DeliveredIntoHisHands (9 page)

“Don’t you fucking do it!” he warned but
she was already fleeing down the corridor that led to the kitchens.

She was fast, he thought, as he ran after
her. She knew the castle better than he did and darted into a doorway through
which he’d never ventured. A servant came out of another room at that moment
and Garrick plowed into her—forced to grab the woman before she fell to the
floor. He righted her, mumbled an apology then put her from him. By the time he
shot through the doorway of the room to which his wife had fled, she was nowhere
in sight.

“Antonia!” he bellowed at the top of his
lungs.

The room was a small sitting room with a
bank of four windows and no other doors save the one he’d entered. He whipped
his head side to side and realized there had to be a hidden passageway somewhere
in the room but he had no idea where to begin looking for it.

Putting his hands behind his head, lacing
his fingers together, he roared with fury as he prowled the room.

“What the hell happened?” Marc asked as he
came hurrying into the room.

“She fucking disappeared!” he told his
friend.

“Huh?”

“She came in here and fucking vanished!”
Garrick said. He was sweeping his gaze over every inch of the paneling but
unless he knew the right one to press, he’d not find the lever that opened the
hidden doorway he knew was there.

“In other words she’s hiding from you,”
Marc said. He looked around the room. There were no pictures on the walls
behind which a hidden mechanism might be concealed.

“Precisely!” Garrick replied.

“May I ask why?”

“Clay,” Garrick said. “I was questioning
her about Clay.”

Marc stiffened. “What were you asking her?”

“Nothing to do with the goddess-be-damned
rebels,” Garrick said. “So don’t get your panties in a twist.” He went to a
wall and began pushing against the panels.

“You will be here for hours doing that,”
Marc said. “I’ll find someone to tell us where the trip is.”

“Fuck it, never mind!” Garrick said. He
spun around and pushed past his friend.

“What are you going to do?” Marc called
after him but Garrick didn’t answer.

Antonia wound her way through the hidden
corridors of Castle Blackthorn until she came to the lowest level of the keep.
She knew the winding, twisting passageways like the back of her hand for she’d
played hide and seek in them as a child. The lowest level was a huge place
where her ancestors had hidden when the castle was under siege in medieval
times. It was a self-contained shelter with a dozen or so small sleeping rooms
with four cots each, a large storage room where provisions were maintained even
today, and had its own water supply from an artesian well. There was also a
hidden door leading to a tunnel that ended far out in the forest beyond the
keep. The entrance to the tunnel was hidden inside an underground cave and only
a few inhabitants of Blackthorn knew of its existence.

As did Alyx but she was surprised to see
him sitting at the long harvest table with five men she didn’t know. She came
up short, her heart suddenly pounding. There was only one reason he would be in
the shelter.

He was in hiding.

“Hello, Tonia,” he said with a smile.

“My husband is looking for you,” she said.
She looked at the other men and felt a tremor of unease go through her. They
had flint-hard eyes and hard mouths and the unmistakable stamp of military men.

“Does he know of the shelter?” he asked.

“No.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

She heard movement to her right and when
she turned her head, she saw another man standing in the doorway of one of the
sleeping rooms.

“He believes you were the one who tried to
kill him,” she said, tearing her gaze from the man.

“He’s right,” Alyx admitted. “I did.” When
she opened her mouth to speak, he held up his hand. “That was before I knew he
was your Chosen. For your sake, I’ll leave him be.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked. “What had
he done to you?”

“He is the son of the Modarthan king,” the
man in the doorway answered. “That’s reason enough for us to rid ourselves of
him.”

“And you are?” she asked, her chin up.

“Brigadier General Farris, milady,” the man
replied with a slight bow as he came forward. “I am Gen. Clay’s
second-in-command.”

Antonia snapped her eyes to Alyx. “You are
in charge of the rebel forces?”

“I am,” he answered.

“And you are using this keep as your
meeting place?”

“Are you going to tell him I am here?” he
asked her again.

“You are Volakisian,” Gen. Farris reminded
her. “If you tell the Modarthan of this place, you would be committing
treason.”

Alyx frowned and got up from the table.
“That’s enough, Jasper,” he said. He came over to Antonia and reached for her
hands. “She will keep our secret. Won’t you, dearling?”

She didn’t hesitate. He was her friend and
always would be. “Of course.”

“We will be running men through here so
don’t be surprised to see strange faces about.”

“In the very place where the enemy army has
its headquarters, Alyx?” she asked, horrified at the notion. “Do you not
realize how dangerous that is?”

“As long as the Modarthans do not know we
are here, what better place to run our campaign than right under their noses?”
he inquired.

“Garrick is not a stupid man, Alyx. He
knows there is a secret passageway behind the walls of the keep and—”

“Every keep has secret passageways,
dearling,” Alyx interrupted. “Finding this one is near to impossible as you
well know. Who knows of it other than your parents, your sister—who is away
visiting your aunt in Dialaith—and Arbra?”

“You knew of it,” she reminded him. “And
there are others who played down here with us when we were children.”

“They would never reveal the way into the
shelter,” he said.

“How do you know?” she demanded.

“Because they are with us,” Alyx replied.
“As is any right-minded Volakisian.”

“Oh, Alyx, I fear for you,” she said and
tears formed in her eyes. “You don’t know him. He has men out looking for you.
He won’t rest until he finds you.”

“He won’t,” he said. He lifted her hands to
his mouth and kissed the back of each one. “Don’t worry about me. I will be
fine.”

“He is well protected,” Farris stated.

“Why are you down here, Tonia?” Alyx asked.

She eased her hands from his. “I am hiding
from him.”

“Why?” Alyx snapped, his eyes flaring.

“We had our first argument,” she said. “I
am annoyed with him.”

“He has quite the temper I hear,” Farris
said. “He’s wound entirely too tight.”

“What did you fight about?” Alyx asked.
“Did he threaten you?”

“No!” she said, shaking her head. “It was
nothing. Really. Just a slight disagreement.”

“That had you running down here to hide?”
Alyx said.

“I’m thinking the argument was over you,
milord,” Farris said with a grin. When Antonia looked away from them, he
nodded. “Aye, that is exactly what it was about.”

“Jealous of him,” one of the men at the
table said. “Might could use that to our advantage.”

“Make him think something is going on,”
another man put in.

“I’ll do no such thing!” Antonia said,
shooting the men pointed looks.

“Don’t be gone too long, Tonia,” Alyx said.
“You don’t want him to come looking for you and he will.”

“Aye, best you be getting back topside,”
Farris said. He folded his arms over a broad chest. “And keeping that pretty
mouth of yours shut about us being here.”

Antonia stiffened. She turned an arched
brow to Alyx.

“Jasper is right, love. The longer you
tarry here, the angrier he will get,” Alyx warned. “He’s probably stalking the
keep like the beast he is.”

“You’ll be careful?” she asked, searching
his eyes. “I will worry about you.”

“I will be just fine,” he said. He took her
arm to escort her to the shelter’s entrance. “Try not to worry and don’t come
down here again. We’ll be running men through here and we can’t afford to have
you followed.”

“Does Papa know what you’re doing?” she
asked.

“Aye, but it would be best if you not
discuss this with him or your mother. You can be sure there are spies all over
Castle Blackthorn by now,” he answered.

* * * * *

By the time his wife reappeared just after
midnight Garrick had worked himself into a fine fit. His yells had sent
servants and soldiers scurrying to get away from him. He downed an entire
bottle of scotch and was working on a second. Luckily liquor did not intoxicate
him but the more he drank, the mellower he usually got.

Not so tonight. Tonight he was angrier than
he could ever remember being.

“Where the hell have you been?” he shouted
as soon as he saw her walking toward him.

“Don’t raise your voice to me,” she said.

“Raising my voice is the least of your
worries, wench. I should turn you over my knee!”

“Do so and it will be the last time you
do,” she warned. “You swore before goddess and man that you would never lay a
hand to me. If you do, that is grounds for setting aside the Joining. Trust me
when I tell you I will see it done with alacrity.”

Garrick blinked. Where the hell had that
come from?

“And if you yell at me again, I will not
speak to you for a week.”

“Speak to…” He clenched his fists and dug
his fingernails into his palms. “Wench, you are trying my patience.”

“As you tried mine.” She put her hands on
her hips and faced him squarely. “Now leave it be or sleep elsewhere come
morn.”

Irrational anger prodded Garrick. This was
his woman standing before him, issuing a challenge he dared not let pass if he was
to have the upper hand—as a man should—in their marriage. If he gave in to her,
backed down, she would soon lose respect for him. She had to be shown that he
wore the pants in their household.

“You don’t want to sleep with me?” he
asked. “Fine. Go back to the bedroom you had as a child. It suits you better
since you are being childish.”

Antonia’s slow smile should have warned him
but he was too annoyed to recognize it wasn’t so much a smile as a smirk.

“So be it,” she said. “You snore anyway.”

That said, she pivoted on her heel and
started to leave. She didn’t get far for he snaked out a hand, grabbed her arm
to pull her back.

“Fuck that!” he snarled as he snapped her
against his chest. “I’m not letting you out of my sight!”

She clenched her teeth and hissed like an
angry cat, struggling to break loose but he tightened his arms around her.

“Oh, no you didn’t!” he said, eyes wide.
“You did not just spit at me, wench.”

What she wanted to do was rake her nails
down his arms so he would release his tight hold on her but a voice in her head
told her if she drew blood, she might not like his response.

“Brute,” she called him.

“Spoiled brat.”

“Arrogant bastard!”

“Aye, that’s me!” he said and dipped his
knees. Before she knew what he was about, he had her in a fireman’s carry and
was stomping through the great hall to the curving staircase.

“Put me down!” she demanded, beating at his
ass with her fists as hard as she could.

“Not to worry, wench. I won’t drop you ’til
we get to the bed,” he said with a laugh.

If there was one thing Garrick had learned
over his twenty-seven years that was how to treat an enraged female. He’d had
plenty of practice with lovers who had taken exception to his own personal
brand of arrogance. A quick but intense roll in the hay usually solved any
problem he might have with an irate woman. He saw no reason his wife would be
an exception.

“Vampire, put me down!” she ordered at the
top of her lungs.

“Shush before you wake the household,
wench,” he said and swatted her casually on her upturned rump. The hiss he got
for that little show of manly discipline made him laugh.

Her head hanging and arms pummeling him for
all she was worth, she tried to scramble off his shoulder but he had an arm
firmly around her legs, holding her easily. When they reached his room, he
didn’t bother opening the door. He simply lifted his foot and kicked it open.

“You are insane!” she accused. She had
heard the lintel crack and knew her mother was going to be furious.

“Nay, wench,” he replied, kicking the door
shut behind them as though it were an afterthought. “All this foreplay has me
hard as petrified wood.”

Antonia snarled. “Foreplay?
Foreplay
?”

“I can’t beat you—don’t want to anyway—so
the only way I can apply the rod of discipline is in bed,” he told her.

“What?” she asked, suddenly fearful. “What
rod?”

He carried her through the sitting room and
into their bedroom. Putting his free hand to her back, he tossed her to the bed
and came down atop her in one smooth move. He hiked up her skirt, forced her
legs apart with his knees and pinned her arms above her head.

“This rod,” he answered, grinding his
steely erection against her heat.

“Don’t you dare think for one moment I am
going to allow you to—”

He lowered his head and took her mouth with
a brutal kiss that stole away her breath and made her toes curl in her
slippers. Fire spread through her lower body and her juices began to flow
between her legs. The delicious weight of his muscular body had her pressed
firmly to the bed. He was writhing atop her in such a way unadulterated hunger
pushed aside any anger she had been feeling. Before she knew what she was
doing, she was offering her hips to him.

“Umm,” he said against her mouth. She
parted her lips to take his tongue between them.

One tiny little imp of outrage still clung
tenaciously to her temper and whispered wickedly for her to bite him. The saner
part of her mind warned that was not a good idea. Instead, she sucked hard on
his tongue—trapping it. His lusty growl made the hairs stand up on her arms.