Immortal Hope (19 page)

A rush of anger surged through Merrick’s veins. Were it not for Anne’s foolish presence in these halls, his brother would not suffer this morn. Nor would he himself be faced with shaming a knight whose heart knew naught but loyalty.

Before he could utter a word, Tane pushed past them and shoved open his chamber door. The heavy
thud
as he slammed it shut echoed off the stone.

Merrick turned around and slid his hand to Anne’s upper arm. Sparing her no gentleness, he ushered her forward.

She plucked at his fingers. “Ouch. Let go.”

“Nay,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “You were warned not to walk these halls.” He urged her roughly around a corner, then up the stairwell. She struggled as they walked, attempting to twist free. But he was in no mood to give her pardon.

His temper was already black from a sleepless night, and her protests only fueled his anger. God’s teeth, she could have been raped, or worse, were it not Tane she ran into. Already her presence disrupted the men—the coats and swords outside doorways evidenced that unsettling fact. If she had encountered Ranulf, who could not escape the long ago betrayal of his wife, she might now lie beaten in some forgotten corner. Or worse, Gottfried, who struggled with the temptation of the flesh and would find no hesitation in taking her without her consent.

’Twas time she realized when he told her to stay put, he meant it.

She stumbled as he mounted the second set of stairs. He hauled her to her feet, ignoring her muffled cry of pain. He forced himself to ignore the tiny squeak, even as his heart twisted against it.

At her doorway, he opened the door and thrust her inside.

She yanked away, rubbing at her arm. When she spun around, her eyes took on a murderous gleam. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My
problem,
damsel?” He slammed his hand down on the back of the chair. “Were you not told to stay out of the corridors? Did I not warn you ’twas not safe for you to wander among the men?”

“I was looking for you!”

A little part of his heart lurched at her words, but he shoved it aside. Nay, she would not soften him. “You put yourself in danger, damsel! You endanger me. For ’tis my oath that binds me to protect you. Should Tane have thought to harm you, ’twould be my sword he faced.”

She threw her arms wide. “Listen to yourself! You drag me up here to defend that man when he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“He would not have detained you, were you where I left you.”

Their eyes clashed. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and a touch of color stained her cheeks. Merrick refused to acknowledge the comely way that faint crimson offset her blue eyes, and he clung to his anger.

Anne folded her arms across her chest, the defiant set of her chin marking her unbending position. “This is my prison then? I didn’t sign up for that, Merrick. In fact, I didn’t sign up for any of this! As I recall, you’re the one who barged into my life and thrust it on me.”

He dragged a hand down his face and let out a harassed sigh. Nay, she had not asked for this life. None of them had. Anne left a world of comfort, a place where she had freedoms and understood the workings of her companions’ minds. Here, she knew naught. He could not expect her to unquestioningly follow his demands. Whilst he wanted naught more than to force her into the world he understood, women left that tradition behind centuries ago.

In a quieter, more controlled voice, he conceded. “You are correct. To expect you to understand is unfair. You are here, Anne. Living amongst men who see you as salvation. Some will do anything to try and change the fates, to see you at their eternal side. Others were never noble to begin with and would give you no more consideration than a serving wench within their great hall.”

“Meanwhile I’m to sit on my ass and twiddle my thumbs?”

God’s teeth she had a way with words. He straightened and shoved his hand into his jeans pocket. “When your intended is found, you will have more freedom.”

She let out a derisive snort. “Somehow, I doubt that.” Her anger fled her features, and she sagged into the couch. “He’s probably just like you.”

He could not help himself—he chuckled. Fighting with her was as unpleasant as any battle of blades, and one he suspected he would not win should he continue. When she shot him a look of false disgruntlement, he let his anger over her wanderings fade away. That blue gaze of hers had a way of making him forget the many worries that plagued his mind.

Moving behind her, he fit his hands on her shoulders and bent near her ear. “I do not recall you found me that displeasing last eve.”

He felt her shiver. One delicate hand reached up to slide over his. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t find you displeasing at all.”

The fragile skin along the side of her neck beckoned. At once, he was consumed with the urge to press his mouth to her, to slide his hands down to cover her breasts. The incredible memory of Anne atop him, her eyes closed, her lush lips parted, leapt to life within his mind’s eye, and his heart kicked into his ribs. He pulled away, possessed by the same frustrations that kept him awake through the night.

Damnation! He could not spend more than ten minutes with her before his body betrayed him.

Seeking to steer the conversation on a safer course, he asked, “Tell me why you looked for me?”

She scooted around, folded her arms atop the couch’s back, and set her chin upon them. “I ran out of things to do. I had a talk with Mikhail about improving your food. I dropped in to see Declan. And I wanted to borrow a shirt of yours.”

His mind stopped functioning at the mention of Declan’s name. Everything inside him ground to a halt, then twisted. Even after last eve, she thought of the Scot. Such concern for a man she had met but once was abnormal. Mayhap, indeed, they were fated.

The idea felt as if someone drove a knife into Merrick’s gut. A handful of days ago, had a woman expressed interest in Declan, he would have celebrated, for Declan required a woman who would not hesitate with her affections. Yet when it came to Anne, Merrick could not stomach the thought of seeing her with his brother. And he hated the uncustomary jealousy that ran like fire in his veins and poisoned his heart.

Feeling much as if someone had shoved a rod down his spine, he stiffened. “I have things to attend to. You will stay here, in this room, whilst I am away. I will see that Lucan brings your meal. If you must stretch your legs and leave your chambers, Lucan shall escort you where you desire.”

“Figures,” she muttered. With an exaggerated air of submissiveness, she asked, “What else, milord?”

On hearing the title he had abandoned long ago, Merrick’s heart swelled. He ignored the pleasant sensation and moved toward the door. “I do not jest, damsel. If you are wise, you will heed my wishes.” He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a hard look. “I may be old, but I have not forgotten how to punish a willful maid.”

She tossed him a wry smirk. “Will you lock me inside my room?”

“Nay. I vow I will turn you over my knee and take my hand to your backside.”

At her wide eyes and colorless face, he stalked out the door.

As he stomped down the stairs, the impact of his promise settled on him fully, and his steps slowed. The idea of Anne squirming in his lap, her heart-shaped bottom bared for his palm, squashed his lungs together. He might punish her, but he would torture himself. He could no more go through with the act than he could indulge in the honey of her mouth. For as certain as he knew his name, he knew he would never survive the deed without abandoning a deeper oath. Before he ever executed the first smack, he would have her in his bed.

Taking the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he pinched the image away. These thoughts would cease once he was free from her. For now, all he needed to consider was keeping her safe. That alone proved a monumental distraction from his pledge to find his cousin. It also required considerable focus, and the only way he could gather his fragmented thoughts into cohesive union was to take a few hours for himself. Away from here. Down by the river where the chill that rolled off the water would erode the ever-present heat in his blood.

He jogged the rest of the way to Lucan’s door and roused him with several heavy thumps.

Squinting, Lucan pulled the door open. “Trouble, Merrick?”

Merrick entered with a grunt. “I need you to keep an eye on Anne this eve. She has belongings she desires here.”

“You run the lady’s errands? I would not have figured you for such, sir
knight
.” Lucan’s sleepy features shifted into a smirk.

Narrowing his gaze, Merrick skipped over the goading remark. “You will mind your tongue and say naught of this.”

“Of course.” His wry grin said otherwise.

Merrick muttered beneath his breath. He would have asked Caradoc if he desired teasing.

“What shall I do with your fair maid? Continue your search for the mark? Parade her through the commons? Or mayhap challenge her to a game of chess?”

By Mary, the man was asking for a cuffing. “She is not my maid,” he grumbled. “I am charged with her well-being—as we all are. See that she does not leave her room.”

Lucan’s teasing ceased with a sigh. He tipped his head in a thoughtful manner and studied Merrick. At length, he asked, “What shall you do, Merrick, when you locate her mate?”

Merrick avoided Lucan’s probing stare. The thought of witnessing Anne in her intended’s embrace set off an uncomfortable churning in his gut. He shrugged. “I shall bid her good fortune and find my cousin.”

“Let us hope that is the case.” Lucan flashed him another wide grin. “What shall I do should she leave her room?”

“Tell me immediately.” Merrick stepped through the open door. With a slight wave, he bid Lucan farewell. His temper no better than it was when he began the day at dawn’s first light, he stormed toward his room where he jerked on a heavy sweatshirt. He unbuckled his sword belt and laid it carefully on his bed. The Templar Code mandated they leave their blades behind if they went out in daylight hours.

Determined to put Anne from his thoughts, he told himself Lucan would keep her from harm. He knew the meaning of the oath, took it every bit as seriously as Merrick did. With a bit of grace, and mayhap a lot of luck, she would learn her lesson from Tane and heed his warning.

God help him if she disobeyed.

CHAPTER
14

Unable to tolerate Merrick’s imprisonment a moment longer, Anne pushed her notes aside. She couldn’t focus on the intricate timeline of medieval kings anyway. She couldn’t shake off Merrick’s imperial attitude and his ridiculous threat he’d spank her like a misbehaving child.

She pushed her feet into her boots, pulled her hair into a lose knot at the base of her neck, and went to the door. If she wanted to leave this room, she would. There wasn’t a damn thing Merrick could do to stop her.

Anne stuck her head in the hall and reveled in a thrill of satisfaction when she found it empty.

Not a damn thing.

Now to find the inner sanctum. She wasn’t a child and she wasn’t a prisoner. She wouldn’t stay the week out like this, confined to two rooms, waiting for someone to make decisions for her. She hadn’t made any progress on her research either, and time was rapidly slipping away. Beyond all that, her snap decision to seduce Merrick was posing more complications than she’d expected. She found herself more affected by him than he appeared to be by her naive attempts.

The best thing she could do was find her answers and omit herself from the situation before it became any more complicated.

Determined, she struck off down the stairs, rounded the main floor landing, and descended into the lower corridors of stone. With more than a little luck, she found Merrick’s room and retraced their path past Lucan’s door, past Farran’s, past Caradoc’s. The hallways ran together, a maze of identical stone interrupted by rough-hewn wood. But a dim light around a distant corner marked the corridor where she’d stumbled over the stairs to the heart of the temple. With a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure no one followed, she approached quickly.

Only, when she stepped around the corner and discovered the dim light came from an open chamber door, not the torch above the inner sanctum stairs, her shoulders slumped. Damn. So close. She had to have gotten turned around somehow.

Glancing around, she searched for something on the wall that might give her an idea of her location. As she scoured the walls, the ceiling, the iron sconces that held unlit torches, a familiar masculine voice drifted through the partly open door.

Edged with heavy frustration, Mikhail’s voice rang out. “I cannot guess what lays ahead, Raphael. Without the seraphs, the knights can only hold out for so long.”

Anne cocked her head. Mikhail’s office—maybe her excursion wouldn’t be a failure after all. The conversation certainly sounded interesting enough. On her toes, she edged forward to peer inside the crack. Pacing the narrow expanse of his office, Mikhail held his hands behind his back. A blond man lounged in the chair behind him, one ankle tossed over one knee. His mass of golden curls tumbled carelessly around his shoulders, and he tapped steepled fingertips together in thought.

“Azazel has two nails,” Mikhail continued. “The third is almost certain. I do not dare send men out to try and stop him. They will die. Every last one of them will fall.”

A chill drifted down Anne’s spine. In a heartbeat, the vision of Merrick’s lifeless body leapt behind her eyes. She sucked down a gasp. Surely not. Mikhail had said she would save someone. He couldn’t have been wrong.

Raphael lifted his head to respond, but his voice was low and unclear. Anne inched forward to better hear.

“Gabriel alone has been chosen to carry the knowledge. He tells us only what is absolutely necessary.”

“Meanwhile we are to watch our men succumb and say naught?”

“As we have since time began. We offer only messages of faith. Strength. When the time is right, Mikhail, we will wield our swords alongside them. You know this.”