to keep her locked in there? She's just as
deservin’ of some respect and you’re a
fule
, man…”

Eventually he had convinced her it was a
matter of life and death and Mary had agreed to his request. His horse whinnied
and Dougal looked around, but it was only the proximity of the water exciting
his mount who knew there was hay for him in the small enclosure on the coast.
Dougal pulled on the reigns as they crested the last hill and smiled. His
island, Little Rothmore, sat a short distance across the firth, jewel-like on
the sea before him. Smoke puffed lazily from the kitchen chimney and the larger
chimney on the eastern side where Sofia was …resting. He would not use the term
imprisoned, even in his own thoughts. She was a guest and would be a guest on
his island until he and Edward achieved their quest.

After tethering his mount and ensuring it
had enough hay, Dougal reached into his small knapsack and removed the
Astrolaberors. He clambered down the cliff; the small stones skittered beneath
his feet and disturbed the nesting seabirds. They rose into the air squawking
around him. He stopped halfway down and settled to wait until the sun was at
its zenith; the co-ordinates were set for midday. The wait would also ensure he
had not been followed and he looked back at the cliff top to watch for any sign
of a follower.

* * * *

Sofia woke slowly as voices drifted into
her consciousness.

It was Dougal.

She would recognize the voice of the man
who had haunted her dreams for the past three days, whether awake or asleep.
Climbing down from the high bed, she shivered as her bare feet touched the cold
stone and she reached for her cloak, before walking over to the door once more.
She had pushed it and pulled at the solid oak door for the past day.

Finally deciding to wait and overpower the
maid when she next came to replenish the food, she had waited in vain because
the woman had not returned again. Hysteria had clawed at her throat in the dark
of the night as she imagined the worst; being abandoned in this godforsaken
place until she starved to death. There was no way out. She had felt her way
around every inch of the sold walls pulling at every protruding piece of stone.
Crawled across the floor and lifted every woven rug, looking for a trap door…to
no avail.

“Mary, hand the tray to me and I will take
it in.” Dougal’s voice was close.

Sofia could not understand the words of the
woman who seemed to be arguing with him, but eventually her voice faded away
with her footsteps. She stepped back to the side, looking wildly around the
room. There was nothing she could use as a weapon. The logs on the fire had
burned to ash and there was nothing small enough to pick up to fling at the
murderous bastard when he came into the room.

She pressed her back against the wall
waiting for him. The bolt creaked and the massive door opened slowly. The
shadow of a large body darkened the floor in the doorway. Dougal stepped into
the room and Sofia shrieked and jumped onto his back, reaching around for his
eyes and gouging with her fingertips. The tray he was carrying crashed to the
ground and he reached up behind him and grabbed her arms.

“Mord bastard.”
She screeched like a banshee trying to beat at him with hands that
were now held securely in his grasp. “You murdering bastard, let me go.”

“Calm down,” he said quietly. “It is all
fine, now.”

“It is not,” she sobbed with frustration as
he turned her around and pinned her to the wall.

“Mary,” he called. “Bolt the door.”

Sofia screamed and lunged at him fastening
her teeth onto his ear and biting as hard as she could.

“You little hellion,” he yelled, releasing
one hand and grabbing her chin roughly. “You’ve drawn blood.” He pushed her
away before turning her and putting her over his shoulder.

“And I’ll draw more before I’m finished
with you,” she panted.”You...you…festering, ignoble cur.”

Dougal lifted her and carried her across
the room.

* * * *

The Earl of Rothmore fought a smile as the
flailing fists pounded his back and a string of curses more suited to the
gutter assailed his ears. The blows barely registered on his flesh underneath
the thick vest he wore over his linen shirt, but her curses grew louder as he
moved across toward the large bed in the centre of the room

“When you are quite finished, Sofia. I will
put you down.”

“I will kill you, Dougal. I swear by all
that—”

“Enough, woman,” he roared. “If you will hold
your tongue for one minute, I will put you down and we can have a civilized
conversation.”

“Pah!”

He dumped her unceremoniously on the bed
and took a step back as Sofia sat up and glared at him. She leaned back, her
arms supported her on the woolen blankets and her chest heaved with each
breath. Her face was pale except for twin spots of red, high on her cheeks.

Glaring at him, she opened her mouth to
speak and he held his hand high.

“No.” Dougal tried to keep his voice soft.
Despite her anger, his body was responding to her. She dropped her gaze and
grabbed at the white chemise, pulling it together over her alabaster skin.

He grunted and walked across to the fire
which had almost burned out. Crouching down, he looked around for something to
poke at the ashes but there was nothing.

“Yes, Dougal. I have watched the fire burn
away. I have not eaten, nor drunk of the wine your whore has brought me. There
is nothing here.”

A reluctant smile twitched at his lips at
the thought of his loyal housekeeper being referred to as his whore.

“Come, now, Sofia. That is very harsh,” he
said. “Did you not hear Mary expressing her displeasure with me outside the
door?”