The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides) (42 page)

And if they did, would they hurt? Because his throbbed.

Good God! Where the hell was he? Had he been sent back to earth? He glanced painfully about.

It was dark but for a single candle. He sat upon a narrow bed in a narrow room. Dried, indistinguishable plants hung from the walls and through an open window he could see the moon.

A pretty night, but—

"Sara!" He said her name aloud in a flash of panic. There was danger. He could feel it, but where?

His head reeled when he rose to his feet, but the door opened soundlessly beneath his hand and he was in the hallway. From the left, he heard voices. Something familiar there. But not Sara, not danger.

He turned to the right. His feet were bare, noiseless. The hall stretched on forever, and now his heart was pounding. He hastened his pace.

Dear God, please God, don't let him be too late. Surely as an angel he could not fail her, he thought. He began to run, staggering down the hall, the floor cold against his feet.

There! He felt her presence! Yanking a door open, he looked inside and found a loom, a harp, chairs set near the hearth. No Sara! But across the room another door stood open.

"So it was you." Sara's voice was melodious even in fear.

The laughter that followed was low and humorless.

"Why?" Sara asked. "Why would you wish to harm your own heir?"

Haldane! Boden thought. But why?

Boden reached for his sword. It wasn't there! No weapon! Barefoot, shirtless, barely standing upright! Jesus! What kind of guardian angel was he?

"My heir?" said the other voice. But it was not Haldane. It was a woman's voice.

"He could be!" Sara said. "He could be your son."

"You think I want that bitch's child to inherit what is mine? Nay!" said the woman. Footsteps sounded. "Nay. I want this child, no more than I want yours."

"I'm not Lord Haldane's lover. Never have I been."

The woman's laughter was as harsh as sin. "You imagine I care, do you? Tis a credit to my act then. But the truth is, I do not. I only want what I deserve. Which is... everything the duke thinks is his."

Boden flattened himself against the wall and glanced around the corner. The nursery was empty but for the two women and the babe. Lady Haldane stood with her back to him, a knife in her hand.

Sara was less than a rod away, between Elizabeth and the babe who rested in a cradle.

"He is dying you know. Aye." Elizabeth Haldane took a step forward. Her face, once beautiful, was twisted with hatred. Sara retreated. "Tis sad. But, of course, mayhap the henbane I feed him daily does not help his condition. I would have thought that long ago he would have had the decency to quit siring children. At least on me!" Her voice was bitter. "But nay! I've been obliged to rid myself of yet another."

"Nay!" Sara murmured breathlessly. "Surely ye did not kill your own babes."

"Did I not?" Elizabeth laughed. "I suppose you think I am too maternal? Mayhap you even think I will not kill this child?" She nodded toward the baby.

"Please." Sara's voice shook. "Let us go. I will take him away. Hide him. Lord Haldane will never find him."

"Perhaps he would not, for his men are far more loyal to me than to him. Tis amazing what you can convince a man to do if you use sex wisely. The one that killed Caroline was quite adept in bed.

Unfortunately, he was not so good with a sword." She shrugged. "When I learned he was dead I called upon Warwick. He and I were old friends. And he had his own reasons to be rid of you. But even Warwick failed. And I am left again to do the deed myself."

"You will fail," Sara said. "They'll hear my screams—''

"Through these walls? No one will hear. And if they do and come running..." She shrugged. "I will be in the solar with my stitchery, like a good lady. So genteel, so wounded. They'll not suspect me." Her tone was utterly innocent, the sweetness that Boden remembered of old. "I fear you've no idea how much I've gotten away with already. But I must say goodbye now, for my beloved lord will be missing me soon," she said and lunged.

With a roar, Boden dove through the door, snatched a cradle from the floor, and flung it across the room. It glanced off Lady Haldane's shoulder, spinning her aside. But the effort pushed Boden against the wall, barely able to stand. In an instant Elizabeth was on her feet and racing toward him, teeth bared, blade drawn back.

He gathered his strength and pushed himself from the wall just as she pounced. He reached for her arms. The knife bit into his shoulder.

His wail echoed Sara's, and then she was there, ripping the madwoman from him. Elizabeth wheeled away, crouched, wild as a cat, her eyes gleaming.

Sara circled, hands empty, eyes wide. "You'll not get away, lady. You'll not."

"What a fool you are!" spat the other. Her dark hair had come loose, framing her face like a demon's halo. "You will die, then your champion. And then the babe."

She lunged. Sara leapt aside, but her toe caught on the leg of a chair and she fell.

Elizabeth leapt after her. Boden pounced forward, grabbing her arms. She twisted about, knife slashing.

"Elizabeth!" Haldane gasped from the doorway.

A growl ripped up from his wife's throat. She yanked her arm free and lunged, the knife drawn far back.

Sara rose from the floor, grabbed a chair, and swung it at Elizabeth's head. The wood cracked against the lady's skull. She stretched up on her toes. Her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened. Her fingers formed to claws, and then she fell. Toppling to the floor, she was dead in an instant.

Boden watched, and then, to his dismay, he too crumbled. St. Adrian's arse, even as an angel, he couldn't stay on his feet.

Boden lay in peace again. Sara's voice murmured gently, soothing. Soft hands touched him.

Once or twice he felt himself being lifted, but it was neither painful nor worrisome. Darkness settled around him like a sun-softened blanket. He sighed. Time drifted past at an uncertain pace. Dreams sifted with reality, memories with hopes. This must be heaven, for she was at his side, loving him, touching him, her kiss endless, her touch infinite. Every moment was theirs to share, to float together, but something was not quite right, not quite complete, as if there was some thin, invisible barrier between them. He tried to reach through it, to draw her more firmly to him.

"Boden."

The dimness fell away by slow degrees. He opened his eyes with some effort. The room seemed inordinately bright, but he supposed the hereafter was like that sometimes.

"Sara?" he murmured. She seemed clearer to him suddenly, more tangible, as if he'd broken through the barrier, and now she was completely his.

"I'm here, Boden." She smiled, but the expression wavered slightly, and he realized she was clasping his hand between both of hers and that his fingers were wet with her tears.

"Don't cry," he said. His voice sounded strange, not angelic at all, but rough and coarse. He ignored it. Anything would sound coarse next to her voice. "You can't cry, my love," he whispered, "not in heaven." He smiled and, pulling her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles, wanting nothing but to hold her against him, to feel her kiss, to hear her voice, soft in his ear. Strange, he needed her no less as an angel than as a man. But now she was completely his. His heart sang. "Come love." He urged her closer. "I've waited a lifetime for you and beyond. There is no sin here. Come lie with me again. Let me kiss you and hold you. Let me fill you with—''

"Sir Blackblade."

The duke's voice struck him like a sharp blow to the chest. Boden twisted his neck to find the speaker.

"Lord Haldane," he rasped.

"Aye." The duke took a step forward and placed a proprietary hand on Sara's shoulder. Boden dropped his own away. Reality sizzled through his veins, burning away the last remnants of soft dreams. He was not an angel. The world was not kind, and she was not his.

"Sir Blackblade," Haldane said again, "you have said some ignoble things in your delirium."

"Delirium?" The single word hurt his throat. Reality pounded inside his skull.

"Nearly a fortnight you've been unconscious. Lady Fiona says tis due to the blows to your head.

But she suspected you would awaken today."

Boden's gaze slipped to Sara's face. She looked pale and tired. Nearly a fortnight of dreams...

of her. Twas the best he could hope for on this earth, for she was another man's. His soul wept.

"I thought I could trust you," Haldane said, turning his gaze from Boden to Sara.

And suddenly Boden realized the truth. In his sleep, he had told their secrets, had revealed their sins. But she must not suffer for them. Without thought he reached for his sword. But his scabbard was gone, his love undefended.

"Twas not the lady's fault," Boden said, struggling to sit up. "Twas mine."

"Nay," said Sara, reaching for his hand. "Tis not true, my lord. Twas my own weakness that caused the sin, if sin it be. But ye see, I love him."

A lance of hot painful pleasure speared Boden's heart. She loved him.

"Love him!" Haldane snorted.

His words jerked Boden back to reality. "The fault is mine," Boden growled, trying to rise, and barely able to realize she was pinning him down with pressure on his shoulder. "And I'll not have you blame her!"

For a moment there was silence. "So you would be her champion, Sir Blackblade?"

"She'll not suffer for my sins!" he snarled.

The world was silent. "Were I a younger man I would challenge you for her hand. But mayhap I have sinned too much already in an attempt to call her mine." His expression looked strained.

Boden settled onto his elbows, saving his strength, and realizing suddenly that Haldane looked to be more like his former self, before the weakness took him. But wait. He frowned, fighting to clear the fog from his brain, to remember.

Sara had been in danger. He had stumbled down the hall as if called by a frantic bell. The image of Lady Elizabeth with a knife flashed through his mind. Haldane's weakness hadn't been natural at all, but a slow form of poison.

Taking his hand from Sara's shoulder, the duke paced the room. "I have little guilt over Stephen's death," he said.

"You killed him?" Boden asked, his body tense, his mind reeling.

Haldane watched him in silence for a moment. "The deer killed him. I but let him die. I had warned him not to strike his wife again. I had warned him, and so his death was justifiable. Twas not that I wanted her for myself." His gaze slipped to Sara, and in its depths, Boden saw that he lied. '

'But with his death there was that possibility." The room was silent. "But now there is you, Sir Blackblade. You, who I thought I could trust."

"It was not her fault," Boden repeated.

"Then you take the blame for betraying me?"

"Aye," Boden growled. His fist closed on nothing, but somehow, he would fight.

Haldane nodded stiffly, then relaxed slightly and exhaled. "Then you will suffer the consequences."

Silence settled in, tight and heavy.

Boden held his breath.

Lord Haldane paced back across the room to stand beside his bed. "You'll be given Cairn Heights."

No one spoke as seconds ticked by. Boden scowled, his mind spinning. ' 'What?'' he asked cautiously.

"Tis a poor castle on rocky soil. The people are proud, stubborn Scots." Haldane paused, and looked at Sara. "Not unlike your lady.

"Sara." He spoke her name with a somber reverence. "You have saved my heir—in fact, you have saved my very life. I owe you much."

"You have given me everything my heart desires, Your Grace," she said.

There was a wealth of sadness in his expression. "Then you will not change your mind? You choose the knight?"

"I do," she said.

Boden scowled. Reality was blurring again, fuzzing around the edges. The dreams were creeping back in control. Part of him welcomed them, but in that world he could not hold her in his arms. "What?" he repeated.

Haldane straightened to his full height. "Cairn Heights," he repeated. "Tis to the south and east of here and commands a wide view of the sea. An important post it is. I need a man there I can trust."

"Never will you find a man more loyal than Sir Blackblade," Sara said. "You will stay for the wedding, Your Grace?"

Confusion swirled in Boden's head like fruit bats in the darkness. "The wedding?" His words were barely heard above the beating of his own heart. "The wedding?" he said again.

"Tis little choice ye've been given, I fear," Sara said. Her smile was tremulous as though she might cry again with the sheer weight of her emotions. "The festivities are already being planned."

"Festivities?"

"I would ask you one last favor," said Haldane.

"Favor?" It would seem Boden could do nothing but echo their words.

"My strength has not yet returned to its full. I must return to London, and that is no place to grow a lad. But at Cairn Heights where the wind blows fresh off the sea, Thomas would have a mentor to train him and a mother to love him."

Boden found no words. Dreams? Was he dreaming again? But no, tears stung his eyes, and his leg throbbed gently. He embraced the pain, reveling in the knowledge that it always came with life.

"The mentor will love him too, my lord," Sara said, gently squeezing Boden's hand. There were tears on her cheeks again. "We thank ye from the depths of our souls."

The duke nodded, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. The world fell into silence.

"You are mine?" Boden whispered the words, and she laughed shakily.

"Aye, yours, forever and eternity. But now ye must sleep."

"Sleep! Maybe I could fly, but sleep..." He laughed wildly, trying to rise. She pushed him back down as if he were no stronger than a wooly lambkin.

"Fiona will have my hide if I overtax ye," she said.

"Mine," he repeated, tugging at her hand.

"Lie back."

"Never when I can—"

"If I lie with ye?" she interrupted.

He exhaled sharply, but she gave him no time to answer. Instead, she slipped in beside him, pulling the blankets up over them both.