The Lady and the Falconer (24 page)

“The time will come,” Logan replied.

Solace shivered at the coldness in his voice.

“What should we do with them?” Barclay jerked his head at Alissa and Beth.

Logan turned and Solace saw his profile. His gaze was icy, his jaw clenched.

“You know how I hate loose ends,” Barclay said.

“They’re my problem, Edwin,” Logan said, stepping forward. He placed his staff on a table as he approached the hearth.

“This is your fault!” Alissa snarled at Solace. “He should be in the dungeon!”

Guilt overrode Solace’s feelings of betrayal, but she raised her chin slightly in the face of her stepmother’s accusation.

Logan rebuffed Alissa. “It’s not her fault.”

“Is that any way to speak to your daughter?” Barclay reprimanded Alissa.

“She’s not my daughter,” Alissa snarled. “And you. You are a barbarian, and I demand you leave my home this instant!”

Barclay’s eyes narrowed. “You, my dear, are a bigger thorn in my side than either of your two lovely daughters.” Suddenly he whirled, his sword raised, and, with one mighty blow, cut Alissa’s head off. “The thorn has been removed.”

Beth’s anguished cry rent the air.

Solace covered her mouth in sheer terror, her eyes wide with disbelief. She raced forward and reached her stepmother’s side just as the body fell before her. Blood splattered her dress, gushing from her mother’s fatal wound like water spouting from a fountain.

Solace screamed in horror, clenching her fists at the sides of her head.

She turned tearful, hate-filled eyes on Barclay. “You monster!” she cried. “You bastard!” She launched herself at him, her fingers curved into claws. She never saw him aim his bloody sword at her abdomen.

Chapter Twenty-Three

L
ogan lurched forward, catching Solace around the stomach, and pulled her away from Barclay’s sword. Beth’s hysterical cries resounded all around them, echoing off the stone walls.

Logan saw the evil enjoyment glittering in Barclay’s eyes and stepped in front of Solace, trying to protect her from the sight of her slain stepmother. The blood from the dead woman spilled over the rushes on the floor, soaking them. “What the hell are you doing, Edwin?” he demanded. “There’s no reason for this! The castle is taken.”

Logan felt Solace try to twist free of his hold, but he tightened it. She was trembling with grief and anger. His own heart twisted. He couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t look into her eyes for the anguish he would see there. He steeled himself against the attack she was waging on his emotions, emotions he never knew he had.

Barclay removed a bloody rag from his belt and slowly wiped the sword’s blade free of blood. His eyes followed the red cloth with obvious enjoyment as it trailed over the stained sword. “These people must be taught their place. It will be a difficult job.”

“I’m fully aware of the difficulties I face,” Logan said. “We’ve discussed this. There was nothing said about murdering women.”

Barclay resheathed his sword and bowed. “A slight change of plans, old friend.”

Something was wrong and every instinct Logan had was telling him to run.

“You know, Logan.” Barclay strolled over to the fire again. “When you didn’t open the gate at our appointed time, I feared you had died or had been captured.”

“I needed more time to find my brother,” Logan explained.

“Well, I must say that I had time to think. To consider our arrangement.”

Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Barclay turned to him, his gloved hands calmly clasped before him. “The heir to Fulton is a beautiful girl, one I wouldn’t mind taming.”

Logan tensed immediately. He didn’t like where this was headed. “I opened the gates as soon as I could.” His hand tightened convulsively around Solace’s wrist.

“And there are the lands. You did neglect to tell me how rich they are.”

“They were not your concern. They are mine.”

A cold smile spread over Barclay’s lips. “Castle Fulton is a mighty fortress. A powerful addition to any lord’s lands. I really do thank you for all your help. You’ve saved me weeks, perhaps months of siege.”

Logan quickly scanned the room to see row after row of Barclay’s men.

“Did you really think I would just hand the castle over to you? I’m not a fool,” Barclay said calmly.

Four knights came up behind Logan. “You treacherous bastard,” Logan growled. He cast a quick glance at his staff. It was lying on the table, where he had tossed it just before he’d grabbed Solace. He needed to get to it. But he also knew the odds of getting out of this alive if he attacked the Baron were very slim.

“But rest assured I do have other plans for you. We can’t leave a member of the Grey family alive with some silly notion of revenge. You see, I tie up loose ends, unlike Farindale. Sloppy job, there.”

“What do you want from me, Barclay?” Logan gritted out.

Barclay inclined his head and the four soldiers put their sword tips to Logan’s spine. “The dungeon,” Barclay said. “Until we find your brother.”

Logan glanced at Solace. “What are you going to do with her?”

Barclay’s eyes shifted to her. “She will make a fine bride. After I wed her, I will be legal heir to Fulton. When Farindale is dead, no one will argue my claim.”

Logan cast a glance over his shoulder at Solace. Her dress was splattered with blood. Her face was pale, her cheeks wet with tears. She refused to look at Logan, and he was momentarily thankful for that. He didn’t want to see the pain and betrayal he was sure would be mirrored in her bright eyes. Where before there was joy and happiness, now there would be hatred and anguish. He had seen the look before. He had seen the same look when he’d glanced into a mirror. He couldn’t let Barclay have Solace. But first I have to find some way to save my own neck, he thought as four guards escorted him to the dungeon.

***

Solace stood stoically in the Great Hall, surrounded by the victorious faces of her enemy. She tried to push aside her swirling emotions to draw forth anger. But it wouldn’t come. All she could think of was Logan’s betrayal. She had been a fool to trust him, a fool to give herself to him. An even bigger fool to let him take her heart.

Sobs filled the air and Solace turned her head to see a hysterical Beth, her large blue eyes focused on Alissa’s body. She instinctively moved toward her half sister, gently taking Beth’s arm to pull her away from the grisly sight.

But Beth yanked free of her hold.

“Give me your word you won’t try to escape,” Barclay said. “Otherwise I’ll have to keep you under lock and key.”

Solace’s gaze swiveled to Barclay. He elegantly removed his black cape, draping it across one of the chairs near the table. “I’ll give you nothing but my contempt,” Solace sneered.

“Tsk, tsk,” Barclay admonished. “I won’t tolerate disrespect from my betrothed.”

Solace swallowed down her bruising retort at seeing the strange gleam in his eyes. It sent a shiver of loathing through her.

“It’s a shame about Logan, wouldn’t you say?” Barclay wondered. “He’s such a treacherous bastard.”

There was a sly grin on his lips. Solace looked away from him, afraid he’d read the anguish on her face.

“Don’t tell me the cur charmed you, too?” Barclay shook his head. “You mustn’t feel bad, Solace. I’ve seen him work his talents on many women. Some much more experienced than you. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

She remained silent.

“Tell me where his brother is,” Barclay crooned.

Solace froze in horror. She would never tell Barclay where Peter was. “I don’t know the exact location of every one of my guards!”

“A guard?” Barclay smiled. “It’s somewhere to start.”

Solace winced. She had fallen into his trap and, in doing so, endangered Peter.

Barclay walked up to her, a smile lingering at the corners of his lips. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.” He placed a finger at her jaw line, but she pulled her head away from his touch. “I hope your accommodations won’t be too... confining.” He raised a hand and two guards moved forward to flank her. “To her chambers.”

***

Solace stared at the shuttered window of her room. The weather had suddenly turned cold. There was a brutal bite to the air that hadn’t been there before. She had changed her clothing immediately, donning a black dress of velvet. She had cleansed her arms and face of Alissa’s blood, replacing the horrible red smears with patches of skin scrubbed raw.

What does Barclay have planned for me? she wondered. Is he truly going to wed me as he told Logan?

Logan. She clenched her teeth against the fresh onslaught of tears threatening to break through her resolve. Everything was suddenly making sense. He had been the killer searching for Peter in the dungeons. He had opened the gates for her, not out of honor as she had thought, but because he had wanted her to tell him where Peter was.

Traitor! her mind kept repeating. But her heart did not repeat the bitter rhythm of her mind; it lay shattered in thousands of pieces inside her chest.

She had trusted him. Hadn’t it been her father who had said she was too trusting, too naive? Fool! She had actually thought she loved Logan.

She pushed Logan’s image to the back of her mind. She didn’t have time to dwell on her pain. She had to concentrate. What was she to do? She couldn’t just wait for Barclay to force her into marriage. She had to leave Fulton. She needed to find her father.

Images of Barclay’s brutality plagued her. The blood haunted her. Who was to say when Barclay would behead her, too, having decided he didn’t need her.

One thing stopped her from taking action. Beth. She couldn’t leave Beth to Barclay. She had to free her somehow.

Solace moved to her window, shoving open the shutters. A cold breeze lifted the ends of her hair and touched the nape of her neck, making her tremble. The rising sun stretched over the sky, blanketing it in a pink glow. She didn’t see the beauty of the sun; her eyes were locked on Barclay’s guards walking the battlements.

Solace bent her head into her hands. She had not slept at all. A sensation of desolation swept through her. She was suddenly overwhelmed, struck immobile by the torment of the past night. What was she to do?

She had no time for self-pity. She needed to come up with a way out of here. But how?

Where is Father? she wondered. When will he come for us? Why hadn’t he responded to the message he was sent?

She knew she couldn’t wait for him. If she or Beth were still in Barclay’s hands when her father arrived, he would not be able to do anything. He would never risk their lives.

Suddenly there came a knock at the door, jarring Solace from her reverie. “Yes?”

The door opened and a guard stepped into the room. “The Baron requires your presence in the Great Hall to break your fast,” he said. He stepped aside and waited for her to approach.

Solace cast one last wistful glance at the freedom the new day taunted her with before closing the shutters and moving past the guard.

The hallways were filled with Barclay’s men, laughing and gambling away their newly stolen coin. As she walked by, groups of men hooted at her, chortling drunkenly. Solace continued on without casting them a glance.

When she entered the Great Hall, she saw Beth sitting to one side of Barclay at a long table. Her dainty fingers held a piece of venison. Solace swallowed hard. Beth glowed. Her cheeks were pink with color; her hair was immaculate; her dress fit her slender figure perfectly, accenting her breasts.

A feeling of doom settled in the pit of Solace’s stomach. What had Barclay promised Beth to make her so radiant?

The guard behind her cleared his throat, drawing Barclay’s attention. A smile stretched across the Baron’s mouth and he stood, inviting Solace forward with an outstretched hand.

Solace’s jaw clenched and she refused to budge, until the guard shoved her forward.

“I’m pleased you could join us,” Barclay cooed, making Solace almost retch. He signaled the empty seat beside him.

The guard escorted Solace to the chair and remained stationed just behind her as she sat.

“Please,” Barclay said, pushing his mug of ale toward her.

Solace did not move.

Barclay sat back in his chair, his eyes perusing her face. “I see you’re not thirsty,” Barclay mused. “Perhaps venison?” He gently offered her some of his meat.

Solace turned away.

“Has the taste of falconers soured your lovely lips?” Barclay inquired.

Solace cast him a surprised glance.

“I assure you the taste of a Baron is far superior,” he mocked.