He caught up at the stone steps, his arm slipping around her to lend support.

"I do not need your help!" She tried to shrug his arm away.

He seized her shoulders, swinging her around to face him. "I know you're angry and well you should be. I ken you dinna want to wed Carlisle. I wish I didn't have to send you-"

"Then don't!"

He continued as if she hadn't spoken. "And I had no right to start something I wasn't prepared to finish. But I'll not let you rush heedlessly through these tunnels. They're dangerous and you don't know your way."

"Very well," she said as coolly as she could. He was right, of course. She was being thoughtless as always. She would never escape if she slipped and broke her leg. d.a.m.n it all, she hated it when he was right!

She took his arm but refused to speak to him the entire way back up to the tower. After a time he quit trying to coax a response from her. Fayth was so distressed she could not think clearly. It seemed foolish now to have turned shrew on him. She had acted the wanton and now looked ridiculous because of her behavior. And yet, the injury to her pride was too great. She could not look at him without anger and resentment clouding her mind.

They arrived at the ladder where this had all begun, where she'd been giddy-headed in her desire for him. She smirked at her own folly and grasped the rungs as if she could wring punishment from them. Alex sent her up to the larder first, holding the candelabra high so she could see.

When she came up through the hole, she immediately sensed she was not alone. Still poised on the ladder, half out of the trapdoor, she turned. Skelley, perched on a barrel, straightened at her appearance. Biddy sat beside him, whining softly.

Skelley had avoided Fayth since she'd donned a gown and even now stared at the floor, hands clasped behind his back as she crawled through the hole and into the larder. Biddy came to her tentatively, as if she could sense the waves of furious heat emanating from Fayth. Fayth scratched the dog's head absently.

She was feeling the effects of her afternoon of exercise. Her muscles ached and lethargy rolled over her. She longed to have her former strength back-so she could steal a horse and ride as far from Red Alex as possible!

"G'day to ye, Mistress Graham."

"Greetings, Skelley."

Alex climbed lithely from the hole as if an arrow had not ripped through his shoulder and become dreadfully corrupted, as if the leech hadn't cut his rotted flesh away. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

Biddy went to his side, tail wagging joyously as he closed the trapdoor and pushed the barrels back into place.

Fayth asked Skelley, "Any word from Carlisle or my brother?"

Skelley slid her a strange look, quickly returning his gaze to the floorboards. "Ah... of a sort. Alex? A word?"

He obviously would tell her nothing without first relaying it to Alex, so Fayth turned on her heel and entered the kitchens.

She ignored the stares and whispers, keeping her chin high as she pa.s.sed through. She knew what they were thinking-a woman, exploring dark corridors, alone, with a man like Red Alex. If word of this got out, she was as good as ruined. So what would it possibly matter now if they lay together? She pushed that errant thought away, rushing blindly forward. She was almost to the door when a figure stepped in front of her, stealing the air from her lungs.

"Weel..." Armless Eliot's black eyes trailed from the top of her head to her toes, and back up again, lingering on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "If it ain't wee Hugh Maxwell."

0="15"15.

"ELIOT'S HERE?" Alex said, surprise and relief sending him for the door to the kitchens before Skelley could finish speaking.

"Aye-but wait!"

Alex turned impatiently.

"Laine's dead."

"Dead?"

Skelley nodded. "Eliot says he was killed when they were captured."

Alex paused, his heart sinking to his toes. Laine, dead? He'd been very fond of the boy. They shared a similar history, having both been destined for the kirk. But Alex had never been abused as Laine had. And unlike Carlisle, Alex's father would have killed every last monk party to it and razed the monastery-something Alex had very nearly done himself when he discovered what Father Rae had done to the lad. Skelley, with his usual wisdom, had advised Alex against killing men of G.o.d-even the deaths of the unG.o.dly men of Rees Abbey would bring them more trouble than they needed.

And Eliot had been most irritated at Skelley that day. He'd been itching to slaughter the monks. Alex didn't like the niggling doubt at the back of his mind. Eliot hated Laine. That in itself was not unusual, as Eliot hated many men, but Laine had done nothing to earn such loathing. In fact, he'd done much to earn respect and trust. Eliot seemed to dislike everyone Alex trusted. It had taken Eliot a long time to finally accept Skelley.

Alex rubbed his hand over his chin. "Ridley would never intentionally kill Carlisle's son."

Skelley joined Alex near the door, tonguing the gap in his tooth, fingers buried in the tangles of his beard. "It could've been an accident, as Eliot claims."

Alex's eyes narrowed. "Laine was young, but no fool."

Skelley opened his mouth to respond when Fayth's raised voice reached them from the kitchens. "Out of my way!"

Alex raised his brows at Skelley and entered the kitchens. There Fayth stood, hair waving wildly around her shoulders and clothes in disarray, as if she'd just been tumbled well. The ache in Alex's groin returned at the sight of her-and the knowledge of how close he'd been to tumbling her.

Eliot blocked her exit, his gaze raking her covetously.

"Eliot," Alex barked, surprising even himself with the sharpness of his voice. Fayth's shoulders jerked, but she didn't look at him.

Eliot's head turned and he backed away, though his burning gaze lingered on Fayth longer than Alex could bear.

Fayth stalked out of the kitchen. Eliot's gaze followed her until she was gone, then met Alex's. His eyes widened, eyebrows rising knowingly.

Alex approached him. "It's good to have you back... but most unexpected."

Eliot looked behind Alex to Skelley, then farther to the larder, an eyebrow c.o.c.ked curiously. "Aye, weel, I managed to escape. They dinna expect much from a one-armed man."

Alex doubted that. Eliot was well known throughout the west march by many names, not all of them a.s.sociated with Alex. Neither was Eliot a modest man-but a braggart when it suited him. However, it was also his way to downplay his greatest feats in the interest of building a more interesting tale when he was ready to tell it.

"We lost Laine?"

Eliot's face creased with regret. "Aye, the lad went down fighting, too. He wouldna tell them he was Carlisle's lad and so they didna spare him." He lowered his voice, his eyes slanting around the room. "Carlisle was wi' Lord Graham... the lad told me, as he lay there wi' his lifeblood spilling onto the ground, that he'd rather die than go back to his father."

Alex said nothing. He had known Laine well enough to know Eliot spoke the truth... and yet Laine did not speak of his father or his time at the monastery with anyone. He'd spoken little of it to Alex and what he did say was revealed only because Alex had been a novice himself once and understood the way things sometimes went among the brothers.

"You sure aboot that?" Skelley asked.

Eliot turned a contemptuous glare on Skelley. "Ye got something to say, man, ye should say it."

Skelley came forward, his normally easygoing expression hardened with suspicion. "The two of ye werena gettin' on last I saw ye."

Eliot stepped forward, going nose to nose with Skelley. "The lad stayed and saved me life when you and the leech ran like cowards."

Skelley snapped out his dirk, slipping it under the thick black waves of Eliot's beard.

"Say that again, you armless-"