Claire Delacroix (33 page)

“Indeed you did.”

“Then, let me apologize, afore I die.” The Hawk bowed deeply as Alasdair gloated, and seized the dagger hidden beneath his tabard.

He straightened with the weapon in his. The Hawk would have the chance to land only one blow, and he made it count. He slashed at Alasdair’s throat while that man was still surprised. He drove the old blade into the other man’s throat, so deep that the wound was fatal. Its blade was honed so sharply that his flesh might have been wrought of butter.

Alasdair crumbled at the Hawk’s feet, his blood running in a torrent, an expression of surprise still upon his face. He gurgled as he claimed his last breath and the Hawk watched to ensure that he died.

Then he aided his men to escape the hole, all five of them upon their feet in no time at all. They all treated Alasdair’s body with disgust, nudging him with a foot or spitting upon him.

Sebastien looked upon him with scorn. “No wickedness goes unpunished,” he muttered, then crossed himself. “And there is honor even among thieves. Rosamunde would never suffer a traitor like this one in her service.”

The Hawk was already striding back toward his steed. “Into the forest!” he commanded. “We will hide ourselves, as they have hidden themselves, so they can find no trace of us if they seek us out.”

“What of Alasdair’s body?” Reinhard asked.

“Leave it for carrion,” the Hawk said with resolve. “A traitor deserves no better fate than that.”

Especially as that man had endangered the Hawk’s lady wife.

“But what of these lands?” Ewen demanded. “Should we not defend what we have won?”

“Leave it,” the Hawk counseled. “The MacLaren clan are welcome to this shred of Inverfyre, for the price they have set upon its acquisition is too high.” He swung into his saddle and gathered the reins in his fist. “Come. It is of greater import to learn the fates of the rest of Inverfyre.”

* * *

By the time Aileen and Nissa heard heavy boots upon the stairs, they were as prepared as they could be. Nissa was suddenly pregnant, the
Titulus
cleverly sewn into her chemise so that she looked to be round with child. She hid behind the draperies of the bed at Aileen’s commanding glance and clutched her weapon of choice.

Aileen faced the door when the men began to pound their fists upon it. She wore only a chemise and had left her hair unbound. The linens of the bed she had rumpled, as if she had just been roused from sleep by the unholy noise in the hall. She took a deep breath as the wood shattered around the lock and the portal swung open. She held her ground when they kicked it in so hard that it hit the wall.

And she was heartily glad that she and Nissa had not exchanged places—for she had considered the merit of such a scheme—once she saw the sorry excuse for a man who shouldered his way through the portal. His hair was a ruddy thatch, his complexion reddened by exertion, though he was as broad as an ox. He was missing at least one tooth and sported a scar across his brow. The flesh puckered where one of his eyes had been, though the other gleamed with malice when his glance landed upon her.

He gave Aileen the sense that she faced an angry, hungry hound and she suppressed a shiver with an effort.

“The Lady of Inverfyre, I assume?” he said.

Aileen inclined her head. “None other. And you?”

“Dubhglas MacLaren,” he said with satisfaction. “Chieftain of the MacLaren clan and soon to be the Laird of Inverfyre.” His smile was evil. “But first, I intend to become your worst nightmare.”

Aileen raised a hand to her lips, as if she was a demure maid, and let her eyes widen. “Oh my,” she whispered and he chuckled darkly.

Half a dozen rough men crowded the door behind Dubhglas. He grinned as he brazenly assessed Aileen, and his hand fell to the lacings of his chausses. “The Hawk has finer taste than I had dared to hope,” he said, his voice rough with threat. He waved his men away. “Open the Hawk’s casks of wine and take every whore in his hall that tempts you. This one shall be mine alone.”

One man behind his protested, but Dubhglas shook his head. “On the morrow, lads, on the morrow you can all sample her, once the Hawk is securely in our hands.” He could not restrain his laughter. “I would not have him miss the witnessing of such an event.”

He kicked the door closed and shoved a trunk against it. He fixed his gaze upon Aileen, and crossed the floor, unlacing his chausses with unholy haste.

A man bellowed upon the stairs and Aileen heard booted feet descending. She felt herself pale at the bellow of her father’s battle cry, though she knew there was nothing she could do to aid him. A struggle ensued as Dubhglas watched her keenly and she had to close her eyes when bodies thumped against the wall.

“An acquaintance, perhaps?” Dubhglas inquired.

“My father,” Aileen admitted, uncertain whether the truth would aid her father or harm him.

“Ah!” Dubhglas rapped his knuckles upon the portal. “Do not kill him yet,” he cried, watching Aileen all the while. “The father of the Lady of Inverfyre may yet prove useful.”

A rumble of assent carried through the oaken portal and Aileen’s mouth went dry as Dubhglas strode toward her again. “And now,” he said. “You may show your gratitude for my kindness. Indeed, you may be so sweet that you save your father’s life.”

Aileen nodded, though she did not believe a word he said. For all she knew, her father was already dead. Certainly, there were no sounds from the corridor and her father would not let himself calmly be captured.

She retreated, sitting on the edge of the bed with apparent meekness. “Oh, I hope you are a man who knows a woman’s desire,” she whispered.

“Does the Hawk not sate you?”

“He cannot come close to seeing the task done,” Aileen murmured, then slid back across the bed. She patted its plumpness, inviting him to join her. “I have yearned for a true warrior between my thighs.”

“You need yearn no longer,” Dubhglas declared. “Indeed, should we please each other, I might let you live, as my lady wife.”

Aileen licked her lips, wishing he would make haste.

He roared and leapt upon her, seizing her hair in his fist before he kissed her brutally. He was heavier than she had anticipated and rougher than she had hoped. She rolled him toward Nissa’s hiding place with an effort, fighting against her revulsion and her own desire to do him damage. He was harsh enough to ensure that she felt a welt rise upon her lip.

When he lifted his head and fingered the swelling with satisfaction, he had only long enough to smile before Aileen spied Nissa. The maid lifted the brass candlestick high and Aileen kept her expression demure so that her assailant would not be warned, then Nissa brought it down upon his head with a loud crack.

He groaned and Aileen shoved his weight from her. He bled slightly, but he raised his head and fixed his baleful glance upon her. “Bitch!” he cried, and Aileen seized the candlestick herself. She swung it hard into his face and heard a bone crack. She struck him again upon the head, Anna’s thirst for vengeance hot within her. He collapsed across the bed and the two regarded each other shakily.

“We must bind him fast,” Aileen said. “And hastily.”

They trussed him like a lamb meant for the slaughter and gagged him tight in case he awakened too soon. He began to struggle when they shoved him under the bed linens and Aileen hit him again without remorse. Fortunately, the ruckus of men celebrating that rose from the hall below was enough to hide many sounds of struggle.

Aileen donned some of her husband’s clothing with haste, then handed Nissa a knife. “Cut my hair and cut it short,” she commanded.

The wide-eyed maid did as she was bidden, and Aileen made another bundle in the bed beside the trussed Dubhglas. She fanned her hair across the pillow, as if the bundle was her and her hair spread loose in sleep. When she turned away, Nissa lifted a handful of ash from the brazier and rubbed it into her lady’s short hair, disguising its fair color.

“My lord?” a man demanded suddenly from the other side of the portal. “Is all well?”

The women’s gazes met in alarm.

“Grunt,” Aileen bade Nissa in a whisper, then raised her voice in a gasp that sounded as if she was finding her pleasure. Nissa grinned in understanding, then grunted in a low voice, her rhythm unmistakable.

“Oh!” Aileen wailed. “Oh, oh!”

The man on the other side of the door laughed heartily. “Far be it for me to interrupt such merriment,” he said, then a thump echoed as if he settled his weight against the door.

Aileen and Nissa turned as one, and Aileen fastened a rope that had been stored in one of the trunks to the bedpost. She flung it over the sill and the maid swallowed.

“I am afeared, my lady.”

“You should fear what will happen in this chamber more than a broken bone,” Aileen counseled. She laced the Hawk’s bow across her shoulders and seized the quiver. “Go!”

The maid licked her lips with trepidation, then seized the rope. She climbed over the sill, her feet scrabbling for some grip upon the smooth walls.

“Quickly!” Aileen bade her. “They are not so drunk as to be completely blind!”

Nissa lost her grip in that moment and slid down the rope with astonishing haste. She landed with a thump upon her buttocks, and uttered a gasp of surprise that none but Aileen could have heard. She glanced up then, nodded to her lady, then picked up her skirts and hastened into the shadows.

Aileen spared a glance for the high walls, but the few sentries there were watched the road, undoubtedly for the Hawk’s return. She slipped over the sill and made haste down the wall, then hastened through the bailey.

Nissa, she knew, would make her way to the miller’s abode, as they had agreed. The girl had so glib a tongue that Aileen did not doubt that she would persuade the guards on the gates of the inner wall to let her proceed. She smiled from her hiding place in the shadows when she heard Nissa weep in most emotional manner, crying that her husband would be vexed with her. Aileen hoped that those guards had no desire to despoil a woman so clearly pregnant, so she watched until Nissa was successfully through the gates.

The maid even waddled like a woman round with child, her ruse utterly convincing. Though the miller knew nothing of the tale, he and his son would protect Nissa, this Aileen knew without doubt.

She herself hid in the shadows of the stables, watching the gates for her opportunity to slip through to the village. She would seek out the sole person remaining within Inverfyre’s walls who the Hawk trusted without reservation.

She would seek refuge and counsel from the falconer, Tarsuinn.

* * *

The Hawk and his men lurked in the forest outside Inverfyre’s gates, merging with the shadows even as the sun rose high the following day. The snow was melting with a vengeance and mud churned on the road.

“There are too many of them,” Sebastien muttered for the hundredth time. “They must have hired mercenaries.”

“With what coin would they pay such men?” Ewen demanded.

“My coin,” the Hawk muttered. “You may be certain that my treasury is empty by now.”

“As are your wine cellars,” murmured Sebastien, as another drunken sentry tried to walk the wall. Even with the high number of besotted men, the Hawk and his men were still vastly outnumbered, the gates were still barred against them, and the Hawk had no doubt that many of these men would sober in haste if attacked.

A mercenary owed his survival to his quick wits, after all.

His gaze flicked repeatedly to the high tower, but he had yet to see any sign of life in any of its windows. Dread gripped his heart and he feared mightily for his lady’s fate.

It did not seem, however, that there was much he could do.

A clarion call was blown, albeit raggedly, and the men in the woods straightened silently. The gates began to groan as they were opened. Every man dropped his hand to the hilt of his blade, and fixed his gaze upon the rising portcullis. The silhouette of a horse and rider came into view, then the horse was slapped from behind. The horse took the bit in its teeth and ran, while the man in the saddle toppled back and forth as if powerless.

“What folly is this?” Ahearn demanded in a whisper.

“It is Nigel,” the Hawk declared, and indeed it was.

“He is tied to the saddle,” said Sebastien.

“Like Father Malcolm!” Fernando muttered.

The six men sprang into their own saddles, fearful but determined to do what they could. Ahearn whistled to the horse, then ran alongside it, coaxing it to a halt, even as the others rode to block the road. Jeers rose from the high walls of Inverfyre, and several arrows buried themselves in the muddy road, but they were far enough from the gates to escape injury.

Nigel had not been so fortunate. He was weeping openly and one of his eyes had been put out. His wrists were trussed to the pommel and his feet to the stirrups, and a burden had been laid in his lap. The blood still running from his wound was what had made the horse so skittish.

They released him despite the beast’s frenzied prancing and carried him into the protective shadow of the forest. Ahearn remained with the horse, striving to calm it with his soothing murmur as he walked it. Nigel wept so copiously that it was difficult to understand what he tried to say.

“How badly are you injured?” the Hawk demanded. “What else have they done to you?”

“Just the eye.” Nigel took several gulping breaths and steadied himself. “They put out my eye so that you would know from whom I came.”

“Dubhglas MacLaren,” the Hawk growled.

Nigel sighed. “At least I still have one, that I might have vengeance from the one who did this foul deed.”

“And why do you weep? What is amiss in my hall?” The Hawk gritted his teeth when Nigel shook his head and began to sob again, then shook the man’s shoulders with vexation. “What of Aileen?” he shouted.

“I have betrayed her,” Nigel confessed, his words sending a chill through the Hawk’s heart. “I tried to defend her when they assaulted your chamber. I did not realize you were not there.” He shook his head, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “They were so many and in the end, I fell.” He met the Hawk’s gaze with pain in his own. “I failed my only daughter, for she was left alone with Dubhglas.”