Chapter 6

Avalene awoke with a start, the sound of her own cry echoing in her ears. The covers had tangled around her feet and she struggled to sit up, desperate to free herself from the last drugging effects of the nightmare, needing to assure herself that she was well and truly awake. The gasping sound of her ragged breathing completed the transition from sleep to awareness.

She opened her eyes and discovered she was in her chamber at Coleway…safe…for the time being.

"Foolish dreams," she said aloud. Given the plot afoot to compromise her father's knight and force her into a ruinous marriage, it was hardly a surprise that she would have nightmares. What she found surprising was that she had managed to nod off in the midst of her worries.

"Foolish nightmares ," she amended, although she still trembled like a frightened mouse.

Moonlight streamed through the windows in her chamber, so bright that she would scarce need a candle if she decided to move about in the room. The position of the moon said the night was only half spent; it would be hours yet before the hunt began and she had still not decided what she would or could do to avoid her fate. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried to clear her jumbled thoughts. Surely there would be a way to escape the castle during the hunt?

Perhaps she could say that she intended to ride out to the huntsman's lodge, and then make a break for her father's fortress in Wales. The problem with that plan was that none of the guards would let her set foot from Coleway without an escort, and she could never survive such a journey on her own. Women did not ride alone outside the walls of a city or fortress, no matter the excuse. Her best hope lay in convincing Sir Percival of the danger they both faced.

Ah, that was it! She sat up straighter in bed as the plan that had taken shape before she fell asleep came back to her in a rush.

She had intended to wait a few hours until everyone in the keep was asleep before she crept from her chamber and paid Sir Percival a visit in the solar, hopefully to talk him into helping her escape from Coleway. The last thing she remembered was thinking the dragons and griffins on her banners appeared particularly sinister in the moonlight, and then…nothing.

Her gaze moved along the tall rows of banners that hung still and motionless on the walls…or did they? A dragon banner near the door seemed to billow slightly, as if the beast were drawing a deep breath and preparing to release a blast from its fiery nostrils.

Avalene shuddered. The chamber could come alive with any number of creatures if she gave herself over to fanciful imaginings. Instead of dwelling on her fears, she forced her gaze upward to stare at the black void of the beamed ceiling as her thoughts turned to the conversation she must soon have with Sir Percival. She had practiced the words over and over before she fell asleep. Now she silently repeated them to refresh her memory.

Would he believe her accusations? What if he repeated their conversation to her aunt or uncle? If she could not convince him of the danger, they were both doomed.

For some reason, a fragment of her nightmare kept prodding the edge of her mind. She could remember nothing of the dream except her mother's voice and the urgent warning that had finally awakened her, ancient Welsh words that sounded familiar, yet their meaning eluded her.

She whispered the words aloud, "Nid dieithryn fydd angau," and the meaning came to her even as she spoke the translation, "Death comes in disguise."

She heard a small rush of air in the darkened chamber, the almost imperceptible sound of a quickly drawn breath.

'Tis nothing but a draft, she told herself, even as her pulse quickened. Was the room suddenly colder? Her bedding lay in tangles at the bottom of the bed. She pulled her favorite quilt closer to her body and smoothed the sheets.

Another small noise made her hands still. A chill of certainty made her shudder. Someone—or something— was in the room with her.

She clutched the quilt to her chest like a shield as she listened for any other noise, any small sign that she was not alone. The silvery moonlight that streamed through windows made her plainly visible and vulnerable to any intruder while the recesses of the room remained in impenetrable night shadows. The room was silent but she had the distinct feeling that she was being watched. She tried her best to sound firm and in control of the situation, bravely calling out, "Who goes there?"

In response, the dragon banner moved again, seeming to open its wings for flight. The figure of a man materialized, stepping from beneath the great beast's wings. The only sound she could manage was a small squeak of fright.

"Have no fear, my lady. 'Tis I." The man moved away from the banner into the moonlight and added, quite unnecessarily, "Sir Percival."

"Oh!" She laid a hand over her racing heart. "You scared me half to death."

She waited for him to explain his presence, but he remained still and silent. Too still and too silent for her peace of mind. Whatever garments he wore blended with the shadows so well that she could make out only the most basic of his features; the vague outline of his body, the shadowed planes of his face. More of him remained hidden than revealed. A flicker of some unknown emotion made her shiver, the same shiver that she experienced each time she saw him. Its source still remained a mystery. Excitement? Fear?

Danger .

The word popped into her head and refused to leave. She was alone with him, trapped in this chamber with a man she scarcely knew.

"You should not be here." She was pleased that she managed to sound calm. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears that she was certain he must hear it, too.

The hard tone of his voice did nothing to reassure her. "Where are your guards?"

"My guards?" she echoed. Was he somehow part of the plot? Would the guards burst through the door at any moment to catch them together? She might somehow be able to explain away a trip to the solar, but his presence in her bedchamber in the middle of the night defied explanation. She would be ruined.

"Aye, your guards," he repeated, in the same dangerously quiet voice. "I heard your screams in the solar, which means a soldier on night watch should have heard your cries as well. Where are the guards who should be posted here?"

"W-what screams?"

He made a sound of impatience and took a step forward. She hugged her knees to her chest, instinctively trying to make herself as small as possible, feeling as if she were a mouse that had found itself in the path of a hungry cat.

He came to a sudden stop. "You fear me?"

She lifted her chin. "I do not."

"You are not a good liar," he said, and this time she definitely heard a brief note of amusement, the sound scratchy and raw as if his throat were unaccustomed to laughter. "I did not come here tonight to harm you, my lady."

He could be lying. John was an excellent liar. Perhaps Sir Percival shared that skill. Why else would he be in her chamber at this time of night if he was not part of the plot against her? "Why are you here?"

"Put yourself in my place, if you will." He spread his hands in a gesture of impatience, and the edge returned to his voice. "'Tis the dead of night and a young lady of the keep screams in terror, yet none of the soldiers or servants can bestir themselves to investigate this matter? Do the people of Coleway place so little value on your safety?"

"You are here because you thought I was in some sort of danger?" It took her a moment to comprehend that she had screamed loud enough in her sleep to awaken and alarm him. He was not here at John's direction, and his anger wasn't directed at her. She lowered her head to hide an inappropriate smile of relief and…something else. It wouldn't do to let him think that she was belittling his concerns when, in truth, she felt absurdly pleased by them. She looked up to find him standing directly in front of her and she let out a startled gasp. "However do you move so quietly?"

He ignored the pointless question and lifted his hand as if he meant to touch her face, but then his arm dropped back to his side. She could see much more of him now that he stood so close; the contrast between the moonlit marble of his face and the dark stubble on his cheeks, the square jaw, the outline of sensual lips. He did not look pleased.

She forced her gaze away from that dangerous territory and inspected his clothing instead. His shirt was a strange-looking garment with a cowl neckline, and he wore a pair of snug leather breeches; both garments not quite black but lighter, a shade of gray, she supposed. It was impossible to be sure in the moonlight.

"You are in danger when you are left vulnerable, Avalene." He made her name sound like an endearment, one that made her feel as if butterflies suddenly took flight in her stomach.

She tried to ignore the effect to concentrate on the problem at hand. "'Tis you who are vulnerable, Sir Percival. Do you know what would happen should someone discover you here? What would happen to us both?"

"I made certain no one was about before I came into your chamber," he said. "You are obviously in no danger, so it appears there was no need for concern."

"Oh, there is need for concern," she said in a rush. "We are both in danger, just not for the reasons you might think. Indeed, the truth is so scandalous and fantastical that I hesitate to share my worries lest you think them lies or exaggerations."

He did not answer for a long time. Instead he sat down next to her on the bed and seemed to mull over her words. He left enough space between them to be deemed proper in the daylight, perhaps in the solar, but he was much too close for a knight in the chamber of an unwed maiden in the middle of the night. His effect on her should be the last thing on her mind, but she also had to judge how much she could trust this man, this stranger who held her fate in his hands. She could see him much more clearly now, but his expression remained remote despite the intimacy of his words.

"You can tell me anything, my lady. 'Tis my duty to know everything about you: your likes and dislikes, your friends and enemies, your habits and routines. Even your concerns and secrets. How else can a knight protect his lady?"

"You are not my knight," she retorted. How on earth had they stumbled into this dangerous territory? Either her imagination was working overtime, or he was somehow declaring himself, pledging himself to her service. Impossible. She was not the sort of woman who inspired declarations, at least, not declarations free of scowls or muttered curses.

He lifted one brow. "Whose knight would I be, other than yours?"

"You are sworn to my father," she said simply.

"A knight can be sworn to his liege lord," he said, "and also be sworn to a lady."

She tried to ignore the way her pulse fluttered. This was not happening. Perhaps she was still asleep and this was another part of her dream. Her sense of self-preservation took over and her voice took on a frosty edge. "'Tis not my place to ask if you have sworn your heart to a lady, and this is hardly the time or place to pursue such a topic."

"Perhaps," he murmured, "but know that I will not brush aside anything you might tell me, or make light of anything that causes you concern. I am here for you , my lady. You can trust me."

She had an irrational urge to hug him. Instead she caught her lower lip between her teeth, torn between the instinct to keep her secrets to herself and the inevitable need to ask for his help. Her chances of escaping from Coleway without his cooperation were impossible. Her chances of reaching Weston without him were nonexistent. The decision was obvious. She had to trust him.

"There is a plot afoot to see us involved in a terrible scandal," she began. Her gaze went to the door. "My uncle's soldiers could burst into this chamber at any moment. John could not have asked for a better arrangement if he had planned this meeting between us himself. Indeed, your sudden appearance here seems very…suspicious, given what I know of Lady Margaret's plan. I have no doubt that John had a hand in shaping it."

"You are speaking of the steward?" he asked.

She gave a brisk nod, and then the words tumbled out in a rush. She told him what she'd overheard earlier between her aunt and uncle, and about John's involvement in the plot. "I know from experience that John is a master at getting what he wants. Mark my words; this will all come to pass unless we do something drastic."

"These are very serious charges," Percival said slowly, his brows drawn together in a frown. "You have accused your aunt and uncle as well as a high-ranking servant at Coleway of plotting a crime against my liege lord and his daughter. You find my sudden appearance suspicious, and yet I am in your chamber even now in response to your cry of distress. It was your signal that drew me here. I would be foolish not to wonder if you are working with the steward to engineer your own ruin so you can stay at Coleway. Perhaps you fancy yourself in love with Coleway's steward. Is that why you summoned me here?"

"I detest John, and I did not purposely summon you here," she hissed, and then she pressed her lips together to curb her sudden urge to call him thick-witted. He was actually putting together the pieces of the puzzle just as she would have done in his place. He had asked for her trust and she had practically accused him of plotting against her. It was hardly surprising that he did not quite trust her yet, either. "I had planned to sneak into the solar after everyone was asleep to tell you of this plot but I fell asleep. And then I had a nightmare. I have them quite often. At least, I have them often enough that no one thinks much of it when or if they hear me cry out in my sleep. The guards quit rushing to my chamber door years ago. So, that is the reason no one but you rushed to my side when I called out."

"As I said to you earlier in the solar," he began, "I would not think it unusual if you find yourself reluctant to leave Coleway. I'm sure your father would even understand if you fancied yourself in love with Lord Brunor's cousin, John, and wished to marry him. There is—"

"I want nothing to do with John," she whispered furiously, "and my fondest hope is to leave Coleway as quickly as possible. I am not plotting against you, Sir Percival. However, 'tis possible a spy has reported your presence here to John by now. We must devise a plan quickly. As it happens, I had many hours to think things through before I fell asleep. Would you like to hear what I have decided, or would you rather argue about the steward?"

"My pardon," he said stiffly. "I did not intend to start an argument. Please tell me what you have decided."

She gave a satisfied nod. "First, everything will work best if you make some excuse not to attend the hunt in the morning. I am already staying behind to see to the meals, but I can change my mind midmorning, or as soon as we are certain the hunting party is beyond sight of the castle. I know exactly where Lord Brunor will begin the hunt, and I can tell the castle guards that you will escort me and no other escort is necessary. They will not like it, but I will insist that no other soldiers be spared from the walls and they will not dare defy my orders. We can escape the castle and no one will know we are missing until the midday meal. Our absence might go unnoticed even longer if no one inquires about us until they return from the hunt." She folded her hands together in her lap and smiled, pleased with her logic and cleverness. "What think you of my plan?"

Percival remained silent so long that she was tempted to push against his shoulder to rattle some response from him. At last he said, "Those are, indeed, drastic actions you suggest."

She blinked once when it became apparent that was all he intended to say. Was he slow in the head? "I believe John will try to put some plan into action after the hunt tomorrow. Your arrival was expected, but not your orders to take me back to Weston. I doubt John has had much time to think through his plan or put the pieces in place. We must put our own plan in place first and be well away from the castle before John or my aunt and uncle realize what has happened. What say you, Sir Percival? Will you honor your duty to my father and take me away from Coleway tomorrow during the hunt, or, will you fail us both by refusing to act upon what I know to be true?"

He shook his head. "I scarce know what to say, my lady. Plots and counterplots, ploy and counterploy. You have my head spinning."

A sinking feeling began in the pit of Avalene's stomach as she watched him rub his forehead. If simply hearing the plan was too much for him, actually carrying it out would be beyond his capabilities. It was rare that she misjudged people, but apparently Sir Percival was not the man she had hoped or imagined. He would be useless to her cause. In fact, he could actually create many more problems than he would solve.

"Perhaps I have misjudged…the situation," she said carefully. "Aye, just hearing the accusations aloud makes me realize how crazed they sound. Perhaps you are right, Sir Percival. I am overwrought at the thought of leaving Coleway and my imagination is playing tricks on me. You must attend the hunt tomorrow as planned. Pray forget I made any of these awful accusations against my aunt and uncle or the steward. They have been all that is kind to me through the years and do not deserve to be slandered. Please, I am so ashamed of my outburst. I promise that I will not cause you any more trouble. Can you promise that you will say nothing to anyone else about our conversation tonight? Truly, they are no more than the hysterical ramblings of an emotional woman."

That last part was one of Lord Brunor's favorite responses whenever Lady Margaret used tears to try to win an argument. It might have been a bit much. The way Sir Percival remained so silent and watchful unnerved her. There was intelligence in his gaze, or, at least the impression of it that had not played out in their conversation thus far. She should not feel such keen disappointment that he was not the kind of man she had hoped he would be.

"Oh, you have my word that I will not repeat what you have told me," he said at last. He spoke with sudden surety and any confusion seemed completely erased from his mind. "As for the hunt, I had already planned to find an excuse to stay at Coleway should you not participate. My duty is to stay close to your side, Lady Avalene. Your father has heard disturbing rumors and has ordered me to take you away if need be. Your fears are well founded. I had to be certain you were really intent on leaving Coleway, or determine if you were part of the plot to keep you here. I am satisfied that you are not working with the steward."

"Why, you," she spluttered, "you could have—"

"I had to be certain," he said, as he reached out to give her hand a firm squeeze. "My plan is almost the same as yours. We will leave Coleway tomorrow much as you imagined, but we must be clever about what we do after our escape. The road to Wales will be the first place they will look for us. We must ride east toward London, and we must ride hard and fast. How are your skills on a horse?"

She looked down to where his hand still covered hers. Her eyes closed briefly against the spinning sensation that might be relief, or it might have something to do with how quickly he had changed from thickheaded minion to quick-witted leader of their small rebellion. There was that feeling again of danger mingled with something else.

He withdrew his hand and she was able to breathe again, which was all well and good except that then she caught his scent. Some devil seemed to whisper hints of what his skin would feel like beneath her hands if she were brave enough to reach out and take his hand again. The fact that she even entertained such a crazed idea finally shook her from her stupor. "I am an excellent rider, Sir Percival. You need not worry that I will slow our flight."

"Is there something else that is bothering you?" he asked. "Something I should know about?"

She plucked at a piece of thread that had worked its way loose on her quilt. "Tomorrow I will tell the biggest lie of my life to my aunt and uncle, and then I will flee the place I have called home and the people who have been my closest family for more than half of my life. After tomorrow my life will never again be the same. My entire future depends upon a man I have known for less than a day. My future depends upon you, Sir Percival." She studied his face, trying to reassure herself that she was doing the right thing in trusting him. "Tell me the truth. Do you think we will succeed?"

He answered without hesitation. "I have no doubt of my plan, so long as you remain cooperative."

"What makes you so certain?"

The corners of his mouth curved upward. "I was sent here to protect you and see to your safety, my lady, and I am very good at what I do."

A small sound of skepticism escaped her lips before she pressed them together.

"You have some doubts about my abilities?"

"I have doubts about anyone's ability to outwit John," she said. "There is also the fact that you arrived here scarce prepared to steal me away from Coleway. What if there were no hunt tomorrow? Or, what if I had not overheard my aunt and uncle discussing the plot and refused to help with my escape? Then there is the fact that you are alone, even though my father suspected some sort of trouble." She shook her head. "I am not brimming with confidence."

"Put your mind at ease, Avalene. I was sent alone because it would require an army to take you from Coleway by force, an army that would never be allowed through the gates. Even if I rode with a small troop of men, the odds of us getting away safely without raising an alarm were slim. But one man, alone? Our chances of escape are much better and we can move much less noticeably once we leave the fortress. 'Tis easy enough to track a group of ten or twenty soldiers, or learn news of their passage near villages, but two horses might escape notice."

"I had not thought of that," she admitted.

"There is also the element of surprise on our side, since I doubt they view a lone knight as much of a threat. However, I did not arrive here unprepared."

"You are unprepared right now," she pointed out, motioning toward the door. "What if soldiers came through that doorway right now to arrest you? What good would you be to me in the dungeons?"

"So you think me defenseless?" His mouth curved into a very predatory sort of smile.

"I think you are unarmed." Her gaze turned speculative as she eyed the broad set of his shoulders. At least he looked intimidating. "There is a difference between unarmed and defenseless."

He gave a short laugh. "Rest assured, my lady. I am neither."

"Mm-hm." The strange shirt he wore distracted her. On closer inspection, the loose neckline seemed to form a hood of some sort. "'Tis of little importance, since it appears John has not yet had a chance to put his plan into action."

"Ah, but danger could walk through your doorway at any moment." He made a quick gesture toward the door that was followed almost immediately by a soft thunk .

Her startled gaze flew to the doorway where she half expected to find the danger he had so accurately predicted. Instead a shaft of moonlight revealed the quivering blade of a dagger, its tip embedded in the very center of the wooden door. As she watched, two more daggers joined the first in almost impossibly quick succession. She looked at Sir Percival, then at the daggers, and then back again.

He stood up with leisurely grace and walked toward the door to retrieve the weapons. He fingered one of the blades, testing its edge, and she could have sworn he was looking at her neck.

"How did you do that?"

"'Tis a trick I learned as a child." He inclined his head in a mock bow. "Do not think I am incapable of defending you, Avalene. My talent for escaping dangerous situations is the reason I was chosen for this duty. There can be no guarantees that we will escape Coleway without incident, but our odds improve if I can be certain you will follow my orders without question."

"I am accustomed to taking orders from no one," she mused, "save the occasional edict from my aunt or uncle. You are my father's knight, and therefore you are sworn to serve everyone in my family. I easily outrank you."

"Have you escaped from many castles?" he asked. "Do you know how to elude mounted search parties? Do you even know which roads lead to Castle Weston?"

She pressed her lips together. "You know the answer to all of your questions."

"Aye, I do know the answers to those questions," he said. "What I need to know is if you will concede your rank until you are safely returned to your father. For the duration of this adventure you must treat me as your lord and master. You must not question my decisions or orders, no matter your own feelings or inclinations. You must trust that everything I do is with purpose, even though you might not be aware of the purpose or how it affects you. Your life and the lives of others will often depend upon your complete cooperation in this matter. Can you abide by those limitations?"

Everything within her rebelled at the idea of voluntarily giving up control of anything. Giving orders was second nature to her. Accepting them without question was not one of her strengths. "Would it matter if I said ‘No'?"

His lips curved upward and he slowly shook his head. "You will make my life considerably easier if you say ‘Aye' and mean it."

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked over his shoulder to the window behind him. The moon had moved noticeably across the sky since she awoke. As she watched, a stray cloud drifted across its surface and momentarily plunged her chamber into darkness. The castle was filled with sounds during the daytime. Now, all she could hear was Sir Percival's steady breathing and the uneven beat of her own heart. He was asking her to give over all that she was into his keeping, to trust his orders as much and as quickly as she would trust her own. There was little doubt that he was her best hope, likely her only hope to escape Coleway Castle.

The cloud moved away and she could see his face again. He had not looked away from her and she could see steely determination in his eyes. She knew almost nothing about him, but no matter the odds, there was no doubt in her mind that he would do whatever he felt was necessary to keep her safe. On that deep, elemental level, she already trusted him. Completely.

"Aye, Sir Percival. And I mean it."