DeliveredIntoHisHands Read online

  “That went well,” Garrick commented.

  “His fists were opening and closing the entire time,” Marc commented. “The man was furious but resigned.”

  “What choice does he have but to be resigned to us taking over the castle?” Garrick queried.

  “As soon as the garrison arrives, I’ll put men on him and the baroness,” Marc informed him. He hooked a finger down his nose. “And your lady-wife.”

  Garrick turned to stare at his lifelong friend. “You’re joking.”

  “Let’s me and you get something straight here, Rick,” Marc said. “I take the guarding of your life seriously despite the fact that you are a reckless asswipe at the best of times. You told me I could put bodyguards on you and her and I will do that but I will also have spies watching her every move.”

  “My wife would never harm me, Zoltán,” Garrick snapped.

  “No, but she could pass on information to the rebels. You must consider that. Be very careful what you say around her.”

  “She won’t betray me.”

  Marc heaved a long sigh. “Rick, you are living with rebel sympathizers. You know they want to win this war and will do what they can to undermine our efforts. That may or may not entail harm coming to you. At the very least be on your guard and mind your tongue. Pillow talk can be dangerous.”

  “I am not a green recruit. Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Garrick warned.

  “I will keep you safe even if it means insulting your ass,” Marc replied. “Live with it.”

  * * * * *

  “He means well,” Antonia told him at the supper table.

  “Tell me about Capt. Alyxdair Clay,” he said. He was tired of complaining to her of Zoltán’s high-handedness.

  “What of him?” she asked.

  “He thought to be your husband,” he stated without looking at her. He was slicing into his ham steak as though it had offended him in some way.

  “A boyhood infatuation,” she said. “Nothing more.”

  Still not looking at her, he shoveled a chunk of meat into his mouth, rudely speaking around it. “Did you encourage him?”

  Antonia’s eyebrows shot up. “Encourage him?” she repeated.

  Garrick raised his head and locked his eyes on her. “Aye, wench. Did you encourage him?”

  For a moment she stared at him then picked up her napkin to blot her lips. “No.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “Did any of your actions give him hope that he might be your Chosen?”

  “My actions,” she said, eyes narrowing as her eyebrows came down. “And what actions might those have been, milord?”

  He lifted his fork and stabbed it in her direction. “Did you flirt with him? Did you lay your hand on his arm when you were speaking to him? Did you flutter your lashes at him? Did you…” A muscle flared in his jaw. “Did you kiss him?”

  Returning her napkin to her lap, she smoothed it as she kept her gaze on his. “Just as you have known Marcus since childhood, I have known Alyx since I was three years old. He is a dear friend.”

  “A dear friend,” he echoed.

  “Aye, he is.”

  “How dear?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “Why, Garrick. Are you jealous of Alyx?”

  Again the muscle jumped in his cheek. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “Then why these questions?” she queried.

  “Why haven’t you answered them?” he countered.

  Antonia pursed her lips, took a deep breath then reached for her coffee cup. She took a sip—all the time looking at him over the rim.

  “Answer me, wench,” he snapped. “Did you…?”

  “Aye, I flirted with him,” she said and his eyes darkened. “He was my father’s squire and he was available to…”

  “Available to what?” he demanded, slamming his fork down on the table.

  “To practice on. Every young girl in the castle flirted with him. How do you think any of us learn how to wrap men around our little fingers unless we have boys upon whom to practice? He was one of those boys.” She smiled tightly. “One among many I might add. Do you want to know about them as well?”

  He ignored the question. “I want to know about Alyxdair Clay.”

  “Did I touch him?” She flung out a hand. “Of course not. I couldn’t touch any male. You know that. We played together as children and we were—and are—very affectionate toward one another.”

  “How fucking affectionate?”

  Antonia placed her coffee cup on the table and leaned back in her chair. “You are jealous!”

  “I am no such thing,” he grumbled. “Did you ever kiss him?”

  “Where do you think I learned to kiss? Of course I kissed him. Many times,” she lied then rolled her eyes. “Without ever touching him of course. Just our lips met.”

  He snorted. “Well if it was him who taught you then I can see why you didn’t know to open your lips to me the first time I kissed you,” he said.

  “Mayhap he was gentleman enough not to poke his tongue down my throat!” she said.

  It was his turn to narrow his eyes. “Do you know why a man does that, wench?”

  “No, knave, I have no idea.”

  “It mimics the act of fucking,” he told her. “It’s a good thing for him he never did that to you.”

  “Why?” she asked. She was furious with him now and it showed in the way she was glaring at him and the tightness of her face.

  He leaned across the table. “I’d have one more reason to put his ass in my dungeon!”

  Antonia’s mouth dropped open. “What are you talking about?” she asked. “What has Alyx done to warrant being jailed?”

  “I can’t prove it but I know he was the one who ordered me staked,” he said with a growl.

  “You can’t be serious!” she said.

  “I am deadly serious and when my men find him, he will be questioned thoroughly about his involvement.”

  She put a hand to her chest. “You mean tortured,” she said.

  “Questioned vigorously at length,” he corrected.

  “Tortured into saying what you want him to say.” Her chin came up. “Because you are jealous.”

  “I am not fucking jealous!” he shouted, banging his fist on the table. The silverware jumped and the plates rattled under the attack.

  “Then you’re a fool,” she said, pushing her chair back from the table.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

  “Anywhere you aren’t!” she replied, turning to go.

  “Sit your ass down, woman!” he yelled.

  “No,” she said. She headed for the door.

  “Come back here. Now!” he ordered.

  “Go to hell,” she replied.

  Garrick shot to his feet, threw his napkin on the table and stomped after her. She turned her head, saw him coming, and picked up her skirts to run.

  “Don’t you fucking do it!” he warned but she was already fleeing down the corridor that led to the kitchens.

  She was fast, he thought, as he ran after her. She knew the castle better than he did and darted into a doorway through which he’d never ventured. A servant came out of another room at that moment and Garrick plowed into her—forced to grab the woman before she fell to the floor. He righted her, mumbled an apology then put her from him. By the time he shot through the doorway of the room to which his wife had fled, she was nowhere in sight.

  “Antonia!” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

  The room was a small sitting room with a bank of four windows and no other doors save the one he’d entered. He whipped his head side to side and realized there had to be a hidden passageway somewhere in the room but he had no idea where to begin looking for it.

  Putting his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers together, he roared with fury as he prowled the room.

  “What the hell happened?” Marc asked as he came hurrying into the room.

  “She fucking disappeare
d!” he told his friend.

  “Huh?”

  “She came in here and fucking vanished!” Garrick said. He was sweeping his gaze over every inch of the paneling but unless he knew the right one to press, he’d not find the lever that opened the hidden doorway he knew was there.

  “In other words she’s hiding from you,” Marc said. He looked around the room. There were no pictures on the walls behind which a hidden mechanism might be concealed.

  “Precisely!” Garrick replied.

  “May I ask why?”

  “Clay,” Garrick said. “I was questioning her about Clay.”

  Marc stiffened. “What were you asking her?”

  “Nothing to do with the goddess-be-damned rebels,” Garrick said. “So don’t get your panties in a twist.” He went to a wall and began pushing against the panels.

  “You will be here for hours doing that,” Marc said. “I’ll find someone to tell us where the trip is.”

  “Fuck it, never mind!” Garrick said. He spun around and pushed past his friend.

  “What are you going to do?” Marc called after him but Garrick didn’t answer.

  Antonia wound her way through the hidden corridors of Castle Blackthorn until she came to the lowest level of the keep. She knew the winding, twisting passageways like the back of her hand for she’d played hide and seek in them as a child. The lowest level was a huge place where her ancestors had hidden when the castle was under siege in medieval times. It was a self-contained shelter with a dozen or so small sleeping rooms with four cots each, a large storage room where provisions were maintained even today, and had its own water supply from an artesian well. There was also a hidden door leading to a tunnel that ended far out in the forest beyond the keep. The entrance to the tunnel was hidden inside an underground cave and only a few inhabitants of Blackthorn knew of its existence.

  As did Alyx but she was surprised to see him sitting at the long harvest table with five men she didn’t know. She came up short, her heart suddenly pounding. There was only one reason he would be in the shelter.

  He was in hiding.

  “Hello, Tonia,” he said with a smile.

  “My husband is looking for you,” she said. She looked at the other men and felt a tremor of unease go through her. They had flint-hard eyes and hard mouths and the unmistakable stamp of military men.

  “Does he know of the shelter?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  She heard movement to her right and when she turned her head, she saw another man standing in the doorway of one of the sleeping rooms.

  “He believes you were the one who tried to kill him,” she said, tearing her gaze from the man.

  “He’s right,” Alyx admitted. “I did.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he held up his hand. “That was before I knew he was your Chosen. For your sake, I’ll leave him be.”

  “Why did you do it?” she asked. “What had he done to you?”

  “He is the son of the Modarthan king,” the man in the doorway answered. “That’s reason enough for us to rid ourselves of him.”

  “And you are?” she asked, her chin up.

  “Brigadier General Farris, milady,” the man replied with a slight bow as he came forward. “I am Gen. Clay’s second-in-command.”

  Antonia snapped her eyes to Alyx. “You are in charge of the rebel forces?”

  “I am,” he answered.

  “And you are using this keep as your meeting place?”

  “Are you going to tell him I am here?” he asked her again.

  “You are Volakisian,” Gen. Farris reminded her. “If you tell the Modarthan of this place, you would be committing treason.”

  Alyx frowned and got up from the table. “That’s enough, Jasper,” he said. He came over to Antonia and reached for her hands. “She will keep our secret. Won’t you, dearling?”

  She didn’t hesitate. He was her friend and always would be. “Of course.”

  “We will be running men through here so don’t be surprised to see strange faces about.”

  “In the very place where the enemy army has its headquarters, Alyx?” she asked, horrified at the notion. “Do you not realize how dangerous that is?”

  “As long as the Modarthans do not know we are here, what better place to run our campaign than right under their noses?” he inquired.

  “Garrick is not a stupid man, Alyx. He knows there is a secret passageway behind the walls of the keep and—”

  “Every keep has secret passageways, dearling,” Alyx interrupted. “Finding this one is near to impossible as you well know. Who knows of it other than your parents, your sister—who is away visiting your aunt in Dialaith—and Arbra?”

  “You knew of it,” she reminded him. “And there are others who played down here with us when we were children.”

  “They would never reveal the way into the shelter,” he said.

  “How do you know?” she demanded.

  “Because they are with us,” Alyx replied. “As is any right-minded Volakisian.”

  “Oh, Alyx, I fear for you,” she said and tears formed in her eyes. “You don’t know him. He has men out looking for you. He won’t rest until he finds you.”

  “He won’t,” he said. He lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed the back of each one. “Don’t worry about me. I will be fine.”

  “He is well protected,” Farris stated.

  “Why are you down here, Tonia?” Alyx asked.

  She eased her hands from his. “I am hiding from him.”

  “Why?” Alyx snapped, his eyes flaring.

  “We had our first argument,” she said. “I am annoyed with him.”

  “He has quite the temper I hear,” Farris said. “He’s wound entirely too tight.”

  “What did you fight about?” Alyx asked. “Did he threaten you?”

  “No!” she said, shaking her head. “It was nothing. Really. Just a slight disagreement.”

  “That had you running down here to hide?” Alyx said.

  “I’m thinking the argument was over you, milord,” Farris said with a grin. When Antonia looked away from them, he nodded. “Aye, that is exactly what it was about.”

  “Jealous of him,” one of the men at the table said. “Might could use that to our advantage.”

  “Make him think something is going on,” another man put in.

  “I’ll do no such thing!” Antonia said, shooting the men pointed looks.

  “Don’t be gone too long, Tonia,” Alyx said. “You don’t want him to come looking for you and he will.”

  “Aye, best you be getting back topside,” Farris said. He folded his arms over a broad chest. “And keeping that pretty mouth of yours shut about us being here.”

  Antonia stiffened. She turned an arched brow to Alyx.

  “Jasper is right, love. The longer you tarry here, the angrier he will get,” Alyx warned. “He’s probably stalking the keep like the beast he is.”

  “You’ll be careful?” she asked, searching his eyes. “I will worry about you.”

  “I will be just fine,” he said. He took her arm to escort her to the shelter’s entrance. “Try not to worry and don’t come down here again. We’ll be running men through here and we can’t afford to have you followed.”

  “Does Papa know what you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Aye, but it would be best if you not discuss this with him or your mother. You can be sure there are spies all over Castle Blackthorn by now,” he answered.

  * * * * *

  By the time his wife reappeared just after midnight Garrick had worked himself into a fine fit. His yells had sent servants and soldiers scurrying to get away from him. He downed an entire bottle of scotch and was working on a second. Luckily liquor did not intoxicate him but the more he drank, the mellower he usually got.

  Not so tonight. Tonight he was angrier than he could ever remember being.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he sho
uted as soon as he saw her walking toward him.

  “Don’t raise your voice to me,” she said.

  “Raising my voice is the least of your worries, wench. I should turn you over my knee!”

  “Do so and it will be the last time you do,” she warned. “You swore before goddess and man that you would never lay a hand to me. If you do, that is grounds for setting aside the Joining. Trust me when I tell you I will see it done with alacrity.”

  Garrick blinked. Where the hell had that come from?

  “And if you yell at me again, I will not speak to you for a week.”

  “Speak to…” He clenched his fists and dug his fingernails into his palms. “Wench, you are trying my patience.”

  “As you tried mine.” She put her hands on her hips and faced him squarely. “Now leave it be or sleep elsewhere come morn.”

  Irrational anger prodded Garrick. This was his woman standing before him, issuing a challenge he dared not let pass if he was to have the upper hand—as a man should—in their marriage. If he gave in to her, backed down, she would soon lose respect for him. She had to be shown that he wore the pants in their household.

  “You don’t want to sleep with me?” he asked. “Fine. Go back to the bedroom you had as a child. It suits you better since you are being childish.”

  Antonia’s slow smile should have warned him but he was too annoyed to recognize it wasn’t so much a smile as a smirk.

  “So be it,” she said. “You snore anyway.”

  That said, she pivoted on her heel and started to leave. She didn’t get far for he snaked out a hand, grabbed her arm to pull her back.

  “Fuck that!” he snarled as he snapped her against his chest. “I’m not letting you out of my sight!”

  She clenched her teeth and hissed like an angry cat, struggling to break loose but he tightened his arms around her.

  “Oh, no you didn’t!” he said, eyes wide. “You did not just spit at me, wench.”

  What she wanted to do was rake her nails down his arms so he would release his tight hold on her but a voice in her head told her if she drew blood, she might not like his response.

  “Brute,” she called him.