Bound In Darkness 02 - The Devil's Knight Part 19

Crouching low, she slipped inside and found herself on a gallery above the tower hall. Tristan's knights and soldiers had already begun to gather there-she saw Sir Sebastian sitting by the hearth, studying her chess game. A narrow door at the end of the gallery opened on a tight spiral stair, and she slipped down it, careful to make no sound. But the door at the bottom opened directly into the hall, probably behind a tapestry. She could hear voices just outside, too close to avoid if she pa.s.sed through.

"Lord Tristan rode out with the duke," a man was saying. "But he told Sir Andrew he would return and reveal to us his plan."

Siobhan chewed her lip. She could wait and eavesdrop in relative safety-Tristan's plan was something she would very much like to hear. But now might be her only chance to explore the dungeons with Tristan and his friend gone out. Biting back an oath, she climbed the stairs again.

At least the rest of her climb down the tower was simple-an iron ladder led from the door almost to the ground. She dropped the last few feet into the turf below, breathing a sigh of relief. The great wolfhound b.i.t.c.h that she had rescued from the brigands'

mutts her first morning at the castle walked up and sniffed her curiously, nuzzling her hand for a caress. "Fair e'en, milady," she murmured, scratching between the dog's ears. "Where has your master gone?"

The boy who kept the kennels was a particular pet of hers, and had been since Sean had taken the castle. He stood up, surprised, as she came in, but grinned when she put a finger to her lips. She motioned him closer and put a hand on his shoulder. "How do I get to the dungeons?"

"Careful, my lady," he answered, matching her near-whisper. "The master of works has a crew of diggers there."

"Diggers?" Callard had spoken of tunnels under the castle, tunnels Sean had known of and never mentioned to her. Could Silas or Tristan know about them as well? "Why do they dig?"

"I couldn't say," the boy shrugged. " 'Twas the little one's idea, the duke's jester."

She had barely noticed the dwarf the day before, so intent had she been on reaching Tristan, but she remembered him even so, a bearded little man in motley clothes. "The jester says to dig up the dungeons, so Silas obeys him?"

"They're mad, the lot of them." The boy nodded. "They're on the far end, away from the door I will show you. But you must be careful."

She smiled. "I will."

The door was little more than a hatchway, built to pa.s.s trash out of both the dungeon and the kennels into the ditch around the motte, so low she had to crawl through on her hands and knees. Once inside, she climbed into a crouch and crept through the darkness, listening intently. At the far end of the dungeon was indeed a crew of men digging a hole in the floor. Silas stood over them, his chin in his hand as if he were deep in thought. But she saw no sign of the dwarf. Just across from where she crouched in the shadows was an open cell with two large beds and some chairs inside-Tristan's underground chamber. Giving the diggers a long look to make certain they were engrossed in their task, she darted across the torchlit corridor.

Some scrolls were spread across a chest-a map and some others covered in gibberish, writing she could not decipher. Both beds were neatly made, and Tristan's peasant clothes were folded on the foot of one. Glancing again at the group working just a few feet away, she lifted the papers away and opened the chest.

Inside were more clothes that smelled like Tristan, and she smiled without thinking, lifting them away. Under these was the castle's accounting book; she had seen Sean studying it many times. She flipped it open and saw new accounts written in Tristan's hand- the numbers of his men returned from war and a list of the stores sent from the king. The vampire truly meant to be lord of his manor again.

"You must be Lady Siobhan." She turned to find the dwarf standing behind her. "I must admit, I did not see your face very clearly yesterday."

"I did not see you either." She could flee, she supposed, but what would be the point? "But yes, I am Siobhan." She closed the book but made no move to put it away. "Are you the duke's jester?"

He smiled. "I fear I do not amuse him very well. Nay, lady." He came closer, his manner relaxed. "I am a wizard. My name is Orlando."

"Well met, Orlando." He was studying her, and his eyes lingered pointedly on her throat.

"Well met indeed." He offered his hand, and she took it. "We have much to talk about, I think." "Do we?" She dropped the book back into the chest and went back to her search, emerging with her sword that Tristan had taken. "Why would you say that?"

"Because you know your husband is a vampire," he answered. "And you tried to kill him with that sword."

"What is that to you?" She tucked the sword into her belt. "You speak of vampires as if you might know much of them. I know very little at all."

"You know more than any woman I have met yet in this Britain," he answered. "How is that, my lady?"

"I married one," she retorted. Under the sword was a wooden stake, old and dry as bones from a grave. "And he married a thief." She took this as well, tucking it beside the sword.

"Do you still mean to slay him?" He asked as if he were merely curious, as if it mattered very little to him what her answer might be.

"No," she answered. "Not unless I have to."

To her surprise, he smiled. "Good," he nodded. "If it comes to that, I wish you well, Siobhan."

She frowned, confused. "Thanks..." Still watching him, trying to interpret his smile, she backed out again and headed for the door.

Orlando watched the girl disappear into the shadows, silent and graceful as a cat in the dark. "Good fortune, little warrior," he mumbled. "May your G.o.ds protect you." He reached into the pocket closest to his heart and drew out the ruby-colored bottle he kept there.

"My friend, there is nothing here," Silas called back to him, sounding tired and impatient but completely oblivious to the girl's ever having been there. "If there are caves in this hill, this is not the source."

Orlando pressed a kiss to the bottle, the gla.s.s like ice against his lips. "She is strong, beloved," he whispered, knowing the vampire sleeping as a vapor inside could not hear him, but needing to tell her even so. "If Kivar should take this Tristan, I believe she can destroy him." Simon was fond of his vampire brother; he would not understand. But in so many ways, Simon was still little more than a child. "You will be free, my love." Tucking the bottle back into his pocket, he went to join the scholar.

Tristan stood before his a.s.sembled men with the fire behind him, a familiar posture that should have pleased him. This was what he had wanted, after all, the vengeance his soul had bought for him when he became a demon. But looking out at them, his mortal friends and comrades, he felt empty and sad.

"Why did you not tell us straightaway, my lord?" Sir Andrew demanded. "Why did we not lay waste to these villains yesterday when we arrived?"

"Because many in this castle are not villains," he answered. He had told them almost all of the truth, how Lebuin and his brigands had taken the castle and murdered their friends, how he himself had been married to Siobhan, then taken far away to die alone in shame. "And the true villain has fled."

"Lebuin," Andrew nodded, speaking the word like a curse.

"But what of the lady, my lord?" Sir Sebastian said.

"The lady is n.o.ble at heart," one of the recently rescued lieutenants said before Tristan could answer. "'Twas she who pled for young Richard's life, and she nursed him herself, did all she could to save him. She has interceded for the common folk and for our soldiers many times with her brother and his men. You are right to spare her, Lord DuMaine." He seemed to feel too many eyes on him and blushed. "Or so I do believe."

"So do I," Tristan said. Silas was standing at the back of the hall, his arms crossed on his chest, and he nodded as Tristan looked his way. He had told the scholar his plan before coming into the hall; this soldier's speech made it seem that it might work. "Lady Siobhan has been at the mercy of her brother since her father's death. She had no choice but to follow him. But now she is my wife, and I will protect her, if I can." For a moment, he thought he heard a small sound from above, like a bird in the rafters, and he looked up. But he saw nothing. "Lebuin seems to have great affection for his sister," he went on. "He may be a coward, but I cannot believe he means to abandon her completely." Andrew smiled, already understanding, and Tristan smiled back. "He will return to rescue her, particularly if he thinks I am still weak," he finished. "And when he does, we will have him."

The rest of the conference pa.s.sed quickly, with orders for watches and fresh oaths of loyalty from the traitorous lieutenants. But as the men were dispersing, Tristan saw movement in the gallery above. "G.o.d's a.r.s.e," he muttered, catching Silas by the arm.

"Tell Simon and Orlando I will see them before dawn." Without waiting to hear the scholar's answer, he sprinted for the hidden stairs.

He opened the door at the top and looked down, expecting to see some brigand making his way down the iron ladder to the ground, but there was no one. He sniffed the air, his vampire senses picking up a heartbeat.

Siobhan froze, clinging to the stones above, her heart pounding with fury from what she had heard and fear that she would be discovered. Bait...he meant to use her as bait.

Above, Tristan suddenly realized. The spy was above him. Catching hold of the doorframe with his left hand, he reached up with his right and caught a booted foot. Yanking hard, he meant to fling the brigand to his death in the rocky ditch below. Then he heard her scream. "Siobhan!" Letting go of the doorway, he lunged after her, nearly losing his own balance as he caught her by the wrist. "Holy Christ!" The name burned his mouth, but he barely felt it.

Siobhan gasped as he s.n.a.t.c.hed her back from the void into his arms. "Are you mad?" he was demanding, holding her close, and for a moment, she let him, weak with relief. "Holy Christ," he repeated, kissing her hair.

"Let me go." She felt like crying, but her voice was flat and cold. "Let go of me now."

Tristan drew back to hold her by the shoulders. She was looking up at him with no expression, her beautiful blue eyes like ice.

"No," he answered, his heart twisting with pain as he matched her tone. "Not a chance." Catching her wrist again, he started for the stairs, dragging her behind him.

CHAPTER 17

He dragged her up the stairs, past the guards, who stared in shock as they pa.s.sed. "Are you mad?" he repeated as he flung her into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind them. "You could have been killed-I could have killed you-"

"And why not?" she retorted. "You've promised to kill me since the first night we met, remember? Why not let me fall?" All this time, even when she had hated him, she had thought that Tristan understood her, that he knew she was more than some prize to be protected or burden to be borne. But he was just the same as all the others, just the same as the first man she had killed, just the same as Sean. "But you can't, not yet," she went on bitterly, turning on him. "You still need me for bait."

"What?" He could barely hear what she was saying; he still felt sick every time he thought of what might have happened a few moments before. He could have thrown her to her death, could have lost her forever. "What are you-?"

"I heard you, Tristan!" She was still trembling from her brush with death; she could still hear the roar of the wind in her ears as she started to fall. "I heard you tell your men that Sean would come for me, that you would use me to capture him."

"What should I have told them, Siobhan?" he demanded. "That you have bewitched me? That I don't care anymore what part you played in my destruction? That the lives of the knights you and your brother killed are nothing to me compared to you? They saw me yesterday; they saw me come into my castle wanting nothing but to have you in my arms." "They would understand. They know you." She felt as if her heart were dying inside her as she remembered the words he had spoken the first night they met. "You are a soldier. You can f.u.c.k anything if you must."

He caught her by the shoulders and shoved her hard against the wall. "Idiot," he snarled, his face scant inches from her own, so close she could see the demon fangs inside his mouth, the fire burning in his eyes. "Can you believe that? Can you still be such a fool?" Tears welled in her eyes, clouding her vision, but she saw his expression soften. "Siobhan..." He cradled her face in his hands. "No..." He kissed her tears away, his voice the tender lion's growl. "My love..." He kissed her mouth. "I love you."

"Liar." She stiffened in his grasp, desperate to shut him out, to not believe him. He brushed his lips over her cheek, and a sigh she could barely suppress rose in her throat, a sound of perfect longing. "You lie."

"I do not." She tried to look away from him, but he wouldn't allow it, holding her by the chin. "Why should I lie? If I truly wanted you to die, could I not kill you and be done?"

"No." She drew her sword as she broke free, holding the point to his throat. "I will not let you." She drew the stake from her belt with her free hand, raising it over his heart. "I will not let you break me."

He smiled, shaking his head. Fate had truly given him his match. "How could I not love you?" He caught hold of the stake as well, pressing the point more closely to his breast. "Slay me, Siobhan," he ordered. "If you can't believe me, drive the stake into my heart; cut my head off with the sword. I will not try to stop you."

"You think I can't do it," she said, trembling. "You think I am weak-"

"Never, my love," he promised. "How could you be weak when you have mastered me completely from the first moment we met?" Her breath caught short with unshed tears, and his heart ached for her. But he knew she must choose for herself. "But if you kill me, you must face my knights alone. How will you explain what has happened to me?" Her lower lip trembled, and her lashes were dark and spiked with tears. "If you tell them I am a vampire, Silas will confirm the tale. Do you think the two of you together can make them believe it?"

"I will run away," she insisted. "I will escape."

"You might," he said. In truth, he had no idea what she might do next. He had no doubt she could destroy him. Even now, the blade burned at his throat, its strange magic making him feel weak. But he could not bribe her, could not tell her he meant to give her rule of the lands her father had lost. Fool that he was, he wanted her to spare him for his sake alone. "So do it, then." He caught her by the wrist and drew the sword closer to his throat, its point piercing his skin. "Slay me and be free."

Her tears spilled down her cheeks. "I cannot be free," she admitted, letting her weapons fall. "Not of you." She touched his face, looking deep into his eyes before she fell against him, pressing her cheek against his throat. "May G.o.d help me, I love you."

He held her to him, weak with relief. "Siobhan..." He turned her face up to his and kissed her, devouring her mouth. She sighed in surrender, his brigand soft and yielding in his arms at last.

She ran her hands over his arms, drawing back to clasp his wrists and pull him toward the bed, her mouth still brus.h.i.+ng over his.

"Tell me again," she pleaded, reaching up for him as she sat back on the bed. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you," he promised. He bent over her, kissing her, laying her back on the bed. "I love you I love you I love you." The sheer surrender of it made him dizzy-he loved no one. To love was to be weak. But she needed him; he saw it in her eyes as she gazed up at him now. She needed the words to believe him, to feel safe. "I love you," he whispered, brus.h.i.+ng the hair back from her brow. Her lips parted in a sigh, her sapphire eyes soft with longing, and he kissed her, unable to resist.

He made love to her slowly, lingering on every touch until she arched beneath him, crying out his name. He brought her to climax again and again, cuddling her close, then teasing her to madness. Only when he felt all trace of tension leave her precious body did he seek his own release, thrusting deep into her warmth to join with her completely. "Tristan," she murmured as he fell at last, crus.h.i.+ng her beneath his weight and sheltering her in his arms. "Please don't leave me." "Shhh," he whispered, exhausted, as he kissed her cheek. The dawn was coming quickly; he could feel it.

"Take me with you, please," she begged. Never in her life had she felt so safe, so loved. She could not give it up. "I want to be with you."

"You don't know what you ask, my love." Still holding her, he rolled onto his back, cradling her against his chest. "I want to be with you as well, every moment." He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the palm. "But I am a demon, not a man."

"Tell me." She nestled close against his shoulder, her hand entwined with his. "How did it happen? Were you always a vampire?"

"Of course not." He kissed the top of her head, too weary and relieved to hold back any more. "Sean and his men all but murdered me, just as you saw." She turned her face into his chest for a moment, and he smiled to feel her tears hot on his skin.

"But before I died, Simon of Lyan found me."

"And he is a vampire," she said, struggling to find her voice again.

"Yes, but not by choice." He trailed his fingers through her hair. "He killed the two men Sean sent to dispose of my body."

"Bruce and Callum," she murmured.

"He attacked them in the shape of a wolf and drained them of blood," he went on. "When he saw I was still alive, he only meant to end my pain. But when he drank from me, I bit him. I drank his demon's blood, and it made me a vampire, too."

"G.o.d's love," she said softly, picturing it in her mind. She should have been appalled, repulsed not only by this sacrilege but by the image of her love and the handsome duke so intertwined, but she was not. Frightened, perhaps, but not appalled. "So now you feed on living blood as well," she said. "You killed Angus and the others-"

"No," he interrupted. "One of those killings was not mine. The night I swore to you no one would die, I kept my promise." She kissed his shoulder for an answer, silent thanks. "And I can feed without killing my prey." He touched the wound still healing on her throat, and she smiled. "But I cannot speak the name of Our Lord without pain or touch a cross." He traced the shape of her mouth with his fingertips. "I cannot face the sun-the slightest touch will burn me. In daylight, I am all but pure demon and must sleep. Any creature that awakens me I could kill and never know it." He caressed her silken cheek. "That is why you can only be with me in darkness."

"And before, with Clare?" she asked gently. "Why could you not hold her?"

For a moment, she thought he would refuse to answer. "I had not fed for more than one full day," he said at last. "I heard her heart and smelled her blood..." His voice trailed off as he buried his face in her hair.

She kissed his throat. "I see." The wound he had forced her to make in his flesh with her sword still had not healed, and she touched the smear of blood there with her mouth, tasting it with her tongue. A chill like ice in fire s.h.i.+vered through her. Everything he had told her should make her want to turn away from him. But in faith, she loved him even more, knowing all of what he was, hearing him tell her the truth. He trusted her. He loved her, demon that he was, and that was everything. But there was still something more, one more barrier between them. "Tristan," she said softly, curled safe in his arms. "What of Sean?"

He breathed in the scent of her again, closing his eyes. No matter how dearly she loved him, her heart would always be divided.

Her brother would always be there. "You asked me once why I could not leave you and your people in peace," he said. "I mean to do just that." She sat up to look at him in shock, and he smiled. "I will leave you lady of this castle to rule in my stead." He twisted a lock of her hair around his fingers. "You will take your father's place, protect your people just as you always wanted, with my royal favor and my knights to guard your claim." She opened her mouth to answer, and he shook his head. "But not Sean." He sat up as well, putting a hand softly to her mouth to stop her protest. "Do not ask me to forgive him." He thought again of his knights, the look of helpless reproach in their eyes as they watched him, their lord, watch them die. "I love you with all my heart, Siobhan. But I cannot."

She laced her fingers with his to take his hand away. "I know." She pressed a kiss into his palm. He could forgive her because she was a woman, and he loved her. He could pretend she had changed or that she had never been his enemy at all, and that could make her angry. But she loved him as he was, and she understood. "But what if he never comes back?"

"He will," he answered. "You know it as surely as I do. He will wait however long it takes to seize his moment, but he will come again. He will try to take this castle." He touched her cheek. "And you, my love, will let him."

No, she thought but did not say, knowing she could never make him believe it. She smiled instead, looking down through a fresh veil of tears. "So I am to be bait after all."

"He must be punished, Siobhan-"

"You mean killed-"

"I hope not." She looked up at him, an accusation in her eyes. "But yes," he admitted. "Probably so." She shook her head, looking away, but not before he saw her tears again. He asked too much of her, he knew. But he had no choice. "Siobhan, who is the baron of Callard?" he asked gently, meaning, Who is he to you?

"How should I know?" she said lightly, forcing a smile. "Did you not bring him here with you?" But she could not meet his eyes, could not lie to him anymore. "He was Sean's ally, Tristan," she answered. "At least he pretended to be." She splayed a hand against his chest where his heartbeat should have been. "Sean is my brother, Tristan." She looked up into his eyes at last. "But you are my husband."

When he had first met her, he had mistrusted every word she spoke, certain that she was born a liar. But now, in spite of all his better judgment, he had no choice but to believe her. He kissed her brow, closing his eyes. "I must go," he said aloud, letting the matter drop. "It's nearly dawn." The distress in her eyes made him smile, and he pulled her close again. "I cannot let you leave the castle. Not until Sean is caught."

"But then you will trust me." She wrapped her arms around his waist, swallowing the sobs that threatened to rise in her throat.

"When Sean is dead, you will leave me."