The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) (21 page)

Slowly Damien rose from his seat and followed them out the door.  All the way down the narrow street to an alley.  Damien stepped into the shadows to watch the couple as Garrick pulled the girl to a rough halt as he searched the area with the keen eye of a warrior.  Should he intervene and save the girl?  He knew Garrick had a fondness for whores but he did not think it extended to the purchase of young girls but nothing the man did surprised him. 

Garrick walked a few more steps to the back of the alley and knocked lightly on the little door there.  Hesitantly the door opened and woman’s pale face peeked out before the door was flung open and the woman dove for the young girl and embraced her, the words of both females were lost in great racking sobs.  Garrick looked on as if he were bored with the entire affair.  Finally the woman wiped the tears from her eyes and sent the girl inside before she turned to face Garrick.  The woman was stunningly beautiful with strawberry blond hair that fell in gentle curls down to her waist.  Her body was full of lush curves and her height gave her a look of an Amazon warrior.

“I have given your daughter back to you,” Garrick’s voice carried to him.

“So you have,” the woman said with the sound of reluctance in her voice.  Garrick did not reply but seemed to be waiting.  The woman took half a step backward and brought a shaking hand to the clasp of the simple dress.  One shoulder was bared then the top of one breast.  Garrick took two steps toward her but she shrank away again.

Garrick scowled but did not pursue.  “I have purchased you,” he stated, his voice stated clearly she had no room to argue.

“I am not a whore,” the woman said indignantly.

“No, that is why I have made this deal and brought you your daughter.  I wish to lay with a woman like you instead of another whore.”

The woman franticly shook her head.  “I will not.”

Garrick rushed forward and seized her by her bare shoulders.  “You gave me your word you would lay with me if I freed your daughter.”

The woman continued shaking her head, “I cannot.”

With a growl of frustration he thrust the woman roughly away then turned and stalked from the alley, passing within an arm’s length of Damien the angry scowl on Garrick’s face showed him the other man was filled with an anger that left him careless.  Damien let him go, baffled that the man would do such a thing for the woman, let alone let her go back on her word for payment without harming her.  Perhaps there was hope for the situation without him having to take the life of one of his own men.  Just the thought left him cold and wondering how twisted a mess his loyalties were becoming.

~   ~   ~   ~

An endless week passed with Garrick’s search closing in on the fleeing woman.  He gathered the best information from the dregs of society where he went for his dark needs.  It was a world so far beneath Damien as a man of noble birth he had never imagined it existed.  A world so full of misery and poverty life meant nothing and could be bought and sold as easily as a broken down horse.  It was among those people Keri was being hidden.  Each breath he took was filled with worry for the small little fighter he knew her to be and he prayed for her safety with each dawn of a new day and many moments in between until he would lay his head down to sleep restless sleeps.  Garrick had a way of connecting with those people that gained him information Damien could not and so he relied on the news the man shared as they wove back and forth across the countryside.

Dark walls loomed out of the dusk of night.  The dark clouds hanging over it made the gray walls foreboding as the three weary travelers passed under the gate.

Damien and Cyrille searched the battlements, the guardhouse but there was no sign that this fortress was guarded.  An uneasy feeling settled on them.  Two women stood alone in the courtyard and it was to these Garrick rode, seeming unaware of the uneasiness being felt by his two companions.  Damien and Cyrille halted a few paces behind him.

The two women were facing the gate when they rode in.  It appeared as if they expected them and had come to greet them.  Damien cast another weary glance up at the battlements then to the left and right of himself.  He would wager there weren’t many inhabitants of the keep.  It could have housed many at one time but now the general appearance led him to believe the inhabitants were few. 

“Good ladies, might you tell me where your lord and lady are.  My companions and I are hoping for shelter tonight, it appears as if a storm is hard on our tails.”  Damien heard a different note in his voice.  Garrick was a man used to taking and fighting, not gently requesting.

“The lady Sylva has sent us to bid you stay.  She also sends her regrets that you must attend to your own horses in the stable,” the one woman said indicating the direction they should go to find such a dwelling.  “Many have already sought their homes with the storm coming.  Once you have your horses tended she will meet you in the hall.”

“Your lady is most kind,” Garrick replied in his lifeless tone.  They rode in silence to the livery and all the way inside.  The only other occupants in the large stable were two other horses.  Damien watched Garrick stop at both stalls giving both horses a once over before continuing on.  The silence blanketed the stable as they tended their horses, finding food and water before it was finally lifted.

“Does it seem strange to you that there are no guards on the walls?” Damien finally inquired of Garrick.  He shrugged turning to look at the two brothers standing behind him. 

“Perhaps they cannot afford many guards.”

“What was your interest in those horses?” Damien asked before he could turn away.

The look that flashed in his eyes made it apparent there was something about the horses he was hiding.  “What do you mean?” the man asked becoming defensive.

Damien pointed a frustrated hand toward the pair.  “You gave them a good once over as we entered.  Care to tell me their importance?”

For a moment he did not think the questions would be enough to get answers but finally Garrick spoke. “Those horses belong to the Lord of Flamborough.”

“What’s going on?” Damien demanded of his man.  “I killed the Lord of Flamborough.”

“You killed the Lord but his son is still very much alive.”

“His son?”

“Liam Donalds.”

The ground spun beneath his feet.  Liam and Alec were Flamborough’s sons and he had the sinking feeling he had more to do with the peril Keri was in than he had thought.  In an ironic twist of fate Damien had killed Liam’s father and taken his inheritance.  The man had played him well and Damien felt the fool for letting the man into Haltwhistle.  Close to Keri.  The poor woman was stuck in the middle of this mess.  She no more welcomed the marriage with Bryson than she asked for him to come to Langley after destroying Flamborough.  He just played into
Liam’s vendetta that had begun with Keri’s family.  He felt rooted to the spot and time seemed to tick by so slowly he wanted to scream. 

“We have found them at last,” Damien said trying to sound relieved.  He straightened his shoulders.  It was time to finish what he had started so long ago.  He would kill Liam whether he harmed Keri or not, then take her to the king.  He could wash his hands of it, have his service completed and never look back as he tried to put the pieces of his shattered family back together. 

“No, we have found the horses they were riding.  They are another matter all together.”  The man turned and left the stable leaving the two brothers to trail along behind him.

“Who do you think he sides with?”  Damien asked Cyrille quietly.

“Who do you side with?” Cyrille asked in return.

Chapter 15

Following behind Garrick the brothers’ heads swiveled back and forth, up and down, scanning the crumbling walls, the roofs of the sparse buildings inside the keep, the weeds growing helter-skelter in the courtyard.  Clouds gathered ever darker above the tall towers and the feeling of foreboding only grew inside Cyrille.  He was not a superstitious person, did not believe in white or black magic, good luck or bad, he did not believe for one minute Keri was a witch.  Looking at the forbidding walls, the dark holes of the doors he could not help the feeling that this place they had entered was evil.

Their steps faltered but it did not seem as if Garrick noticed as he drew ever closer to the small hall adjacent to the largest tower of the two.  The wind picked up, swirling dust and whistling through the windows and cracks of the stones.  Cyrille was surprised there were two women here, let alone a third who held a title.   His steps faltered again and he came to a stop before the door of the hall.  No noise came from within, the silence settling over Cyrille made the hair on the back of his neck rise and a chill settled into his bones. 

“I don’t like this,” Damien whispered before they stepped across the threshold together and into the dimly lit hall.  The hall was heated by the hearth on the opposite end but it did nothing to chase away the shadows or the chill in the room.  Garrick’s steps echoed through the hall as he approached the head table. 
Is the man so evil he does not notice the evil chill in this place,
Cyrille wondered. The table was flanked by two female servants whose youthful faces were alight with welcome.  On one side stood a blond whose height told of long legs and whose stature hinted at feminine strength.  At the other end stood the petite black haired creature that was as delicate in appearance as the other was in warrior grace.

Cyrille came to a stop in the shadows at sight of them.  Beauty was his opposite.  It was the beauties who looked upon his scars with the greatest horror.  Damien hesitated but did not look back as his steps regained their confident stride.  Only Cyrille could detect the hesitancy as his brother continued to follow in Garrick’s wake. 

He watched the tiny black headed woman step to Garrick.  He stared down at her, his black brows coming together in a scowl.  She smiled at him and taking his hand tried to lead him forward.  The man looked at their hands for a moment then jerked his away, straightening to his full height.  A hard look crossed his face and she smiled again then stepped aside to motion him toward the table.  He walked forward but watched the woman warily.

Cyrille’s gaze fell back on Damien who was being seated by the blond.  She bent over his shoulder to say something in his ear as if the hall was full of people
and she had to move close to be heard.  He watched his brother’s eyes cast a weary glance to her face, and look at its perfection and he was sure he would be able to smell the scent of her as her soft golden locks fell down around her face framing hers and his with her close proximity.  Damien said something that brought on a big smile to her pink lips curling upward to reveal gleaming white teeth.  She turned and left.  Before Cyrille could step from the shadows the two women who had first greeted them entered from a door set into the wall next to the hearth.  They stepped to the side and another woman entered.  The first thing that struck Cyrille was her hair as it flamed red underneath the glow of the fire while her graceful strides carried her into the room.  Both men at the table scrambled to their feet and offered bows for the lady.  As she paused in front of the hearth Cyrille fancied he could see the outline of her body underneath her thin gown.  She was not as tall as the blond or as small as the black headed woman.  She looked to be a descendent of the warrior queens long since gone from the land.  The curves of her breasts let him know each would be more than a handful for his large hands.  Her hips flared giving her a figure that made him want to weep for what he could never have again.  She moved toward the chair at the head of the table but before taking a seat she turned her head and Cyrille felt her eyes on him.

They raked over him.  He could feel their heat, as they assessed him.  He shook himself back to reality and what had to be the realization she could not see him.  She turned away, spoke to Damien then her eyes were back on him.  Suddenly his mouth went dry and he felt as if he were an untried youth seeing his first woman naked.  She rounded the table and her strides were so graceful they appeared to make her float as she neared, moving from the light into the shadow with him.

“Sir Cyrille,” her voice said coming to him like a gentle breeze.  Her scent wafted to him, the smell of flowers and spring.  “Please come forward.”  Her touch was soft, the gentlest of caresses as she laid her hand on top of his.  “We are all friends here.”

“Where are your men?” Cyrille asked but his body followed her movement as she stepped toward the light, her hand still upon his.

She turned and standing on tiptoe she whispered in his ear.  “Not here,” she said, her fragrance assaulted him.  Her curves pressed against him as if there was no fabric of their clothes separating them.  He felt her heat, he felt her lust and then she was stepping from him, turning and moving toward the light once again.

The two servants were placing
plates upon the table followed by bowls of stew as he took his seat beside the lady.  Once settled she leaned toward him, her breath tickled his ear even through his hood.  “You cannot eat with that upon your head.  Please, enjoy your meal,” she said bringing an arm around him.  It took a moment for his mind to register she held her arm before him which she bared.  Slowly his eyes travelled down to the graceful curving arm, her skin like cream but not perfect like her face but was a charred mess, the scars like his from fire.  It disappeared underneath her sleeve and he wondered how much of her had been marred by the flame. 

She straightened from him, her arm sliding up his chest, toward his neck.  Her fingers paused to caress the skin at his throat underneath the hood.  Cyrille turned his head to see what reaction his two companions would have but found they were in conversation with the blond servant who leaned between them.  Around the bottom of his hood the woman caressed coming to the tie in back.  She bent forward and leaned her head next to his as she pulled the hood slowly upward until he felt the air hit his face, and her breath caress his ear.

“That is much better,” she said, the hand holding the hood flattened against his chest and slid downward lightly caressing all the way to his lap where she laid the hood against his rising need he hoped was still concealed beneath the layers of his clothing.

She took her seat again, looked him in the eye and offered him a smile.  It was not the radiant golden smile of the blond but a serene smile that relayed to him his disfigurement did nothing to deter her from enjoying his company.  A glance back at the other two men found Garrick looking his way with a hint of terror mirrored in his eyes while Damien had already dove into the stew and was shoveling it hungrily into his mouth.  Garrick’s attention turned to his food and Cyrille turned back to the redhead beside him.  She smiled and lifted a spoonful of the stew to her lips inviting him to eat his fill.

The meal was quiet, with only the hungry men and the one woman eating at the table.  They ate their fill of the stew that seemed to be the best food he had had in what seemed ages.  The servants came forward again to refill their ale mugs and both women lingered nearby.

“I noticed the other horses in the stable with ours,” Garrick said settling back in his chair.  He stretched his legs out before him, folding his hands in his lap.  He turned and gave the black headed girl a weary gaze.

“I thought you might be interested in those horses Sir Garrick,” Lady Sylva’s silky voice flowed down the table to the man.

“They belong to Lord Liam.”

Sylva’s lips curled into a smile as if to say this was not news to her.  “Please, take advantage of my hospitality tonight.  It is late and I do not wish to rouse my other guests.”  A woman materialized from the shadows and bent to her lady’s ear.  “My lady-in-waiting, Darlene,” she said as an introduction to the girl who straightened beside her, “Tells me the snow is falling hard and the temperature has dropped.  Suffice it to say no one will be leaving before dawn so all matters can wait until then.”

Lady Sylva rose and Cyrille would swear the woman appeared to be floating.  “Please, take advantage of all the comfort I offer to you men.”  The woman motioned to the two women hovering.  They perked up and moved toward the men.  Garrick’s face broke into a weary smile while Damien’s face was unreadable as the blonde advanced on him.  The lady Sylva laid a hand upon Cyrille’s wrist and he felt as if she was lifting him from the chair.  He stood on shaky legs as he looked at his brother.  He seemed to be wobbling to and fro, but Cyrille thought it must perhaps be his own eagerness and apprehension flooding in on him.  This beautiful woman was touching him, not shrinking away in horror like all the others. 

As he followed the Lady from the room he felt as if his feet did not touch the floor.  Out into the courtyard she led him, into the swirling snow that blocked the entire world from him.  He paused, raised his head to the falling snow, the cold flakes landing on his warm skin but doing nothing to clear the haze that had seemed to consume his brain.  He lifted a palm to his own cheek feeling the coldness of the flakes, the scars of his face too tough for the lightness of it to penetrate.  Her hand slid from his wrist, down to his hand, twining her fingers in his.  When the warmth of her body pressed into him he lowered his head.  Her features were not discernible in the darkness but by the outline of her face he saw her head tilted upward toward his.  He stared down at her and marveled at her softness, at her warmth.  He belatedly realized she had no cloak about her shoulders and by all rights should be freezing but seemed content to share his heat. 

“We must get you inside,” he said, his arm squeezing her about the waist.  She laughed a seductive sound as she left his arms and led him by the hand still entwined with hers. 

~   ~   ~   ~

“You look so lonely?” the blond woman said coming up behind Damien as he watched the Lady Sylva lead his brother from the hall.  Nothing was right here but how could he call a stop to it when he didn’t know what it was and the lady of the keep, a beautiful one at that, was seeking Cyrille’s company.  Damien could never imagine what his brother lived with daily with a visage even a whore couldn’t be bought to lie with.  How could he stop it now?  The woman’s hands came out to rest on his shoulders, the tips of her fingers skittering lightly across the skin on his neck.  She rubbed outward with hands that were strong yet gentle as they slid to his arms.  Leaning down her breath fanned across his ear, close enough her breasts were pressed against his back, “My name is Danielle.”

Sliding down his body, spreading like warmth, came a feeling of peacefulness.  He fought the sensation, shaking his head to clear it of the serenity.  He fought it so it would not take over for it was wrong here in this place but with each moment that passed his defenses began to crumble.  He felt as if he floated just outside his own body as the woman caressed him.  He felt her touch and to some extent he found himself aroused by it but it was such a far away feeling it was beginning to take on the feeling of a dream. 

He looked over to Garrick.  The disjointed picture made no sense to him.  The black headed woman crouched on the table, her skirt tucked up above her knees.  Garrick stumbled to his feet.  It appeared as if he twisted and turned all about the room before he stood still.  The woman was in front of him and he held her wrist and the girl an arm’s length away from him.  The knife in her hand flashed.  Blood was everywhere, pouring from Garrick whose hands had gone to his throat to hold his own life inside himself.   Damien could only blink.  When his eyes opened again it was to see Garrick wasn’t holding his own throat but had his hand wrapped in the black hair of the girl as he held her head tightly as he kissed her.

Damien made to rise but at the first hint of movement Danielle pressed herself down onto him, securing him to his chair.  Damien would have been willing to bet his horse that he was stronger than her but he found himself unable to rise.  Her hands travelled down pressing all the way to his lap, her fingers wrapping around his manhood.  It felt as if he had nothing on, there was nothing between him and her fingers.  He wanted to speak to Garrick, to warn him she had a knife but he did not know if she did or didn’t.  The activity beside him still came at him disjointed as Garrick forced the girl onto the table and yanked her skirt up.  The woman tried to claw at him, tried to push him away but the man was too strong and he was hurting her, forcing
her to submit.  Was Garrick like this with his women?  Damien wanted to look away but found he could not as Garrick unleashed himself and plunged into the dark headed girl. 

Belatedly Damien felt Danielle in his lap grinding her crotch against him.  Had he entered her?  He wasn’t even undressed was he?  His eyes lingered on the other pair for a moment.  How could this woman feel so good?  She wasn’t supposed to feel good, he wanted Keri, and he didn’t want this one.  He turned his head to look down surprised they both still had clothing between them.

The woman ground herself against him again, rolling her body downward with the motion, to rise back up to whisper in his ear.  “I can be her.”

Damien straightened as he stared at her.  “Keri,” she whispered in his ear before she licked it.  Unbidden his body shuddered.  He tried to raise his arms but found them unable to move.