The Crimson Castle Read online

  A figure caught his eye and he realised it was Evelyn making a dash across the damp mud of the bailey in the direction of the stables.

  A foreboding sensation struck him and he lost no time in making his way down the stone steps towards the front entrance. His heavy chain mail clanking, he hurried towards the stables. She was nowhere to be seen but a young stable hand was attending to the horses.

  “Have you seen Lady Evelyn?”

  “She took off in great haste not a moment ago, Sir.”

  Gabriel growled in frustration and the stable hand looked at him with fear, expecting retribution for Evelyn’s behaviour.

  “Saddle my horse, quickly!”

  He set off at a fast pace, the hooves of his destrier beating the ground into submission. His horse was more powerful than her palfrey and he knew he could catch up with her if he headed in the right direction. He reasoned that if she was trying to run she would make for Beldersert, so he directed his horse towards the forest path, just over the brow of the gentle slope running in front of the lake. The sound of his hooves stirred the residents out of their small, ramshackle homes skirting the lake, the urgency of his gallop frightening the peasants.

  He quickened the pace as he spotted her slender figure making towards the entrance to the woods. He was angry with himself, knowing it was their heated exchange that had likely caused her to flee. He couldn’t help but feel frustrated at her foolhardiness though, had she not already had taste enough of the dangers of the woods? Why could she not have just accepted his assistance and put aside her pride? He knew, however, that her wilfulness was one of the reasons he so ardently loved her.

  Nearing her, he was close enough now to see her turn briefly to view the source of the sounds of hooves, but he could not see her expression. As she spurred on her horse, he realised it was not one of relief and she was attempting to escape him. His heart sank, knowing there was no hope of any kind of reconciliation and, although he hadn’t really believed there to be anyway, he desperately craved her forgiveness nonetheless. If she could only give him the chance to prove himself to her, he would do all he could to bring back that look of admiration he had seen that day by the lake.

  Evelyn turned again and realised with a stabbing sense of fear that he was gaining rapidly on her. She was not afraid of him but more of her reaction to him. She could not face everything that had passed between them and his earlier words echoed within her, heating her cheeks. She found herself heartily ashamed as to how she had dealt with her anger, using everything he had shared with her against him. Now she would have to admit to the recklessness of her behaviour, knowing he would surely admonish her severely for attempting to make an escape without his aid.

  With a glance over her shoulder, she saw that it would be moments before he caught up with her and she would have to finally confront recent events. In an impulsive move, she pulled her palfrey to a stop, jumping off as she took a mere second to fling the reigns over a branch. Picking up her skirts, she ran away from the forest path, into the dense trees, in a desperate attempt to lose her pursuer. She hoped the snaking wilderness would swallow her up and allow her to elude him.

  Encumbered by her skirt, she stumbled as the branches tore at her skin, the damp smell of the earth pervading her nostrils, while the dim light forced her eyes wide as she desperately searched for a hiding place. Her soft shoes offered little protection against the twisted limbs of trees crawling through the ground and rocks jutting proudly though the soil stabbed into her feet causing her to yelp. She could hear his impending footfalls but she continued blindly on, her hair and skirts catching on the trees forcing her to painfully tear herself forwards. Her toe snagged on a large stone and she felt herself tumble forward, bracing for a painful fall to the ground.

  A hand grabbed at her arm, its heat and roughness seeping through the sleeve of her gown, breaking her fall but forcing her to spin unsteadily until a hand grasped her other arm, pinning her upright. She could not bring herself to look at the owner of the hands, knowing a glance into his eyes would bring her starkly back to reality.

  “Evelyn,” he bit her name out sharply, his breath coming quickly from the hunt. “Why do you run from me?”

  She did not answer him, just kept her head hung as he relaxed his grip on her, massaging circles into her upper arms with his thumbs, causing more confusion inside her already jumbled mind.

  “Do I really scare you so that you need run from me?” he asked more gently, a hint of vulnerability sat within his voice, dreading her answer. He brushed at her hair, pushing it back from her face, forcing her to look at him.

  She saw that he too had suffered the wrath of the forest and likely reflected her image with scratches to his face and hands, his dark hair tousled and strewn with foliage.

  “Nay, I am not afraid of you.”

  Gabriel looked so relieved at her statement that it almost softened her, but she could not help but remind herself of everything that had befallen them, the blissful ignorance of their tender moments at the lake a distant memory. Her fury resurfaced and she tried to pull from his strong grasp but he held firm.

  “Then why do you run from me?”

  “I am not running from you!”

  Infuriatingly, a smile touched his lips at her indignant tone but he said nothing of her lie as her eyes darted from side to side, looking for a way to free herself from him. They fell upon his sword, rationality far from her mind as grief and uncertainty still filled her.

  Gabriel saw her glance and his smile twisted. He pulled out his sword and handed it gently to her, her eyes wide in astonishment. She found herself grasping the handle and he put his chest in front of the tip of the blade.

  “Do you wish to kill me, Evie? I could think of no sweeter death than one by your hand,” his voice lowered to a whisper as her hand shook and she continued to gape at him. “I would not blame you.”

  The blade dropped to the ground as she released it as if it were scorching her hand. Her anger left her as quickly as it had consumed her at his trusting action and the barrier of hatred, that she had so carefully nurtured, fell with swift ease.

  Waiting for his next move, she half expected, and hoped, that he would take her in his arms but instead he moved to pull out a leaf from her hair. She watched him reach towards her and she wondered at her reaction, allowing him to behave so intimately with her once more. It seemed that all good sense departed her in his presence, an affliction she had already experienced on many occasions.

  He looked at her seriously after flicking the leaf to the ground, pulling at her arm once more, forcing her attention upon him. “Where are you running to? I offered you aid, Evie, and I would but help if that is what you so desire.”

  “I have made it clear I have no want of your assistance,” she tried to inject anger into her voice but failed miserably, feeling acutely vulnerable to his dominating presence. “I do not need your aid.”

  “I will not leave you to harm. Do you wish to escape?” He prodded once more, locking his eyes with hers with such force that it caused her to shudder.

  “Aye..nay…” she sighed, “I know not.”

  In truth she had not thought of her next step. She couldn’t leave Beldersert to its fate but desperately wanted to flee from all that had transpired in Tibald’s clutches. Without Gabriel, she felt there had been nothing to keep her there. He was lost to her, his actions had been inexcusable and yet, in spite of the hurt he had caused her, she found herself regretting her treatment of him, wondering if she should have given him a chance to explain.

  He seemed to sense the slow transformation of her feelings and he brushed a thumb along her cheek.

  “Then what do you wish? Say it and I will make it so,” he murmured, inching towards her.

  As her chest tightened at his words, her gaze flicked to his lips and a spark of hope lit in his eyes. A coarse hand cupped her cheek and her lids fluttered closed at the warmth of the sensation. The sound of a sharp crack caused them to fly op
en.

  “Gabriel!” she called warningly and, as he turned to look at what had caused such a reaction, she grabbed for his sword, taking a step forwards.

  Gabriel tried to push her behind him but she held firm, his sword held steadily in her hand, and he could not help but admire the look of determination on her face. He carefully cast an eye over the figures of the half dozen men scattered amongst the trees, hands upon swords, with a look of amusement upon their battle worn faces. Their dark, rough clothing seemed to merge them with the bark of the trees, their filthy faces adding to the image of camouflage. Gabriel’s eyes locked onto the one face he did recognise.

  “Lazarus,” he spat.

  The man grinned in response. “Gabriel.”

  He gave him a mocking bow, his greying tangled hair falling across a face, aged by lack of nutrition and rough living. Though he was of similar age to Gabriel, some thirty summers, he looked a goodly ten years older. He sported a jagged scar across one cheek, tracing its way halfway down his neck, a present from Gabriel many years ago. Lazarus was tall though not as broad as Gabriel, with a strong physique and he knew from experience he was a gifted fighter.

  “What do you want with us, Lazarus?”

  “We would like the company of your lovely lady friend here.”

  “Not going to happen, Lazarus,” he bit out, emphasising each word.

  “She is sorely wasted on you, Merston.”

  Lazarus took a step towards her and she took a swipe at him with the sword, jumping back with a squeal of fright. His sword was heavy and he could see her arm strain with effort. Gabriel put a calming hand on her sword arm, only just noticing two archers high in the trees, arrow tips pointed at the pair. He gently pried her stiff fingers off the hilt and lowered the sword tip to the ground, keeping it in his grasp.

  “Gabriel, what are you doing?” she hissed at him before flinching as she too noticed the arrows aimed at them.

  “If you want to kill me, kill me but leave the lady out of it.”

  Shaking his head Lazarus stepped forwards once more, “I would gladly slay you, Gabriel of Merston, and you deserve no less, but I need a messenger and it seems you are the only choice we have.” He offered his arm to Evelyn as if escorting her to court rather than kidnapping her.

  “If you would be so good as to join me, Lady Evelyn?” he lowered his voice and gave her a steely look. “I do not wish to kill Sir Gabriel but I will if you do not co-operate.”

  Her gaze flicked hesitantly between the two men, both glaring at each other with burning hatred. Moving towards the outstretched hand, she placed hers upon it and Lazarus beamed with triumph. Pride swelled within him with at her look of courage but trepidation quickly sliced through it at the sight of her fragile hand upon the sun beaten skin of the outlaws.

  “No!” Gabriel shouted, bringing his sword up, desperate to slice the outlaw to ribbons but fully aware of the arrows still trained on Evelyn and himself. She gave him a tight reassuring smile, her eyes fixed upon the arrow aimed at his back.

  “Do not worry, Gabriel.” Her countenance still reflected her bravery but he could see the fright burning brightly in her gaze.

  “Oh aye, do not worry, Sir Gabriel. We shall ensure Lady Evelyn is well looked after.” He grinned disturbingly and Gabriel resisted the urge to tear the smile from his face with his bare hands.

  “Go to your lord and tell him we want five thousand marks for the safe return of Lady Evelyn. Meet us tomorrow at noon in the clearing to the west.”

  “And if he does not pay?” He drew in a deep breath of resignation, recognising Evelyn’s best chance was to go quietly with the outlaws.

  Lazarus pulled out a dagger, holding it in front of Evelyn who was unable to take her eyes off the sharpened blade and before Gabriel could leap forwards two men grabbed at his arms, pinning him on either side as he struggled in vain against them. He watched in horror when she made a strangled sound of terror as Lazarus brought the blade to her neck. With an expert flick he sliced through a lock of hair and held it out to Gabriel as the two men released him.

  “He will pay or his bride will be returned to him in pieces,” Lazarus sneered stonily.

  Gabriel snatched the soft lock, returning the icy glare, not oblivious to Evelyn’s shudder of distress at these words. His jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, he watched as they bound Evelyn’s hands tightly behind her back and led her towards the forest.

  “I will come for you, Evelyn,” he called to her firmly before she turned away and he saw a flicker of hope in her fear laden expression, praying she would be strong enough to withstand the coming hours.

  He watched as they moved deeper into the foliage, sinking out of sight into the gloom until it was just him and the eerie quietness of the forest.

  Not willing to waste a minute, he ran back through the woods in much the same manner he had entered but fuelled by a painful desperation. Using his sword to hack a path through, he made his way back to his horse, ignoring Evelyn’s horse patiently waiting for her mistress, as he bolted back to the keep, his mind tormented by the ill fortuned prospects of her fate.

  ***

  The bird, gliding high, barely a speck in the sky, was watched carefully by its master. Raising his hand, Tibald watched as the hawk attained his position of supremacy, looking down on its owner - probably the only creature in Warwickshire allowed such a privilege. Tucking in its wings, it swooped down, returning to the gauntlet, as Tibald spied Gabriel making his way towards him, his steed galloping up the hill with urgency.

  Passing the hawk to the falconer, as Gabriel dismounted, approaching him with haste; Tibald didn’t bother hiding his displeasure at having his hunt interrupted.

  “My lord,” Gabriel greeted him, his appearance dishevelled, a sense of urgency about him.

  “What news, Gabe?”

  “‘Tis Lady Evelyn, my lord, she has been taken.”

  Tibald felt his blood rising, boiling underneath his skin, the heat surging up to his face. His barely tempered anger always lay there, just beneath the surface, waiting the moment he could unleash it. Somehow no matter how he released it, it would never abate. He enjoyed the look of fear he was regarded with by so many, but he was smart enough to realise that his rage very often controlled him and he despised being controlled by anything, let alone his own emotions.

  He spoke through gritted teeth, “Pray repeat yourself, Gabe, and speak plainly, for your next words may be your last.”

  Tibald watched with dissatisfaction as Gabriel’s expression remained constant. The one man unthreatened by him was Gabe. For the most part, he liked having someone at his side that didn’t simper and cower beneath him but a little humility would not go amiss.

  “She was captured by Lazarus, my lord. He asks for five thousand marks for her safe return.”

  “Five thousand?!” Tibald spluttered. “Ha, he can keep her!”

  Tibald noted the flicker of panic in Gabriel’s eyes with satisfaction. That woman certainly was to be admired, how she had captured his pitiless man-at-arm’s attention was a puzzle to him, for he was certain he had never felt sympathy for any other female’s plight. It would be a shame for her to come to harm for he was sure she would make a powerful ally once he had her under his control.

  “My lord, he will surely kill her and you will be without a bride.” Anxiety crept into Gabriel’s voice.

  “Aye, but the Beldersert fief will be ripe for the taking,” he growled.

  “Pray, my lord, consider the consequences of leaving her at the hands of such men.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Tibald gave a heaving sigh of annoyance.

  “‘Twould be no more than she deserves, wilful female that she is.”

  “That may be, my lord, but gaining her lands will be far less painful with her as your bride…”

  “As if I care to spare pain!” Tibald was beginning to enjoy this game.

  “…and you must admit she will make a handsome bride as well as provide you
with an heir.”

  This cinched it, Tibald’s petulant expression relenting, aware that he was still without a beneficiary. Except for a few bastard children scattered around the shire, he thought bitterly, sons and daughters to pathetic servants with little more than a few feminine wiles to offer him.

  “Very well,” he snapped reluctantly, “Gather a dozen men, I will pay the ransom.”

  “I thank you, my lord.” Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief and mounted his horse, anxious to prepare quickly for fear of Lady Evelyn’s wellbeing in the hands of Lazarus.

  “And for God sakes, arrest someone! I want someone stripped of their skin for this!” Tibald shouted after him as he galloped back to the keep.

  Motioning for the falconer to hand him back the bird, he stroked at the hawk. The money was of no import really but he did not relish having to part with so much for a bride who had not even accepted his hand yet. Still, she would owe him now and would have no choice but to be wed to him. Determined as she was, he knew when he had won and he could taste victory as surely as he would taste the sweetness of her supple skin before long.

  Chapter 9

  After her hands were bound tightly behind her back, Evelyn was led further into the forest, the shade cooling the air, causing a chill to seep through her clothes. She wished she had not left in such a hurry and had at least worn a cloak as another shiver ran through her. Her already battered slippers became cumbersome, snagging on the uneven terrain and she feared her arm would be wrenched from its socket by the red headed, heavy set man who dragged her along by her elbow, fingers pinching into the delicate skin. Each wrench forced a cry from her but she strove to supress them, keeping her teeth bitten into her bottom lip until she could taste bitter tang of blood.

  When they had travelled for some time, they came to a stop and Lazarus came towards her, a grim smile upon his marred face. Her pulse leapt and Evelyn willed herself to keep calm as his shadow seemed to swallow her up.

  “Sorry, my lady, we can’t have you knowing our whereabouts.”