Stuart, Elizabeth (44 page)

She
shook her head.

"Tell
me true. Has he touched you?"

His
expression was frightening. "No! No, Richard, I'm fine."

He
nodded, taking a deep breath to get hold of himself. Slowly the black rage
eased from his face. "Tear that bed linen into strips to bind this pig. We
must be away before anyone's the wiser."

Owain
jerked the baron's hands behind his back, trussing them up tightly. De Veasy's
eyes narrowed in anger. "You'll never make it. This keep is crawling with
my men."

"This
keep has a skeleton crew and you know it," Richard corrected, forcing a
gag none too gently into the man's mouth. "I'll wager you and Vespain
wanted few witnesses to this deed."

He
rose to his feet and helped Owain lift their prisoner onto the bed. With a
furious grunt, de Veasy began to struggle. Richard pressed the knife to his
throat. "What's that, my lord?" he taunted. "I can't quite
understand you. Be still, lest I be tempted, like you, to beat a bound
man."

Elen
watched nervously as Richard tied the baron to the bedframe. How would they get
out? Richard and Owain might escape in their guise as de Veasy's soldiers, but
she would never leave so easily. The guards at the gate were alert, watchful.
Both Richard and Owain might still be brought to grief through her.
"Richard, I fear he's right. Oh Richard, I'm so sorry! I never meant to
drag you into this."

When
Richard turned, without knowing how, Elen was suddenly in his arms. His hard
mouth descended on hers and nothing mattered save the feel of him against her,
the vibrant life pulsing through them both. He was safe—for now.

Richard
tore his mouth from hers, his green eyes alight with victory... and something
more. "I owe you, sweet, for a little matter of scaring the wits half out
of me. What penance should I exact, do you think?"

"I'm
sorry," she whispered again, touching the bloody scratch. "I could
think of nothing else to keep him distracted."

Richard
kissed her again, long and slow, and her whole heart went into her response.
"You were magnificent, sweetheart," he whispered against her lips.
"I'd take you on my side to a whole garrison of soldiers!"

Owain
cleared his throat. "If you've done now, we should be away," he said
gruffly.

Owain!
Oh, God, she had forgotten. He glanced at Richard but wouldn't meet her eyes.
"I'll see what's about in the hallway," he muttered. He slipped a
knife into his belt. "Follow me when you're ready."

Richard
brushed a quick kiss against her forehead and set her away. "Have you
still the priest's robe, Elen? It will cover your clothing when we reach the
darkness outside."

She
nodded, hurrying to don the robe while Richard waited. He took her hand,
staring at de Veasy. "Come, we'll leave the baron to a peaceful
rest." He bowed with a flourish. "By your leave, my lord."

Elen
glanced at the man, a shiver of apprehension running through her. Rage was
apparent in every rigid line of his body, in the narrow, dark eyes that
glittered above his gag. The Baron of Ravensgate would make an implacable
enemy. If he caught them now, they'd be better off dead.

Richard
eased open the door and glanced out. There was no sign of Owain. Joining hands,
they fled silently down the hallway to the shadowy servants' stair. Once inside
the narrow turret they raced down, down, down in a dizzying spiral. Another
quick passage along a deserted corridor and they were slipping out into the
fragrant darkness of the overgrown garden.

The
shadowy forms of men materialized. Elen listened as a few whispered comments
were exchanged. Two guards had made the rounds of the wall, but they would give
no warning, now or ever. Elen stared at Richard in astonishment. He had brought
Welshmen, her people rather than his own soldiers!

Owain
heaved a rope up and over the wall. One by one the men clambered up,
disappearing silently into the void. Richard turned toward her. "If I lift
you onto my shoulders, can you pull yourself up? It's only a short way and
there are knots in the rope for handholds."

She
tried to see his face in the darkness. She had no idea if she could drag
herself up, but she wasn't about to admit it. "Of course. Give me a
push."

"Good
girl!"

Richard
lifted her easily and she reached for the rope. Her fingers slipped and the
woven hemp burned through her palm. She caught at a knot, hanging there
uncomfortably.

Cautiously
bracing her feet against a knot, she began to inch up. It wasn't so
difficult—hand over hand, the knots were perfectly spaced. She reached the top
of the wall and Owain grasped her wrist, lifting her up beside him.

They
knelt in the shadow of the battlements. He placed another rope in her hand,
gesturing over the side. "Slow and easy," he whispered. "Don't
get in a rush or you'll fall."

She
stared uncertainly at his shadowy outline. She needed to explain about Richard.
"Owain—"

"Go
now," he ordered softly. "Those guards will be discovered
anytime."

She
hesitated.

He
checked the anchoring of the rope, then squeezed her shoulder awkwardly.
"Go," he said again.

Elen
eased over the side, slipping a little before her hands warmed to the rhythm.
She braced her feet against the wall, lowering herself easily into the arms of
the men below.

Moments
later Richard and Owain had joined them on the ground. "Owain, wait here
with Elen," Richard directed. "I'll take the men with me to silence
the guards at the front. We'll have to get past them and use the main road.
I'll not risk taking Elen down as we came."

"That
way adds a good half hour to the trip," Owain protested. "Besides,
the front gate's the only place well guarded. One shout of alarm and the whole
garrison'll be after us."

Elen
touched Richard's arm. "How did you come?"

"Up
these cliffs from the valley, but—"

"Then
that's the way we'll return," she interrupted matter-of-factly.

"In
the dark? And with that robe flapping about your heels?" Richard growled.
"We'll take the main road, and I'll have no argument about it!"

"She
can do it. Elen's no fainting Englishwoman," Owain said scornfully.
"Many's the time the Lady Gweneth bade me fetch Elen and her brother from
the topmost rock of some impossible place."

Richard
hesitated.

"We
can rope her between us to catch her if she slips. The climb is short and none
too difficult for one accustomed to such."

Elen
gripped Richard's arm. If Owain thought she could make the climb, she would—or
she'd die trying. "It's my life, Richard, my risk. I'll do anything to get
away from here."

"Once
begun, we'll not be able to turn back. And I'll not be able to carry you,"
Richard warned.

"You'll
not need to carry me!" she snapped indignantly.

Precious
seconds ticked by. "Very well," he said low. "We'll chance
it."

Quickly,
Elen pulled off the priest's robe, tossed it aside and tied up her skirts. Then
she stood quietly as Richard looped the rope about her waist. Passing one end
to Owain, he tied the other about himself. "Whatever you do, don't cry
out," he whispered. He bent to brush his lips against hers, lingering for
a moment as if loath to let her go. "Owain and I will have you if you
slip. Now go."

Elen
glanced down the darkened cliff face into the shadowy void below. For a moment
she stood motionless, readying herself for the dangerous descent. Then she
grasped the smooth stone and lowered herself over the edge, her slippered foot
groping desperately for a toehold. It had been a long time since she and Rhodri
had played on the mountainsides. Pray God, she hadn't forgotten the way of it.

She
found a small cleft in the rock and levered herself down a few inches. Sweat
broke out on her brow and a jagged stone cut her palm. She bit her lip, forcing
herself to breathe deeply and evenly. One step at a time. She wouldn't think
about how far she had to go or the great emptiness yawning beneath her. One
step at a time would get her to the bottom. She couldn't hang back now.

The
trip down the cliff was a nightmare she never wanted to think of again. Her
fingers cramped painfully from gripping the rock outcroppings and the muscles
of her arms and legs trembled with strain. Minutes crawled by. She tore her
nails grasping for handholds, scraped elbows and knees in a painful slide
against stone. But she didn't cry out. She would not have complained if the
torture had lasted for days. After all, it was her foolishness that had brought
them there.

After
what seemed like hours, they reached the valley floor. Elen's knees near
collapsed as she slid to a seat on a ridge of rock, fighting to catch her
breath.

Richard
bent over her to untie the chafing rope. He squeezed her shoulder
encouragingly. "We've still a short way to the ship. Can you make
it?"

"Of
course. Just give me a moment to rest."

He
hesitated. "We dare not tarry longer. The hunt may be up and I'd not wish
to be caught on the beach. There's no place to make a fight."

"Oh."
Elen was thankful for the darkness. It hid her dismay. She rose to her feet
with an effort, her cramped muscles screaming for relief. "I'm ready,
then."

They
set off at a walk, slowly easing into a jog. Elen sensed the men held back for
her, and she fought to keep her limbs moving. But once away from the cramped
position of the climb, she was amazed her trembling muscles warmed to their
task. Perhaps she would make it after all.

Above
the soft sound of a dozen pairs of padding feet, a distant rumble of noise came
from behind them. "Horses!" Richard hissed, grabbing her hand and
dragging her forward. "The ship's just round this bend. Run for it!"

The
sound of galloping hooves pounded closer. Unable to resist the impulse, Elen glanced
over her shoulder. A flickering ribbon of torches gleamed through the trees,
winding down the hillside in close pursuit. Fear gave wings to her heels and
she called on her burning lungs and aching muscles for one last effort.

They
dashed around the curve in the road, bounding across the beach toward the sea
and freedom. The treacherous sand sucked at her feet, dragging her down to make
running impossible. Richard swung her into his arms, carrying her the last few
yards across the beach and into the foaming surf. Tossing her into the waiting
boat, he shoved it through the shallows, heaving himself aboard as his men
pulled at the oars.

Elen
collapsed in the boat, praying to every saint she knew to slow de Veasy and his
men. There was no sound but the desperate splash of oars against water. Richard
knelt tensely in the stern staring toward land.

Seconds
later, the mounted men burst onto the beach. Torches glimmered hellishly along
the water's edge and a few shouts of frustration followed them through the
darkness. Richard edged down beside her, drawing her back against his chest.
"We made it!" he said softly, brushing his lips against her hair.
"I'm not sure how, but we made it."

Two
days later, Richard was still asking himself how they had escaped and, more
importantly, why in God's name he had allowed the ship's captain to talk him
into unloading supplies at Rhuddlan before returning to Gwenlyn Keep. For by
some stroke of misfortune, Edward was at Rhuddlan Castle. And if reports were
true, the king was in one of his towering rages.

Richard
hesitated outside Edward's audience chamber, frowning at the closed door. After
nearly two days of waiting, the king had sent a servant to fetch him. It wasn't
a good sign. But worst of all, Richard hadn't been allowed to see Elen. She was
locked away somewhere and he had only the queen's word she was well.

Taking
a deep breath, Richard reached for the door. He had seized a royal ship and
taken armed men from English soil in pursuit of a personal quarrel, something
Edward had forbidden. And what could he tell his king save the truth?

The
king sat at the end of a table, his graying head thrown back, his blue eyes
narrow and cold. Richard sank down on one knee, awaiting permission to rise. It
didn't come.

"What's
this, Richard? I journey unexpectedly to Wales from Worcester and find two of
my nobles making war on each other! How
dare
you?"

Richard
kept his eyes downcast. It was obvious the king was still fiercely angry.

Edward
rose and stalked toward him. "You seize my ship...
my ship!
You
keep me waiting for supplies I need for my household while you desert your post
and junket off to Ireland to pursue a personal feud with de Veasy. Before God,
you brave much against my good will, Richard!" Edward paced the floor.
"And after I expressly warned you against such behavior! Well, what have
you to say for yourself?"

Richard
raised his head and glanced up.

"Oh,
get up, man, get up!" Edward said impatiently.