CHAPTER FOUR
“Why did you arrest a woman?” Greystoke demanded.
“She insists that she is Douglas Elliot, my lord. We arrested Gavin and Rob Elliot, but Jock was nowhere to be found.” He handed the warrants to Greystoke.
“Lock the men up with Sim Armstrong. The girl presents a bit of a problem.” Greystoke rapidly searched his mind. “Lock her in one of the storerooms next to the kitchens, and bring me the key.”
He decided not to interrogate the Elliot brothers for the time being. A few days of being totally ignored often proved fruitful. He collected the storeroom key from his lieutenant and told the men to eat while the Carlisle servants were still serving dinner.
Greystoke had been stunned when he saw the beautiful red-haired female across the Great Hall. Then he felt shock to realize she had been taken prisoner. She had insinuated herself into his thoughts more often than he cared to admit.
Douglas Elliot! The name suits the proud firebrand. Not for a minute did he think she had taken part in the raid, but she was certainly guilty of telling her brothers about his prize thoroughbreds. My instinct told me she was a Scot, and yet I never once connected her with the theft of my horses.
~~~
Douglas heard the key turn in the lock on the heavy door.
I should have known the moss-troopers had been sent by Greystoke when the charge was stealing English horses.
How strange that I never made the connection.
She examined her surroundings and saw by the rush light in the wall bracket that she was in a storeroom.
She was greatly relieved that she hadn’t been imprisoned with rough men, but her fear had not vanished.
As well as apprehension for herself, she was racked with worry about the fate of her brothers.
Her stomach seemed to be in knots and she feared she might vomit.
She found a small wooden bucket, just in case, and realized she might need it for other bodily functions.
The small rush light flickered and she knew she had better search for things she might need while there was still a glimmer of illumination. It would help keep her panic at bay. She found a cask of cider, cupped her hand and turned the spigot. Then she lapped up the liquid to quench her thirst.
Guided by her nose, she found a basket of turnips, and a container of dried damsons.
She put a handful of the dried fruit in her pocket, then looked about for a place to sit.
Trepidation was turning her knees to wet linen.
She ran her hands over some large burlap sacks that stood against the wall, and found one that she thought held barley.
She sank to the floor and leaned gratefully against the cushiony sack.
Within minutes the rush light flickered out, and left her in complete darkness.
I’m not afraid of the dark, she told herself fiercely. Then she mocked: There’s no need for bravado, there’s no one here to deceive other than myself.
~~~
Douglas Elliot’s eyes flew open, but she saw nothing in the pitch black darkness.
She had thought herself too tense to sleep, and yet she realized a noise had awakened her.
Then she heard the door creak open and her heart began to pound.
She shrank back against the wall and tried to stop herself from trembling. Who is it? What do they want with me?
“Come.” The voice was low and compelling.
Douglas knew who it was immediately. She sat absolutely still for the count of ten heartbeats, then she got to her feet and walked slowly toward the voice. She raised her hands before her until they were touching a leather-clad chest. “What—?”
“Hush!” Greystoke took her hand and led her from the storeroom into a dimly lit passage.
Douglas had no idea where he was taking her, but they seemed to be going away from the kitchens, deeper into the bowels of the ancient castle.
He moved silently, like a wary predator in the forest, and she followed him quietly, hardly daring to breathe.
She noticed a faint glimmer of light and as they moved toward it she saw it was coming from a wall bracket beside a heavily studded door.
She heard Greystoke speak low to the guard who unlocked the door with a huge iron key, and suddenly they were outside the castle. Douglas glanced up, saw the stars, and reassured herself that she wasn’t dreaming. In unison they made their way across the flagstone yard toward the vast stables.
“Wait here.” Greystoke’s tone expected her to obey him. He dropped her hand and strode into the stables.
Douglas wanted to run. Here was a chance to escape, and yet she hesitated.
She was conflicted. Part of her wanted to put her trust in the English noble, in spite of an inner voice that reminded her that she had been arrested on Greystoke’s orders.
How can I flee without a horse? Finally, she decided to have faith in her instincts.
She could hear the thudding of her heart in her ears, as the dark rider approached and reached down his arm. She put her hand in his and he hoisted her up before him.
“Your hands are freezing.” He turned her toward him. “Put them inside my doublet.”
Douglas did as he bade her, and was amazed at his body heat.
It did not take long for Greystoke’s powerful horse to cover the four miles to Beaumont Hall.
With the enchanting female between his thighs, the ride wasn’t nearly long enough, if he were being truthful.
He rode into the stable, dismounted and lifted his captive down.
Usually he tended his own mount, but when a stableman roused and came forward, he handed him the reins.
He knew his companion was shivering and he wanted to get her inside, where the heat from the fires would warm her.
When he saw the stableman’s questioning gaze slide over the redhead, he was annoyed. Keep your eyes to yourself, man.
He opened the door and motioned for her to go before him.
She glanced up at the tall case clock in the entrance hall and saw that it was only a few minutes past midnight.
Time felt like it had stood still while she was imprisoned in the storeroom.
He led her to the large stone hearth, and though the fire had burned low, it still gave off some welcome heat.
As Douglas held her hands out to the warmth, she watched Greystoke throw off his leather jack, then reach out to take hers. When he removed it, she began to shiver.
“I know what you need.” Greystoke moved across the room, poured something into a glass and brought it to her. “Brandy. Drink up.” His dark eyes watched her closely as she sipped the fiery liquor.
Her thoughts darted like quicksilver. I’m still his prisoner.
Can I persuade him to release me? Douglas counted the things she could use as a bribe.
The list was a short one. She had her body and she had her wits.
One thing she knew instinctively: if a female took the defensive role, a male would keep her there.
She summoned her bravado, and decided to act as if they were equals.
The brandy was strong and she cautioned herself to sip it slowly so she wouldn’t choke and cough.
Greystoke gave her an approving look, and she suddenly felt empowered, though perhaps it was the liquor that was making her feel brave.
“Is there anything else you’d like, Firebrand?”
He speaks like a bloody god, bestowing his gifts from Olympus! Now’s your chance, Douglas. You don’t ask, you don’t get. I’d like to return home. I’d like the release of my brothers. Instead, she threw him a challenging smile. “Some food, and hot water to bathe.”
Greystoke’s eyes widened slightly. He took the empty glass from her fingers and set it aside. Then he moved behind her, and cupped her shoulders in his strong hands. “Yes, you’re still cold, and both those things would thaw you. Curl up before the fire, while I see what I can find in the kitchen.”
When he withdrew, she took a deep breath, and congratulated herself.
Though he was an English nobleman, he had rescued her from prison, and was now waiting upon her.
She knew that she was vain, but she had more than a suspicion that he was attracted to her.
Her innate honesty compelled her to admit that she also was attracted to Lance Greystoke.
He brought her a steaming bowl of lamb and barley broth.
When she took it from him, it warmed her hands, and she breathed in its tantalizing aroma.
Between spoonfuls she said, “I thought only Scots enjoyed this kind of soup, but now I see it must be a Border favorite. We may have more in common than we realize.”
“Such as a mutual desire for horses?” he suggested lightly.
Douglas reminded herself that the English Border Warden was dangerous. She must avoid the topic of horses, lest she say something that would further incriminate her brothers.
“I was thinking of home-brewed ale, salmon fishing, and books.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I envy you your library, Greystoke.”
His dark eyes focused on her mouth. “You are an anomaly, a beautiful female with a penchant for reading.”
She set her spoon down in the empty bowl. “And you, Sir Lancelot, are an enigma.”
“I know.”
He gestured toward the staircase. “I had a servant heat you some water, if you would care to follow me.”
She rose to her feet slowly. Why is he giving me all I ask? When will he start taking? Her inner voice warned: He is a man. There will be a price to pay. Douglas tried to silence the voice. When I call the tune, I’m perfectly willing to pay the piper. It could be most rewarding. “Lead on, my lord.”
Greystoke led her directly to his own bedchamber, where a copper bath stood before the fire. Her glance swept about the room. The furniture was polished black oak, the hangings gold velvet, and the huge bed dominated the chamber.
A manservant appeared carrying two buckets of steaming water. He added it to the water already in the copper tub.