Chapter
3
Cocooned in blankets, Elena woke
slowly. She experienced a moment of panic when she rolled over and
realized she was no longer lying on the sofa where she had fallen
asleep.
Bolting upright, she rubbed the sleep
from her eyes. Where was she? Had her uncle found her and carried
her back home? But no. She had never been in a room like this
before. Unlike her bedroom at home, this one was large and
rectangular, the whitewashed stone walls bare save for one large
painting of a black knight astride a prancing white horse. Heavy
burgundy velvet draperies that matched the bedspread hung at the
windows. Thick rugs covered the floor. A cheerful fire blazed in
the hearth across from the bed.
Frowning, she brushed a lock of hair
from her forehead. Was she still in the castle? And if so, who had
put her to bed?
She blinked as a hazy memory surfaced.
Or had she only imagined being carried up a winding staircase by a
man with long, dark hair and mesmerizing blue eyes?
When her stomach growled, she slid her
legs over the edge of the mattress and stood, only then realizing
that whoever had carried her up the stairs had undressed her down
to her underwear. She found her khaki shorts and T-shirt at the
foot of the bed. Dressing quickly, she tugged a blanket around her
shoulders to turn away the chill.
Barefooted, she tiptoed quietly across
the floor, opened the heavy wooden door, then glanced left and
right before stepping into the corridor. She paused a moment,
listening, before she made her way cautiously down the stairs and
stepped into a large, high-ceilinged room. The same one where she
had fallen asleep?
She thought it must be the castle’s
main hall. Weak sunlight filtered down from the high, narrow,
slitted windows. A cheery fire snapped and crackled in the huge
stone hearth. A gray cat, quite the largest one she had ever seen,
lay stretched out on the furry rug in front of the fireplace. It
stared up at her through curious, bright yellow eyes, its long tail
slowly swishing back and forth.
Elena regarded the animal
apprehensively for several moments. She had been leery of the
creatures ever since she was a little girl and her grandmother’s
tom had scratched her cheeks.
When she was certain the beast wasn’t
going to attack her, she walked toward the sofa, intent on rooting
around in her sack for one of the apples and the doughnut she had
brought with her, only to be sidetracked when she noticed a covered
tray, a carafe of some kind—was it actually a medieval flagon?—and
a goblet, all of which looked like they were made of gold, sitting
on a large, rough-hewn trestle table against the far wall. There
was a single plate, which also appeared to be made of
gold.
Hurrying across the floor, she lifted
the cover of the tray to find a loaf of freshly baked bread,
several thick slices of roast beef and cheese, a bowl of
strawberries, and two blueberry muffins, as well as packets of
honey, sugar, and cream.
Elena worried her lower lip between her
teeth. Was this repast meant for her? Who could have brought it? No
one knew she was here, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else in
the castle. But surely the cat belonged to someone.
When her stomach growled again, she put
her doubts away, dropped the blanket on the floor, and sat at the
table. A rolled linen napkin held a gold-plated knife and fork. The
flagon contained wine, stronger and sweeter than anything she had
ever tasted.
Nibbling on one of the muffins, she
wondered again who had provided the meal, and where that person was
now. Maybe the castle really was haunted, she thought with a grin.
Maybe a friendly ghost had generously provided the
meal.
Or had it been the mysterious man who
had carried her up the stairs? She wondered again if he had been
real, or merely a figment of her imagination. Probably the latter,
she thought, since she had never seen a man as tall and
devastatingly handsome as that except in her dreams.
Her gaze darted around the room as she
ate. Large tapestries hung on the walls. Most of them depicted
hunting scenes—a wolf chasing a deer, a trio of men bringing down a
wild boar, a pack of wild dogs running after a silver fox. The head
of a large stag was mounted over an enormous stone fireplace.
Wrought-iron wall sconces held fat candles covered with a fine
layer of dust. Besides the high-backed sofa where she had fallen
asleep, there were several other couches, chairs, tables, and
benches randomly situated around the room.
She washed down the last of the meat
and cheese with a second glass of wine and licked her lips. Sated,
and warm inside and out, she propped her elbows on the table,
cupped her chin in her hands, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t used
to drinking strong wine. It left her feeling relaxed and drowsy.
She needed to think of what to do next. She had planned to stay
here for a few days but that no longer seemed wise, not if the
mysterious man was real rather than a figment of one of her
daydreams. Did she dare linger until after dark? But if she left
here, where would she go?
Growing sleepier by the minute, she
stood up, then grabbed the back of the chair to keep her balance.
Good grief, was she drunk? Carefully placing one foot in front of
the other, she made her way back up to the bedroom and crawled
under the covers.
She was asleep as soon as her head hit
the pillow.
Elena woke with a start to find a man
standing beside the bed. One look at his face and she knew he was
the man who had carried her up the stairs—she would never forget
those eyes. Just as she knew that taking refuge here had been a
terrible, perhaps fatal, mistake. She had no doubt whatsoever that
he was the owner of Wolfram Castle.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a
loose-fitting white shirt that was open at the throat, revealing a
long, crooked scar that ran down the right side of his neck. Black
jeans and well-polished boots completed his attire. His hair was
thick and black, his brows straight above eyes as dark blue and
restless as a stormy sky. His lips were finely shaped, with a hint
of cruelty; his jaw firm and square and stubborn. But it was the
almost tangible aura of danger emanating from him that made her
mouth go dry. This was a man to be reckoned with. She could easily
imagine him at the helm of a pirate ship, or leading a medieval
army into battle.
She stared at him, too frightened to
speak, but even had she found her voice, what could she say? She
had entered his home uninvited, eaten food no doubt meant for him,
slept in his bed. A rush of heat enflamed her cheeks. She was still
in his bed.
“Who are you?” His voice was as deep
and mesmerizing as his eyes.
Feeling as though he was looking right
through her, she pulled the blanket closer, swallowed once, twice,
as she tried to find her voice, then stammered,
“E-Elena.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I . . . I ran away.” She clutched the
covers tighter, intimidated by his unblinking gaze. “From my
uncle.”
“Who is your uncle?”
Elena hesitated, wondering if she
should tell him the truth. But even as she considered lying, she
felt the words being drawn out of her. “Tavian
Dinescu.”
“The chief of police?”
“Yes.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his
eyes narrowing. “Why did you run away?”
“My uncle . . . he wants me to . . . to
marry him.” She blinked up at him in confusion. Why was she telling
him these things? “And give him an heir.”
Drake grunted softly. He had seen
Dinescu—a big bull of a man if ever there was one, and old enough
to be the girl’s father. Little wonder she had run away. “Why did
you come here?”
“I had nowhere else to go, and I . . .
I thought the castle was empty. I didn’t mean to eat your dinner,
but I was so hungry, and it looked so much better than what I
brought . . . and . . .” She realized she was babbling and closed
her mouth.
Drake shoved his hands into the pockets
of his jeans. “The food and wine were for you.”
“But . . . I . . . Thank you, Mr. . . .
?”
“Just Drake.” He grinned faintly. She
had fed him. It had only been right that he offer her nourishment
in return.
She sat up, clutching the blankets to
her chest. “I’ll be going now.”
“No need.”
She scrambled off the bed, panic
engulfing her. Did he mean to keep her here against her will? Had
she jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire? For all she
knew, he could be a rapist or a mass murderer.
“I’ve been trouble enough,” she said
quickly, and started for the door, only to get her feet tangled in
the blankets.
He caught her as she stumbled forward,
one long arm curling around her waist, drawing her body against
his.
Elena stared up at him, her heartbeat
thundering in her ears. She had never been held so tightly before,
never been in a man’s arms like this. She was instantly aware of
the hard length of his body pressed intimately against hers, of his
big hand splayed over the small of her back, of just how tall and
broad he was. She had no doubt he could break her in two with no
trouble at all.
She gazed up into his eyes—eyes so dark
a blue they were very nearly black. Fear mingled with uncertainty
as he continued to hold her close, his hand sliding lazily up and
down her spine. And then he lowered his head and covered her mouth
with his.
This man’s kiss was nothing like her
uncle’s. A delicious warmth spread through every inch of her,
draining the strength from her legs, filling her with a sweet
lethargy, and an unexpected yearning to sink into his embrace and
never leave. She inhaled and his scent filled her nostrils. For a
moment, she tried to place it, but it was an earthy, musky scent
like nothing she had experienced before. Like everything else about
him, it was compelling.
His lips moved over hers, slowly
exploring their taste and texture, nibbling at the
corners.
Feeling suddenly light-headed, Elena
grasped his shoulders. A soft moan rose in her throat as she swayed
against him. And then his tongue was sliding over her lips, probing
gently. It sent a shaft of heat straight to the core of her being
and she moaned again. She had intended it to be a cry of protest so
he would release her. Instead, he drew her closer, his hand delving
into her hair to cup the back of her head as he kissed her again,
harder, deeper, until she wasn’t aware of anything but his mouth on
hers, the rapid beating of her heart, the heat spreading through
her, pooling low in the depths of her being.
What was he doing to her? She had never
felt like this before, never dreamed a man’s kisses could be so
intoxicating.
If he hadn’t been holding her so
tightly, she was certain she would have collapsed at his feet when
he took his mouth from hers. Breathless, she could only stare up at
him.
“Like I said, there is no need for you
to go.”
She blinked at him.
“You will be safe here.”
Elena nodded. “Safe.” She lifted her
fingers to her lips as she watched him stride out the door, and
wondered if she would ever feel safe again.
The next day, Elena awoke fully
intending to leave the castle, but somehow she couldn’t summon the
will to do so. Sitting up, she noticed three dresses spread across
the foot of the bed, along with four pairs of jeans, several
T-shirts and sweaters in a rainbow of colors, a small pile of
modest underwear, and six pairs of socks.
Leaning forward, she ran her hands over
the dresses. She rarely wore anything but jeans, shorts, and
T-shirts. She certainly didn’t wear dresses made of silk, fancy or
plain.
Rising, she picked one up and held it
in front of her. It was sky blue and as soft as . . . silk. It
could only have come from Drake, but why would he buy her clothes?
And shoes, she thought, noting a pair of sandals and a pair of
running shoes on the floor beside her sneakers.
Suddenly curious to try on the blue
silk, she took off the clothes she had slept in, pulled the dress
over her head, and smoothed it over her hips. It fit as though it
had been made for her, which begged the question, how had he known
her size?
She pondered that for several minutes;
then, eager to see how she looked in the blue silk, she glanced
around the room, only then noticing there wasn’t a mirror in
sight.
She was wondering if she might find one
elsewhere in the castle when the big gray cat padded into the room.
It leaped effortlessly onto the bed, then sat there, head cocked to
one side, watching her.
She had the oddest feeling that it was
admiring her.
With a shake of her head, Elena changed
into a pair of jeans and a purple T-shirt and went downstairs in
search of something to eat. Another feast awaited her in the main
hall—fresh fruit and a square of cheese, a loaf of bread still warm
from the oven, a pot of honey butter and another of jelly, a flagon
of wine. She poured herself a glass, wishing for coffee
instead.
It had been in Elena’s mind to leave
the castle before nightfall, but it occurred to her that leaving
would be foolish. In spite of his fearsome appearance, Drake didn’t
seem to mean her any harm. He had provided her with food, gifted
her with a wardrobe . . . She frowned. Was she being naïve,
thinking he didn’t expect anything in return for his generosity?
Would it be rude to ask what his motives were? Better rude than
foolish, she decided. She could only think of one thing he would
want from her, and she wasn’t about to part with that, not for all
the silk dresses in the county.
She gasped, startled, when the cat
jumped up on the table. “Here, now,” Elena said, making a shooing
motion with her hand. “Get down.”
The cat made no move to leave. Instead,
it began washing its face.
“Impudent beast,” she muttered. “Why
aren’t you out catching mice and rats or something?”
The cat didn’t answer, of course, but
stared at her through unblinking yellow eyes. And then, with a
flick of its tail, it jumped lightly to the floor and left the
room.
Elena was still sitting at the table,
goblet in hand, trying to marshal her thoughts, when she heard a
noise behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, thinking perhaps
Drake had entered the room. Seeing no one in the doorway, she
glanced down, and let out a shriek. A dead rat lay on the floor.
Behind it, the cat sat watching her.
Startled, Elena dropped the goblet. It
hit the floor with a loud crash.
Tail twitching, the cat stared up at
her, a feline grin on its face.
“Get out of here!” Elena exclaimed.
“And take that disgusting thing with you.”
The cat looked at her for a moment,
then snatched the rat up by its tail and padded out of the
hall.
With a huff of annoyance, Elena picked
the goblet up off the floor and set it on the table. There was
something definitely strange about that cat.
She sat there a moment; then, driven by
boredom and a growing sense of curiosity, she decided to explore
the rest of the castle.
The kitchen was one flight down.
Glancing around, she noted floor-to-ceiling cupboards along the
back wall. A fireplace with a spit and an old-fashioned oven took
up most of another wall. A large square table hewn of oak stood in
the middle of the room. An open door led to a storeroom that held a
number of bins and baskets, all of which were empty.
Leaving the kitchen, she climbed the
stairs to the second floor. Walking down the corridor, she saw that
there were other, smaller bedrooms besides the chamber she had
slept in. For the lord of the keep’s children, she supposed. There
was no furniture in any of these rooms, no rugs on the floors, no
pictures or tapestries on the walls. A window in the last room on
the left provided an excellent view of the forest that stretched
away behind the castle. A thin ribbon of blue was visible between a
copse of trees. A river, perhaps ? Or a lake.
Moving down the hall to the room she
had slept in, Elena peered out one of the tall, leaded windows.
From here, she could see the whole town spread far below. And
there, on the narrow path leading up to the castle, she saw two men
in uniform, men who worked for her uncle. A sudden shiver ran down
her spine and she knew, knew without doubt, that they were coming
here to look for her.
She needed a place to hide, but
where?
Frantic, she gazed around the room.
Useless to hide in the armoire or in the big trunk at the foot of
the bed. Searchers were sure to look inside. The other bedrooms
were empty. Nowhere to hide there.
She was fighting back tears of panic
when Drake stepped into the room. “What is it that distresses you?”
He glanced around, wondering if a spider or some other unwelcome
creature had frightened her. But he saw no cause for
alarm.
“My uncle!” She waved a hand toward the
window. “He’s sending his men up here to look for me. I just know
it.”
Drake crossed to the window. He stood
there a moment, looking down, then turned to face her. “Come with
me.”
Heart pounding, Elena followed him down
the stairs to the main floor. Was he going to turn her over to her
uncle?
“I don’t want to go back home,” she
said, hurrying to catch up with him. “Please, don’t send me. . .
.”
He drew back a corner of the tapestry
that covered a portion of the west wall. “In here,” he
said.
Elena stared at the whitewashed wall.
In where?
His hand moved over the rough stone.
With a low rumble, a narrow opening appeared as if by
magic.
Elena shook her head as she peered into
the dark abyss. Surely he didn’t expect her to go in there. Did
he?
“Your uncle’s men are here,” Drake
said.
The words had scarcely left his mouth
when she heard the clang of a bell announcing someone was at the
door.
Before she could protest, Drake gave
her a push. Unable to recover her balance, Elena stumbled inside.
She choked back a cry when the opening closed behind her, leaving
her in total darkness. She told herself there was nothing to be
afraid of. It would only be for a moment. Drake would send her
uncle’s men away and then he would come for her.
But the moments became minutes. How
long was he going to leave her in there? What if he wasn’t going to
let her out again?
She told herself she was worrying
needlessly. He was hiding her to protect her from her
uncle.
She sat down on the floor, her knees
drawn to her chest. “Nothing to fear,” she murmured, hoping to
reassure herself. “Nothing to fear.”
Panic quickly overcame her
determination to stay calm. It was suddenly hard to breathe. Was
the room getting smaller? Darker? She had to get out of here. She
scrambled to her feet. Where was the door? She had to find the
door. In the pitch blackness, she couldn’t see her hand in front of
her face.
She had to find a way out. With her
arms outstretched, she moved forward until she found a wall, then
inched along it, searching for the entrance.
A grunt of pain rose in her throat when
she bumped into something. She ran her hands over the object. It
was long and made of wood. A box of some kind. Was she in a
storeroom? Her questing fingers continued their exploration and she
found a seam in the wood. Lifting the lid, she paused a moment,
then reached inside the box. An oblong box lined with
satin.
A chill ran down her spine with the
realization that it was an empty coffin.
Was it for her? Were there other
coffins in there? Final resting places for naïve women who had
wandered into Wolfram Castle, never to be seen or heard from
again?
A sob rose in her throat as the door
opened and Drake stepped into the room.
At first, Drake thought it was being in
the dark for so long that had frightened Elena, and then he
realized she was standing beside the open casket, a look of stark
horror frozen on her face.
Rushing forward, he swept her into his
arms, then carried her out of the room, pausing just long enough to
activate the mechanism that closed the door. He elbowed past the
tapestry, then carried her to the sofa in front of the hearth. When
he was sure she was comfortable, he lit the fire.
“Elena. Elena!” He stroked her hair,
hoping to calm her. “You are safe now.”
She stared up at him, wide-eyed and
fearful. “Is it . . . is it . . . for me?”
“What? No, of course not.”
“Then . . . why?”
He ran a hand through his hair,
wondering how to explain.
When he didn’t immediately reply, her
brow furrowed. “You’re not sick, are you?”
He laughed softly as he sat down beside
her. “No, I am not sick.”
“Then why . . . ?”
“It has been in there for centuries.
Are you not curious about what those men wanted?”
“I know what they wanted.” She wrapped
her arms around her middle. “Me.”
Drake nodded.
“You’re not going to take me back to
him, are you?” she asked anxiously.
“No.”
She knew a quick surge of relief, but
it only lasted a moment. What was she going to do? She couldn’t
stay here indefinitely. To do so would mean going outside only
after dark, when no one could see her, never walking along the
river, never attending church again, or visiting with her friends.
If she stayed, she would be no more than a prisoner in this castle.
But at least she would be safe from her uncle.
And for now, that was reason enough to
stay.