Part 7 (1/2)

Her questions annoyed Fayth, so she busied herself pouring water in the basin to wash her face, pretending she hadn't heard. Then she made a big show of yawning.

Diana took the hint and stood. She wandered to the door, rather than the hidden panel, and Fayth turned to frown at her.

”Aren't you going out the way you came?”

Diana shook her head. ”Not now. Father will be occupied in his bedchamber. He'll be vexed if I interrupt.”

Fayth's shoulders slumped. d.a.m.n.

Diana turned a speculative eye on her. ”You're not thinking of running, are ye?”

Fayth blinked. ”Of course not!”

Diana scowled. ”Well, ye should.”

Fayth stepped forward eagerly. ”Will you help me?”

Diana blinked in horrified amazement. ”Lord, no! He'd beat me dead. I'm just saying ye should try. It would vex him so if you succeeded.” Smiling at that thought, Diana left.

Fayth paced the room, stopping when she spotted the gla.s.s vial she'd thrown at Ridley earlier. She picked it up and squeezed it angrily, her eyes on the carpet-covered door. If not for Ridley, she could administer enough poison to incapacitate Carlisle and then escape.

Fayth pushed a heavy trunk in front of the hidden door, though she doubted that would keep him out if he were determined. The sky was already darkening, though full night was still some time away. Fayth scoured her room, hunting for a weapon to use against her betrothed when he arrived. There was nothing. She emptied the juice from the vial and broke off the top, so she had a sharp edge. She could ram it into his eye or throat.

Fayth sat on the bed, waiting, alternately chewing her fingernails and stroking Biddy. The anxiety was making her ill, but the dog helped soothe her. She fell asleep and the dream returned. Red Alex pawing at her. Except now she was Diana and she wanted it. She pressed herself against him like a wanton, putting her tongue in his mouth.

She was ripped awake by screaming. The candles had gutted and she was damp with sweat, her chest heaving as she labored for air. The screaming grew louder and more voices joined in. Men shouted. The thunder of pounding hooves was deafening. Metal clashed violently. The acrid scent of smoke made her nose twitch.

Lochnith was under attack.

0=”3”3.

FAYTH ROSE FROM the bed and looked out the window. The bailey was alight with torches. More of Carlisle's men poured into the bailey, engaging the raiders. Fayth spotted Grahams among them, though they fought with considerably less enthusiasm than the Carlisles who were defending their home.

Her blood surged. It was a perfect night for a raid. She ran to the door and swung it open. The guards were still there.

”What's happening?” she asked.

”We're being raided.”

”I can see that. Are you just going to stand there? Or help?”

”I have orders, Mistress Graham.”

She slammed the door and returned to the window, peering down at the fighting below. Even with the numerous torches and the outbuildings ablaze, she couldn't make out the raiders. Probably broken men. More people rushed out bearing buckets of water and wet blankets to fight the fire.

Carlisle and Graham men dominated the fight and the raiders were retreating. Fayth saw her betrothed, wearing a leather jack and wielding a huge sword. He lost his targe when his opponent's sword hammered it to splinters, but still he fought on like a man half his age. She turned away from the window, slightly queasy. He would be randy tonight. Men always were after battle.

Her gaze went to the rug where the door to his room was hidden. If he was out there, then he wasn't... She ran, pus.h.i.+ng the trunk away and throwing the rug aside. She pushed on the paneling until it popped open. The narrow stairwell was unlit. Fayth felt along the wall until she reached the bottom, the dog snuffling at her heels. She was faced with a wall. She ran her hands over the surface before her until she encountered a latch. The wall sprang open.

She found herself in a bedchamber, even more elaborate than her own. The bed was enormous and hung with heavy brocaded curtains. A bust of Ashton Carlisle stood beside the bed. There was a small room, just off the bedchamber, where Carlisle's attendants slept. Fayth rummaged through their meager belongings until she found an extra set of clothing. She shed her gown and s.h.i.+ft and slipped into the hose, fumbling to tie only the most strategically placed points. When she was fully dressed, her hair tucked into a cap and pulled low over her eyes, she slipped out of Carlisle's chambers.