Exile for Dreamers (9 page)

I strapped a sheath to my calf and slid the blade into it. Jane went to the oak paneling along our back wall and pressed the latch that led to a secret passage. As soon as the panel opened, my two pet rats scampered out and danced around my feet. I tossed Punch and Judy a morsel of bread. They snatched it up, stuffed the bread in their cheeks, and scurried into my out-stretched palms. I handed them to Sera. “Keep hold of them, will you? I don't want them following me outside.”

She nodded.

Jane blocked the secret passage. “Mark me. If you're not back by sunup we're coming after you.”

Circled around me, they all nodded, looking stern, except I sensed the worry beneath their bravado. I had the uncomfortable urge to hug them, but of course I would never do such a thing. If I had, it would've alarmed them even more. They know I am not by nature demonstrative. “If anything goes wrong, you'll hear me. You know how loud I can be.”

“Like a roaring wind,” Maya said, with more admiration than I deserved.

I turned away from them and ducked into the pitch dark of the secret passage. I knew every bend and turn through the thick walls of Stranje House by heart. Instead of going up to our secret room in the attic, I took the narrow stairs down. The first turning to the left was difficult to catch; I ran my fingers lightly along the crumbling plaster until I found the slender opening. I slipped through and from there I headed along the back of the house until the passage behind the first-floor gallery opened up.

Once, not so very long ago, Miss Stranje had said that I knew these passages better than she did. I doubt that. She was born here and ran through them as a child. But I do know them well. In those dark days when I first came to Stranje House, these passages had been my sanctuary. It had made me feel safe knowing I had a hiding place and, more important, that I had a way out,
an escape
.

Cool air seeped around a slender hatch at the bottom of the steps. I pressed the spring lock, ducked my head, and wriggled through the narrow opening.

Night.

I breathed in deep. The air was fragrant from all the blooms of May, and I could taste salt and moisture from the sea. In the distance, I heard the surf crashing against the rocks. A waning half-moon rode on smoky gray clouds, casting a silver light on the world.

Our shadow dogs, Phobos and Tromos, trotted up silently and greeted me, blacker than night itself, the pair of them. Georgie was right—they were more wolves than dogs. And they loved to run as much as I did. I gave them a soft whistle, no more than a night wren's call, and we were off. Racing across the park. They led the way as if the three of us were a pack, running on the hunt.

I stopped at the edge of Stranje House's property and crouched.
“Distewi,”
I warned Phobos and Tromos in a hushed voice. They sat on their haunches beside me, panting, as I searched for signs of intruders and listened for anything that didn't seem right. High above us, a hawk's high-pitched skree meant a mouse or mole was about to meet its doom. Natterjack toads burbled and drummed unworried in the underbrush. Cicadas buzzed undisturbed. Those reassuring sounds meant no intruders were in these woods or fields.
Yet.

“
Trigo,
” I commanded.
Stay.
The two of them sat, a matched pair of dark sentinels, waiting, watching, as I leapt up and dashed across the Ravencross lawns.

I circled his manor house, keeping a watchful eye on the shrubbery and trees, searching for any hints of light. There was none on the first floor. But on the second floor I spotted the telltale flicker of a candle. That could mean only one thing. That was his bedroom. The candle had given his location away, and if I could figure that out, so could a murderer. Precisely the reason I had to come. Ravencross was too vulnerable.

I made quick work of scaling the wall, finding ready toeholds and fingerholds between the stones. I'd learned to climb even before I'd come to Stranje House. I had to learn the day I'd fled from my uncle by way of an attic window and a three-story wall, but I'd continued learning under Madame Cho's tutelage. I was becoming so adept at scaling walls that should my current profession fail me, and if I'd had the disposition for it, I might've made a capable thief.

The casement creaked only slightly as I pushed open the window and slipped over the sill into his room. The candle fluttered with the influx of air, but still no one stirred.

All my stealth was for naught, I could've come in whistling a tune. Neither of them heard me. MacDougal's rhythmic snores were so loud I'd heard them long before I opened the window, and as Miss Stranje said, the doctor had dosed Ravencross with laudanum to ease his pain. I saw the bottle sitting on his bedside table.

I tiptoed along the edge of the wall, wanting to have a closer look at Gabriel just to satisfy myself that he was indeed breathing and still alive.

Sheeting covered him only to the waist, leaving his chest bare except for the bandages wrapping the left side, bandages ripe with bloodstains. Taking in the bloodstains and his nakedness, I drew in a sharp breath. For modesty's sake, I should've looked away. But I didn't. Apart from the bandages, Gabriel had a magnificent chest, smooth and muscled. More important, he was alive.
Alive.
Why should I look away from so gratifying a sight?

His eyes were closed, and he looked so peaceful.
Beautiful in sleep,
his face was at rest, and not nearly as tense as it usually was. I resisted the urge to smooth my hand over his cheek. The one with the scar.

“What are you doing here, Tess?” He spoke without opening his eyes.

“I…” I didn't finish answering. He had to be dreaming, talking in his sleep. He couldn't possibly know I was here. He'd had laudanum. I hadn't touched him, and I'd been quiet as a church mouse. Quieter. A winging bird makes more noise.

I stepped back silently.

His eyes flashed open. “I will only ask once more.
What
are you doing here?”

“Guarding you.” I was so startled, I could scarcely speak in a whisper, the words squeaked out of me. I glanced sideways at MacDougal, who shifted in his chair and snorted as if something had disturbed his slumber.

“Don't be absurd,” he growled.

And for an instant, I felt absurd, but then I remembered the man I'd slain that morning and his bloodthirsty companions. I inched closer. “Someone wants to kill you, my lord. Someone very dangerous.”

“No more dangerous than you, I think.” He closed his eyes again as if drowsy. “I already have a nursemaid. Go home.”

Lady Daneska was far more dangerous than I. Pressing my lips together, I glared down at him with all the severity I could muster. “Oh, yes, and a marvelous watchdog he is.”

MacDougal underscored my words with a gurgling snore loud enough to rattle the paintings on the walls. I bent close to Ravencross's ear. “If I can climb through your window with such ease, so can an assassin. I will stay and guard you until MacDougal has caught up on his beauty sleep.”

He motioned for me to lean closer but rewarded me with a rather snappish tone. “You needn't have worried. Do you think me a fool? MacDougal might need his rest. I, on the other hand, have been forced to lie in this confounded bed ever since our morning's escapades. More to the point, I heard you coming long before you crept through my window.” With his good hand, Gabriel slid a gun out from under the covers. He gestured for me to back away. “Luckily, I guessed it might be you. Now, if you will be so kind as to shut the window on your way out.”

I didn't back away. I found it quite pleasurable looking at him up close in the candlelight. The amber glow turned his skin a delicious creamy bronze. I had the absurd urge to kiss his forehead, and the scar on his cheek, and most especially his divine mouth. Which, at that very moment, was puckering up with irritation.

Instead of kisses, I bestowed upon him several words that I plucked solely for the purpose of vexing him. “You're going to make me climb down? How very ungentlemanly of you. Climbing down is much harder than climbing up. I might fall. Aren't you worried I'll fall?”

He exhaled, heavy and hard with exasperation. “Woman, you worry me in a hundred ways.
Falling
isn't one of them. Given all the other things I've seen you do, I'm certain you'll manage.” He said all this while studying my lips with an intensity that made blood crash through my veins like a flash flood. Then he closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip.

“You're in pain.” I leaned across him, checking the bandage for new evidence of blood.

“For pity's sake, Tess. Get out of here before your reputation is completely in tatters.”

I drew back. “I don't give a fig about my reputation.”

“Well, maybe I care about it.” He grabbed the front of my dress and pulled me close, close enough that I could taste his scent and feel the heat rolling off him. Surely, he had a fever.

“You don't look right,” I said sternly. “Your color is too high. Shall I call for the doctor?”

“No.” He grimaced. “I want you to…” He didn't finish. His voice faltered, but his grip on me tightened. His pupils widened, so hungry and dark I feared they might swallow me up and trap me there forever.

Words passed over my lips, more of a breath than a whisper. “You're not well, my lord.”

“I want you to leave.” He let go and sagged back against the pillow. “I can't rest with you here. Get out.”

I stepped back, hurt that he would send me away so callously. “Must you always lie?” I said it to myself, so softly he couldn't possibly have heard. MacDougal's snores grew noisier and more rhythmic.

He couldn't cast me out that easily. I neared him once more, stooping next to Gabriel's ear. “I will settle into that corner, in the shadows. You won't even know I am here.”

“Have your wits gone begging, Tess? Don't you understand? Even if I were half dead, drugged to the gills, deaf, dumb, and blind, I would know you were here. How can you expect me to rest when you arouse such madness in me?”

Madness
.

I nearly laughed. “I know all about madness, my lord. You have my sympathy. However, in view of the fact that I refuse to leave you untended and unguarded, you will simply have to cope, as I must.” Having said my piece, I left him and eased into the dark corner across from his bed. Smiling. Because there had been a declaration of some kind in his words.

A declaration made all the sweeter by the fact that he had
not
wanted to make it.

We had no future, this lone hungry wolf and I. I could not bear the idea of destroying his life by entangling his with mine.
Madness, indeed. What did he know of madness?
I would spare him the suffering of my father and grandfather. I would shield him from the very real madness that would someday overtake me.

But for now, for this one night, I might watch over him, stand guard in his den and pretend that things might be different. I would never be the doting wife who wiped his brow and smoothed back the wild curls from his fevered brow. But tonight,
tonight,
I could do this one thing, I could watch over him while he was wounded. I could wait in the shadows with my blade at the ready. And even if Daneska herself came, I would cut her heart out to protect him.

I would keep him alive.

“Irksome female.”

“If you mean to chase me off, you will have to do better than that.”

“Witch,” he muttered and shifted in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position.

It stung, for him to name me a
witch,
as he knew it would. But only a little. I was used to that one. So I said nothing in retort. He needed his sleep. Timing my movements with MacDougal's snores, I tiptoed to the window, tightened down the latch, and took up my vigil in the shadows. I sank onto my haunches with my back propped against the wall. I would feel a vibration should anyone try to open the window or tread on the floorboards.

I checked the knife blade. Sharp as a dragon's tooth.

Twice the doctor came and went, checking on his patient, and not once did he notice me sitting vigil in the dark recesses of my corner. In the early morning hours, MacDougal's snores finally changed key to the gurgle of a lighter sleep. He would wake soon. I left the shadows and stood next to the bed. Gabriel was wrong. He
had
slept—well and deep. His arms were spread wide and relaxed, his hands flung recklessly atop the covers, nowhere near the hidden gun.

Farewell.

His innocent black curls tempted me. I had no right to touch him. No right at all. And yet I dared to gently smooth them back from his forehead. They were softer than I had imagined. He slept so peacefully that he didn't even stir. My fingers drifted feather light down the scar on his cheek, scarcely touching the jagged ridge. His breath caught, broke rhythm. I yanked my hand away and fell back into the shadows.

Foolish girl.

Time to leave.

I slipped out of Lord Ravencross's bedroom the same way I'd come, scrambling down the wall with ease. My muscles, having crouched all night, were glad of the exercise. The moon was still out, and although the sun would not crest for another two hours, the world was bathed in a smoky gray. It reminded me of yestermorning and the chaos that had nearly taken him from me.

It seemed a hundred years ago.

I dashed home through the dewy grass. My tracks might be mistaken for those of a deer springing joyfully through the glade.

 

Seven

CAUGHT

It surprised me that Phobos and Tromos were not waiting where I'd left them. But I supposed even wolf-dogs must sleep now and again. I leapt over the low brush between Stranje House and Ravencross's park, wove through the trees, navigated the maze of wild roses, loped past the kitchen gardens, and wriggled around the archery targets tucked away between a towering hedgerow and the side of Stranje House. Targets we also used for long-range knife-throwing practice. There is a reason Miss Stranje keeps the landscape
au naturel.
From there it was only a short dash to the small trapdoor.