Immortal Surrender (8 page)

When her breathing evened out, she pushed to a cross-legged position and took stock of her body. Her right arm trembled as she swiped her hair out of her face. Her ribs felt like someone had kicked her with a steel-toed boot. Everything else ached, but she could ignore the dull pain. She’d feel it tomorrow. Right now, it was insignificant.

Scanning the roofline, she searched for a means down. Old houses like this almost always had a ladder somewhere. With the decorative gargoyles, the intricate gables, and the narrow attic cupolas to her left, this one wouldn’t disappoint. They were too clean, too cared for, to not have easy access. Unless, of course, the owner removed the old access route in favor of a metal portable.

Her gaze flicked across two protruding handles, and Noelle exhaled with relief. Down. Away.

Finally.

Careful to keep clear of the edge, she crawled along the steep pitch on all fours. Slow and steady. One hand, one knee, in front of the other. When she reached the distant house, for Gabriel’s sake she’d make no mention of her near kidnapping. She’d come up with a plausible excuse and beg for a ride back to her apartment. Maybe the owners would believe she’d had a fight with her boyfriend and he’d left her on the side of the road.

She glanced at the still street.
Right.
No car had passed in the twenty or thirty minutes since she’d made her grand escape. She dismissed the voice of her conscience with a shake of her head. What the owners believed didn’t matter. She’d get a ride to her apartment, grab her cat, and take refuge with Seth. There she’d stay until she reached Gabriel. When he called off his security guard, she’d go back home.

The ladder loomed before her, and Noelle resisted the urge to shout in triumph. Easing to her belly, she poked her head over the eave to inspect the ladder. This time, she wasn’t going to be hasty. If that length of steel pulled out of the bricks, she’d have a whole lot more to worry about than getting away from Farran. Broken legs, arms …

Her thoughts screeched to a halt as her gaze dropped to the ground below. There, standing not more than two feet from the bottom rung, Farran stared back. And he didn’t look at all happy to see her.

Damn. Damn, damn,
damn.

“Come down, Noelle.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the low, even tone held strict warning.
Come down, or I’m coming up.

She dropped her forehead to the shingles with a mutter. She’d give anything for a nice spring day so she could outstubborn that man. As it was though, her teeth chattered in the December breeze, and the patches of snow left on the rooftop had soaked into her clothes. Still, she couldn’t accept defeat so easily. Maybe there was another way down.

She inched backward, away from the ledge.

“Noelle!” Crisp, clear, his voice cut through the stillness. “There is one ladder. The very one I am standing beneath.”

Cringing, Noelle bit back a string of obscenities. How the hell could he possibly know what she’d intended? This was insane. Ludicrous. All she wanted to do was go home. At this point, if she’d had her cell phone she’d call the cops. To hell with Gabriel and his reputation.

For now, the greater concern remained being in the cold. Before she could get
home,
she had to get
down
. She pulled in a deep, fortifying breath. Down it was.

Stretched out on her belly, she inched around until her feet touched the top rung. She pushed backward, easing her knees over the ledge, then her thighs. As she grabbed for the handles, her right foot slipped on a patch of unseen ice. For a terrifying moment, everything moved in slow motion. Her legs went out from under her. The ground flashed before her eyes. Farran let out a shout. She twisted sideways.

Noelle clamped her fingers around the handles and hung on. Half on the ladder, half dangling against the brick, a fierce burst of white-hot heat lanced up her arm. She cried out, and tears stung her eyes. Blinking them back, she edged herself back onto the ladder and wrapped the handholds through her elbows. She leaned against the cold metal, her heart drumming against her ribs.

Trembles broke through her body. Paralyzed by fear, she bowed her head to the slick rung. She couldn’t go up, she couldn’t go down. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. Louder, she repeated, “I can’t do this.”

“You can. Climb. Go slowly.”

At the mere thought of letting go at all, her tears burst free. She bit down on her lower lip, trying to stop them. But it was useless. She was stuck and scared. More frightened by the prospect of moving than by the man at the bottom of the ladder. He might be crazy, but he hadn’t hurt her. As her tears coursed freely down her cheeks, she shook her head and choked out, “I can’t move.”

*   *   *

Farran stared up at Noelle, cursing her bad luck, the Almighty, and his fate. He well knew how terror could trap a person, had seen it countless times with unseasoned knights. In her unmoving position, he recognized the signs too clearly. This was no act meant to gain his sympathy. ’Twas no ploy to soften his anger over her attempt at escape. She was truly terrified.

“Damnation,” he muttered beneath his breath.

He closed his eyes with an inward prayer his stomach would not revolt and made the mark of the cross over his chest. Eyeing her, he strode to the ladder. She would pay for this later. He would find a way to make certain she came to regret her attempt at escape.

Do not look down.
He chanted the mantra as he climbed the icy rungs. In less time than he had imagined, he arrived at her feet. Holding on with one hand, he placed the other on her calf. “I am here. Climb down.”

’Twas then he noticed the shaking of her shoulders, heard her muffled tears. When she did not move, he gave her leg a squeeze. “Noelle, come down. I will not let you fall.”

“I’m scared,” she murmured.

Saints’ blood, she did not intend to make this easy. Aye, indeed, he would lock her in her rooms at the temple for a week.

He assessed her position, made note of the little space her tiny body occupied. Carefully, he tucked his feet between hers and the side rails and eased his body up her legs. When he had pinned her between the ladder and his chest, he stopped. “Grab on to me.”

She let go with one hand, then clutched at the rail with a fierce shake of her head. “I can’t. I can’t, Farran.”

At the sound of her broken voice, all his defenses shuddered like a door under the barrage of a battering ram. The anger her defiance provoked dissolved with her sniffle. Deep in his gut, a heavy knot unwound. He pressed his body into hers, molded his thighs around her legs. Holding on with one hand, he pried her fingers off the metal and guided her hand to his shoulder. “Turn around, damsel,” he encouraged quietly. “Wind your arms around my neck, and we shall descend together. I swear to you, I will not let you fall.”

Dropping his hand to her narrow waist, he steadied her as she pivoted. When her chest brushed against his, she threw her arms around his neck in a stranglehold. Farran grabbed the ladder with both hands and began the slow climb down. With each step, he supported her with his body. Their closeness was enough to torment his senses. The sweet scent of jasmine combined with the way she meshed all around him, set his blood to simmering. He kept his stare fastened on the brick house, knowing if he chanced a glance at her, ’twould be his undoing. He would forget his purpose, use their forced position to take advantage of that sweet mouth once more.

As his boot crunched into the snow, he expelled a long breath of relief. ’Twas over. He could escape her damning nearness and tuck her safely in the SUV where she could not run. He gave her shoulder a firm push. “Let go, Noelle.”

Her face tucked into his shoulder, she answered with an adamant shake of her head.

God’s teeth, she could not still be scared. What in the heavens was the matter with her? His frown firmly intact, he increased the pressure of his hand. “We are on the ground. Let go.”

Against his chest, her ribs expanded as she took her first normal breath. She lifted her head and looked over his shoulder. Instead of letting go, she tightened her arms, and her body relaxed against his. The embrace reached in and turned his innards upside down. He clenched his teeth against the rush of pleasant sensation. Reminded himself he had not come to her aid for her sake, but for the Templars’ purpose. If she had fallen to her death, the holy Order would lose much needed might.

“That’s the second time you’ve rescued me,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

Farran backed up like demons chased him. He set his fingers on her waist, pushing her down and away. In his hurry to free himself, his feet tangled with hers. He grabbed at the rail to steady his fall, but the momentum he put into his shove made her stumble. She toppled into him, upsetting his already unsteady balance. They fell to the ground in a heap.

For a long silent moment, Farran stared up at the sky. Unbelievable. She weighed no more than two sacks of grain, yet she toppled him as easily as if she wielded a club. His mouth quirked at the irony. And then he chuckled. For the second time in one day, a short burst of air constricted his lungs in a way they had not stretched in more years than he could count.

Before he could fully savor the lightheartedness she provoked, she scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Crimson colored her dainty cheeks, and her eyes widened to twice their normal size. “I’m a klutz. I fall over everything. My cat—” She clamped a hand over her mouth to silence her rush of words and swallowed hard. Behind her fingertips, she muttered, “I’m sorry.”

His brimming laughter died in his throat, but he could not stifle the smirk that pulled at the corner of his mouth. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he stood. He clamped her wrist in his right hand and started for the SUV. “’Twas a grand attempt at escape. Now we must attend to duty.”

Noelle dug her heels in and pulled against his hold. “I’m not going to be your prisoner, Farran.”

Her protest erased all traces of his good humor. He whirled on her, pinning her in place with a furious scowl. “Have I hurt you?”

She backed up a step. “No.”

Tightening his hold on her wrist, he pulled her back in front of him. “Have you been placed in chains? Are you secured to a wall? Have you been denied food, damsel?”

With an ashen expression, she answered, “N-no.”

“Then do not speak to me of being prisoner. You know naught of the meaning!” He spun around, and with a fierce tug, dragged her to the vehicle. He opened the door and roughly pushed her inside. Stepping back, he fixed her with a warning glare. “Do not attempt to disappear whilst I retrieve your things. Or I promise you, damsel, you shall come to understand the life of a prisoner.”

CHAPTER 7

Noelle itched to run. Every nerve ending in her system demanded she kick open the door and bolt down the street. But the idea of what might happen if Farran caught her rooted her in place. She stared at the house, watched his shadow ascend the stairs behind the front windows. A prisoner. While his definition and hers might vary, nevertheless, she’d lost her freedom. He’d stripped it away just as if he’d tied her up.

She wanted nothing to do with wherever he intended to take her. Visions of a solitary room without a window played with her imagination. Trays of meager food. Days without showers. All in some vain quest to prove his ludicrous claims. At best, he’d only prove his mental instability.

The compassion he’d shown her was the only thing that kept her from being truly terrified. He’d saved her twice, a blunt truth she couldn’t overlook. Not only that, but from what she assumed, he’d looked after her while she recovered. True, behavior like that could go hand in hand with psychopathic madness, but she didn’t think so. He’d had ample opportunity to bend her to his wishes. For that matter, he could have taken her to this
temple
while she slept, skipping the explanation all together.

Besides, he worked for Gabriel—Farran’s one, ultimate saving grace. Gabriel was meticulous enough that he’d surely conduct background checks on people he hired to protect a holy relic. If Farran were truly psychopathic, something would have shown up. Gabriel wouldn’t trust the Sudarium to someone he didn’t implicitly trust.

Which must mean he knew Farran well. Which must also mean Gabriel thought Farran’s post-traumatic stress disorder wasn’t terribly threatening.

Noelle took a deep breath and reclined in the seat. Post-traumatic stress disorder—Farran exemplified that in triplicate. Their accident threw him into memories, and he reacted with the only defense he knew—a fictional story that masked over the horrible reality. If she needed any proof he’d served with the military, his physical strength and his no-nonsense demeanor provided plenty. Not to mention the nerves of steel he’d exhibited when they had a yellow Camaro running up their ass.

Opening her eyes again, she caught his silhouette bounding down the old staircase behind the glass. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. She needed to think of something quick. Any minute now, he’d be out here. Behind the wheel, ready to take her to some place she’d never heard of. A place she had no intentions of ever seeing.

Too late.

Farran hurried out of the house. He jogged down the porch and to the driver’s side, her meager things in hand. As he slid behind the wheel, he tossed her purse into her lap. “Indeed, you do have wits.”

Anger sparked at the insult, and Noelle gripped her purse between her hands, resisting the urge to swing it into the side of his head. She hadn’t become a recognized expert on radiocarbon dating by being an idiot. “You could benefit from the lesson my mother used to preach—if you can’t find anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

Hands on the wheel, he sat still, his gaze trained on the house they’d just left. Slowly, he nodded. “Aye. Then silence ’tis. Nice is not a part of me.” With a press of his boot to the accelerator, they reversed out of the drive.

A traitorous portion of her subconscious rose up screaming in protest. He could be nice. She’d seen that more than once. He didn’t have to come up the ladder after her. True, he might still be waiting for her to come down, but he came up and coaxed her down not just with niceness, but with that same damnable gentleness he gave her injuries. What was with this guy? He had to be an anomaly of science. All hard and calloused on the outside, but down there where he didn’t want anyone to see, he was as sweet as a kitten.