Leigh, Tamara (27 page)

Juliana looked from the maid on her pallet to the flickering torch beside the door. Dared she risk it? Though she was not prepared to leave this night, she must know what lay beyond the tapestry—if, indeed, the passageway presented a means of escape. She had meant to venture into it this afternoon, and would have if the stone had not proved difficult to remove. By the time she worked it free, her two hours of nap time were nearly spent.

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. If she explored the passageway this night, tomorrow afternoon could be spent surmounting any difficulties in her path. Of course, were she presented with another locked door, it could take months to get through, but she would not think about that.

Quietly, so as not to awaken Lissant—who luckily slept like the dead—she donned her mantle over her thin chemise and pushed her feet into slippers. Then she retrieved the torch and slipped behind the tapestry. Careful to keep the flame from catching the wall hanging, she put her hand to the door. Without so much as a squeak—owing to the hog fat she'd applied to the hinges—it opened inward. A cool draft lifted the hem of her mantle, breathed its chill upon her scantily clad limbs, and caused the torch flame to jump and glow more brightly. Shivering, she stepped through the doorway.

The torchlight illuminated narrow, rough-hewn walls, stairs that wended downward into darkness, silken threads of cobwebs upon cobwebs, and the glowing eyes of a rodent.

Juliana swallowed. It was a long time since the passageway had been used. However, as much as she dreaded her foray into its depths, especially considering her advanced pregnancy, she must brave it or resign herself to her fate. She pulled the hood of her mantle over her head, squared her shoulders, and eased the door closed behind her.

Supporting herself with a hand to the wall, she tested each step before putting her weight on it. The going was slow, but there was no way to hasten her journey without endangering herself and the babe. As she descended the winding stairway, she used the torch to sweep aside cobwebs, did her best to ignore the rodents that scurried left and right, and checked her progress each time her foot sent rubble skittering. Did any hear? Nay, the walls were too thick.

There were several twists and turns off the stairs, no doubt leading to other rooms in the donjon, but she was interested only in what lay at the bottom.

At last, she stepped onto level ground. In the dim light cast by her torch, the flame of which grew ever weaker, she peered at the shaft stretching before her. Where did it lead? To the gardens? To the rear of the donjon? Perhaps underground to an outlet beyond the castle walls? If the latter, her escape would be tenfold easier.

More quickly, she traversed the shaft. It ran straight for a time, turned right, spanned another straight course, turned again, and, at half the distance of the previous stretch, ended. A low door set in the wall drew her forward. She knelt beside it. No lock. All she needed to do was lift the bar and she'd be free of the donjon. She sighed. Though her hope of an underground passage was not to be realized, her prayers were answered. By this time tomorrow eve she would be gone from Mergot. Of course, she must make it past the walls, but it should be fairly easy. Villagers and workers came and went at the castle. Though scrutinized before allowed entrance, little attention was paid them upon departure. She would hide in her mantle and slip amongst a group of them.

Juliana pressed a hand to her belly, allowing herself a moment of the joy that she'd denied herself these past months. "Soon you will be safe, little one. Abide a bit longer."

As she straightened, something scampered over the back of the hand in which she held the torch. She cried out, jerking back. The creature took flight along with the torch. The latter struck the wall behind, fell to the dirt floor, sputtered, and rolled away. She scrambled after it, but had barely reclaimed it when its struggling flame lost the battle. With the glowing tip lighting little beyond her hands and face, she attempted to fan the flame back to life. To no avail.

She looked about her. It was as dark as pitch, not a sliver of light to return her to her chamber. But she knew the way. She knew the distance covered and the number of turns. Daunting as her return journey would be through this place of darkness, cobwebs, and creatures, she would make it.

The torch being of no more use to her, she left it. A hand to the wall, reaching the other out before her, she started back. Unfortunately, the sounds that she'd earlier done her best to ignore would no longer be quieted: scuttling, squeaks, the distant trickle of water, an intermittent creak and groan. And they grew louder as she neared the stairs.

Heart pounding, she reached a foot forward, found the first step, and put a palm on either side of the wall. A cobweb brushed her face. She shuddered and swatted it away, then began her climb.

Finally she reached the landing before her chamber. With a sigh, she stepped forward and searched a hand down the door. She pulled the handle. The door remained solid. She tried again. It was as if it were locked. It could not be. Unless...

She felt for the hole from which she'd removed the stone. The stone was in place, which could only mean this was not her chamber. She dropped her arms to her sides. She had turned wrong, but where? She'd kept to the stairs, had not taken any of the turns off of them just as when she'd first traversed them. Or perhaps she had.

Calm, she counseled. It was only a matter of returning to the bottom and beginning anew. Over the next hour, time and again she descended and ascended in search of her chamber, but the door she came before was always locked. And she was not certain it was the same one each time.

Once more at the bottom, she eased herself down upon the last step and huddled into her mantle. She was weary and cold, feet sore and palms grazed by the rough stone walls, and so very frustrated it would not take much for her to cry. She was not giving up, though. She just needed a moment to rest and think on how she was going to get out of here before the morn rose upon her empty bed.

What if she went through the barred door into the bailey? Nay. If she managed to slip past the guards, never would she make it into the hall unnoticed. She clasped her stiff hands before her face, breathing warmth upon them. Could there be other outlets into this passageway? She stilled. Though she did not recall passing any, that must be it. She had chosen the wrong one.

She stood, then turned right off the stairs and felt her hand over the wall. Naught. She must go back the way she had come. Shortly, her hand rounded a corner. It had to be the stairway she had numerous times searched. She continued on and, a few moments later, found the entrance to another.

"Pray, let this be the one." At that moment, wanting nothing more than her bed, she began her ascent. Shortly, she stepped onto the landing, found the handle, and pulled. With a soft click and a dissenting creak, the door yielded to the dark of her chamber.

Juliana hesitated, listening for Lissant's awakening. All was still.

She released her breath, stepped inside, and drew the door closed. It groaned softly on its hinges, but again she detected no movement in the chamber. She seated the door. Another faint click. And it was that which gave her pause.

The click... the creak... the groan... Due to the absence of the stone and her application of fat to the hinges, none of these sounds belonged. Meaning this was not her chamber. She'd been too tired and relieved to come upon an unlocked door to make certain it was hers. She squeezed her eyes closed and leaned back against the wall.

Where was she? The chapel, she hoped. Or could this be Gabriel's chamber? Nay, God would not be so cruel. Would He?

A moment later, the tapestry was swept aside and rough hands descended to her shoulders. As she had learned from her nights with Gabriel, he slept too lightly to allow any to sneak up on him. All was lost.

Chapter Seventeen

"Damn it, Juliana! You gave me your word." He dragged her into the solar and pushed her down onto his bed. "Do your lies know no bounds? Your deceit?"

She looked up at the dark figure alongside the bed. Although she could not discern the anger upon Gabriel's face, the cooling brazier cast a red glow around him, showed him to be unclothed. Though it was not unusual for a person to disrobe for bed, his nudity unnerved her.

He stood over her a moment longer, then reached to the bedpost and retrieved his robe. "Do not move." He turned and stalked from the solar. Shortly, she heard the door of her chamber slam against the inner wall, followed by Lissant's cry of surprise.

Juliana sat up. She knew what he sought, knew he would find it, but no longer cared. The damage was done and now he would banish her to the tower to remain until the babe was born. Alone. But it was for the best, really.

He reappeared a short while later, a torch in one hand, the tools of her escape in the other. His seething anger made visible, he shoved the torch into a wall sconce, strode to the bed, and dropped the chisel and pouch of debris beside her. "You have been most busy."

She held his cutting gaze. " 'Tis not as if I had anything else with which to occupy myself."

Jaw hardening further, he grabbed her hands, turned them palms up, and stared at the calluses she'd kept hidden. "For all your guile, you are a fool woman," he pronounced, and released her.

Juliana lifted her chin. "But one who nearly bested the mighty Gabriel De Vere."

His lids narrowed. "Nearly does not win the battle, Juliana. Either you are the victor or the vanquished. As you are the latter, there is naught of which to be proud."

True. Her mistake would cost her not only her child, but Alaiz's safety. She lowered her feet to the floor. "If I am not mistaken, the tower awaits me."

"It does." He motioned her to precede him from the solar.

She walked ahead of him down the corridor. As she neared her chamber, she saw that Lissant stood in the doorway, her pretty face drawn with worry and hurt. Gabriel was not the only one deceived. Juliana turned her gaze forward, descended the stairs, and entered the hall. Though it was yet night, most of the occupants had awakened, no doubt roused by the commotion abovestairs. They stared at Juliana as she passed through the hall, as did the men-at-arms when she stepped outside.

Gabriel took her arm and led her down the darkened steps, across the inner bailey, and over the drawbridge. Their destination proved the eastern tower of the outer bailey.

At their approach, a man-at-arms hurried forward. "My lord?"

"Henceforth, Lady Isolde resides in the tower," Gabriel said.

"Yes, my lord." He turned and led them inside.

Before she stepped over the threshold, Juliana stole a glance at the night sky. A thousand stars blinked at her, and the quarter moon slanted a grin. Two months ere she would be allowed out-of-doors again.

Gabriel ushered her inside. The first floor was a guard's station, but she was allowed only a glimpse of it ere she met the stairs. They spiraled upward, landings at each floor, but only when there were no more stairs to be trodden did her journey end. The man-at-arms set his torch in a sconce, then fit a key in the lock of the thick-planked door. He pushed the door inward.

Gabriel drew Juliana forward. "Lady Isolde will require a brazier, fresh blankets, towels, and a basin of water."

The man inclined his head. "My lord."

Gabriel retrieved the torch and pulled Juliana into the room.

As empty as she felt, she was not beneath noticing her surroundings. Though it was obviously some time since the room had last been utilized, it was the sort of prison reserved for captives of high rank—large, furnished, boasting three shuttered windows. Of course, the latter were no doubt barred. Nay, Gabriel did not hate her. If he did, he could more easily make her remaining days miserable.

He released her. "Your prison," he said. "Until the child is born, it is all you shall know. No companionship will you be afforded."

Juliana crossed to the narrow bed and trailed fingers over the mattress. It was not without its lumps. Still, it would be more comfortable than the pallet she'd thought awaited her. She crossed to one of the windows and drew the shutters open. Barred.

The chill night air caressed her face, whispered of the snows of winter that would not be long in coming. Would she have made it across the channel before the weather turned? Or been stranded in France?

"Why, Juliana?"

She closed the shutters and turned.

Gabriel stood inside the door. Though his face was grim, there was something else there, something not unlike what she'd seen on Lissant's face. As though he were wounded.

"Why?" he asked again.

She walked to the bed and lowered herself to the mattress. "I am surprised you would ask."

"I need none to tell me of your reason for wishing to return to Tremoral. What I question is why you risk our child to do so."

Our child. As these past months he'd referred to it only as his child, it surprised her. Still, he would take the babe from her.

He strode forward and came to stand over her. "Curse it, Juliana! Not only is it winter, but you are less than two months from birthing. Are you truly so selfish?"

Should she attempt to explain? Would it make any difference? Not likely, but she was weary of his believing ill of her. "You think I do not want this child? Though I try to forget it swells within me, hardly allow myself to touch it, the thought of you taking it from me is a blade to my heart. I want to be a mother to it, but not for the reason you believe. Not that I might remain the lady of Tremoral."

What was he thinking? "Had I escaped, I would have returned to Tremoral, but only that I
might
deliver my sister to safety. 'Twas for Alaiz I labored three months on my knees, cut and scraped and hardened my hands." She laid beseeching fingers to his sleeve. "She cannot protect herself. She needs me."

He glanced at her hand upon him. "So long as she is under Bernart's roof, she will be safe."