Authors: Gerri Russell
He'd failed to protect her from the talons of death.
The talons of death…
"No!" Camden sat bolt upright. Darkness surrounded him. He froze. Was he back inside the dungeon? He'd escaped, long ago. His heart thrummed in his chest.
Where was he? The scene he'd arranged for Rhiannon gradually took shape. The tallow candles had burned low, their flames sputtering in the remnants of the suet, and snow flurries had left a light dusting across the furs that cocooned them in warmth.
Rhiannon stirred at his side. "What's wrong, Camden? What is it? A nightmare?"
He scooped her into his arms. "I am well."
"Are you truly?"
"I am merely wondering," he said, smiling down at her, "if I should try to further my attempts at seduction."
She arched a brow. "You've been very thorough already."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, relieved that he'd only had a nightmare. He nestled against her hair, drawing in the scent that was so uniquely her own. Death would not claim her, not yet. He would do everything in his power to see that she lived to a ripe old age.
As the beat of his heart normalized, he gently lifted her in his arms, then walked to a bench nestled in amongst the hay and candles. "Sit here for a moment."
Wisps of their warm breath curled in the air. Silence surrounded them. He dressed quickly, then returned to her side with her clothing and slowly dressed her. And despite his efforts to take comfort in the flesh-and-blood woman who breathed beneath his fingertips, he continued to see her pain-filled visage in his mind.
How could he protect her from death? How could he protect anyone?
The Charm Stone.
It could keep Rhiannon and all of his people safe from illness. He grasped onto the thought like a lifeline. He would have to trust that the Stone could help him banish the image of Rhiannon's death from his nightmares.
But would it keep her safe from the truth about what he had done to her brothers? And what he might have done to her had his assassin succeeded? Camden stumbled in placing her gown over her head, enveloping Rhiannon in a sea of fabric. She laughed and tried to find her way out while he simply watched. Could she discover the truth about the assassin he'd hired? Should he just tell her? Would she hate him less if he did?
Her head poked out from under all the fabric. "Some help you are," she teased, and the moment to tell her the truth passed.
He turned away and picked up her shoes, sliding them onto her delicate feet. When he had finished dressing her, he fastened her cloak about her shoulders. "Thank you," he said.
"For what?" she asked, startled.
"For the best memory of my life." He smiled at her crookedly. His body throbbed to life once more at the thought of the passion they had shared. He could never get enough of her. "I intend to take you inside and further my seduction."
She stared at him, stunned. Good. He liked having her a little off-balance. With a chuckle of satisfaction, he lifted her into his arms once more and carried her back to the keep. A soft kick opened the bedchamber door.
Orrin stood just inside the doorway.
"Orrin." Camden set Rhiannon on her feet.
Orrin's troubled gaze shifted between Camden and Rhiannon. "I waited for your return. I did not wish to interrupt you."
"What's wrong?" Camden frowned.
"The gatekeeper and the two warriors who were with Rhys when he first arrived have both fallen ill. What could it mean?"
Camden's frown increased. "I had intended to speak with Rhys further." He allowed his words to trail off. He had meant to talk to the man the moment he'd arrived home, but he'd been distracted by Rhiannon.
"Go to Rhys now while I attend to the other men who have fallen ill," Rhiannon said, removing her cloak to set it on the edge of the bed. "I may be able to make them more comfortable until you or Lady Violet can heal them with the Charm Stone."
Camden strode to his wardrobe. He opened the door and withdrew a tall black boot. He turned the boot over and placed his hand at the opening. The Charm Stone tumbled into his hand. "Take this." He held the Stone out to Orrin. "Go wake Lady Violet and bring her, along with the Stone, to Rhiannon and the men."
Orrin accepted the precious amulet. He paused, staring at the stone. Something that looked like indecision crossed his face before he clamped his fingers shut and hurried from the chamber.
"This is not how I wanted this night to end," Camden said, wrapping her in his arms once more.
She melted into his embrace. "The night is young still." Rhiannon smiled as she pulled out of his arms and with a sigh of satisfaction left the room.
His mind shifting from Rhiannon to the troubles Rhys had caused him and his people, Camden strode down the hallway and the stairs to the great hall where Orrin reported he'd last seen the man.
Rhys sat near the hearth, alone. He carefully sipped from a mug of steaming liquid. At Camden's arrival, he set the mug down on the long table before him and dropped his gaze to the wooden surface, unwilling to meet Camden's questioning gaze. "Lord Lockhart, I beg forgiveness."
"Have you told us all of it? Everything you did to assist the bishop?"
Rhys nodded, his expression a mixture of remorse and pain.
Regardless, Camden could not stop the anger that surged through him. This man had spied for Bishop Berwick, breached his outer defenses at the castle and helped the assassin he'd hired to kidnap Rhiannon. "Why would you betray your own people?"
The man flinched at Camden's tone. "At first I thought 'twas ye who'd betrayed us all."
"How?" Camden asked, startled by the man's accusation.
"The Ruthven girl," he explained. "Ye protected her. It angered me at first until I saw past my own rage." He shook his head slowly, a look of awe on his face. "She would've allowed herself tae be burned tae death rather than betray either ye or Lady Violet."
Camden's anger dissipated. "Then why, Rhys? Was it revenge that drove your actions?" As he said the words, Camden's heart stumbled. He could ask himself the same question and be found guilty.
"Revenge wasn't the reason. The bishop threatened my son's life."
Camden tamped down his anger at the thought that any holy man could use a child in his schemes. "The man has proven he'll do anything to get what he wants."
"Even try tae murder me," Rhys said.
"You survived."
"Only because of ye Lockharts and the Charm Stone. I'll be forever grateful."
"Then help us now by telling me who else was trying to kill us. You could not have brought a cannon to our walls on your own."
Rhys nodded. "Bishop Berwick financed the attack. He wanted us tae take both Rhiannon and Lady Violet, but we couldn't find the little girl."
Camden smiled grimly, knowing their failure was thanks to Rhiannon's quick thinking and skill with a bow.
"I don't think the man meant tae harm the wee one. He seemed desperate tae take her unharmed. He wants her for somethin'. For some skill she possesses."
"He wants her for her power over the Charm Stone." Camden pressed his lips together into a hard line. The man would never get either Violet or the Stone while he still lived.
"She is a miracle worker." Rhys pulled up the edge of his linen shirt to reveal a pale thin line across the flesh at his side.
Camden inspected the man's side. Hardly a trace of his wounds remained. It was a miracle. "But why is he so desperate for Violet?" And suddenly it all made sense. "He cannot use the Stone without a Lockhart. And Violet's youth would allow him to manipulate her into doing all that he asks."
Rhys's eyes went wide. "A man of God who could do miracles would be seen as divine."
"Damn the man," Camden cursed, suddenly wondering if the Ruthvens had truly been responsible for Clara and James' deaths. Or had he just assumed that they were based on the circumstances the Bishop had laid before him?
He thought back to when he'd first arrived at Lee Castle and found James there. He'd been so filled with grief that he had just assumed that the Ruthvens had been the ones to betray James to the English. He'd found the Ruthven's crest on the sword in James's body. He realized now the bishop could have easily stolen the sword and done the deed himself.
And Clara. Pain tightened Camden's chest at the thought that she had died alone, without her family to at least try to save her. Had he known, he would have moved heaven and earth to keep her from the noose. And again, he had just assumed the Ruthvens had betrayed her. But he'd had no proof. And without reasoning it through and thinking of all the other possibilities, Camden had acted.
What else was the bishop capable of doing to get to the Charm Stone?
"I must go." Camden raced down the hallway to where Rhiannon and Violet would be attending the other ill men. A dark omen of doom followed him as he hurried through the shadowed half-light of the hallways. What horrors had he unleashed upon his people because of his own mistakes?
Outside the chamber where the sick men lay, Camden paused. He had no reason to suspect anything. And yet the sense of danger refused to go away.
He opened the door and stepped inside.
"No!" Rhiannon said sharply, bringing his steps to a halt. "Don't come any closer."
"What's wrong?" Camden asked, his gaze raking the three men stretched out on pallets near the hearth. His heart thundered in his chest. Had he been right to assume the worst?
"How is Rhys?" she asked, a hint of panic in her voice.
"He's almost as good as new." Camden took another step closer.
Rhiannon's gaze shot to his. "Stop!" Her face was pale and her eyes glittered with fear. She reached over to the gatekeeper and gently lifted his bare arm. "They have all been complaining that their arms are sore, and that their thirst is great."
From the doorway, he stared at the red, puss-filled boil beneath the gatekeeper's arm. Talons of fear gripped him, chilling him to the core. The vision of Rhiannon's lifeless body in his dream passed before his mind's eye. He forced the image away. "Is that what I think it is?"
"I cannot be certain. I have never seen it before. But I have heard tales from my mother." She moved over to one of the two warriors, and pulled the blanket up to reveal his inner thigh. A black boil rested there the size of a small rock.
"Heaven help us." Camden had heard stories as well, of large boils that appeared red at first, then black. The color of death. The plague.
"What can we do?"
He had never felt more helpless. "Who has come near these men?"
"There's no way to be certain. We are all at risk." Rhiannon slumped back on her heels. "Pray to God we are wrong."
A chill racked him. "We will know one way or the other very soon. The plague kills quickly." His gaze scanned the small chamber. "Orrin and Lady Violet should have been here by now."
"It's a good thing they aren't." Rhiannon straightened. "Lady Violet must not enter this chamber. Perhaps she ought to be sent away for a time?"
He shook his head. "If we don't know who is at risk, we might be sending her off to her death. Or that might be exactly what the bishop hopes we would do so that he can snatch her easily without anyone to protect her. Nay, 'tis best she stays here, where we would know if something happens to her."
"Could she use the Charm Stone to treat water? I can give the men the charmed water in her stead."
Camden sighed. "I wish the Lockhart men had the power to use the stone, but that lot fell to the females of our clan." After a slight hesitation he nodded then backed out of the door. "I will go see if I can find her and Orrin." Just outside the door, he paused. "I don't want to leave you behind."
"I am here already." She gave him a grim smile. "I might as well stay and try to make these men more comfortable."
He nodded. "I shall return shortly with help." He shut the door, leaving Rhiannon behind in the clutches of a beast that might very well destroy them all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"A message?" Bishop Berwick asked as he snatched the linen sheet from his clerk's hand. The man bowed once, twice, then a third time as he backed toward the doorway, then out of the chamber. The bishop smiled at the thought that he was perceived as powerful and dangerous. But his pride shifted in the next heartbeat to intrigue as he turned the message over to reveal the seal of the Church council.
Quickly he broke the wax and scanned the missive's contents. He read the letter twice, then tossed it into the hearth, allowing the flames to devour it. The Council would arrive on his doorstep in less than a day. Before they would agree to charge a child with witchcraft, they wanted proof.
He would give them proof all right. He smiled as he returned to his desk and pulled out another sheet of linen and wrote a dire warning to the Lockharts. Lady Violet would be charged with witchcraft. He would see to it. Then somehow, he would convince the Council to allow the girl to be reformed by him. He didn't want to hang a child, but he wouldn't let the Lockharts know that. Once complete, he set the missive at the top of his desk and turned to stare into the flames.