His Woman. Diana Cosby
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knight’s horse. His knight flogged him for his crime.”
Isabel trembled harder.
Duncan gently squeezed her shoulder and willed her to calm. “Part of his penance is to pray through the night for forgiveness from his sins.”
The guard grunted with contempt. “The beating will help more than prayer.”
“It is God’s way to forgive those who sin,” Duncan said with censure.
The knight remained silent, obviously having his own feelings about forgiveness in the case of a neglected steed.
“If I see Lady Isabel,” Duncan said to move the guard on his way, “I will pass word to one of the knights immediately.”
“Thank you, Father.” The candles within the private chapel wavered as the guard exited the chamber, then steadied after he’d closed the door in his wake.
Duncan exhaled.
Isabel turned to him, her face taut with frustration. “What have you done? They will soon discover that no lad ignored his duties to care for his knight’s horse or was beaten this night. Then the guards will return, but now they will be looking for us both.”
“Not until the morrow. They are too busy searching for you to be concerned with the fate of a foolish lad.” He rose, hastened to the door and listened.
Muted footsteps and slamming doors echoed outside as the guards searched each chamber on their level. A man called. Another replied from farther away. After a long while, sounds of the search faded to muffled calls as the guards ceased their search in the upper levels of the keep.
Duncan sighed, relieved. “With the size of Frasyer’s castle, the guards will re-search the lower floors and will not return to the upper level for a while.”
“Mayhap, but rest assured, his men will continue in their quest until they find me.”
Aware of how Frasyer guarded his own, Duncan realized she was right. “We can still leave now.”
Her expression left no room for doubt. “I am not going. Not without my mother’s Bible.”
“Very well,” he replied, having correctly anticipated her response. “Then I will ensure the guards do not return before we have had a chance to finish our search.”
“How?”
“I will create a diversion. While they are distracted, it will give us time to find the Bible and escape.”
“No,” Isabel said. “With the guards swarming the keep, it is too dangerous. I know the layout, I could do—”
“Nothing.”
She shot him a lethal glare. “My life is at stake as well. If you think I will remain here while you are out risking your life, you know little of me.”
He strode forward until a hand’s width separated them. Duncan caught her chin with his fingers and lifted it until their eyes met, damning the jolt of awareness.
“Did I ever know you?” The words stormed out before he could halt them.
Her eyes softened. Her lips parted. “Duncan—”
He released her and stepped back, angry over his lapse of control. “Wait here. On this point I will not yield.”
Isabel studied him, her stubborn look one he’d witnessed many times over. She didn’t like obeying his order, wanted to argue, but from the resignation pooling in her eyes, he surmised she was thinking of her father.
“What will you do?” she finally asked.
“I will think of something.” He relished the thought of causing the bastard Frasyer another troublesome blow. “Upon my return, we will retrieve your family heirloom.”
At his reference to the Bible, her gaze slid to the floor.
Her evasive manner stopped him cold. A ludicrous thought popped into his mind. “You do know where the Bible is?”
Chapter 4
“Isabel, tell me you know where the Bible is!”
At Duncan’s whispered demand, Isabel met his incredulous gaze, wishing she could offer him a different truth. She shook her head. “No.”
Green eyes hardened to black. “You led me to believe you knew where it was.”
She refused to feel guilty. She had given him many opportunities to leave. “I thought I could convince you to go without me.”
“Even if I had left, with the guards scouring every nook of the castle to find you, are you daft enough to believe you would have time for more than a token search?”
“I still need to try.”
The shouts of guards echoed from below.
“Do you have any idea where Frasyer has hidden it?” he demanded.
Isabel nodded, but the location was the last place she’d ever wish Duncan to see.
“Where?”
Isabel braced herself. “In Frasyer’s private chambers.”
Red stroked the hard angles of his cheeks. His eyes narrowed to slits.
Coldness swept through her. He would rid himself of her now. How could he not? A fact she should be thankful for, but a part of her still ached at his leaving.
“When I return, be ready to depart.” He strode toward the door.
Return? No, he was supposed to be leaving! “Duncan?”
At the entry, he turned. “What?”
The hard expression on his face dared her to challenge his decision to remain. The stubborn, honorable fool. ’Twould seem he’d risk his life for her and her father due to his deathbed promise to Symon. Something she couldn’t allow.
“Be careful,” Isabel said, keeping her voice soft so as not to betray her intent.
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Careful? Nay, lass, I will take the risk. The last time I was careful, it was with you.” He jerked open the door. “And you left me for Frasyer’s bed.” The seasoned wood settled behind him with a soft clunk.
She sagged back. His anger toward her would serve him well. More so when he returned to find her gone. Then he would quit Moncreiffe Castle.
Without her.
Breath heaving in his chest, Duncan glanced at the unconscious men with disgust. Only after he’d thrown the torch atop the pile of straw filling the wagon and the flames had begun to build had their outlines come into view. By then it was too late. The men had noticed him.
And charged.
Thankfully, both were poorly trained. Still, one of their blades had sliced his left arm. Keeping pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, he sprinted across the bailey.
“The smithy’s hut is catching fire!” a guard shouted from the wall walk. Several other guards located farther away echoed the alert.
Duncan bolted into the shadow cast by the keep as men raced past him toward the fire. Dragging in gulps of air, he braced himself against the cold stone wall.
He swiped the sweat from his brow. He was a knight. Not an inexperienced lad. He knew better than to let his guard down, but moments ago, caught up in thoughts of Isabel, he’d missed seeing the men standing near the smithy’s hut.
At the clatter of steps, he flattened himself against the cold stone.
Torchlight outlined several guards as they rushed from the keep.
That a way, lad, keep thinking about the lass and you will have your bloody arse in the dungeon.
“Form a line,” a man