Emerald Embrace (2 page)

“Have you heard nothing about Castle Creeghan, milady? Have you not heard that ghosts scream through the halls, that maidens were once sacrificed to Druid gods upon the rocks, that the Creeghan wives have been known to leap from the highest towers? Milady …” He shook his head as if in wonderment. “My dear, dear Lady St. James, I think that you must reconsider before traveling up these rocks to this place!”

His eyes flashed, and his lips curled into a devilishly wicked smile. He was like a handsome satyr who had caught an unwary innocent within a glen. Except that he was no satyr, but a man, strikingly handsome, powerful, and she was trembling despite herself.

“I am not one to fear ghosts,” she stated. Nor, she vowed, would she fear him.

“Then come, and I will hasten you on your journey.”

“What?” She frowned. “Sir, my carriage has broken a wheel, and I am afraid that—”

“I am afraid that the rain will come again, milady, and that you may well drown upon the road ere Castle Creeghan has a chance to offer its own brand of danger. I will take you onward, and then your coachman may bring your valises and portmanteau.”

“But sir, I do not see—”

He whistled suddenly, a clear sound that cut through the wail of the wind. From the trees there appeared a great, sleek, bay horse, seventeen hands tall at least, shiny and magnificent with a huge head and fine dark eyes. The man did not turn around as the animal came to stand behind him. Together, Martise thought, they were splendid, large and muscled, and beautifully lean and toned. They exuded the same hypnotic energy.

Who was he? she wondered anew.

“Sir—”

“Come, milady, for the rain will begin.”

“Sir, you must realize that I cannot—”

“Pardon, milady?” he interrupted in a shout, for it was as if the very elements conspired with the man. The wind rose again, howling with the vengeance of a horde of banshees. The rain was beginning again, bringing with it a startling cold.

“Sir—!”

“I shall tell the coachman of my intent!” he shouted.

Long-legged, he strode from her in his tall black boots. Had the bay not remained, she would have thought she had imagined him.

She shivered violently and drew her cloak about her as rain spattered cold and frosty upon her face. She could not allow this man to come too near her. There were strange things happening at Creeghan Castle, and he could very well be the cause of them. A man so striking, so powerful, so handsome, so alluring. She must avoid him at all cost.

He came back around the carriage, his crop tapping against his leg. “Milady,” he invited, lifting his free hand to her as he stood by the bay.

“Sir, I cannot—”

Once again, the weather conspired against her. Lightning zigzagged across the sky in an evil slash, and behind it, thunder hammered like the beat of a thousand drums. Inadvertently, Martise screamed, bringing her hand to her mouth, for the lightning raged again and struck upon a nearby tree. It burst into flames, so near her that she could feel the heat of the fire against the wet chill of the night.

His arms came around her, whisking her tight against the protection of his chest. “Milady, we will ride!”

He set his hands upon her waist and lifted her effortlessly upon the back of the massive horse. “Lucian will take us like the wind!” he promised her, and leapt up behind her. His arms encircled her as he reached for the reins. He nudged his heels against the animal, and they were instantly off, racing the very forces of nature.

Behind them, the tree burned even in the rain. With the wind whipping her hair in disarray about her, Martise turned, and she saw the distressed coach in the glow of fire. Then she closed her eyes, for the rain was suddenly fierce. She lowered her head, and felt the power of the beast beneath her, and that of the man behind her.

She was not cold, despite the rain. She was not cold, for his arms were warm and encompassing. The horse moved with fluid, pounding grace, and the man moved with the horse, the heat of his thighs strong against her.

The castle loomed ever closer as the great bay snorted and churned away at the cobblestoned path. Martise gripped its mane as they rode, though she had no fear of falling. The man behind her was an excellent horseman; she sensed that he moved as one with the animal, and that she was safe.

Safe upon the animal…

But with the man … ?

She started to shiver, but then there was so little that she knew. She had come for answers, and perhaps there was no way to discover answers without seeking out danger. Perhaps the master of Creeghan could give her the answers that she craved, and she might sleep in peace again.

And if not … then she had cast herself to hell.

She gritted her teeth as the rain continued, and the horse’s hooves thundered over the wood of the drawbridge. The lights from dozens of lanterns spilled down upon them, and as he slowed the magnificent bay, Martise thought that at least the man had delivered her unto the castle as he had promised, and he offered her no threat this hour. Yet as they rode beneath the archway of the drawbridge and the rain ceased, he spoke again, and she was not so sure.

“Castle Creeghan, milady, begun by Robert the Bold when the Vikings threatened this shore. He stole his bride from his very enemy, and she bore him ten children before leaping to her death from yonder parapet. Rebuilt by the sinner Caleb Creeghan upon the marriage of Her Royal Highness Mary of Scotland to the earl of Bothwell, and held firm until the ascension of the young James upon the throne of England, when peace was made. Dozens of men shed their blood here, for the castle was held again when the English chased the Jacobites, until even they tired of assailing the castle. Indeed, the stones are rich in their legacy of blood.”

“I told you, I do not fear ghosts.”

“Ah, a wise young woman. What do you fear, milady?”

“The living, sir.”

She would have slid from the bay herself, but he dismounted with an agile flourish and reached for her. His hands encircled her waist as he set her down upon the ground.

“Yonder lies the door, milady. Enter this world at your own risk!”

“You speak in riddles! You speak as if you’re trying to scare me!”

“Alas, no, milady!” he said in mock horror. In the glow of the lanterns she studied him seriously. He was a very handsome man, she determined, with his noble features and fierce green-gold eyes. He smiled now, yet she felt that he was not so amused as he scrutinized her in return. She felt herself begin to tremble again, for he looked as if he could see through her. As if he knew all of her secrets, and was, for that, all the more dangerous.

He touched her cheek with his knuckle. She wanted to back away from him, to protest indignantly, but she was rendered speechless. “You are very beautiful, milady. The castle, so the rumor goes, is brutal to beautiful women. You must take heed. You must take great heed.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I gave you a history lesson, milady, and nothing more.”

“Does evil really happen here, then?”

“Death happens oft enough,” he said. “You should know that well. Your sister came here, an innocent bride, and soon enough joined the ranks of the dead in the crypt. That’s why you’ve come, isn’t it?” He was so very close to her. She breathed in the fascinating aroma of him, the masculine scent of leather and good brandy and tobacco.

“I have come because—”

“You have come to delve your nose into places where it does not belong. Perhaps you have come for even more. Beware.”

“You are deliberately trying to frighten me!”

“I am trying to keep you alive.”

“Why? Do you threaten my life?”

He did not answer her. His eyes penetrated hers with a brooding, simmering anger, and then he turned from her abruptly.

“Sir—”

He remounted the bay with the same flash and verve with which he had dismounted. She wondered where he had learned such horsemanship.

“Milady!” He brought his hand to his forehead, saluting her quickly. “Good eve to you, Lady—er—St. James!”

“Wait! Who—?”

The bay rose upon its hind legs, whirled, and came back down to the earth. Yet hardly had the forelegs touched the ground before the animal was in motion again, clattering back over the bridge and disappearing into the night. Martise stared after the horse and the man for a long time as they faded into darkness. Lightning flashed, and the night came aglow, but the horse and rider were gone. They might well have been illusion, except that she now stood in the courtyard of Castle Creeghan.

She shivered, for she felt so very alone. Every dark nook and crevice of the empty archway and yard seemed to whisper of something hidden and something evil.

Yet she had come here, and she would stay.

Bracing herself, she ran through the rain to the domed arch over the foremost tower door. Even as she stood there, she heard the sounds as the coach lumbered over the drawbridge, its wheel repaired.

The driver, clutching his cape, leapt down from his seat. He called to her, something that she did not hear in the driving rain. Then he was dragging her valises and her portmanteau to the doorway.

“Who was that man?” Martise shouted to him.

“What man, milady?” he demanded.

“The man who brought me here?”

“I saw no man. I thought that you had run into the night. You gave me quite a scare, milady.”

“But there was a man! A man on a giant bay!”

The old coachman shook his head and looked from the castle walls to Martise, shaking his head. “I saw no man, milady.”

“Well, he was to have told you—oh, never mind!” she said impatiently. The man had been no illusion of the night, and she was not about to let fear cloud her wisdom. She would discover the goings-on at Castle Creeghan, and she would not falter. She had to know the truth, or she could not go on.

Martise was about to bang the huge brass knocker dangling from the mouth of a large brass dragon, when the door creaked open, apparently of its own accord, for she saw no living person at first.

There was warmth, at least, she thought, peering in past the thick, gaping door. This first tower seemed the most ancient, for the walls were bare brick, hung with tapestries, like some old great hall. A long table that would surely seat at least twenty lay to the right; the great hearth with the blazing fire that warmed her against the wicked and sodden night was to the left. Before it sat two large Queen Anne chairs, with a delicate cherrywood table between them. And far to the center were the stairs, broad and carpeted in rich red velvet, going straight to the curve of the tower, then taking a right angle to follow it to the floor above. An enormous brass chandelier hung from the high ceiling, casting the glow of dozens of candles about the room already lit by the fire, as if someone, somewhere within the dwelling, feared the thought of shadows.

“Hello?” Martise said softly.

There were, after all, shadows within the room. An old man in black and white livery and stockings and breeches that belonged to the previous century stepped around from the pool of darkness created by the open door. He did not smile at Martise, but surveyed her gravely from a cadaverous face. He was tall and painfully thin, with a full white beard and mustache, hollow cheeks, and curious dark eyes that seemed to burn with a bright fire.

“Lady St. James?” There was the slightest note of surprise in his voice. Martise steeled herself against it and smiled brightly. Water dripped from her clothing and her person, and she was quite certain that she had never appeared less the lady.

“Yes, and you are …”

“Hogarth, milady, his lordship’s butler and valet, glad to welcome you to Castle Creeghan. Your things?” He saw her portmanteau and valises on the step and dragged them inside. He was impeccable in his white shirt and black livery and white gloves. “You must be quite chilled, milady. I’ll call Sam to bring your things to your room so that you might freshen up from your long journey.”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

Hogarth pulled upon a bell cord, and a moment later Sam appeared.

Sam was tremendous, with the shoulders of a giant, slightly hunched, giving him an odd appearance. His hair was steel gray, and his eyes were a curious light blue. He smiled and bobbed to Martise, and she nodded and smiled uneasily in turn. He was a curious fellow, very ugly, and yet the smile seemed sincere and eager.

“This is the west tower, milady,” Hogarth informed her, leading her toward the majestic curving staircase. “The lower floors of the north tower house the servants, the east tower holds the family rooms, and the south tower is the sole domain of the lord of Creeghan. I think you’ll find your room hospitable. It is where your sister, Lady Creeghan, stayed.”

A slight flicker of discomfort passed through Martise as she thought about Mary’s letters, tucked away in her portmanteau. Had Mary’s imagination run wild? Or was it true that evil had stalked the halls by night, that echoes of screams had carried throughout the stone walls?

“When shall I see Lord Creeghan?” Martise asked Hogarth.

“When you are rested and ready, milady.”

At the top of the stairs stood a long gallery with mullioned windows looking out to the night. Martise paused to stare out into the darkness. Castle Creeghan was indeed a rugged structure. Even in the darkness she could see the endless rock that seemed to ripple down to the stream of the verdant valley below. The power of nature lay within the rock walls. The sea roared to the east of the castle, and the harsh rock protected it from any advance by land. No wonder the lords of Creeghan had reigned supreme for so many centuries, against their enemies, against the odds.

“Come, milady.”

Hogarth hurried her along the gallery until they came to a set of heavy wooden double doors with brass handles and knockers. Hogarth tossed them open for her, displaying the room.

It was mammoth and elegant. A four-poster bed stood at an angle to the far right corner, and beautiful, huge Tudor chairs were placed before the low-burning fire, upon a muted Persian carpet. To the left of the fireplace was a round cherrywood table with two delicate matching chairs, and all stood just before the full length of the glass-paned doors leading out to the balcony.