Chapter Sixteen

The best thing about lying in wait for someone was the very fact they had no idea what was coming.

The element of surprise was on Raymond’s side.

Knowing Mira would probably run if she saw him, he made sure to position himself in the shadows at the bottom of the staircase that led from the small service door. The vault was illuminated by several torches that were secured to the walls because servants were coming in and out due to the feast, and he went so far as to remove some of the torches so the area would be darker.

Less chance of his being seen.

As a child, he’d spent a good deal of time hiding in this storeroom, playing with his friends, so he knew the place well. With the exception of inventory being in different places, it had changed little over the years. It still smelled like damp earth and straw, which was spread over the bottom of the dirt to keep the moisture at bay. Truthfully, he found some comfort in that smell.

He was rather glad that he and his father had stopped at Axminster for the night.

Glad for many reasons, but the most prevalent was the opportunity to reacquaint himself with Mira. In spite of what he had been told, she didn’t seem all that eager to see him, but he attributed that to the surprise of his appearance. Mira put up a good fight, but he felt that it was simply for show. He was sure it was all part of the chase. Most of all, however, was the information from Lady Astoria about Mira lifting her skirts for men these days. He always thought Mira had been a proper lady, but apparently things had changed. He found himself hoping she would lift her skirts for him.

There was no better place to lift them than down in a dark, shadowed vault.

So he waited.

Surprisingly, he didn’t have to wait long. As he sat on a firm sack of what turned out to be carrots, he could hear the door above squeak open. Footsteps hit the stairs and he heard Mira call out.

“Athole?” she called. “Bets? Are you down here?”

There wasn’t anyone down there and, fearful that she might turn to leave if she found the storeroom empty, Raymond spoke in a high-pitched voice.

“M’lady?” he said.

Hearing someone call, Mira headed down the stairs. “Bets, is that you?” she said. “What’s this I hear about rot in the grain? We were just down here earlier and there was nothing that I saw. Where did you find it?”

She was coming closer. From where Raymond was sitting, he could see her feet and then the bottom of her dress. She came off the stairs and headed toward the area where the grain was stored.

Raymond was compelled to strike.

Bursting out of his hiding place, he grabbed Mira from behind, slapping his hand over her mouth and hauling her up against him. As she screamed and kicked and twisted, he managed to carry her back to the darkened corner where the grain was stored in big, covered barrels. All the way back he carried her, pushing her into a corner between the barrels so she was effectively trapped.

Only then did he set her on her feet.

“Do not scream,” he growled in her ear. “If I uncover your mouth, you will not scream. I only want to speak with you and I did not wish to do it in a hall full of men where your attention was divided. Do you understand me? There is no need to scream.”

Mira’s response was to try to kick him, scratching with her sharp nails until he yelped and yanked his hand away. She was able to peal a brief scream before he slapped a hand over her mouth again and shoved her back against the wall.

Now they were facing one another.

“I told you not to scream,” he rumbled. “Now I shall have to keep my hand over your mouth until you hear what I have to say.”

That brought slapping and twisting from Mira. Raymond was trying not to get hit in the face as she lashed out at him and keep his hand over her mouth at the same time, so he was forced to shove her into the wall to still her while he trapped her flailing hands. She was awkwardly pressed against the stone now, the right side of her face being ground against the rough wall as he used his body weight to subdue her.

“Mira, stop,” he muttered in her ear. “I am not entirely sure why you are fighting so much, but it stops now. Your dear friend Astoria was kind enough to tell me what you could not, so there is no need to struggle. It is unnecessary. I prefer my women obedient and compliant.”

The right side of her face was becoming scratched as he pushed and she struggled. Mira couldn’t speak because of his hand over her mouth, but her terror was evident. She was gasping and grunting, her entire body tense, and Raymond pressed closer to her.

“It has been a long time since we last saw one another,” he said. “I tried to tell you that I was glad to see you in the hall, but you would not give me your attention. If you would only stop and listen, I am certain we can rekindle what has been lost over the years. I will not hurt you and I do not mean to frighten you, but you are fighting so much that I have no choice. Do you hear me? You are forcing me to hurt you, Mira.”

Mira tried to let out a scream, muffled by his hand. He could feel something warm and wet on his fingers, and realized it was tears. Mira was weeping.

Bizarrely, he tried to hug her.

“No tears, lass,” he whispered, kissing her ear. “There is no need. If you would stop struggling, this will be pleasant. We spent moments like this in the past, moments you only told me tonight that you did not find enjoyable, but I will change your mind. You will let me do that, won’t you? Change your mind?”

Mira suddenly went limp in his arms, and Raymond thought she might have swooned. She turned into something boneless and sagging, and he was forced to adjust his grip on her, but just as he moved his hand from her mouth, she came to life and brought her knee up into his groin as hard as she could.

Raymond doubled over and Mira ran for the stairs.

Gasping in fright and panic, she put her foot on the bottom step but slipped on the slick stone in her haste. She fell forward, striking her temple on the stone step. Collapsing on the ground, dazed, Raymond recovered from her knee to his groin and, angry and in pain, stormed over to where she lay, grabbing her by the arm, dragging her back into the darkness.

The hunter had finally caught his prey.

*

Soldier fights were often the messiest.

Douglas had walked into what looked like a bloodbath. Men with too much drink and too much time on their hands had turned a friendly evening meal into a wasteland of destruction. The central bailey had been where de Honiton set up his encampment, which happened to be the same place de Winter and de Lohr had set up theirs. The two armies were allies in theory and the evening meal had been shared by all. There had been a large fire with a spit over it, roasting half a cow. The men had eaten their share and gotten drunk on the cheap ale that Eric purchased for the army, and that had unfortunately set up a rather large brawl.

Now, there was blood everywhere.

Jonathan had been on the wall, monitoring the sentries and not paying a good deal of attention to the soldiers down in the bailey. He could hear them laughing and singing, and he assumed everyone was getting along just fine until they weren’t. The fight had started between just a few men, but by the time he got down there, both armies were embroiled in a fistfight. Inevitably, men began to produce daggers and at least six men were slashed. One of them had been stabbed fairly seriously, and Douglas and Jonathan stood by and watched the de Winter surgeon try to save the man’s life. It was a de Winter soldier who had been stabbed and all indications were that a de Honiton man had done it. As the de Winter soldier bled out in the dark earth, Douglas and Jonathan went into command-and-control mode.

The two knights separated the men, sending all armies back to their respective camps. The sergeants of the de Honiton contingent were cooperative, and horrified at what had happened, and Douglas demanded they turn over the soldier who had committed the crime. Truthfully, there seemed to be some confusion over who had actually wielded the weapon because no one wanted to incriminate a comrade, but the sergeants were relentless in their questioning.

“You’d better send for Lord de Honiton,” Jonathan said quietly, watching men jostle around in search of the killer. “He will not be pleased if we do not at least tell him what has happened.”

Douglas nodded as he, too, watched the de Honiton sergeants roust their own men. “I know,” he said. “But the man is drunk. He probably will not even realize what is going on here, so let us find the offending soldier before we send for him. We do not need the man trying to figure it all out.”

Jonathan could see his point. “Mayhap not,” he said. “But this is not ideal. No one wants this visit to end badly, especially with an ally.”

“And you were up on the wall when all of this started?”

“Indeed, I was,” Jonathan said. “The men seemed to be getting along splendidly until suddenly, they weren’t.”

“What started the fight?”

“Who knows?” Jonathan said with a shrug. “These things can start so easily, as you know. One moment, everyone is friendly and in the next, the daggers are coming out.”

Douglas grunted in agreement. “I’ve seen it too many times,” he said. Before he could say another word, however, he caught sight of someone heading toward them from the direction of the great hall. The man came closer, illuminated by the torchlight, and Douglas realized who it was. “Here comes Davyss, probably to find out why we’re both out here. I hope Lady Isabel is not looking for me.”

Jonathan could see Davyss on the approach as well. “Why would she look for you?” he said. “Her eye is on Eric, not you.”

Douglas shrugged. “She seems to have taken a liking to me,” he said. “The woman was trying to challenge me to another chess game not ten minutes ago.”

“She wants to be beaten again, does she?”

“On the contrary. She wants to beat me.”

Jonathan grinned. “That is not the same woman who tried to convince us to leave after we first arrived.”

“Nay, it is not.”

Davyss was in their midst now, acknowledging Jonathan with a nod of the head, but his focus seemed to be on Douglas.

“A word, Douglas?” he said.

Douglas could immediately see that he seemed quite serious. Davyss was an intense man as it was, but there was something in those eyes that seemed… edgy. Douglas wasn’t quite sure what it was, to be honest. All he knew was that Davyss seemed stiff, which was an odd state for him.

“Of course,” Douglas said steadily. “What is it?”

Davyss glanced at Jonathan before replying, “Alone, if you will.”

With a shrug, Douglas followed Davyss several paces away from Jonathan and the soldiers who were lingering about. When Davyss felt they were far enough away from prying ears, he turned to Douglas.

“I am not exactly sure how to tell you this, so I will just come out with it,” he said quietly, scratching his shaggy head. “I have been sent here by Astoria.”

Douglas’ brow furrowed. “Astoria?” he repeated. “Why? What does she want?”

Davyss sighed sharply. “She wanted me to tell you that Mira has gone into the storage vault with young de Honiton,” he said. “She said you should know.”

That bit of information lit Douglas up. His eyes widened. “She… she what?” he nearly shouted. “She’s in the storage vault with Raymond?”

Davyss nodded, watching Douglas nearly explode with the news. “Aye,” he said, concerned. “She said you should know and—”

That was all Douglas needed to hear. Without another word, he bolted for the keep as fast as his legs would take him. Because he was running, Davyss started to run after him. Jonathan, who had been watching the continued search for the murderer, caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Douglas and Davyss running at top speed toward Axminster’s keep.

Jonathan took off after them. He had no idea why Douglas and Davyss were running, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

The bloody night was about to get worse.

*

She could feel him trying to lift her skirts.

Struggling to pull out of the daze from hitting her head on the stairs, Mira could feel someone trying to push her skirts up. It took her a moment to come around, but she remembered that her last conscious moments were of her running from Raymond. She remembered the panic and the fear. All that man meant to her was panic and fear. She could smell the damp earth of the vault and it spurred her terror when she realized where she was. Even in the darkness, she could make out the outline of Raymond’s face—the man was on top of her. He must have gained the upper hand somehow.

The feet, and hands, began to fly.

Mira burst into full consciousness with a roar, screaming and shouting so loudly that it reverberated off the stone walls. Raymond was saying something—she couldn’t quite make it out, but it was something that suggested she calm herself or ease herself or the situation would not be pleasant for her. Mira didn’t care if it was pleasant or not.

She was in survival mode.

Her knees were aiming for his belly and groin as he tried to hold them down. The fact that she was moving around so much made it difficult for him to try to lift her skirts. He was trying to keep her from hurting him again, so he tried to use his body weight to pin her down as he attempted to kiss her. Mira’s hands came up and she poked him in the right eye as hard as she could.

Raymond howled.

He also fell off her and she was able to worm out from underneath him. Everything was about surviving this moment, and she fought like an animal. Raymond grabbed at her again as one hand covered his right eye, and she slapped his hands, scratching at him. He gave up trying to grab her arm and went for her skirts, taking hold and yanking. The movement sent Mira off balance, toppling into one of the wheat barrels.

The stone that held the wooden top on the barrel rolled off and onto the next barrel. The wooden top was completely jarred away, and Mira grabbed it, using it to beat Raymond. He only had one hand as it was because the other one was trying to protect his damaged eye, so he could do little more than hold an arm up to keep her from injuring him further. She was panicking and he was quickly growing enraged.

With a growl, he reached under her skirts and grabbed her by the ankle, yanking as hard as he could. Mira was pulled down to her knees, but she didn’t fall completely. Raymond yanked again and she held on to the barrel for dear life, terrified of what would happen if he pulled her to the floor again.

And then she saw it.

The rock that had rolled off the barrel lid.

Raymond now had two hands. He couldn’t see very well out of his right eye, but that didn’t matter. He was going to get Mira on the ground and she was going to stay there. With both hands, he grabbed her by the lower legs and pulled as hard as she could. With a yelp, Mira ended up on the ground, but she hadn’t fallen before she grabbed the rock. It was a heavy thing, but not too heavy for her to use. As Raymond rolled her onto her back and tried to smother her mouth with his, Mira lifted the rock with both hands and crowned the top of his head with as much strength as she could muster.

And then she did it again.

Raymond fell off her, onto the dirt of the vault, as Mira scrambled to her knees and hit him in the head again and again. She hit him in the face, in the throat, and the blood began to flow out of his mouth and nose. The rock was becoming bloody as she banged on him again and again and again, pounding him until he stopped squirming. Until he stopped trying to lift his hands to stop her. She smashed his face until it didn’t look like Raymond anymore, until the bones broke and shattered and it all became one giant, bloodied mass of flesh.

But still, she pounded.

He was going to rise up. She knew he was going to rise up and wasn’t sure she could stop him a second time, so she had to make sure he never got up again. Blood began to splatter, onto her face and arms and chest, but she still continued to beat Raymond. Those years of fear were flowing out of her, giving her the strength to end the terror once and for all. She simply wanted it to stop. She was so wrapped up in her life-or-death struggle that she didn’t see Douglas or Davyss or Jonathan flying down the vault steps, rushing into the darkness only to find her beating Raymond to a bloody pulp with a rock. Sobbing and screaming, she lifted the rock until she could lift no more. Until she heard Douglas’ soft voice behind her.

“Mira, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Mira, please stop. He cannot hurt you anymore, I promise.”

She wasn’t even startled to hear his voice. Crouched over Raymond, she didn’t even realize she was covered in blood until she happened to look at the rock in her hand to see that it was solid red.

But she had stopped.

Douglas knelt down beside her, shocked at what he was seeing, and carefully took the rock from her hand.

“Let me have it, sweetheart,” he said softly. “That’s a good lass. Mira… what happened? Can you tell me what happened?”

What had happened? Mira had to think about it. She’d been in such a blind rage of terror that she had to remember what, exactly, had happened. It didn’t seem real, any of it.

Why was she even here?

What was happening?

“I… I do not know,” she said, dazed. “Astoria said there was rot in the grain and I must see to it immediately. I came down here and… and he grabbed me. Raymond grabbed me. He told me not to scream because he wanted to talk to me, but he would not let me go. He had his hand over my mouth and I… I could not breathe.”

She was pale, her eyes wide on Douglas, who was looking at her in genuine horror. As he held her attention, Jonathan moved around to her to see if Raymond was still alive. Douglas distinctly saw Jonathan shake his head to indicate that the man was, indeed, quite dead. As dead as he looked.

And Mira had killed him.

“’Tis all right, lass,” Douglas murmured. “You are safe now. I am here. Sweetheart, did he hurt you? Is the blood yours?”

She looked down at herself as if only just noticing that she was covered in blood. Unsteadily, she shook her head.

“I do not know,” she said. “I tried to run from him but I slipped on the steps and hit my head. It must have knocked me senseless for a time because when I awoke, Raymond was trying to lift my skirts. I could not let him, Douglas. I could not let him touch me.”

“I know, love.”

“He grabbed me and pulled me down to the ground. I had to protect myself.”

“I understand,” Douglas said steadily. “It was not your fault. But… but you said that Astoria told you to come down here?”

Mira blinked, struggling to remember that part of the conversation. “Aye,” she said after a moment. “She told me that she was sorry she broke the necklace you gave me. Then she told me that I must go to the vault because rot had been found on the grain. When I came down, Raymond was here. He grabbed me and tried to smother me!”

She reached out and grabbed on to Douglas for safety as panic swept her again. He held her hand tightly, seeing madness and terror in her eyes. She’d been frightened so badly, and had evidently been knocked silly, so she wasn’t thinking clearly. Not in the least. Very, very carefully, Douglas stood up and pulled her with him, swinging her into his arms because she couldn’t seem to stand up.

“I have you now,” he murmured, getting Raymond’s blood on his arms and chest because it was rubbing off her. “I have you and I shall never let you go, not ever. I will protect you, Mira, I swear it.”

Her arms were around his neck, her unsteady eyes gazing back at him. “What will you do with Raymond?” she asked. “He will tell his father to punish me!”

“You do not have to worry over him,” Douglas assured her steadily. “He will not tell his father.”

“Will you tell him what happened?”

“Aye… I will tell him.”

“And Raymond will be punished?”

He hesitated to answer because, clearly, she didn’t realize he was dead. “Aye, love,” he said quietly. “I will punish him.”

That seemed to bring her great relief. She buried her face in Douglas’ shoulder and wept quietly. Douglas turned his head away from her, catching Jonathan’s attention.

“Find Eric,” he said. “Bring him here. Tell no one else. Do you understand?”

“Aye, Douglas.”

“Go.”

Jonathan went on the run.