Chapter 19
God in heaven no! Emma ached at Patrik’s stricken expression, struggled to somehow try to explain. She had never meant for him to learn the truth. “I am so sorry! Patrik—”
“Silence her!” Sir Cressingham ordered.
A guard cupped her mouth, another held her secure.
Disbelief carved every line of Patrik’s face. “Na-Nae Scottish?”
“Emma is English.” Satisfaction rolled through the treasurer’s words. Sir Cressingham shot her a caustic glance. “’Twould seem she achieved a bit of her task for the coin paid.”
Fury swept Patrik’s face, anger so hard, so deep, Emma wished to shrivel up and die.
“Emma was paid to meet you,” Sir Cressingham continued, the cold enjoyment of his words heightening her remorse.
“To retrieve the writ you carried and unveil the one who betrays us within King Edward’s trusted circle.
But as we have you, she is no longer necessary—for now.
” He nodded to the guards. “Use her as you will, but leave her alive. I will deal with her once I am through with the rebel.”
“No!” Emma screamed. Fury spewed from Patrik’s eyes. Anger she deserved, but he should not pay for her treachery. “Do not kill him. Please.”
Sir Cressingham’s face darkened. “Remove her!”
Lust gleamed in the guards’ eyes.
She struggled against their hold; they pulled her back. “I am sorry, Patrik. You were never supposed to follow me.”
Two guards hauled her out, shoved the door shut. Torchlight cut through the blackness, ominous flickers battering the night.
Her heart slammed in her chest. Think. She could not allow Patrik to die.
Night-chilled grass gave beneath her steps as the guards half led, half dragged her.
With hard laughter, they hauled her inside a room barren except for a half-made bed and a near-gutted candle. Rough hands shoved her back. In the murky torchlight, she caught the predatory gleam of their eyes.
A brutal hand caught her gown, tore.
Coolness swept her naked breasts.
Laughter echoed within the chamber. Then silence descended, a silence so cold and deadly, she struggled to breathe.
“Take off your garb,” the closest knight ordered. “Let me see what you gave the Scottish bastard.”
“Please, no,” she whispered, allowing the fear of her youth to fill her voice, shrinking back as if terrified. She crouched amidst their vicious leers, slid her hand beneath the folds of her gown and clasped her dagger.
The closest man shot the other a warning glare. “I will have the wench first. Hold her for me.”
Revulsion filled her as the other man nodded, then strode forward. Step closer, you tail of a dog.
His booted foot strode across the floor, each echo harsh with his intent.
A handsbreadth away, Emma unsheathed her blade, slashed the man’s neck. As he gasped, she spun and drove the dagger into the other man’s heart.
Shock scraped her assailant’s face. “Bitch.”
“No, a woman.”
On a pained moan, he crumpled to the floor.
Emma jerked the blade free, rushed to the door and peered into the blackness.
No guards.
As she tied her torn gown, she glanced toward the building where Sir Cressingham held Patrik. She must save him. But how? Alone and with but a blade against a roomful of knights, she posed little threat to them. Her mind rumbled with thoughts, ideas she cast aside as quick as they came.
Emma stilled, knew what she must do, a choice that might cost her life. For Patrik it was a risk she would take.
With a prayer for his safety, she bolted into the night.
Hours later, exhaustion shrouded Emma as she stood within the bailey of Lochshire Castle. A ring encircled the full moon low in the sky, at odds with the rising sun as it struggled against the angry cast of gray.
Torches severed the eroding darkness, the battle of flame against night naught compared to the furious glares of the MacGruder brothers and the Baron of Monceaux as they bore down upon her.
The guard on her right, his hold upon her arm firm, nodded. “Lord Grey. Mistress Cristina was caught trying to slip along the shore past the knights camped there.”
The earl and his brothers halted before her, the four massive men forming an intimidating wall. “Where is Patrik?”
Emma held his angry gaze. “Sir Hugh de Cressingham has him.” She fought to control her emotions. “When I left, he was alive. Please, you must save him.”
Sir Alexander stepped forward. “Save him?” He glared at his eldest brother. “’Tis a bloody trap.”
Sir Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “Is he dead?”
She shook her head, ashamed, deserving their wrath and so much more. “When I escaped he was alive.”
“Escaped?” Sir Alexander snorted.
“If we find Patrik dead,” Lord Monceaux said, “none will save you.”
“Who are you?” Though softly spoken, cold fury rolled through Lord Grey’s voice.
She steadied herself. “Emma Astyn.”
Sir Alexander cursed, Sir Duncan stared stunned, and the Earl of Grey’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“One of England’s top mercenaries,” the Baron of Monceaux said, fury etched within each word.
The pride she’d held at her hard-earned title, wilted beneath the reality of the harm she’d done. “Yes, but no longer.”
Lord Grey arched a skeptical brow. “And we are to believe you?”
“By God, lass,” Alexander growled, “Patrik lies dead and you think to spew words we will be foolish enough to swallow? Or to follow you to where Patrik is supposedly held?” His jaw tightened. “For what, the bastard Cressingham’s men to kill?”
Panic stole through her. “’ Tis the truth. I swear it. If you do not save Patrik, he will die!”
“That I believe,” the earl said. “If the deed is not already done.” Lord Grey stepped closer. “You will regret your part in this. Guards,” he called without taking his eyes from her, “take her to the dungeon.”
“No!” Emma struggled against his knights’ hold. “You must believe me!”
The earl motioned his men to take her away.
The knights started forward, their grasp firm.
Tears streamed down her face as she dug her heels into the dirt. Damn them! “You need me to show you where Patrik is.”
Silence.
The guards continued.
“Without my help, you cannot save him!” Frantic, she twisted in their hold, and caught sight of Lady Nichola near the keep holding her son, her face pale. Alexander’s wife had heard everything. As if it mattered. Or, maybe it did.
“Nichola,” Sir Alexander called, “go inside.”
“No.” Hysteria washed over Emma. To think, her only chance to save Patrik was to gain the help of the woman he’d tried to kill. A vague hope, but at this moment, all she had. “My lady, if help does not arrive, Patrik will die.”
Remoteness shrouded Lady Nichola’s eyes. “The choice to save him is not mine.”
“But your opinion matters,” Emma pleaded as the guards wrestled her forward. “You know the terror of being a captive, of believing your life is forfeit.”
Nichola swept a protective hand around her son, stepped back. “It is not the same.”
“No? Like Patrik, were you not betrayed?” Tears burned Emma’s throat as the guards continued to lead her away.
“Patrik regrets his deed, damns his attempt on your life. In penance, he kept away from his brothers, away from a family he loves. My lady, a year has passed. Tell me, has he not sacrificed enough? Has he not grieved his mistakes long enough? Or will you never forgive him?”
“Enough!” Lord Grey said.
Emma struggled against the guards. “No—”
“Wait,” Lady Nichola interrupted.
“Bedamned!” Sir Alexander stormed over to his wife. “You will not be badgered about by Cressingham’s hireling, a woman who lured my brother to his death!”
If possible, Lady Nichola’s face paled further. The child in her arms shifted, struggling.
“Take our son inside,” Sir Alexander said. It wasn’t a request.
Lady Nichola’s somber eyes held Emma’s. “She is right. You have reclaimed a brother believed dead. Instead of accepting his heartfelt apology, acknowledged his sacrifices made, I clung to anger.”
“Patrik tried to kill you,” Alexander spat.
“Mayhap,” Lady Nichola replied, “but ’twas not out of malice. He loved you, tried to protect you, believed me unworthy of your love. His past guided his actions; actions he now understands were wrong, actions he now regrets.”
The scar on Sir Alexander’s face jumped. “’Tis not the time to discuss this now.”
Lady Nichola’s expression softened. “It is. Long past time.” Taking an unsteady breath, she turned toward Lord Grey. “I believe her.”
“Guards, halt,” Lord Grey ordered.
Sir Alexander spun to face his brother. “Bloody hell.”
Humbled by Nichola’s faith, Emma shook her head. “How, my lady, when I have but lied to you from the start, entered your home with naught but deceptive intent.”
“I thought you were trying to sway me to convince the men to help?” Lady Nichola asked.
Emotions swamped Emma. “I am. Thank you, my lady. Never will I forget your generosity.”
“’Tis a lard-bloated lie,” Alexander grumbled.
Lady Nichola gave her husband a quelling glance, then turned to the earl. “As I said, the choice is not mine to make, but if I was asked, I would take Mistress Emma’s word, allow her to ride along with you to save your brother.”
Anger sparked in Lord Grey’s gaze.
Emma trembled, prayed Lady Nichola’s belief was enough. “I will lead you to Patrik. No tricks, no deception, to that I swear.”
The earl’s nostrils flared; then he nodded.
The Baron of Monceaux studied her a long moment, then crossed his arms. “’Twould please me to take down any bastard who would bring a woman harm.”
A hard smile kicked up Sir Duncan’s mouth. “Likewise.”
Heart pounding, Emma turned to Sir Alexander, his glare raw with displeasure.
“I will ride,” Sir Alexander said between clenched teeth, “but expect naught of my trust.”
As if she cared. All she wanted was Patrik alive. Tears filled Emma’s eyes. “My thanks.”
Alexander shook his head. “Do nae thank me. I go for my brother.”
Sprawled upon the damp earthen floor, Patrik opened his eyes. Through swollen lids, he stared at the seep of afternoon light beneath the entry as the guards’ steps faded.