Vow of Seduction (25 page)

On his mount, Alex closed the distance between them and leaned down in his saddle. He clutched her head between his two large palms and held her gaze. “I
must
go. We will speak when I return.”

No matter that she had told herself she hated Alex, would never forgive him his betrayal, she had lied to herself. She had never stopped loving him and never would. But sometimes love was not enough.

Then he dipped his head and kissed her. She kissed him back, her lips clinging to his, putting all her love and forlorn misery into the kiss. A kiss of farewell, although he did not know it. He drew back, spun Zeus around, and rode off for London accompanied by a small contingent of King Edward’s men.

Kat stared after him in defeat, her heart shattered.
I love you, Alex. Why can’t you love me in return?
A tear slowly rolled down her cheek. She tried to contain it, but her emotions were so volatile she knew any moment they would erupt into a violent cataclysm. She had to get away, flee before anyone witnessed her emotional destruction.

Blind instinct drove her to the only source she could count on when stricken by turmoil and tribulation. Forgotten were any thoughts of imminent danger. Escape was all she thought of.

Lightning pounded down the road, Kat clinging tightly to her back. A sob choked Kat. She did not hold it back this time and let it rip free from her lips. Sobs racked her body. The wind whipped her hair loose around her face like a whirlwind and tears coursed down her cheeks in a torrent. So she did not see the downed two-wheel cart blocking the narrow road until it was too late.

Kat gave the reins a sharp tug. Lightning reared up, whinnying wildly. Though Kat clung tightly by her knees, she began slipping sideways. Preoccupied with controlling her horse, she did not see the two men rush out of the trees towards her. A massive hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her off her horse. She slammed into the hard-packed road, wrenching her hip. Pain flared and she cried out, then a heavy weight landed on top of her.

Crushed beneath her attacker and unable to breathe, she heard the man’s voice waft through her stunned consciousness. “I gots her, Ralph. Ye see to the beast.”

Her cheek was mashed into the dirt, but Kat saw a man with a jagged knife wound over his left eye grab Lightning’s reins and bring the mare under control. Kat struggled beneath her captor but it was futile. He soon had her hands bound with rope behind her back. He grabbed her hair and jerked her face up. Pain seared her scalp and, against her will, a yelp escaped her lips.

She glared up at him in rage. “I shall make you regret accosting me. What do you want?”

But the bastard just laughed. He was big and bald and had black eyes that were devoid of emotion. Then his eyes flared with lewd interest.

An evil grin spread across his face and he shifted his gaze to his partner. “This be the one, Ralph. She be a beauty alright, ’er husband did not lie. He said her eyes were the color of pewter, like what the fancy drink from. Spirited, too.” He looked back down at her. “I like that in me woman,” he said, grinding his aroused flesh against her bottom.

Kat recoiled, her stomach churning at his foul touch. And what did he mean by ‘her husband’?

“What do you intend? If you harm me, my husband will hunt you down and kill you.”

He grabbed her tied wrists and yanked her up onto her feet. Pain ripped through her arm sockets. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, refusing to show fear before these villainous scum.

“Who do ye think paid me and Ralph?” He laughed evilly. “
Yer husband
wants ye dead now ye have served your usefulness.”

She turned her head and spit in his face. “You lie.”

He struck her and split her bottom lip. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

“Do ’at again and I can make things mighty unpleasant for ye,” his voice low and sinister.

Kat spat blood from her mouth, vowing to make him pay for his assault.

The man with one eye was wiry and of average height, and had remained silent during the exchange. Now he shuffled his feet. “We should not dally, Stan. ’Er ’usband said make it quick like.”

“Aye. ’e paid us to kill her. No reason we can’t have us some fun, first, ’ey, Ralph. Let’s go.”

One Eye just shrugged. “What ’bout the cart?”

“Leave it. We ’ead for camp. I ’ave more urgent doings to attend.” Stan squeezed Kat’s breast. She cringed from his touch, shuddering with disgust. Laughing, he grabbed her arm and dragged her into the trees. His partner, leading Lightning, took up the rear.

Kat gulped down her panic as she entered the dense woods of Kilburn. She ignored the wrenching pain of her abused body and concentrated on escape. Although she had her dagger, it was useless with her hands tied behind her back. She needed to find a way to get them to untie her. Once free, she could use the dagger. The element of surprise would give her an advantage, which she intended to use with lethal precision.

Back at Westminster Palace, a silk-clad arm reached out from the shadows and yanked Sir Luc into a deserted narrow hall. He reached for his dagger but hesitated at the sibilant whisper. “’Tis me.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “What are you doing?” he hissed. “You know we should not meet like this.”

“We have a plan, remember?”

Grimacing, Luc darted a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Aye. We do. ’Tis well we meet. I have been meaning to speak to you about our alliance.”

“It shall have to wait. I set into motion a trap for Lady Katherine. If you wish to rescue her, you had best go after her now.”

“What are you talking about? Surely you jest?”

“Nay. My men have been waiting to ambush her on the road to Kilburn for several days now. And I just saw her ride out heading that way. She is so predictable in her habits.” A wave of scorn emanated from the speaker.

“My God, Lydia,” he said, grabbing her arms and shaking her. “What have you done? This is not as we planned. If she is harmed in any way—”

Lydia shook free, hissing, “If you hurry, she will not be harmed. I paid them to frighten her, to reveal that Sir Alex is behind the attack. It will drive her into your arms, as we have long wanted. I shall have my revenge.” Her tone suddenly turned seductive and she pressed up against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And we can be together at last.”

She ground her loins against him and he hardened. He began to weaken, then saw her eyes gleam with triumph. Disgusted with himself, Luc shoved her away. “Nay. I wanted naught to do with your plans for revenge. All I ever wanted was you. But I see now you can never love anyone. And I have no one to blame but myself.” Luc turned to go after Kat, saying over his shoulder, “You better pray Kat is all right. I have decided to confess everything to Kat and Sir Alex. I shall no longer be a party to your revenge.”

With his back turned to Lydia, he did not see the glitter of hatred in her cold blue eyes.

Moisture dripped down the moldy walls on the ground floor of the White Tower and rats scrabbled into dark crevices as Alex and King Edward advanced down the corridor. His shoulders tense and breathing heavily, Alex was unnerved by the tight, dark confines. But he would let naught get in the way of his mission. Before long, they stopped in front of an ironbound door that led down to the dungeon.

“Open the door,” the king ordered the larger of the two grim-faced yeoman warders who accompanied them. The second warder held a lighted torch. The first man removed a key from his belt and unlocked the door. As it creaked open, the stench of excrement and piss bombarded Alex’s nostrils. The all-too-familiar smell nearly made him stagger back. Instead, he squared his shoulders and followed Edward down the steep spiral stairs, the torch-carrying warder leading the way.

When they reached the bottom, the guard lit the rushlights in the wall bracket. Light flared inside the chamber, casting eerie shadows around the cavernous room. A row of wooden columns supported the roof, and it was on one of these that Alex saw the prisoner hanging from a hook by his manacled wrists. He was naked except for a loincloth, while his long, lank dark hair shielded his face.

The prisoner did not stir when Alex approached him, so Alex grabbed the man’s hair and jerked his head back to study his face. Bruises covered his right cheek and his left eye was swollen shut, although both eyes remained closed during the inspection. A long, curved scar ran down the mercenary’s cheek from the outer corner of his left eye, to his protruding chin. Alex recognized him instantly. A surge of icy hot fury unfurled inside him.

“Is he the one?” King Edward asked from behind Alex.

“Aye.” Alex dropped Scarface’s head. “Tie him to the stakes,” he ordered the warder, his voice coldly calm. His gaze briefly settled upon a pile of heavy stones stacked nearby.

The warder looked to Edward for confirmation.

“Do as he says. Sir Alex shall direct the interrogation.” Edward turned to Alex, saying, “I will be in my chambers when you’re finished. As soon as you have the traitor’s name, I’ll order his arrest.”

Alex watched Edward retreat up the spiral stairs and exit the miasmic chamber. The door closed with an ominous thud. Alex shuddered, but whipped an iron grip back over his emotions. He would not falter now.

The warder placed the torch in the nearest iron bracket. Alex, his gaze cold and pitiless, watched as the bigger guard supported the prisoner beneath his shoulder while the other guard grabbed the chain off the hook. Scarface was an unusually large man and his body slumped, causing the warder to stagger.

In a sudden flurry of movement, Scarface grabbed the warder’s dagger and stabbed both guards in the chest before they could react. One guard dropped dead, the other fell to the ground clutching his stomach and moaning as he bled profusely. Alex already had his dagger drawn and was ready for Scarface.

The villain smiled in recognition. “So we meet again, Sir Alex. Did you have a pleasant stay in prison? I only wish it had lasted longer.”

“I could ask you the same. You shall never escape here alive. Though I might let you live…if you give me the name of the traitor who hired you.”

“Nay, I believe I shall take my chances. It would appear you have been injured.” He pointed at Alex’s chest with the stolen dagger.

Alex looked down and saw a spot of blood seeping through his sherte. Scarface, his dagger raised beside his head, stabbed downward at Alex’s chest. Having feigned his distraction, Alex quickly blocked Scarface’s forearm with the outer edge of his left hand and then rolled his hand to grasp the mercenary’s arm in a hold. A blaze of pain ripped through his wounded chest. Scarface was caught off balance and tried to wrap the chain around Alex’s arm. His strength dwindling, Alex thrust his dagger from below; the blade slid deep between the mercenary’s ribs and entered his chest.

“Who hired you to kill me?” Alex asked urgently. “Give me his name.”

Blood gurgled from Scarface’s mouth. “Go. To. Hell.”

“Was it Lord Calvert?”

The villain’s eyes widened, but otherwise he remained silent. Was that acknowledgement?

Alex shoved the blade deeper. “The man who hired you. Give me his name!”

“Grave…with me.” Scarface laughed long and shrill. Suddenly, he coughed, choking on his own blood. It spewed from his mouth and splattered Alex’s white sherte. Then his black gaze grew vacant and he fell to the ground dead.

“Nay,” Alex howled. He grabbed Scarface and shook him. “Answer me, give me his name! I want a name!” he raged, his face flushed. He swore the bastard smiled up at him in evil satisfaction. To come this far and fail, it could not be. Alex jumped to his feet and paced away. He checked the second guard and saw he was dead, too.

This is all my fault
, Alex thought, pressing the heels of his palms against his temples. He had been careless, and now two men were dead because of him. At a loss, he stared at the bloody weapon in his hand. His entire plan had hinged on Scarface’s interrogation, on prying from him the name of the man who hired him. But that idea was as dead as the mercenary, the traitor still free to wreck havoc. And the only remaining person who could identify him was now dead.

“Damn you,” Alex roared and kicked the instrument of all his woes. “I hope you are burning in Hell.”

At the same time Alex was despairing at the White Tower, Kat struggled to get free of the rope binding her wrists. Dragged into the Kilburn woods a good distance, they reached the outlaws’ camp in a small, secluded clearing.

Looking around, it appeared they had camped out here for a few days. Several coney pelts were piled up next to an ash-filled fire pit in the middle of the clearing, the animals no doubt poached from the neighboring warren in Hampstead. On either side of the fire were two makeshift shelters.

“What do you intend to do to me?”

The leader, Stan, shoved her. “Sit an close yer yap. I developed me a thirst.”

Kat stumbled and fell, landing hard on her bruised hip. Pain shot down her thigh and she hissed. Then she scooted upright onto a rotted log before the fire pit, her scowl ignored.

Rooting around in one of the shelters, Stan hollered, “Where’s me ale, Ralph?”

One Eye, meanwhile, tied Lightning’s reins to a tree near two other horses. Both looked scraggly and maltreated and were probably stolen.

With a grunt, Stan crawled back out of the shelter. Wineskin in hand, he sat down across from Kat and guzzled his ale, his lewd eyes never leaving her. One Eye joined them and sat down next to Stan.

Kat discreetly twisted and pulled on her wrists tied behind her back, but the rope burned and scraped her skin without loosening the knot at all. So she tried another tactic.

“I have to use the necessary.”

The fat leader grunted. “As ye can see,
me ladee
, this ain’t no palace. Do ye see a fancy garderobe to piss in here?” he asked sarcastically.

“Yonder trees shall do just fine for me. Or would you have me relieve myself here?” Her lip curled in disgust. “Might spoil your fun, though.”

Stan jumped up, grabbed her bodice and yanked. Startled, Kat cried out. The silk ripped, exposing her cleavage. “Ye ’ave a smart mouth for a ladee,” Stan snarled. He groped her breast with one hand and his crotch with the other. “I shall be ’appy to stuff it full to keep it shut.”

She cringed away from him. Gulping back tears, she cursed her wayward mouth. But she cursed him more for making her feel humiliated and ashamed. Then he shoved her and she fell back off the log. It hurt, but he was no longer touching her. She started to roll over in an attempt to stand when One Eye clutched her arm and tugged her up.

“Take ’er into the trees, Ralph. Be quick about it. I fancy a good drubbin’ in her hot pus.”

As One Eye escorted her into the trees, Kat glared over her shoulder at Stan. He stared at her with a gloating smile. She was going to wipe that smug smile from the fat bastard’s mouth.

Kat pushed past One Eye, surreptitiously searching for a rock or tree limb. The quickest and surest way to dispatch him would be to slit his throat, but Kat wanted him alive for questioning. She prayed she would find what she needed, and nearly gasped when she saw a rock the size of a horseshoe next to a beech tree five feet before her.

She stepped over it, and stopped so it was concealed beneath her skirts where One Eye could not see it.

“Do yer business, lady. I’ll be waitin’ near that tree.” He pointed.

“I cannot do my business with my hands tied.” She presented her hands to him, hoping he would not argue.

He hesitated.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide. “Surely you don’t fear me? How can I escape? I’m just a woman.”

He grunted. His undamaged eye held a warning. “Don’t try to flee. You cannot escape me,” he said before he untied her hands.

“Nay. I shall not run,” she said honestly, rubbing her red, raw wrists.

He turned and took up a position by an elm tree not far away, his back to her to give her privacy. He was not the smartest mongrel in the pack. Which was what she counted on.

Quietly, Kat picked up the rock and approached him from behind. With a solid hard strike, she bashed it against the back of his skull. Groaning, he dropped like a stone.

Needing to hurry before Stan became suspicious, she checked to make sure One Eye was alive, then grabbed his arms and tugged with all her strength. She grunted, pulling him up so his back was propped against the tree. Next, she found the rope where the ruffian dropped it and tied his wrists together around the tree trunk. Finally, she retrieved his dagger and tested the knot to make sure it was secure.

Hurriedly, she crept back to the clearing and peered at Stan from behind a tree. He was grumbling under his breath and pacing back and forth with the wineskin in his hand. Then the bald outlaw stopped in his tracks and took a swig of ale.

Kat stepped out of the trees, and in one smooth movement drew her arm back and then forward, releasing One Eye’s dagger from the tip of her fingers. Turning end over end, it flew past Stan’s head and embedded in the tree ten feet behind him.

Stan jumped with a screech, sloshing ale down his tunic. Shocked and sputtering, he stared at her.

Withdrawing her own dagger, she pointed the blade below his waist and mocked, “It appears you have had an accident.”

He looked down at his wet crotch. “Mouthy bitch,” he replied, tossing the wineskin aside. He withdrew a dagger from his wide leather belt. “I’m gonna enjoy slittin’ your throat,” he said, then peered nervously over her shoulder.

Laughter bubbled up from her chest. “I am afraid your friend is in no position to help you. ’Tis just you and me.” Kat closed the distance between them though she remained out of striking range.

His deep-set black eyes jerked back to her. “I’m not ’fraid of ye,” he growled.

“Good. It will make this so much quicker.”

Kat took the measure of her opponent as they circled each other. While Stan held his dagger near his ear in a reverse grip, Kat held her dagger at her waist near her hip, the blade extended forward.

Stan struck first with a downward stab of his forearm to her chest. But Kat was ready. She clutched both ends of her dagger and used it as a shield to deflect Stan’s forearm. As Kat pushed his dagger arm to the right, her left hand slid from her blade and clutched his arm before he could withdraw and strike again. Sweat broke out on her forehead and Stan’s rank odor burned her nostrils. She thrust her dagger at Stan’s stomach, but he pivoted backward on his right foot, barely avoiding a direct blow. He backed away, a red slash on his side where the blade nicked him.

Stan clutched his side, stunned, blood oozing between his fingers. “No wonder yer ’usband paid me to kill ye. Yer unnatural.”

“You are a liar. My husband would never harm me.”

More cautious now, he circled her, gauging an opening. He had brute strength on his side, but she was quick and clever.

“Who really paid you to kill me?” she countered

He shook his head in mock pity, sighing. “I told ye. Yer ’usband, me ladee.”

Kat circled to her left, watching, waiting. “If my husband really hired you, describe him.”

“Tall. Black hair and blue eyes.” He smiled insolently at her. “The face of a man liked by the ladees.”

“I don’t believe you.”

In a single fluid movement, Kat reversed her grip on the dagger so her thumb was by the pommel, and thrust the blade at Stan’s neck. But he caught her wrist and using his greater strength, trapped her arm under his armpit in a strong hold. Kat, drenched in sweat and propelled face down, grunted as she strained to hold onto her dagger and escape the trap. She saw her opening.

Stan made a fatal mistake when he placed his feet behind her body. Kat swung her left leg back in front of Stan’s feet, and lifting his weight over her hip she flipped him onto his back. Stan landed with a painful grunt. Kat knelt down and planted her knee on his chest, then stabbed him in the shoulder twice in rapid succession.

A sudden shout and a horse charging through the trees distracted Kat. The outlaw jumped up and limped for the horses, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

Sir Luc bolted into the clearing on his bay horse and pulled to a halt beside her. His gold eyes wide with fear, he bounded to the ground and grasped her shoulders taking in her disheveled appearance before gathering her in his arms.

The outlaw had untied Lightning’s reins, but her faithful mare reared and kicked her legs. Stan jumped back quickly and veered towards one of the other horses.

At the commotion Luc released her. “He’s getting away.” He looked torn between following in pursuit and making sure she was all right.

Stan managed to untie the reins, climb up awkwardly onto the horse’s back and disappear into the trees.

Kat clutched Luc’s arm. “Leave him. We can send some of Edward’s men after him when we return to the castle. He won’t make it far with his injuries.”

“What of you? Did he harm you?” His voice frantic, his gaze searched her for any sign of injury. Her lip was bruised and bloody, and her body ached terribly, but she was all right. “He hit you,” he said, his voice dangerously low. He skimmed his fingers lightly over the swollen flesh.