The Prisoner Bride

Glenys frowned darkly. “It matters not what he may seem to be, but only that he has succeeded in keeping me from reaching Caswallan first. I tell you, Sir Anton must not be allowed to get the Greth Stone in his grasp. There will be no chance for my family to regain it if it falls to him. You must end this foolishness now and let us go!”

He sobered only slightly, enough to stop laughing and say, grinning, “Nay, that I cannot do.”

“But why?” she demanded. “Now that you know ’tis but a fool’s errand, you have no cause to continue! I have already said that I will pay you far more than Sir Anton promised. And surely you must realize that regardless of what he has already paid, there will be no more. He’ll not keep his word and come to fetch me. I’faith, ’twill be far more likely that we’ll be greeted by worse knaves than you and your accomplice at some point upon our journey, set upon killing us all.”

Kieran FitzAllen looked at her with pure disbelief. “How so? Sir Anton has no reason to want you dead, even if all you say is true, and a less likely murderer I’ve e’er set sight upon.”

“Then you are naught but a fool,” Glenys said. “Sir Anton knows that I will not cease in exposing him for the deceiver he is, and for that alone he would gladly have me dead. And he would care nothing for any other deaths that might occur for the sake of being rid of me, yours included.”

It was clear by the look on Kieran FitzAllen’s face that he didn’t believe a word she said. He merely sighed aloud and stated, “Sir Anton would find it difficult to kill me, I vow, and you as well, while you are beneath my care. I am not a knight of the realm, but I’ve matched a goodly share of them in singular battle before now and come away the winner. I have no fear of any man, and most assuredly not of one the likes of Sir Anton Lagasse.”

Though she wished it were not so, Glenys had to admit that the man sitting opposite her looked fully capable of besting any number of skilled fighting men; he was well-muscled and moved with a certain ease and grace that might give him an advantage over lesser men.

“Perhaps not of Sir Anton,” she said, “but you would be foolish not to consider that among my relatives are those who would fill you with fear. My brother being foremost. He is Sir Daman Seymour, and I think it unlikely that you have not heard of him, or of his skills. But if you have not, I tell you now that he is a famed knight of the realm who is well able to mete out justice to such a one as you.”

The charming smile was back on Kieran FitzAllen’s face. Glenys longed to wipe it away.

“I am aware of who your brother is, Mistress Glenys.”

“Then you must likewise be aware that he and his men will come after me the moment he hears of what you have done. No matter how secret your hiding place may be, Daman will find me, and he will deal out a punishment to you and your friend that will have you praying for salvation.”

Kieran FitzAllen uttered a bark of laughter. “You speak out of love and honor, mistress,” he said, “but surely such words sound as foolish to your ears as they do to mine. In truth, ’tis my prayer that Sir Daman Seymour follows our track and finds us. Soon. I cherish the thought of meeting him face-to-face.”

Glenys’s mouth dropped open again.

“You cannot mean what you say,” she murmured. “My brother will kill you when he finds you. I do not speak falsely. He will kill you.”

“He may try.”

Glenys shook her head. “This has naught to do with Sir Anton, then, just as you said. ’Tis because of Daman that you have done this thing. But why? Have you some quarrel with my brother? But, nay, you cannot. Daman has no enemies, save those that are also the enemies of my family, such as Sir Anton and Caswallan. But you are not in league with them, or so you have said. Why, then, should you wish to draw Daman’s certain wrath down upon yourself?”

“My reasons are my own, mistress, and will remain so. Now you understand at least in part why I will not let you go, and ’twould be best if you accept and reconcile yourself to it. My servant, Jean-Marc, who drives the coach, and I will bring you no harm, nor your maid. ’Tis only our intention to hold you until either Sir Anton or your brother—or perhaps both—have come to fetch you. Until that time, be pleased to give me no trouble, I pray, for you’ll not escape me. As it may be that we shall be in company for some few weeks, I believe that we should all try to be as merry and comfortable as possible.”

“Sir,” said Glenys, sitting back with complete exasperation, “you are a lackwit if you believe that my maid or I shall do any like thing. You have taken us as prisoners, and as such we cannot be merry and comfortable.”

He gave her a certain look out of his blue eyes, so filled with blatant sensuality that it made her skin tingle. ’Twas clearly well practiced, and she wasn’t sure whether he answered out of truth or simply out of habit when he replied, in a low, seductive tone, “Even the most unpleasant situation can be made merry and comfortable, Mistress Glenys. I have had the experience many times, I vow.”

His meaning was so clear that Glenys’s face flamed hot. If she hadn’t already known full well that he was merely teasing—for such a man would never truly be attracted to a woman like her—she had no doubt that she would have melted into a puddle at his feet. God’s mercy, he was most clearly a practiced seducer as well as a thief and blackguard. She had no fears for herself, but her maid was another matter. Dina was young and pretty, with the kind of blond hair and blue eyes that men favored among women. She would very likely be a target for Kieran FitzAllen, though he’d yet to look at her more than twice. Glenys would have to take extra care that no harm came to the girl, who was as dear as a sister to her.

For her part, Dina seemed not yet to have taken much note of their captor, much to Glenys’s relief. The very last thing she needed was for Dina to fall in love with the man, which was doubtless what most other females did upon setting sight on him. Dina merely sniffled and wiped her nose and murmured, with her head lowered, “Master Aonghus and Master Culain, and your aunts. What will become of them when you don’t return to Metolius? There’s no one there to watch over them.”

Glenys had been thinking much the same thing, now that it was clear her captor could not be reasoned with. She looked him fully in the face, asking, “Aye, what of my elderly relatives? They are not used to being alone, without someone to care for them.”

He gave a thoughtful frown. “But were you not going to leave them soon, when you went on your quest to search out the Greth Stone?”

“Nay, I should never do so. I had already arranged that my cousin, Helen, would come and stay with them while I was gone, but she’ll not be arriving for three weeks more, at the very least. Now they will be alone, with little idea of how to go on.”

“Hmm.” He placed a long, beautifully shaped finger against his chin and was silent for a moment, clearly thinking this through. Glenys was surprised that he even cared enough to consider the matter. At last, he lowered his hand and said, “If I can devise a way to send this cousin of yours a missive so that you can ask her to come to Metolius at once, will you give me your vow not to secret some message into it about who has taken you and in what direction we are journeying?”

“Nay,” Glenys said before she could think, too angry to do otherwise, “I make you no promises.”

“But, mistress!” Dina cried. “You must do so, lest some harm come to your aunts and uncles. There is no other way.”

Glenys knew it was so, and felt unfathomably foolish. “Very well, aye,” she said tightly, flinging off the comforting hand Dina attempted to set upon her arm. “I give you my vow. If you can arrange such a missive, though I doubt you can do so.”

His handsome face held that infuriatingly amused look once more. “I have many friends, mistress,” he said, “as you will soon discover.”

Glenys looked at him sharply. “So faithful that they would lower themselves to lend you their aid in this heinous crime?”

He nodded. “Aye.”

“Very fine,” she replied angrily, crossing her arms over her chest and looking out the window. It was dark now, and a soft rain had begun to fall, splattering lightly through the arched opening. If it fell much harder, they would be forced to use the window coverings, and would be shut in together in darkness. That was an unhappy thought. But it couldn’t be helped. None of this could be helped. She could only do as he had suggested and accept what had befallen her, and pray that the small white stone in her pocket didn’t begin glowing. After all that had just passed, Glenys was in no mood to explain it, or anything about her family, to her wretched captor.

Chapter Four

Kieran knew that he shouldn’t have used his well-honed wiles on his captive, especially after he’d vowed not to seduce her. He’d done so more out of habit than anything else, but that gave him little excuse. He shouldn’t have spoken to her in so dallying a manner, and would strive not to do so again.

But Mistress Glenys made it hard.

Her face was, indeed, just as he’d thought earlier, quite angular. Perhaps not as square as he’d believed, but possessed of the same intriguing angles and fine lines that a perfectly cut diamond might possess. Not beautiful, nay, but utterly fascinating. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Emotions played themselves out along her long, straight cheekbones and in her intelligent, wide-set gray eyes and high, arching eyebrows. And such emotions they were! Anger, frustration, rage—even outright dislike, which Kieran wasn’t used to seeing directed at himself. Aye, Mistress Glenys Seymour was a woman worth looking at. Far more interesting in expression and manner, and most certainly in speech, than most women he met. It was a pity that the maid, Dina, was so commonly pretty in her looks, else he might have been able to set his interest upon her. But she looked very like the hundreds of other blond, blue-eyed maidens he’d flirted with in the past dozen years, so much so that Kieran doubted he could pick one from the other if they’d all been lined up in a row.

A man would never have that problem with Mistress Glenys. Even now, as she was gazing out the window, aggravation stamped on every feature, the dwindling light, being rapidly swallowed by the imminent storm, teased the curves and angles of her face, bringing ephemeral shadows to life and causing her gray eyes to appear almost black. Her generous mouth—perhaps her only soft feature—was pressed together in a tight line, and a few strands of her sunset-colored hair had come loose from the braids atop her head, feathering lightly against her cheeks.

“’Twill not be long now before we stop,” he said, wishing that he might be able to tell her something else. The rain, which had begun to fall softly now, would make their journey far more unpleasant this night than he’d hoped. In a more positive light, it would also help to cover their trail.

“Good,” she replied tightly, not looking at him. “It appears that we will be obliged to lower the window covers soon. That will give us opportunity to do so.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “’Twould be wisest to do so before returning the carriage to London. I should hate to see such finery ruined by wet.” He ran one hand appreciatively over the red velvet covering the heavily cushioned seat. For a town carriage that wasn’t meant for travel of any great distance, ’twas both fine and comfortable. True, there wasn’t any glass in the windows, but the heavily waxed window coverings would do just as well for keeping occupants dry in a storm.

“Return the carriage?” Mistress Glenys asked, looking at him in the singular manner she’d displayed over the past half hour, which said, quite clearly, that she thought him mad. “What can you mean?”

Even as she spoke, Jean-Marc began to draw the carriage to one side of the road, bouncing them over small rocks and bumps as he drove into a copse of trees. Leaning toward the window, Kieran whistled in greeting to a man who appeared there, already leading a pair of horses from their hiding place.

Jean-Marc brought the carriage to an unsteady halt. Even before it had fully stopped Kieran opened the door and alighted, looking up first to where Jean-Marc sat to make certain all was well.

“No one followed,” Jean-Marc called down to him, tying the leads to the carriage post. “Had a bit of company, but that’s what comes from being on a main road.” He lightly hopped down from the driver’s seat. “Better hurry if we want to reach Bostwick’s before many more hours.”

“Aye, and without being found out,” Kieran agreed. Overhead, a loud rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, and the next moment the rain began to fall harder. It wasn’t a deluge yet, but that would happen soon enough. He stretched a hand into the carriage and said, “Hurry, now. We must be on our way.”

Mistress Glenys gave him a look filled with furious disbelief. “You can’t mean to…to ride on horseback in this rain?”

“’Tis just what I mean,” he told her, impatiently holding his hand more firmly out to her. “Come, mistress. We’ve a distance to cover before we’re safe away. Set your headcover about you, if you have one, and your maid as well.”

“We have none!” she cried angrily. “We had no plan to travel far beyond Metolius this day.”

“Then you must brave the rain as best you can. Thank a merciful God you had the sense to bring your heavy cloaks.” Behind him, he could hear Jean-Marc and Tom Postleheth readying the steeds for riding. Kieran cast one glance at them, saying, “Give Tom his gold, Jean-Marc, and let him be on his way.” Turning back to Glenys, he stated, “Come of your own will, mistress, or I will drag you from this carriage. I vow it before God.”

Suiting action to word, he leaned in to grasp her arm. She shoved him violently away before he could make his grip firm.