The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) (27 page)

“Waverly, this is Beatrice, she will get you something to eat and take good care of you,” Keri said handing her daughter to the older woman.

As soon as the pair disappeared into the house Keri turned and started for the stables.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Damien asked from his saddle as he moved Phantom into her path.

“I’m going to find my son and father.”

“You don’t understand,” Damien began and moved the horse to block her path again as she started around.

“It’s you who does not seem to understand,” she spat at him as she put her hand up to grab the horse’s bridle. 

Expertly Damien moved him from her reach, quieting him so he did not take her down with his giant hooves as he felt his rider prepare for battle.

“My son is out there, along with my father, and I will find them.”

Keri made it passed the horse but Damien’s viselike grip took her by the arm and pulled her to a stop.  She looked at this man beginning at his head all the way down to the two seemingly giant feet planted firmly on the soil.  She found she had no plan, and had no idea why her family would be hunted now that Liam was dead. 

“Who did this?” she asked quietly. 

Damien did not release her but eased his grip.  “It is Crispen trying to get Kennet’s title for Prince John and the wealth it can provide for his cause.”

Keri was clutching his arm when his voice grew hard.  “The king saved your life when he arranged your new marriage.”

“You know of that?” she asked still clutching at him.  Of course he knew.  He was standing before her wasn’t he?

“You have to stay with Waverly.  She also stands in Crispen‘s way.”

“She’ll be fine.  You’ll need my help.”

Irrationally she tried to free herself from him.  He let her go and followed her into the dim stable, slamming the door in an old man’s face before nearly tackling her as he shoved her against the wall so forcefully the horse inside the stall on the other side snorted nervously. 

“You are staying here with your daughter,” he said his body pinning her to the boards at her back and one hand came up to grip her chin and jaw making her completely immobile.  “No one will look after her and protect her like you can,” his gaze should have warned her, but she wasn’t sure if she had wanted a warning.  His lips crashed down hard against hers with a hunger she understood and until that moment had been unaware of its intensity within herself.  Her arms stroked up his massive arms, across his broad shoulders to wrap her about his neck and locked his head close to hers with her hands on the back of it.  A satisfied groan escaped him as he hefted her upward, inviting her to settle her legs around his waist.  She accepted and locked herself there freeing his hands to roam over her, making her melt against him. 

Her mind was surprised to feel his manhood press against her an instant before he entered her.  She had been unaware the act could be accomplished in this way or she knew she would have made it happen sooner.  She threw her head back, stifling the gasp at the sensation that flooded her, turned her into water somehow retaining its form yet flowing, floating.  Again and again he drove into her, his mouth buried against her shoulder, the sounds of his pleasure muffled there.  Her release was quick and violent and she was only vaguely aware he filled her with his seed as she convulsed around him.  She clung to him panting finding a peace she could never recall having wash over her to feel his arms wrapped around her as if he would never release her.

“I promise I will bring your son back.”  She shuddered at the vehemence of his words.  He slid her to her feet and the loss of his warmth tore through her like a knife.

She nodded as she stared at this man wondering if she would ever feel his warmth and strength again.  “I can’t do that and worry about you.  Promise me you will stay here with Waverly.”

She only stared at him, his eyes more green, the passion sated and were intently upon her.  Would she ever see them as she saw them just a moment ago, soft with a fire that threatened to burn her?  She wanted so badly to wrap herself back into his arms and forget about the world.

He shook her, snapping her out of her lethargy.  “Promise me,” he demanded but she heard the plea behind it.

Slowly she nodded her head and then he was gone, the door banging closed behind him.  He had paused in it, seemingly half in half out of her life and began to say something before a frown creased his brow and he turned away.  She sank to the ground and prayed to God to protect them all.

Chapter 20

To find his prey Damien had to figure out where he would have taken Charles.  If he didn’t have Kennet he likely would keep Charles alive.  This meant the man couldn’t be far.  That made the task of ferreting him out a little easier Damien kept telling himself.  For days men came and went from Bewcastle, each looking for places Crispen could hide as well as a very frightened eight year old boy.

On the fourth day Damien learned Crispen had an elderly and distant relative at the keep in Dilston.  With the distance both in travel and family relation it was a long shot.  The man would not likely be hiding there but with no further clues to go on Damien and a handful of his men rode to Dilston.

There were no guards at the gate or on the walls.  By the looks of the keep there was nothing to protect.  The one lone tower had long ago begun to crumble and was obviously no longer used for it appeared dangerous to do so with its leaning walls.  The few huts had long since fallen in from lack of use and repair.  The main structure seemed to have undergone only the necessary repairs in the last several years to keep the weather out.

Damien and Garrick went to the door where Damien beat loudly with his fist against the locked door.  As he stared at the old wood he was filled with desire and longing as so many things in his life now reminded him of Keri.  He was in turmoil, he felt like he was just giving Keri to another man.  The important thing he kept reminding himself was that she lived.  He had wanted to tell her to have a good life, but that was so final.  He wanted to tell her he would see her again but how could he possibly see her and not risk shoving her against the wall and claiming her as his woman.

The sound of the bar sliding on the door on the other side made Damien jump to alertness as the door opened a crack.

“I’m Sir Damien Le For…” he was unable to complete his last name when the old man interrupted.

“I don’t care who you are.  What do you want?”

“We’re looking for Crispen.”

“That name sounds familiar,” the man replied thoughtfully but making no move to open the door any wider.

“He is the nephew of your grandson’s wife.”

“Why the hell would he be here?” the old man asked indignantly.

“You are his only relative anywhere near Bewcastle.”

“I’m not near Bewcastle,” the man said flinging the door wide, apparently the only invitation the old man was going to offer before stomping down the narrow corridor. Damien and Garrick followed with the nightmare of the last run down keep they had gone into heavy on their minds.  They never spoke of that time among themselves or anyone else, and they probably never would. 

The hall was anything but grand.  A small fire crackled in the one crumbling hearth, a small table and a bed sat near it.  The walls even on the inside were crumbling as bad as on the outside and the corridor leading from the hall which must lead to the tower was closed off by the debris from the ceiling and walls.

“You live alone?” Garrick asked.

“What does it look like?” the man demanded.  “You some kind of idiot?”

“Has anyone been here the last few days?” Damien asked his patience had left him long ago, even when dealing with insane old men. 

“There has been,” the white haired man said stroking his beard thoughtfully.  “I don’t know when but I heard a lot of noise and some men on horses were riding around, snooping about.  I told them to leave and they did.”

“That was the only time you saw anyone?  Have you gone anywhere?”

“I never leave this hall.  I have chosen to die here so here I stay and no one is going to get me out of here.”

“I don’t want you to leave your home,” Damien assured the old man.  Lord Alcott he remembered finding it difficult to place this man with any title.  What happened that he ended up in such a hopeless condition, just waiting to die?  “How do you eat?”

“Burne brings me food from time to time to get me through.”

Damien was quiet for a moment as he thought about what the old man was saying.  “Thank you for your time,” Damien said turning to leave.

The old man nodded dismissing them as he went to the hearth.  Damien and Garrick turned and went back out into the sunshine.  The fresh air Damien breathed in filled his lungs and he hoped he would not be like that man shut away and alone when he was older.  Of course he wouldn’t be, he chided himself.  He would have to have a home first to shut himself up in.

“Now what?” Cyrille asked joining him.

“I don’t know,” Damien replied scanning the area.  One of the horses with them whinnied and an answer came from the stable.  Garrick looked sharply at him and had formed the same question Damien had.  Why would a man who had shut himself away to die have horses in his stable?  Together they walked in its direction, skirting the debris that had crumbled from the structure and partially blocked the entrance.  As soon as they stepped into the gloom the nickers of two horses greeted them.  There were three all together, recently tended.

Other than the horses the stable was empty which left the tower.  A more thorough search of the outside revealed what they had not seen before, room to get around the debris and enter through a piece of the missing wall.

Drawing their swords they entered slowly and quietly allowing their eyes time to adjust to the dimness of the interior.  Their only choice was up, all the way up to the chamber at the top of the stairs.  They heard the voices before reaching the top, two men conversing in low tones.  Damien couldn’t make out what they were saying but it did not matter.  Whether it was the men they hunted or others, they were not welcome here.

“We want them alive.”

Moving quickly they ran on the balls of their feet the last few steps turning the final corner and rushing the entrance.  The door was long gone if it ever existed.  Two men leapt from their chairs, a third from the pallet on the floor.  A fourth man, a very beaten Charles, lay in the corner and was the last thing Damien had to see of his surroundings to know these were the men they wanted.  The first man came at him with a raised dagger.  Damien easily sidestepped it and with his fist punched the man in the nose.   Hearing the bone pop he wasted no time bringing the hilt of his sword down onto the back of the man’s head leaving him to crumple to the floor. 

The man who fought with Cyrille was fighting too earnestly to be left alive, Damien realized as he drove his sword through his midsection before he had a chance to hurt his brother.  Garrick had his man held at sword point from the beginning, his humorless grin far more menacing than the blade.

“Where is Crispen?” Damien demanded grabbing the third man, who was quite small in height and build, by his tunic and hauling him up off his feet to be left dangling by his fists. 

Without a word the man pointed to the prone figure on the ground.  Damien nodded with satisfaction and went to Charles slumped in the corner.  It was hard to tell but he was conscious, one eye swollen completely shut, the other nearly so. 

“How are you Charles?” Damien asked crouching beside him.

“Did you find the children?” The words were slurred and spoken in a low tone due to the swelling in his jaw so Damien had to listen carefully to catch the words.

“Waverly is with Keri.  We haven’t found Kennet yet.  Do you know where he went?”

Charles shook his head slightly to indicate he had not.

“There are still men looking,” Charles said.  “They should be back tonight.”

Damien nodded and together he and Cyrille moved him to the hall where they had Lord Alcott tend to his wounds, while they waited for the rest of Crispen’s men to return.   The old man grumbled as if he wasn’t happy about the intrusion but made no refusals.

~   ~   ~   ~

Keri picked up another lock of Waverly’s darkening hair and began to weave another flower into it.  It seemed as if time had stood still since Damien had brought Waverly to her.  Day after day there was no word as to the fate of her son and father.  Had they been found or were they dead?  Were they all dead?  What if she never knew their fates?

“Momma,” Waverly’s tiny voice brought her from the dark thoughts that plagued her.

“Yes sweetheart,” she said careful to not allow her to hear her thoughts in her voice.  Waverly had an ability to sense the good and bad in people.  She heard things in their voices others could not detect. 

“Do you think Cyrille will come back?”  Waverly twisted around to look up at her, the lock of hair sliding from her fingers.

Keri wished she wasn’t looking at her.  How could she tell her daughter she did not know if the man would be back?  She knew if she lied Waverly would see and there was nothing she could do to change that.

“I don’t know.”

Waverly nodded, turned back around.  “He’ll be back.  He’ll come with his brother who will come see you.”

Keri was speechless and she felt foolish that her heart would soar at such words from a six year old. 

“Do you think they’ll find Kennet?”

“If you believe Cyrille will be back then I believe they will only be back if they find Kennet,” she said with all sincerity. 

“I’m glad,” the girl said with the happiness of naivety in her voice. 

How did that conversation alleviate her fears?  She looked down at the top of her daughter’s head.  Wouldn’t she make a man a fine wife one day?  She would be a good woman to herself first, Keri vowed.  She would know who she was and never have to fight for the right to be herself.  If her husband was not kind to her Keri vowed she would do everything that was possible to free her.  Whatever it took she promised the head in front of her silently.

“Who’s that?” Waverly asked pointing to the procession just coming into view on the road.

“I don’t know?” Keri replied climbing to her feet.  “Let’s go find out,” she said holding her hand out to her daughter. 

They were attired in less dirt and grass stained clothing by the time they stepped onto the front steps to greet the first rider who entered the courtyard.

“Cyrille,” Waverly gasped.

Keri couldn’t help the jolt of all her hopes that made her hand clamp tightly onto Waverly’s hand.  The second horse came around the corner of the gate, bearing Kennet and she dropped her daughter’s hand as her legs came to life and she ran to her son.  She did not hear his objections as she jerked him from the saddle, hugging him tightly to her.

“A knight doesn’t get hugged by his momma when he comes back from battle,” Kennet declared indignantly as soon as Keri sat him on his feet.  His words died as he looked around himself.  “Is this to be our new home?” he asked.

“It is,” Keri replied and she watched him nod and saunter toward the front door in the direction Waverly had already dragged Cyrille.

Her eyes immediately scanned the other riders.  “He had prisoners to take to the king,” Garrick informed her knowing who she searched for.

“What of my father?” she asked her hands shaking realizing he was not among the riders.

“He is safely at home.”

“And the men who threatened my children?”

“Are the men who must answer to the king?”

Keri nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.  Why was it so hard not to cry?  She was glad Damien was taking them to answer for what they had done, and tried to do.  She felt a chill slide down her spine knowing the rest of their short lives would be spent in torture.  She cast a grim smile Garrick’s way before walking a step away.  “Come inside, we have food for everyone.”

Garrick followed her inside and settled on a bench beside her.

“I’m assuming by his lack of presence your husband has not arrived yet,” Garrick said after a couple swallows of ale.  “Unless you’ve already killed him.”

Keri spared a glance for the man next to her.  Despite his humor, there was no indication of it on his stoic face.  “He has not arrived.”

“Damien has bid us to look to your protection until he does.  Also, he has sent you a Lord Alcott to see to,” he said motioning to the old man Keri had noticed because he had argued with her stable master when he first arrived.  Now he stood arguing with Beatrice about one matter or another.  “Just don’t let him know it is you who is looking after him.”

“How did he come by the Lord?” Keri asked, something about his tone and the way he was clearly exasperating Beatrice amused her.

“He saved your father’s life.  Unfortunately his home was leveled by a collapse of his tower.”

“Was anyone hurt?” she asked picturing a number of people being squashed by a collapsing tower.

“No, only he and your father were inside.  He got your father out.”

The conversation lagged for a moment.  “Is Damien well?” Keri finally gathered enough courage to ask him.

Garrick remained silent until she looked his way.  After a moment he nodded and told her he had received no injuries.

~   ~   ~   ~

She came upon them by the small creek that fed water to the manor and provided solitude even the hill overlooking the road did not, because no one ever looked for her there.  She heard the voice of Waverly first and immediately fear tightened her chest for the child should not be away from the house alone.  As she moved closer she heard a grunt and then Waverly’s angelic voice chimed in again.