Moonstone (25 page)

She flexed her jaw. “Eventually.”

Rhiannon cast one more glance at the door, then accepted Alec’s arm and let him walk her above to the chamber she was sharing with William. Once within, she bolted the door.
There was no reason to believe she wouldn’t be safe there, but the fear of being accosted in her own chamber was a habit she could not convince herself to break.

Rhiannon noted the cherry wardrobe with its matching writing desk, the canopy bed with dark green brocade bed curtains, and the parquet floor. She went to the window and opened the glass.
The air was warm compared to what she had gotten used to in the north. Rhiannon peered at the sky. The moon was in its quarter. She remembered her father’s ring, the one with the moonstone. Gray with a blue, metallic sheen, it reminded her of William’s eyes. If it was at Hanover, she wanted to find it and give it to William.

Her eyes drifted across the lawn and toward the stables. She made out the outline of a kilted figure. It could have been Graham, Angus, Charlie, or any of the other dozen men William had brought with him. But she knew it was not any of them by the way he moved.

It was William, in the paddock brushing his young stallion. She loosened her hair and took up her silver hairbrush from the dressing table, working it through her waves. Then she sighed and propped her elbows on the windowsill, her chin in her hand, watching him.

William looked up, away, and then up again. Rhiannon straightened, heat flooding her face. He had caught her staring at him like some lovesick
fool!

William turned his back on her. She swallowed her tears and stepped away from the window.

There was a knock at the door and her heart leapt in her throat. “Aye.”

“’Tis Susan, my lady. Lady Margaret sent me to aid you in your toilet.”

Her shoulders loosened. “Aye, of course.” Rhiannon went to the door and pulled back the bolt. She made to usher the maid in, then stopped. Looking at Susan’s pale face, she knew something was wrong.

“What is it?”

A man in a brown cloak shifted into view. He pressed a dagger to Susan’s side, and then forced her into the chamber. He shoved the girl at the bed and her cry was cut short as her head collided with the iron bedpost. She fell backward onto the floor. Still. Silent. Blood trickled from her forehead.

Rhiannon dropped her brush and moved toward the girl. She looked over her shoulder as she
came to her knees. “Who are you?”

“Do you not know?” He pulled back his hood.

Her stomach roiled and her skin turned to ice. “Geoffrey?”

He smiled
from between thin lips. “Back from the dead it would seem,” he said.

Rhiannon rose carefully to her feet. “How did you . . .” She was going to ask him how he got into the hall, and how he knew they were there in the first place, but conversation was ridiculous.

Rhiannon reached for her dagger instead. “Leave.” Fear tingled a path down her spine, but she pushed it aside.
Do not give in to fear.

Geoffrey closed the door, his eyes on her the entire time. “Not just yet. I have something I want to show you first.”

She shook her head and backed away, her dagger between them. “You will show me nothing. Never again.”

“Och, now, I
woulda be so sure.” He gestured with his own dagger. “But there is time for that later.” His eyes darkened as his gaze washed over her unbound hair. He went to the lantern on a side table near the bed and put it out. “Come to the window.”

She edged away from him, but there wasn’t anywhere else to go. Her back
was pressed against the wall. He gestured again. “The window, if you will.”

Rhiannon shuffled along the wall toward the window, wondering if he planned to push her out. “William is here.”

His eyes flashed. She knew he was afraid of her husband.

“Aye, I know
,” he said. “He is not as clever as he likes to think. I received word that he was on his way south and decided to visit my dearest friend.”

“Reginald? Last I knew he feared you would kill him.”

“All in the past, my dove. All in the past.”

Which meant he and Reginald were using each other for some common gain. Men like th
at did not have friends, only temporary alliances. Rhiannon knew who they were allied against.

William.

“Come now,” he said. “No more dallying. There is something I want you to see.”

She felt her way to the window ledge and looked out, keeping Geoffrey in her peripheral vision, her dagger between them.

“Now take a good look,” he said.

Her eyes scanned the wooden walls. She made out only one guard. Then she realized it was an archer. He held a crossbow and it was aimed into the yard. Her gaze followed its sights, and she saw William with his stallion.

“Nay-” She tried to scream into the yard to warn him, but Geoffrey clamped his hand over her mouth. His other hand caught her wrist. He twisted her arm until she dropped the dagger. It landed with a clang at her feet.

He leaned close to her ear
, reeking of ale and pipe smoke. “All I have to do is give the signal, and he dies.”

Rhiannon squirmed against him, but his tight, lean body held her in check.

“If you want him to live, then you will come with me. Obediently. Do you understand?”

Oh God. Anything
but this.
She couldn’t relinquish herself to Geoffrey. She couldn’t risk William either. Rhiannon nodded as best she could against his hand.

He slid his fingers away. Rhiannon didn’t make a sound. She didn’t dare.

“There’s a good lass.” His gaze swept over her. She glanced at her weapon useless on the floor. He took a step closer and grabbed a lock of her hair. She wanted to scream but he shook his head in warning. Rhiannon felt her cry catch in her throat. His hand shook as he leaned closer. “Last time, it was different. You were beautiful and innocent and mine for the taking. Now you are his. I like what is his.”

“What do you have against him that could make you do this?”

Geoffrey dropped her hair. “Come.” He grabbed her by her tender arm. While the bone was knit, it was still her weakness. She bit back a yelp of pain. She looked for her dagger but there was no hope of retrieving it.

Or was there?

Rhiannon twisted, despite the pain in her arm, and kneed Geoffrey, right where he’d been stabbed last fall with her knife. He doubled over and a coughing fit seized him. Rhiannon scrambled for her dagger. Her fingers closed around the handle and she turned just as he straightened. This time she didn’t back away like a coward. She leapt toward him instead.

Geoffrey caught her hand, holding the weapon away from his chest. She pushed with all her might but he was stronger. She tried to knee him again but he twisted and her knee hit his thigh. He backed her into the wall, the wind whooshing out of her lungs
, then pressed his forearm against her windpipe. Stars filled her vision and Rhiannon’s fingers loosened around the dagger. He tossed it across the room.

She raked at his hands with her nails, growing weaker by the second. He pulled back and she fell to the floor, gasping and clutching her throat. Geoffrey took her by her sore arm and yanked her to her feet, giving her no time to recover.

“Now we leave,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-
Five

William trudged up the stairs to their chamber. It was easier to avoid her on the road. There was n
othing he could do tonight. She would take whatever she wanted from him, because he would be powerless to stop her. It had been that way since the moment she was first brought into Geoffrey’s hall.

It didn’t matter how many times he gave into her
either. How many times he lost himself inside of her, falling asleep spent in her arms. The sun always rose and pulled them apart again.

He still wanted to posses her. And that bothered him. It made him feel like he was
no different from the men who had once come sniffing around her father’s door. Made him no different than Geoffrey.

As William walked down the hall, he felt the same dread ache in his gut
that he had the night he first saw her. He could see her gaunt face in his mind’s eye, see Geoffrey’s hands on her. 

As he neared their chamber door the hair on the back on his neck prickled. Something . . . The door was open. She would never leave it like that. William raced into the room, then halted. A wee maid lay on the floor. She moaned and touched her forehead, then looked at her fingers. They were coated with blood. Her eyes lifted to his and fear shone in them.

“There was a man.” She swallowed. “He had a dagger. He shoved me.” Her eyes blurred.

“Easy lass.” William knelt before her. He scanned the room and saw Rhiannon’s dagger on the floor and the window still open. He scoop
ed the girl up and carried her into the corridor. “Margaret, Richard, Alec!”

Alec was the first to respond, yanking on his boots as he came down the hallway. He saw the girl and his face darkened. “My sister?”

“Gone.” William’s throat felt gritty.

Richard was next, rapier in hand, Margaret behind him.

“Susan?” Margaret took the girl’s hand. “What happened?”

“Alec, you and Margaret see to Susan,” William said, placing the maid into Alec’s arms.

Richard grabbed his arm. “What is going on?”

“My wife. She’s gone.”
William ran his hands through his hair, his fingers shaking. This was it. He was going to come apart at the seams.

He couldn’t help her like this. He needed to focus.

Richard sheathed his rapier. “Let us see to my guards and your men. There could be wounded among them. Perhaps they have seen something as well.”

“It was Geoffrey.”

Richard shook his head. “He is in Scotland.”

“No
, he’s not.” William flexed his fingers. “I should have finished him while I had the chance.”

“I understand how you feel, but hate will not aid your lady. We must act with clear heads.”

Richard was right about the need to focus. “Aye. I will see to my men.” But William would never let go of the hate. 

“And I will check on mine. We will meet in my study to discuss our next move.”

* * *

The wounded were gathered and being cared for. William met with Richard in his study. Alec was already there, pacing before the bookcase and looking as ready as William was to stop anyone who came between him and Rhiannon. Graham stood next to Richard, his hands clasped behind him, looking guilty for bringing Rhiannon in the first place. 

Richard was the only steady head in the room. It was easier for him though. His wife was safely above with three guards at her door.

“It is not your fault,” William told Graham.
“Neither of us expected this.”

His blond, bearded jaw worked, but he said nothing.

“I will waste no more time,” William said to Richard. “My men are more than capable of gaining entrance to Hanover.”

“I am certain they are,” Richard said. He gestured toward Alec. “It is your home. What is the best way inside?”

Alec stopped pacing. He blew out a breath as if to clear his head. “The kitchens.” He grimaced. “Through the waste chute.”

“Then that is what we shall do. The three of us, anyhow.” Richard looked at William. “My men and yours will distract the guards while we find Rhiannon.”

“Reginald is mine,” Alec said, checking his pistol.

And Geoffrey was his, William thought.

This time, he would be given no quarter. 

* * *    

Rhiannon winced when the whalebone stay she’d removed from her bodice broke off in the keyhole and splintered against her hand. A drop of blood welled on her skin. She sat back and cradled her knees against her chest.

She was trapped in the chamber she
’d grown to womanhood in. The same room she’d half-starved in.

The same room where Geoffrey had raped her.

Rhiannon pulled to her feet, wavered, and then fell, her hands coming out to catch her. Pain radiated up her forearms, and she struggled for breath.

“All will be well,” she told her unborn child. “Your father will soon come for us.” Wincing, she
came back to her feet.

Geoffrey would be ready for William when he did
come. What if his ambush worked this time? Geoffrey knew his weaknesses, both in body and of heart. She closed her eyes and prayed.

“Lord, I know he’ll come for me. He will not stop until he has freed me or died in the trying.” Despite the angst between them, it was the one thing she knew for certain. William would play the hero. It was what he did best. “Tell him what he needs to do. Guide him, and Alec and Richard
too.” Rhiannon sat on the edge of her bed. She pressed her hand to her stomach. “Protect our wee
bairn
. I dinna wish to lose another child.”

A key worked the lock from the outside, struggled, then pushed the bits of bone free. The handle lifted. Rhiannon stood, her heart in her throat as the door swung opened
and Geoffrey stood there.

God help me.  

He slipped inside and shut the door behind him. Her breath came in fast gasps as Geoffrey smiled, greedy, lustful.

“I
couldna have hoped for more,” he said, his voice low as if he attempted a seductive tone.

Rhiannon stepped away from the bed.

“Look at you, my sweet dove.” He waved a hand in her direction. “Healthy, well fed. ’Tis as you were before, only better now, because he has had you.”

Geoffrey closed the space between them and took her by the upper arms. His fingers dug in hard as he pulled her against him, pressing her close. She fought for breath, gagging at the very smell of him.

“William,” she sobbed.

Geoffrey looked at her with half-closed eyes. “Say his name again,” he groaned.

She swallowed back the acid in her mouth. “You are insane.”

He took a hold of her gown and tore it off of her. She had her petticoat beneath. His hands swept down her, over her breasts
through the fabric. She scratched at him but he pushed her backward until she collided with the wall, the air driven from her lungs. He followed and his hand found the hard mound in her lower abdomen.

“Now I shall have you both.” He licked his lips. “His wife, and his child.”

Geoffrey pressed his mouth against hers. She clamped her jaw, forbidding him access to the inside of her mouth. He tried to pry her jaw open, and she bit him. He yelped, looking at his bloody finger. Then he laughed and pulled her away from the wall.

Geoffrey threw her at the bed and pinned her down on her stomach, her arms twisted behind her back. It was just like before. Only it wasn’t. She pressed her eyes closed and prayed. Her mind turned
inward.

Geoffrey unbuckled his sword belt with one hand and tossed it aside. Rhiannon turned her face and watched it on the floor. If only she could get to it. She writhed against him but he was too strong. She cried out and he shoved her face into the pillow until she thought she would suffocate in it. The strength seeped from her muscles and she couldn’t fight him any longer. He wrenched her petticoats out of his way. It wouldn’t take very long she told herself. Geoffrey only wanted his fill. She could pull inside her head for the few minutes it would take. 

She heard muffled sounds. Someone at the door. Geoffrey released her and she took her first deep breath. Rhiannon pushed herself up on her hands and knees, peering through her hair. The door crashed open and wood splintered. Geoffrey dove at his sword as William entered the room, his claymore bared and his face darker than Rhiannon had ever seen before.

She pushed off the bed and felt her way along the wall to the corner, then slid down to the floor with her arms around her knees.

* * *

Geoffrey reached for his sword.

Rhiannon was crouched in the corner and William’s heart broke, but he knew he couldn’t let it distract him. He’d made that mistake before, at the Kirk, and it almost cost him everything.

He fed into his hate instead.

“You just had to,” William said. “You couldna leave her out of this. You should have come for me instead.”

Geoffrey lifted his basket
-hilted sword. “And you should be dead by now. How did you make it past the guards?”

“Alec. Never underestimate a man when he is in his own home.”

“Alec?” Geoffrey glanced at the door, as if he expected the young lord to come bursting into the chamber at any moment. 

“Canna trust the help these days. It seems Alec was not given quite enough poison.” William glanced at Rhiannon. She was watching him through her hair.
He hated to do this in front of her. But he would not allow Geoffrey to leave the room alive. “I failed to kill you before,” he told Geoffrey. “I willna make the same mistake twice.”

William stepped forward. Geoffrey’s eyes widened with panic for a moment, then he steadied himself for the fight and closed the distance between them.

Their swords clashed, echoing in the chamber. Geoffrey swung wide and William took advantage of the opening in his guard, slashing the front of his tunic. Geoffrey winced as blood formed a damp red line across his torso.

They circled each other.   

Geoffrey’s breath was short, his face beginning to pale.

“You still have not recovered from our last encounter,” William said.

Thin lips sneered. “I have recovered enough. Well enough to take your wife, and your child together.”

Gritting his teeth, William slammed down hard on Geoffrey’s blade. Steel scraped as Geoffrey struggled beneath William’s claymore. William’s shoulder ached, as it always did when he wielded his sword, but he compensated by using his greater body mass against Geoffrey, muscles in his back and legs engaging. 

Screeching metal filled the chamber. Geoffrey broke away, taking a step back. He took another, then realized that he was backed into the corner. Baiting him, William lifted his sword, just high enough to give Geoffrey a nice opening across his belly. Geoffrey, winded, with desperate eyes, took the bait, charging William.

William lowered his sword, both hands around the hilt, the blade tilted downward, catching Geoffrey’s sword and jerking it from his grasp.

It hit the floor with a clang.  

Geoffrey fell to his knees, his eyes vacant.

“I swear, Father, I did the best I could.” Geoffrey spoke in a falsetto. “I didna want him to win. He cheated.” Geoffrey stopped, cocking his head as if listening to a voice only he could hear. “I will do better next time, Father. I willna disgrace you again.”

Did he refer to the duel
that he and Geoffrey had fought all those years ago as children? William knew Geoffrey had never forgotten, and that he held a grudge against him because of it, but he had no idea it had gone this far.

“Please Father, please. Dinna hurt me. I will be better. I will try harder.” Geoffrey lifted his arms over his head. He was a quiver of flesh on the floor. It could have been a ruse, but William had the
impression it wasn’t.

He
looked at Rhiannon. She shook her head.

William
kept his sword between himself and Geoffrey as he moved toward her. He had bigger concerns than whether to kill Geoffrey now, or to wait until he came back to his senses. She held onto the wall for support and struggled to her feet. William wrapped his arm around her, then turned them both so he could keep an eye on Geoffrey.

“I’m sorry,” William said. “I was too late.”
His fingers tightened around the fabric of her petticoat. “Geoffrey told me . . .” He looked away, unable to meet her gaze, knowing he had failed her.

Rhiannon touched his face, turning his head until he looked at her. Tears streaked down her cheeks. His hands shook against the pommel of his sword. He had to fight to keep the weapon in his grasp.