The Lady and the Falconer (12 page)

He needed to get her into bed.

The thought made him grin. He had thought she was untried, a virgin. But then he had seen that man kiss her cheek in the hallway. It had enraged him that she had not even blanched when she’d accepted the kiss. Then, she had let him kiss her, not even protesting when he had violated her mouth... She was no virgin. She was a harlot like her sister.

He would savor the seduction. How better to get revenge than to present Farindale with a daughter fat with his babe. And while he was at it, he would find out where his brother was. The problem was, he had been exceedingly cruel to her when he had broken the kiss. It had been days since he had last seen her.

He studied his carving with a satisfaction before nodding and rising. He opened the door to his small room and discovered that it was raining lightly. By the looks of the saturated ground and the dark sky in the distance, there had just been a downpour. He had been so absorbed in his carving that he had not even heard it. The bird squawked in protest and ruffled his feathers, but remained seated on his shoulder. Logan paid it little attention as he walked out of his room.

Old Ben strolled up to him. “Yer falcon’s gonna catch his death if ya bring him out in this rain.”

Logan grunted. He believed the damned bird would live through anything.

“Well, then don’t pay a word of attention ta what I say. I’ve only spent me whole life attending to these falcons,” the old man exclaimed. “I know ‘im like the back of me hand. And I know the back of me hand well.”

Logan strolled away, moving past the mews toward the courtyard.

“Don’t spend the day walkin’. I want yer help with the mending of the mews. Now don’t ferget!”

Old Ben’s voice faded as Logan walked through the ward. His eyes swept the courtyard for Mary, but there was no sign of the small girl. She loved the birds and often visited, annoying Old Ben. But Logan could tell that secretly Old Ben liked the attention and her constant chattering. She had immediately endeared herself to Logan by bringing him a blanket on his first night at Castle Fulton, knowing the mews were cold.

Busy peasants rushed about to secure their animals. Above the shouts of the villagers and the light pelting of rain, he heard laughter. Frowning at the inappropriate sound, he followed it to the side of the keep. A girl squealed in delight. He peeked around the corner and was shocked at the sight. There, right beside the candle shop, Mary stood laughing. Beside her, Solace stared at the sky, a smile on her face. Both were pressed up against the workshop for shelter, both soaked through to the skin, as if they had been in the brunt of the storm.

Then, suddenly, his falcon took flight just as the skies opened, sending down a new shower of rain that soaked Logan. Solace took Mary’s hand and they both dashed out into the onslaught of rain. Logan watched them with amused eyes as they turned round and round, their mouths open and raised to the sky. He watched Solace’s face glow with joy, a smile curving her shapely lips. Her dark hair trailed down her back in long, wet strands.

Her drenched velvet houppelande hung heavily on her, accenting her every curve, every move she made.

Solace continued to twirl round in the rain, spinning in joyful abandon. He remembered those carefree days, even though they had been so long ago. And something inside him longed to return to them. He found himself lost in her happiness. The joy on her face almost touched his soul. He wanted to reach out to her, to feel just an inkling of the abandon she felt.

But he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever. He had once felt that kind of freedom, and it had cost him everything he held dear. Everything he loved.

He didn’t want any part of it. Not at that price.

Logan turned to go. But he couldn’t resist one last glance at Solace and those brilliant green eyes that sparkled with happiness. The wet garment clung to her shapely hips like skin, the weight of it pulling her skirt until the bodice was conforming tightly to her shapely breasts.

Longing surged inside him and Logan turned quickly away, clutching the wood carving tightly in his hand. His steps were long and purposeful as he returned to the mews. Drops of rain slid down his head and under the tunic he wore, soaking his skin. He would give the doll to Mary another time. When Solace wasn’t there.

He knew he should talk to Solace, should tell her that their kiss was a mistake. But he couldn’t.

And now, when his brother should be filling his thoughts, he found his mind occupied by Solace instead. She was becoming too much of a distraction. He had to cleanse his mind of her. He had to put her out of his thoughts.

Logan closed his eyes tightly and sighed, relaxing his body. There had to be someone else in this blasted castle who had seen Peter, or knew of him. Perhaps it was time to ask Old Ben. But the old man didn’t trust him now; he would trust him even less if he knew he was searching for someone.

Right now, it seemed, Solace was his only means to finding Peter. But he had to see her for what she was -- an enemy with information he needed. He should just capture her, interrogate her and...

“...She needs to be taken care of now,” a woman’s voice insisted in a barely discernible whisper.

Logan stopped in the middle of the falcon-training ground, in the area bordered by the kennels on one side and the crossbow makers on the other. Something familiar about the woman’s voice made him pause.

“What difference does it make if it’s today or tomorrow or next week? The siege is going on,” a man replied in the same hushed tone.

“We don’t know when he’ll return,” the woman answered.

Logan took a step closer to the kennel, searching for the owners of the voices. They must be in the kennels beside the mews. A rendezvous, perhaps, he thought. Or a plot unfolding. Either way, it didn’t concern him.

“I want Solace disposed of,” the woman said.

Chapter Eleven

L
ogan froze. He didn’t move, afraid the conspirators would hear him. Solace? he wondered silently, his heart missing a beat. Perhaps he hadn’t heard right.

“And how do you suppose I go about it, my dear?” the man asked. “Poison?”

“Too suspicious.”

“Push her off a walkway?”

“You might be seen.”

There was a long, quiet moment in which Logan shifted his stance slightly, moving closer to the open window, easing himself into the shadows of the kennel. When the silence stretched, he thought they had moved on.

But then the woman’s icy voice came to him. “No. Slit her throat. There’s a killer in the castle. Everyone will blame him.”

A chill went through Logan’s body. Who was this woman? he wondered. And why did she hate Solace so much?

“You are a genius,” the man cooed.

Logan pressed himself against the kennels, tilting his head toward the window. But the voices didn’t continue. He heard the rustling of clothing, movement.

Then, Logan realized they were heading out the door. He looked in the window to see two dogs sleeping on beds of straw, the room otherwise empty. His gaze was drawn to the door as it slowly swung closed. He whirled and raced around the corner of the building, bursting into the courtyard.

The crowd in the courtyard was thick and buzzing with activity. Now that the rain had cleared, there was much to do. Silently Logan cursed. He scanned the courtyard, his gaze darting this way and that, searching desperately for the man and woman. A fat merchant met his gaze while strolling past him with a sack of grain. Another man crossed the yard with an arm full of arrows. A peasant herded his chickens by Logan. A woman shouted, drawing his attention to a spilled basin of water and laundry. Dozens of people hurried around him, busy with their various tasks. It was impossible to tell who the voices had belonged to.

Logan cursed again. He had to protect Solace. He couldn’t let her be hurt. Not when she knew where his brother was. But how could he watch her every moment of every day? He would have to warn her.

***

Solace descended the stairs slowly with a torch in one hand, a bowl in the other. The stairs were so dark she could not see her feet, let alone the steps descending into the murky blackness. When she reached the bottom, the small circle of light that engulfed her washed over the wooden door of the storage room. She reached for the handle and pushed the door open. The torchlight fell over crates and bags. Solace stepped into the room, moving toward the bags she knew held the salt. She placed the torch in the sconce on the wall and carefully opened the bag.

A ball of fur rubbed against her leg, and she looked down. She was greeted by a loud caterwaul. Solace bent down to the cat and stroked her soft hair, murmuring, “Pudding. What are you doing in here?” She sighed slightly, scooping the cat into her arms. “How long have you been locked in here this time?” The cat’s soft rumble of contentment was her only answer. Solace grinned and rubbed her face against Pudding’s fur. “Oh, Pudding. If you’re not careful you’ll get trapped in here for too long.”

“If I were a cat would you show me that kind of affection?”

The voice startled her, and she almost dropped Pudding as she whirled. Logan lounged against the open doorway. His form seemed to fill the entrance. She couldn’t help but let her gaze roam over his strong physique.

She hadn’t seen him for days. She was purposely avoiding him after being so humiliated. But now, seeing him standing there like some dark god, she felt her body come alive. Dangerously alive. She held Pudding tightly against her chest like a shield. Finally, she caught her breath enough to retort, “If you were a cat, I’d throw you to the dogs.” She turned her back to him, trying to hide her body’s response to his presence.

She heard his soft rumble of laughter. “I don’t think you’d hurt any animal like that,” he said.

He was suddenly standing behind her. She could feel him there, without even looking. Her body became warm and flushed, and she wanted him to touch her, even though he had cast her aside like an old blanket.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, reaching around her to flick the bowl she had rested on the bag of salt.

“Getting salt,” she responded instantly, but her hands refused to do anything but hold Pudding. “What are you doing here?” She felt his hot gaze on the back of her head.

“I want to warn you,” he whispered.

“Warn me?” she wondered, trying to keep the breathlessness from her voice. “Against what?”

“You shouldn’t be alone. Not ever.”

He must surely be speaking about himself as the threat. One touch, one kiss and she was doomed. As it was now, all she could think of was the way his lips had touched hers, the way he had held her tightly to himself. Pudding’s head nuzzled her chin, seeking more attention, but her mind was occupied by Logan.

“You’re in danger.”

It was as if he poured a bucket of cold water over her. The words mocked her. You shouldn’t be here alone. She whirled and stepped away from him. Her bottom bumped up against the bag of salt behind her. “You already told me that and quite adequately proved why,” she snapped. “I don’t need any more of your lessons.” Holding Pudding tightly against her pounding, furious heart, she pushed by him and stormed toward the stairs.

Suddenly he stepped in front of her, blocking her way with a wall of solid flesh. “I’m not here to teach you a lesson. Just to warn you. Someone wants to kill you.”

“Kill me?” she asked, startled. “But who?”

“I overheard a man and a woman talking. I didn’t see who they were.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don’t have any enemies,” she snapped. In the torchlight, she watched his eyes narrow.

“I suppose it’s one of your closest friends who is laying siege to the castle,” Logan quipped.

His sarcasm irritated her further. “No enemy can breech the walls of this castle,” Solace retorted.

“You know better than that, Solace,” Logan whispered. “That’s why you’re so frightened.”

“I’m not frightened!”

“Then why are you trembling?”

Only then did Solace realize she was shivering. But she also knew it had nothing to do with being frightened, or with the cold. She was quiet for a long moment, trying to calm her trembling. “Do you think it was one of Barclay’s men?” Solace wondered. “The murderer?”

Logan stepped back, into the shadows. “I don’t know,” he answered. “But I don’t see why he would want you dead. You pose no threat to him.”

Solace’s pride was pricked. “I’m heir to this castle,” she said in defense.

“But your father is still alive and so is your stepmother. You’re third in line.”

Solace’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know who would want me dead,” she admitted.

“Until we can find out who it was, you’ll have to take precautions. Don’t take this lightly. They meant business, whoever it was,” Logan said. “I’ll stay with you until you’re done getting the salt, but –”