Page 19 of Halloween Knight (A Knights Through Time Romance #17)
“I have not yet decided if I shall have the men kill your children or if I shall take them from Blackford and raise them as my own.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “For I cannot have children of my own.” Then Agnes lifted her chin. “They are young enough that in time they will forget you both and I can make them into the kind of men I need. ”
Horror dropped like a stone in Lucy’s stomach, but promising herself she wouldn’t show any fear. She squared her shoulders and met Agnes’s gaze unflinchingly.
“I swear you shall regret whatever you do.” Lucy wanted to wipe the smirk from Agnes’ face, but instead she kept her mouth shut, hoping that her guard was searching for her and that Agnes was full of crap.
A half mad smile filled Agnes’ face, her eyes bright.
“As William made me an orphan, I now make him a widow, his sons motherless. Once both of you are dead, and your children are mine, then and only then shall we be even.”
Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as Lucy thought of her boys being raised by this monster. It was too cruel to fathom.
“Please...” she rasped hoarsely. “I beg of you, show mercy...”
But Agnes just regarded her coldly.
“The time for mercy has long passed. Prepare yourself, my lady, for soon you shall join your husband in death.”
With those final chilling words, Agnes swept from the room, the key turning firmly in the lock.
Heavy footsteps, the sound of boots scraping across the stone floor, and the mean laughter of the guards woke Lucy from a fitful sleep. Surprised she’d been able to fall asleep at all, she yawned, then stretched, working the kinks out of her shoulders and neck.
She made no pretense of sneaking, and simply walked to the door, peering out into the corridor.
“Toss the Scots bastard in here,” one of the guards chuckled.
Another kicked the man, who seemed to be unconscious. “Why must we wait? I say hang him now. ”
She stayed in shadow, listening as the guards debated whether to kill the Scottish prisoner or not. From what she gathered, he’d been tied with a chain to the floor like a dog in the manor house to amuse Agnes.
The door shut and the guards trod down the corridor, talking amongst themselves.
At least they hadn’t killed the man, though the glimpse she caught of him almost made her gasp.
His face was bruised and swollen, one eye completely shut.
When they’d lifted him, his tattered shirt rose up, and she winced seeing the bruises and cuts across his torso.
When the mercenaries left, Lucy waited until it was quiet.
“Hello? Are you okay?”
It was quiet, not even a whisper of movement, making her think they’d conked him over the head.
That afternoon, when the door opened and a different servant brought food, Lucy caught a glimpse of a powerfully built man with shoulder length, dark hair leaning against the wall before he collapsed onto the floor with a pained grunt and the door slammed shut.
She must have dozed off, for when she woke, it was to an angry voice, the burr of Scotland filling the air.
The guard who’d threatened to give her a black eye shoved the man who somehow managed to stay on his feet as he faced the guards, fury etched across his bearded face.
Lucy caught a glimpse of fierce green eyes before the guards slammed the door closed. One chuckled darkly as he locked it securely.
“We’ll be back, you Scotch devil.”
“I’ll no’ be giving you the satisfaction of hearing me scream, ye bastard,” the Scot spat.
Another guard peered through the small barred opening. “You’ll hang soon enough, dog. ”
Lucy kept quiet, waiting until the guards left. Too much time had passed, she had to find a way out. The servants were too scared, the guards obviously were well paid and enjoyed inflicting misery, so that left the horse thief as her only option.
When it had been quiet for a while, the sound of dripping water loud on the stones, he spoke, his voice rough making her think of heather, the highlands, and those cute cows.
“I saw ye.” He cleared his throat. “Ye were slung over a horse like a sack of grain. What happened?”
A long sigh escaped as Lucy leaned against the cold wall. “It’s a long story.”
“It’s not like we’re going anywhere,” he said, a laugh in his voice.
Grateful to have someone else in the prison with her, Lucy cleared her throat, careful to keep her voice down.
“Are you alright?”
“Aye, lass. I’ve had worse knocks to the head than those wee English gave me.”
He told her how he and his traveling companion had been set upon by bandits, how the merchant died.
Then how he’d stolen Roland’s purse and horse and had the misfortune to run into the man and the mercenaries on the road.
There were too many. They’d captured him, and here he was, awaiting the noose at their pleasure.
She quickly told him that she’d been kidnapped, and the abbreviated version of events that had transpired, ending with Agnes threatening to kill her husband.
“What’s yer name, lass?” he asked when she had finished.
“Lucy. Lucy Merriweather.” It came out without thought, and she didn’t correct herself to tell him she was Lucy Merriweather Brandon, Lady Blackford. “And yours?”
“Callan Graham, at your service, lady,” he said with a grin .
The next three days passed in a miserable haze of cold, hunger and bone-weariness. Agnes seemed to have forgotten about them, and the guards basically ignored them, bringing only meager rations of bread and watered down ale.
When she could sleep, she woke several times during the night, bad dreams and worry keeping her awake for hours. At times she dreamt of home, of being back with William and her children. Only to wake and find herself once more trapped in this hellhole.
On that third night, after she’d heard the guards talking that Agnes was away with several men, Callan waited until the guards were drunk, yelling outside and sparring with swords, before he spoke.
“It won’t be long until they come for us. Me, they will hang.” She could feel the weight of his gaze as he continued. “You, they will ravish and then kill.”
Lucy knew he was right. Agnes had decided she wanted a front-row seat when some of her hired thugs killed William, so she’d gone with them, leaving the undisciplined guards behind to watch over them, figuring she could then come back and kill Lucy once William was dead.
“I’ve scoured every inch of this space. There isn’t anything to use as a weapon.”
“Bloodthirsty lass, eh?”
She heard the laughter in his voice.
“Never you mind, lass, I’ve a way to get us out of this place.”
Not wanting to get her hopes up, Lucy forced herself to stay calm. “How?”
“When they are in their cups, I’ll use a strip of my shirt, make a loop and pull the door open, then we will escape.”
There was a pause.
“Ye canna travel alone. They will find you.”
The man made a distinctly Scottish sound in the back of his throat.
“I will see ye safe to your home or husband, and then I must take my leave, for I have a long journey ahead.”
The ember of hope caught, burning brightly in her chest. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Then a low laugh escaped, making her face hurt. It had been so long since she’d laughed or smiled.
“Actually, I do know how to thank you. My husband is wealthy. He will reward you for bringing me to him.”
There was a low chuckle from the other cell. “I could use a bit o’gold, lass.”
The sound of boots scraping against the stone made her think Callan was sitting on the stone floor next to the door.
“Patience, lass. It willna be long.”
Patience was so not one of her virtues. As she slid down the wall to sit on the floor, she pictured William at court, then at the stables in York, deciding which horses to buy, and then riding home unaware of what had transpired.
When he walked into a room, sometimes she would forget to breathe. Even after four years, he still made her heart beat faster. The thought of never seeing him again, the look on his face when he found out everything that had happened in his absence, made her throat close up.
Lucy knew she was filthy, dressed in the same rumpled, stained clothing she’d been wearing since they’d taken her. Her hair was a knotted mess, greasy and itchy, and there was dirt caked into her skin, not that William would care if, no, not if, when, she saw him again.
Never again would Lucy take the thick stone walls of Blackford Castle for granted. She only hoped the men would be on guard, especially the passages in the castle and down by the cove, so Agnes and her men couldn’t take her children.
“I swear, if that woman takes my children, I will haunt her for eternity.”
With that, Lucy bit the inside of her lip until a drop of blood filled her mouth.
For a moment she went still, worried she might trigger the whole time travel thing, but when nothing happened, she nodded to herself, made the vow again and swallowed the drop of blood.
A blood vow was something the fates would listen to, and right now, she needed all the help she could get.
Okay, sure, worrying about how she looked when she saw William was silly given her situation. She certainly had more pressing worries than a bath. Although the thought of a hot bath with lovely lavender scented soap made her dizzy.
The truth was, a savage smile filled her face, Lucy wanted William to see her looking her best … when she drove her dagger into Agnes’ black heart.