Immortal Hope (35 page)

He shook his head, a wry smile curling one corner of his mouth. “Nay. Merrick and the others speak with Mikhail.”

Panic pressed down on her hard. Her lungs constricted, together with her throat, and she fought for the ability to breathe. His eyes held a far different light than any other time she’d encountered him. Somehow darker. More brittle. She glanced at the narrow space between him and the doorway. Could she make it to the doorway before he caught up with her?

As if he sensed her intention, he widened his stance and blocked her escape.

Anne’s mind worked in triple time. She couldn’t go out the window—the drop to the ground would break her legs. She didn’t dare scream. He’d reach her long before anyone made it up the stairs. And unless he was so close she couldn’t hope to miss, the dagger in her hand was useless. If he got that close, he’d overpower her.

Yet contrary to the signs of imminent violence, his voice wasn’t clipped, his features weren’t tight. A strange surge of peace wafted off him, conflicting with the dangerous energy he’d radiated earlier tonight.

She willed the panic from her mind. The only possible way out of this would be to keep Tane talking. If she could stall long enough, cooperate just enough to make him believe she’d go along with him, Merrick would be here to diffuse the situation. Though Lord help him—she feared Tane wouldn’t come out unscathed.

“What do you want, Tane?”

He pointed at the bed. “Sit.”

She glanced at the fluffy comforter, then looked to him once more. Hesitantly, she set a knee on the mattress, then another, all the while her gaze glued to his body, looking for some sign he intended to pursue her. In the middle of the bed, she knelt, the hand that held the dagger still planted in the middle of her lower back.

“You will come with me, Anne. You will say naught until I grant you leave to speak. I have no desire to harm you.”

“I don’t want to go—”

Against his thigh, he clenched a hand into a tight fist. “I have not given you leave to speak.”

Anne gulped down a sob, nearly choking. Oh God, she should have locked the door. But never in a million years would she have thought someone would be stupid enough to break in. These were her rooms. Her safe haven, given to her by Gabriel.

Approaching the edge of the bed, he reached for her.

She flinched, anticipating the pain of his fingers. But to her surprise, he did nothing more than stroke her hair.

“So pretty. I had wondered if it was soft.”

As his strong fingers brushed against her shoulder, her vision blurred. At once, her second sight kicked in, and images of Tane flashed rapid fire within her mind. Tane amid a great hall, sitting in a chair of velvet, a beautiful woman at his side. The woman gazed at him in adoration, a look he returned tenfold. Then Tane at the head of a mighty army, and at his side, another knight bore a standard she didn’t recognize. They led a long chain of prisoners alongside the parading horses. A man stumbled, and a knight slammed the flat side of his sword into his back. Tane rode over, stuffed his blade beneath his man’s chin, his glower fierce.

The third scene brought her to the present, showing Tane confined within what she presumed to be his room. He knelt before a small altar, made the sign of the cross across his chest. It shifted once more, painting a picture that stole her breath. Beneath a graffiti-covered bridge, he squatted beside a raggedy teenage girl and a younger boy. From within his duffel bag, Tane produced several cans of food and a loaf of bread that resembled the hardened loaves Anne had dined on. The young girl wept, threw her arms around his neck, and held on tight. Tane embraced her as a brother might, then let her go to rumple her hair.

As her senses returned, the visions fading to black then slowly restoring her sight, Anne gazed up in wonder at the man who touched her shoulder. What kind of man fed homeless children then kidnapped women?

He ran his hand across her hair once more, and Anne concentrated on his energy. Beneath a hardened layer of what she could only describe as hate, waves of compassion oozed forth. It tangled with something she couldn’t recognize, a foreign matter she’d never encountered. There, that generosity got lost, unable to rise to the surface.

“Put out your hands,” he instructed.

Determined she could somehow reach in to his buried goodness, Anne thrust her hands in front of her. He didn’t want to hurt her, she sensed that innately. Whether he would, if she resisted, was a variable she didn’t care to chance. Besides, no matter how she might like to consider otherwise, in the depths of her heart, she knew she couldn’t use the dagger to hurt him. She didn’t have it in her to physically harm a human being—particularly when she recognized no immediate threat.

His gaze fell to the dagger in her open palm. Approval sparked in his eyes. “Good. You keep yourself protected. ’Tis wise until your oaths are said.” Holding her wrists in one hand, he plucked the dagger from her palm with the other and tossed it aside.

Before she could react, he wound a thick scrap of cotton around her wrists, then looped a sturdy rope in place. With a snug yank, he cinched her wrists together. “I do not wish to gag you, Anne. Will you stay silent?”

Wide-eyed she looked up at him. His expression twisted, as if he anguished over his actions. It lit hope within her, encouraged the confidence her behavior was the right approach. Nodding, she agreed.

Tane stepped back from the bed. “You will come with me now.” He hauled her into his arms. With Anne’s knees dangling over his elbow, he carted her out of the room and pulled the French doors shut. In the hall, he flipped off her light switch, shut the exterior door, and bounded down the stairs.

The cold November air penetrated her flimsy nightclothes, and Anne shivered as he carried her to a truck. Though her hands were tied, they shook with fear. Safety lay with Merrick. Trusting her second sight got her bound, and though the instinctual need to scream her head off pounded at her senses, she couldn’t shake the suspicion that if she did, whatever decency Tane possessed would shatter.

He set her in the passenger’s seat, locked the door, and shut her in before he climbed behind the wheel. The engine purred to life, the dash lights filled the cab with a neon blue glow.

Anne whimpered.

At the sound, Tane turned up the heater. “You may not speak yet,” he murmured.

*   *   *

Merrick shifted his weight as he stood before Mikhail. Every instinct he possessed demanded he rush to Anne, inform her he had returned. Yet duty instructed him to suffer through the necessary delay. No matter how he craved her, he could not cast aside the more important matters.

“You say you found naught?” Mikhail looked between the seven gathered knights.

“Aye. ’Twas barren,” Nikolas answered. “We fired nine arrows into the maw, and naught came forth.”

Mikhail rose from his desk to pace before them. Head bowed, hands clasped behind his back, his steps were slow and thoughtful.

“I suspect ’tis a diversion.”

Merrick’s interjection brought Mikhail to a stop. Pivoting, he stared at Merrick. “A diversion?”

Merrick nodded. “Have you heard any other reports?”

The grimace that crossed Mikhail’s features served as answer enough. He dragged a hand down his face and closed his eyes. “There was much disturbance at the third gate. So far, it has held, according to Raphael. He is there now, watching. But I fear you are correct, Merrick. Louisiana calls to Azazel. I had hoped I was wrong, but he plans to move on the third nail.”

“Then we are to leave?” Caradoc asked.

Mikhail shook his head. “We wait for Raphael’s word. ’Tis possible the gate will hold. Until we know Azazel’s true strength, we dare not anticipate an attack, for if we leave en masse, we will certainly reveal our hand. He will track our movements. Have you all formed a strategy?”

Merrick expelled a breath he had not realized he held. “We have. Gareth will require the details, but they are simple enough we can inform him should the need arise.”

“Good. You will meet with me tomorrow to discuss it. For now, go and rest.”

As the men relaxed their rigid stances and filed toward the door, Mikhail called out, “A moment, Merrick.”

Tempering a groan, Merrick hung back and waited for the door to close. When it latched in place, Mikhail surprised him with a smile. “I thought you might wish to know of Anne’s endeavors today.”

He could not help but wince. If the last time he had left proved anything, he could only imagine what kind of trouble Anne had created for herself today. Had she finally sated her curiosity and breeched the inner sanctum?

Low and warm, Mikhail’s chuckle bounced off the walls. “’Tis not as you think. She has tamed Simon.”

Merrick’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You jest.”

“Nay. Gareth relayed to me she spoke with Simon at length. In stroking the old man’s pride, she has convinced him to hire on three chefs and reevaluate the menu to accommodate a woman’s taste.”

A laugh rumbled in Merrick’s chest, then rose up his throat to break free in a hearty burst. “’Tis a tactic of a lady—to know her servants’ needs and negotiate their tempers. She will do well within these halls.”

“You need to find her intended. She cannot accomplish anything with the men on edge. Her oath must be sworn, and my knights need to free themselves from the distraction.”

Dutifully Merrick nodded. Though he would rather walk over hot coals than locate her intended, he knew he had delayed long enough. She should already be paired. But his selfishness had gotten in the way. “I will commence the hunt again tomorrow. If I may have your leave, I would like to attend to her.”

“Of course. Gareth said she was quite distressed over your absence. Go. Tell her you have arrived in one piece.”

Anne distressed. Merrick suspected he would never get over the way her worry warmed his blood. Unable to hold back his smile, he gave Mikhail a crisp nod and pulled open the door. A few more minutes and he would hold her. Taste the sweet honey of her kiss. His cock stirred at the thought, swelling against his thigh as he anticipated the warmth of Anne’s body against his.

“Merrick, a word with you?”

Pivoting, Merrick checked a frustrated mutter. His gaze settled on Lucan, who leaned against the wall. Recalling he had wanted to speak to his friend about his lapse in duty, he beckoned Lucan to join him as he marched down the hall.

“You did not tell me Ranulf accosted Anne.”

Lucan choked on whatever he had intended to say. “I was not aware such had happened.”

A fission of annoyance slid down Merrick’s spine. As he had suspected, Lucan had not taken his duty seriously enough. He ground his teeth together, biting off sharp reprimand. When he felt in control of his reaction enough to chance words, he said simply, “If you had been near her, not only would you have known, but she would have also not experienced Ranulf and Gottfried’s threat.”

Lucan had the grace to be chagrined. He ducked his head in deference. “Apologies, Merrick. But ’tis Anne I wanted to speak of.”

Anticipating another lecture on the folly of his ways, Merrick asked through clenched teeth, “What of her?”

“I did see her that afternoon. I have not had the chance to speak with you about what I observed. She asked to use my phone.”

To contact her sister, most likely. Merrick continued down the hall, unconcerned by the notion Anne had made a call.

“I cared little for her conversation, Merrick. The things I heard…”

He hesitated long enough that Merrick stopped and had to turn around. The way his brother’s features contorted spoke to his discomfort with his news and set off horns of warning inside Merrick’s head.

“I fear she plans to leave with our secrets.”

Merrick blinked. Once. Twice. Three times before he could find his tongue. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly as I said—I believe she intends to leave with the Templar secrets. I cannot recall her precise words, but what I heard made her intentions clear.”

Merrick’s heart did a slow roll, and the breath he attempted hitched in his throat. Anne leave? She could not. She had a duty to fulfill. He furrowed his brows. She could not think to leave. Mikhail just informed him she had negotiated the kitchens. If she did not intend to stay, she would not go to such trouble … Would she?

Nay, she would not. Lucan’s mistrust clouded his reason.

Anne was upstairs, waiting. He had seen the light in her room, glimpsed her silhouette against the window. She worried for him. She
would not
leave.

“Have you found her intended?”

Merrick bristled at the second insinuation in less than ten minutes’ passing that he neglected his duties. He needed no one to point out he delayed her discovery for his own means. The knowledge plagued him as it were. “Nay,” he snapped.

Taking the hint that Merrick did not want to discuss Anne further, Lucan gratefully fell back. “I shall see you on the morrow, Merrick.”

Merrick did not bother with an answer—his thoughts had spiraled too far into guilt to try. Selfish. He was naught but a selfish bastard bent on gratifying his own desires. She would not leave, yet Anne could no longer stay with him. Saints’ blood, he had denied two of his closest friends the ability to learn whether she belonged to him. He had no cause to deny the salvation of those who had never once broken loyalty with him.

Grinding his teeth, he abruptly changed direction.

Tane he would not find—he rarely spent the night within the temple. But Declan … Declan Merrick could locate with little effort. He would learn Declan’s mark, and then speak to Anne.

CHAPTER
29

Merrick pushed open the infirmary’s door and let himself inside. From a bed across the spacious room, Declan turned his head. On seeing Merrick, he attempted to sit, but the effort required was too much, and he collapsed back into the bed.

Merrick approached the bed. “How do you fare, brother?”

The big Scot answered with a weak grin. “My arm feels afire, and my belly protests the broth Uriel feeds me. How do you ken I fare?”