DeliveredIntoHisHands (14 page)

She eased him from her mouth, his hands
fell away, and then felt that soft barb rake across the roof of her mouth. She
had to see it and looked down. It wasn’t there long—a pale pink backward facing
spine—then it sank down behind the gleaming corona.

“Why?” she asked.

“Huh?”

He probably wasn’t in the mood—or in any
condition—to explain his Panthera anatomy but she wanted to know the purpose of
the soft barb and asked.

“Oh,” he said, striving to breathe normally
and talk though his chest was rapidly expanding and deflating and his upper
body was drenched in sweat. “In other species of cats, the barbs cause the
female pain and the pain triggers ovulation. In my species it causes intense
pleasure and draws the expended seed deeper into the female’s body to…” He
shrugged. “Impregnate them.”

Antonia’s lips parted. “Impregnate?”

“Well, not every time, obviously, but
that’s the purpose the barbs serve.”

“Impregnate,” she stated flatly. Why the
thought that she could get pregnant never occurred to her became a stunning
revelation.

“I can’t impregnate you, Tonia,” he said
then looked away.

“Why not?” she asked.

“I take a drug to prevent it.”

She put her hands on his thighs. “You don’t
want children?”

“Aye, I do,” he was quick to say. “But not
just yet and especially not during war.”

“True,” she said.

“And you?” he asked. “Do you want my
children?”

She smiled at him. “Very much. Lots of
them. An entire litter.”

He laughed. “I don’t know about a litter,”
he said. “Two or three would be nice.”

“I like round numbers,” she replied. “Let’s
make it four.”

“Ah, not at the same time,” he replied as
she pushed him flat on his back then straddled his lap.

* * * * *

Alyxdair Clay lay on his belly looking at
the cave entrance through a pair of high-powered binoculars. They were old-fashioned
but they worked better than the laser site pair in his knapsack.

“They’ve sealed the tunnel,” he told the
man beside him. “And they’ve booby trapped it.”

“So there’s no way in?” Jamie McFarren
asked.

“Only through the postern gate but if they
found the shelter and closed up the tunnel you can bet they know about the
passageways,” Alyx said. “Fucking bastards.”

“So what do we do? All our maps and
diagrams, Modarthan troop positions…”

“Which they no doubt now have in their
possession,” Alyx interrupted. “I need to get in there and retrieve all the
shit they confiscated.”

“How will you do that, General?” Jamie
asked.

“The baron will help me. I just need to get
to him,” Alyx replied. He lowered the binoculars and gave Jamie a steady look.
“I need you to deliver a message to him.”

Jamie nodded. He had been the stable master
at Castle Blackthorn for over twelve years—having inherited the position from
his father. The McFarren men had been in charge of the baronial stables for
four generations.

“Tell him to meet me at the Rose and Thorn
Tavern tomorrow at noon. Ride with him and keep an eye out for Warwyck’s men,”
Alyx told him. “Might be best if the baron made it known he is heading into
Colton to see his solicitors or such so he has a legitimate reason for leaving
Blackthorn.”

“I will tell him, General,” Jamie replied.
“Anything else you need me to do in the meantime?”

Alyx looked away. “How is Antonia holding
up being shackled to the Modarthan?”

“As best I can tell she’s happy enough,
Sir, although…”

The rebel general turned back to Jamie.
“Although what?”

“He had her locked up in their quarters for
nigh on a week. Word has it she done something that set him off.”

“Did he hurt her?” Alyx demanded, a muscle
ticking in his jaw.

“I don’t believe so, Sir. Didn’t look like
it when she came out to check on Raven yesterday.”

A gentle smile shifted over Alyx’s face.
Raven was Antonia’s horse and she dearly loved the animal, which meant a lot to
him. Alyx had gifted the horse to her from the Clay stables on Antonia’s
twenty-first birthday. He had helped train the little beastie himself.

“She misses riding her every day but he
won’t let her,” Jamie said with a snort. “Says it ain’t safe.”

“He can’t go out in the Sun is what’s not
safe,” Alyx said. “If things had gone as I’d planned, the Sun would have taken
care of Garrick Warwyck months ago.”

“At least he ain’t put her through the
Changing,” Jamie said. “You should be glad of that.”

“Aye,” Alyx said. “But you can bet he
forces himself on her and that’s bad enough. Sooner or later he’ll get her with
child unless I find a way to take him out of her life for good. The thought of
a slimy vampire child growing inside my woman…” He sprang up from the ground
and headed for his horse. “Get the baron to the Rose and Thorn!”

* * * * *

Over the months since her marriage, Antonia
had tried to acclimate her sleep patterns to her husband’s but sleeping the day
away was unproductive to her. So they had compromised. She stayed up with him
until three of the clock then went to their bed. He joined her as the first
rays of dawn light spread their fingers over the horizon. Enfolding her in his
arms, he would sleep with her spooned against him until she left their bed
sometime near the noon hour. When he rose at sundown, she was there beside him
in the bed again though sleeping was the last thing on either of their minds.

Waking earlier than normal and not wanting
to toss and turn and wake Garrick, she left their bed at nine of the clock and
went downstairs to break her fast. She found her father ordering a servant to
have his horse saddled and ready for use within the hour.

“Where are you going so early, Papa?” she
asked.

“To Colton for the day,” he answered. “I’ve
business with Marshon.”

“Want some company?”

Her father hesitated then shook his head.
“He would not like it, Tonia.”

“He is sleeping and I’m getting cabin fever
being cooped up in Blackthorn day in and day out.” She smiled. “I won’t tell
him if you won’t.”

“I’m not sure…”

“Papa, please. I’ll be with you and we’ll
take my guards. Please?”

The baron loved both his daughters dearly
but Antonia was his favorite. She was more like him than her mother and he had
always enjoyed her company. The chit had a devilish sense of humor, a keen mind
and their conversations ranged from the silly to the sublime.

“I may find myself on the receiving end of
the vampire’s wrath but of course you can go,” he said. He swept his gaze down
her. “Not dressed like that, though.”

“I won’t be a minute!” she said as she
turned to the stairs.

“We’ll get the noon meal at the Rose and
Thorn,” he told her, knowing how much she liked the tavern fare.

“Better yet!” she said.

As he watched his daughter scurrying up the
stairs a plan began to form in Blackthorn’s mind.

He hated his son-in-law nonetheless he had
a grudging respect for the man. Though his lady-wife had insisted upon the
Joining, the baron had hated the idea. He saw the advantages she pointed out to
him but the mere thought of his beloved Antonia being chained to the vampire
set his teeth on edge. That she seemed happy with the demon raked at his very
soul.

“Carter!” he said, catching the eye of a
servant. “Have Lady Antonia’s mount saddled. She will be coming with me this
morn. And send Arbra in. Tell him it is urgent I speak with him.”

“Aye, Your Grace,” the servant replied.

He knew the Modarthan bodyguards Warwyck
had assigned to Antonia would be accompanying them to Colton. There was no
getting around that. But if all went as he hoped, they would not pose a
problem.

As he waited for his daughter to join him,
he paced the foyer with an eye glued to the clock. It was a two-hour ride to
the tavern and he wanted to be there ahead of schedule. When his
Sargent-at-Arms appeared, he took Arbra aside.

“Get word to Gen. Clay that Antonia will be
with me today. Tell him to have a contingent of his men ready to waylay us when
we leave the tavern.”

Arbra frowned. “Waylay you, Your Grace?” he
questioned. “May I ask why?”

“To kidnap my daughter,” the baron said.
“What better way to draw Warwyck from Blackthorn? As soon as the sun sets, he
will be after her. With any luck at all, the general will be able to capture
the vampire. We will keep him prisoner until his father recalls the Modarthan
troops and they leave our world.”

“Are you sure about this, Your Grace?” Arbra
asked. “It seems a risky venture. Begging your pardon but the general wants the
vamp dead. Keeping him alive is not high on his agenda.”

“I can control the general,” the baron
said. “Just do what I tell you and hopefully within the week, Volakis will be
free of foreign rule!”

* * * * *

Marc shook Garrick hard, yelling at him to
wake. When his friend’s eyes snapped open but started to close again, Marc
shook him harder still.

“Damn it, wake up!”

The urgency in Marc’s voice finally
penetrated the fog blanketing Garrick’s mind and he sat up, shaking off the
grip on his arm. “What?” he snarled.

“She’s been taken,” Marc told him.

Still numb from his deep sleep, wasn’t
making the connection. “Who?”

“Your woman!” Marc shouted. “The rebels
have your woman!”

That got his full attention and blew away
the fog. He threw back the covers and shot from the bed, reaching for his
pants. “When?”

“She left the keep around ten this morn,”
Marc said and when Garrick turned on him, he held up a hand. “I was abed same
as you!”

“Why the hell did she leave this keep and
who the fuck allowed her to go?”

“She went with her father and her guard
went with her,” Marc said. “Lieutenant McAvoy was in charge of today’s detail
and sent good, reliable men with her.”

“Who gave him permission to allow her to go
anywhere?” Garrick bellowed as he snatched up his shirt and rammed an arm into
the sleeve.

“He said the baron told him he had your
permission,” Marc told him. “McAvoy had no reason to disbelieve him.”

“I’ll have McAvoy’s guts for garters!”
Garrick snarled as he left his shirt unbuttoned and went for his boots, jerking
them on with brutal snaps. “What time is it now?”

“A little after five,” Marc replied.

Garrick stilled. “She’s been gone seven
hours and you’re just now alerting me?”

“I was abed,” Marc reminded him. “Oran was
abed. Neither of us knew of it until we rose. McAvoy came to me because he was
concerned the baron and your lady had yet to return. It’s a two-hour ride to
Colton and two back. If he went there on business that could last an hour,
maybe two. They would have stopped for the noon meal. She might have asked to
go shopping. Who the hell knows what a woman might do? At any rate, that would
account for the seven hours. As I was coming up to wake you, the baron rode in
with news of your lady’s kidnapping.”

“Where is the baron now?”

“In his study. He appears shaken but I’m
not buying it. I see no real concern for the Lady Antonia’s safety lurking in
his eyes. If anything there is smugness there. He knows who took her and might
have been a party to the abduction.”

“I know who has her the same as you do!”
Garrick snarled. “And aye, he had a hand in it. He fucking turned her over to
Clay!”

“That would be my guess,” Marc agreed.

“I’ll make the bastard sorry he handed my
woman over to that rebel scum. Arrest him and every man who went with him to
Colton and lock their asses in the dungeon. I’ll deal with him later. Have my
horse saddled and brought around.”

“How many men are we going to need?” Marc
asked, falling into step beside his friend as Garrick headed for the door.

“Get me the best twenty men we have. I also
want search parties out looking for her.”

“I’ve already seen to that,” Marc said as
he opened the door for Garrick.

“And no one is to enter or leave this keep
until further notice. Is that understood?”

“Aye,” Marc agreed.

“Make life here as bad as possible for
them. I’ll teach the Blackthorns not to fuck with me!”

Stomping down the stairs like an angry
bull, Garrick caught sight of the Lady Maripose standing in the doorway of the
solar. She opened her mouth to speak to him but he ignored her.

“Arrest her ass too,” he snapped.

“Consider it done,” Marc acknowledged.

Riding out into the frigid night air twenty
minutes later, Garrick was so enraged he could barely draw breath. His hands
were tight on the reins and his mount had learned early on in the venture not
to sidestep, balk or throw its hooves. The man on its back was in no mood for
rebellion.

Using their excellent night vision, Garrick
and Marc surveyed the ground between the keep and the tavern. They woke the
proprietor and interrogated him, his wife and servants until each of them was
in tears. What he learned angered Garrick even more.

“He was waiting here for them?” he growled
at the tavern owner.

“Aye, m-milord!” the man stammered. He was
being held by the lapels of his bathrobe and his feet were a good foot off the
sticky plank floor.

“And did my lady seem surprised to see
him?”

“She l-looked fr-frightened at f-first then
p-pleased!” the man replied, his teeth chattering.

“Pleased?” Garrick yelled. He shook the man
hard enough to make the poor man’s head wobble on his neck. “Define pleased!”

“She em-embraced him and k-kissed him,
m-milord!” was the squeaky answer.

Marc reached out to put a restraining hand
on Garrick’s shoulder for he feared his friend would toss the tavern owner
across the room.

“Calm down,” Marc advised.