Warrior's Lady (12 page)

Forcing the memories back into the recesses of his mind, he tossed his bedcovers back and got out of bed. He dressed quickly, watching the golden glow of light that seeped beneath his door. He knew the source of light came from Rhiannon's room across the hall. Thoughts of her stirred his blood once more, tempting him. Until he remembered his decision to make her come to him, to drive her to a need so fierce she would capitulate of her own will. That day would come. Sooner rather than later, if he had anything to say about it.

As the first rays of dawn streaked across the sky, Camden left his bedchamber to pace the battlements and try to assuage his growing lust. The crisp morning air would do him good and clear his senses before he accused Rhiannon of any treachery.

Fresh snowflakes settled on his head and his shoulders as he stepped outside. Snow continued to fall as it had all night. Camden gazed out across his land. Snow blanketed everything for as far as his eye could see.

Pink streaks of dawn mixed with yellow and red, filling the sky with color. A sense of peacefulness settled over him.

Until he saw the tracks.

Marring the newly fallen snow, were two sets of footprints, one leading away from the castle, the other returning. The bishop's spy? Camden moved down the battlements, closer to the tracks, wondering where they had originated. He needed to know that information before he followed where they went.

On the north wall of the castle, the wind picked up and the flurries of snow forced him to slow his steps. He proceeded with as much haste as he dared.

Then he saw the rope. A thick jute rope encircled one of the crenellations, to dangle down the entire length of the castle's outer wall. He picked the rope up, the coarse texture prickly against the flat of his palm. The rope, while sturdy, was not strong enough to support the weight of many of his warriors.

His thoughts drifted to Rhiannon once more. Had she left the castle during the night to meet with the bishop somewhere? Was the light behind her door a decoy to make him think she was within the room while she'd been engaged elsewhere?

He drew his sword and slashed easily through the coarse fibers, sending the rope plummeting down into the snow. He would not make it easy for whoever had used the rope to do so again.

He sheathed his weapon, then headed for his keep. This constant doubt about Rhiannon had to end. An inner turmoil had consumed him since the moment she'd stepped inside his home. He'd never felt anything like this before, alternating between revulsion and desire.

Camden scowled at the scenery he had moments before found breathtaking. He had to find a way to resolve his feelings and put an end to his doubts.

One way or another, he would have his answers this very day.

Rhiannon led Violet belowstairs and into the great hall for their morning meal. Her two hulking companions would not deter her from her plans. She had nothing to hide from Lord Lockhart.

This morning, she wanted Violet to familiarize herself with the castle and its people. She hoped they would be more accepting of the little girl than they had been of Rhiannon.

She seated the girl at the head table, thankful the lord and master of the castle was nowhere in sight, then went to dish them each a bowl of boiled oats and cream. She sweetened Violet's with honey before returning to the table.

"Mistress Rhiannon, why is everyone staring at me?" Violet asked as she hunched down in her chair, conscious of the gazes upon her.

Those gazes were most likely directed at Rhiannon and filled with the same repugnance she had received yesterday. Rhiannon straighten her shoulders. Violet need not suffer because of her. "Because you are the lady of a great castle, these people look to you for guidance and support." She sat beside Violet.

Violet's brow furrowed in consideration. "But I'm only a little girl."

"But you won't always be, and they realize that. Now sit up straight and show them how a lady breaks her morning fast."

Rhiannon smiled when Violet did as instructed. She looked every bit the young mistress in her new blue gown. It hadn't been easy, but Rhiannon had managed to clean the ale stains from Violet's dress during the night, drying it before the fire in her room. This morning the young girl seemed more at ease than she had been in days. Violet had slept through the night, her nightmares gone for the moment.

As she ate, Rhiannon peered at the others in the hall from beneath her lashes. The women glared at her, as she had expected. Well, no matter. Lord Lockhart had given her the freedom to teach Violet what she thought necessary whether they approved or not. Today's lessons would be about the responsibility Violet had to the people around her.

That they would receive Violet's assistance without further trouble did not look promising, as long as Rhiannon was near, but she needed to guide the little girl. For how else would Violet learn?

Rhiannon had just taken another spoonful of oats, when the door to the great hall swung open, and a blast of cold air heralded Lord Lockhart's arrival.

His gaze shot directly to her. The cacophony of voices and laughter in the hall suddenly silenced. A warning not unlike the keen of a pipe went off in her head.

Rhiannon smoothed the creases from her dress with trembling fingers as he stalked toward her, his mouth pressed into a firm line. Her pulse gave a nervous leap when he stopped before her.

"Good morrow," he said with cool civility. "You will come with me."

"But Lady Violet—"

"Mistress Faulkner will attend her today." As if on cue, the chatelaine appeared at his side.

The two burly warriors he'd assigned to watch her every move stepped forward. "Shall we prepare to escort you?"

Lord Lockhart shook his head. "Stay and protect Lady Violet. I'll take care of Rhiannon." He thrust a long, fur cloak at her. "Put this on. We'll be going outside."

"Why outside?" Rhiannon stood and accepted the cloak.

"To follow the trail of a traitor."

The coolness of his gaze suggested he meant her. Her stomach felt as if she'd been punched.

When she did nothing, he tugged the cloak from her grasp, tossed it about her shoulders, then with a tight grasp on her arm, nearly dragged her out the door. At the bottom of the steps outside, he had one horse waiting.

He mounted. "Give me your hand," he demanded. Of its own accord, her hand lifted, his fingers closed around it, and suddenly she was hauled up to sit in front of him atop the beast. Arms like bands of steel encircled her, and his warmth cradled her back.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll find out soon enough," he replied, turning the horse toward the gate. With a signal of his hand, the mighty wooden gates parted and the portcullis rose. Without explanation, he headed across the drawbridge, then turned the beast north.

Snow covered the world around them, silencing everything except the sound of their breathing. Tendrils of steam generated by their warm breath rose into the air to vanish a moment later.

They followed the outer wall of the castle for a distance until Lord Lockhart brought the horse to a stop in front of a rope partially buried in the snow. "Do you know anything about this rope?" His voice filled with suspicion.

"You sound as if you expect me to," she replied, tucking her hands more deeply inside of her cloak in an effort to ward off the chill from outside as well as within.

"A straight answer, please." He leaned forward to stare into her face, his blue eyes as frosty as the world around them. "Did you use this rope to escape the castle last night to meet up with Bishop Berwick?"

"Nay." She drew a sharp breath. What heinous things did he think her capable of? "Why would I do such a thing?"

"The bishop paid us a call yesterday. Someone inside the castle had disclosed Violet's presence." He hesitated before adding, "He asked after you."

She startled. "I've never met the man, but the abbess did caution me about him."

"What was her caution?"

"She warned me to be cautious around him. To never let Lady Violet near him."

Lord Lockhart frowned. "Why would she warn you of such a thing?"

"I don't know." Rhiannon lowered her gaze to the snowflakes gathering on the red velvet of her cloak. "She seemed very distraught that day."

A finger beneath her chin brought her gaze back to his. "The abbess trusted you."

"I am trustworthy." She held his gaze, refusing to buckle beneath his punishing appraisal.

"Time will reveal whether that is truth or falsehood." He straightened and signaled the horse to walk through the heavy drifts of snow leading away from the castle.

The snow came halfway up their horse's legs, but their mount seemed undeterred by the lightweight powder. Rhiannon allowed her gaze to travel across the pristine blanket of white. It was then that she noticed the two sets of footprints partially filled by the newly fallen snow.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"We're following a villain's trail."

"A villain? Anyone could have made those tracks. Maybe someone at the castle took an early morning walk."

"Someone who needed a rope to climb the castle walls? Nay, it has been made clear to me we have a spy."

"You assume I am that spy?"

"Aye."

"Then for Lady Violet's sake I won't hold your assumptions against you."

He leaned close to her ear, his lips brushing her temple. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver right to her core. "That's kind of you."

"I'll prove my innocence."

"I look forward to that," he said in a low, inviting tone that brought a catch to her breath. She shifted away, trying to escape the intimacy the moment had wrapped them in.

They rode well over six miles as the snow continued to fall all around them, fast and furious. "I can hardly see the tracks." Rhiannon ducked her head to keep the flakes from gathering on her face.

"The storm is picking up." His frustration was evident in the tone of his voice. He reined the horse to a halt and scanned the sky. "I was so certain the snowstorm had ended. But the weather has only gotten worse."

As though in response to his words, the wind kicked up. Where it had been sighing through the trees, it now whipped the branches about.

"We should head back," Rhiannon called over the rising howl of the wind.

Camden frowned. "I've left it too late. It will take us more than an hour to return. We need shelter. I remember from my youth an abandoned cottage around here somewhere that was once used by my father's gamekeeper." He tightened his arms around her and dug his heels into the horse's side, sending them all forward into the storm. We can find shelter there."

Snow covered them entirely and they could barely see in front of them. Rhiannon no longer knew the way back to the castle. She shivered, wondering which would lead to her demise — the man behind her, or the storm overhead.

Chapter Nine

Camden steadfastly spurred their horse forward. "I see something ahead," Rhiannon called out between the chattering of her teeth .

A short time later, she realized it was a small cottage, set deep into the woods. Rhiannon strained her eyes through the falling snow for signs of habitation. She smelled before she saw the smoke curling from the chimney. Warmth. She nestled deeper into her cloak. She could almost feel the heat now.

They came up to the cottage and Lord Lockhart slid from the horse before he reached up and plucked her off as though she weighed nothing at all.

"I thought you said the cottage was abandoned?" Rhiannon said, pulling the edges of her cloak more tightly around her as the chill air seeped inside her, chilling her to the bone.

"It was." He gathered the horse's reins, moving toward the lean-to that would provide shelter for the animal. "Let's find out who might be here, shall we?"

Rhiannon hurried after him. She didn't care who might be inside as long as there was a space near the fire. She darted ahead of Camden to knock on the door. When no one answered, she tried the latch. The door opened easily and she stepped inside.

One open room made up the entirety of the cottage. She peered inside, finding no one there. When her gaze lit on the cheery little fire that crackled in the hearth, she smiled. Warmth wrapped itself around Rhiannon, drawing her into the room.

Camden entered the small cottage a moment later. "I never would have taken you away from the castle had I known a storm was coming."

She turned away, toward the flames, rubbing her cold hands together. Pinpricks of sensation danced along her chilled flesh. "Not much deters you. Why would a storm be any different?"

He set the wood near the fire, then stood beside her. "It must seem that way to you," he said almost as an aside. He sighed as he bent his dark head to peer into the flames. "I am only trying to keep my people safe."