A Knight's Vow Part 37

He cursed silently. It was a foolish notion anyway. What made him think he could save the wench? Hisdays of rescuing damsels in distress were long over. Now everything he touched he tainted with death.The girl's fingers tensed subtly within his palm, as if she sensed his unease."You have come to rescue me, haven't you?" she ventured.She sounded so innocent, so vulnerable. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze."Of course," he lied, praying he'd not live to regret his words. His mouth curved into a rueful grimace at the thought.

He'd likely not live at all. Even if by some miracle he found a way out, he was the last man on earth she should count upon to save her. Still, he was obliged to try.

It was difficult to extract his fingers from hers. She was very reluctant to let go of him. But giving her hand

a final clasp of sustenance, he began scrabbling again at the soil. She sc.r.a.ped at her side of the hole as well until the gap slowly grew enough to allow him snug pa.s.sage through.

"Back away," he told her. "I'll come through."

His shoulders sc.r.a.ped against the rough walls as he squeezed through and foundered onto the rocky ground like a newborn foal.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Her fingers brushed across him as she bent near, making accidental contact with his shoulder, his chest,

perilously high on his thigh. His breath caught. When was the last time a woman touched him there? His nostrils flared for an instant in pained remembrance before her hand slipped away again.

"I'm fine," he croaked, shuffling into a crouch.

The situation looked bleak. The air seemed just as dense and black on her side of the wall. Still, he felt compelled to search every inch for c.h.i.n.ks in the armor of their prison.

"Where is your... Do you not have a torch?" she asked. The request was subtly colored by trepidation.

"Nay."

Women always feared the dark. He wondered why. He found the dark to be a great friend-so comforting, so concealing.

He explored the cavern slowly, meticulously, but alas, the walls yielded no promise. Those surfaces that weren't as impenetrable as a cured boar's hide were plated in the rocky refuse of the deluge. He found no weaknesses.

"M-may we go now, sir?"

She sounded young. He wondered how old she was. Too young to die, that was certain. Probably no older than his last wife had been when...

"Sir?"

A hint of bewilderment touched her words, and he knew he'd not be able to s.h.i.+eld her long from the truth. He only hoped she'd not fall prey to a feminine fit of weeping when he divulged their situation to her.

He carefully groped his way toward her, contacting first her long, soft hair. It hung loose, caressing his questing fingers like a lady's fine silk veil. But by the rough fabric of her kirtle sleeve, he determined the girl must be a commoner. He gripped her gently but firmly by the arms. She felt so small, so fragile in his grasp, like a dove. Lord, such a delicate woman might be easily broken. He ran his tongue uneasily across his lower lip.

"There is no..." he began, clearing his throat. "There is no way out."

She stiffened beneath his hands, but to her credit, made not a peep of despair.

"I see." Her voice was scarcely a whisper. A long silence ensued, violated only by her shuddering breath. Finally she found her voice. "Are we... are we going to die?"

Her words, so guileless, so brittle, cut him like the edge of a blade. A fierce longing to protect her welled up suddenly inside of him. How could he burden an innocent damsel with such an awful truth? How could he bring such suffering to her?

In good faith, he could not.

So he lied. "Nay," he said, giving her arms a rea.s.suring squeeze and praying she couldn't detect the feigned levity of his voice. "Never fear."

Hilaire bit down on her lip. She wouldn't cry. No matter what happened, she wouldn't cry. This man, whoever he was, was doing his best to comfort her, even if he was a poor liar. She'd not disappoint him by blubbering like a child. She'd be brave.

Still, when she opened her eyes to all that smothering black, it was all she could do not to scream in horror. In her mind's eye, the walls began to shrink, squeezing her lungs until she could draw no breath.

She gasped in the stale air, wheezing faster and faster, as she fought the suffocating sensation. Not enough air. Not... enough... air.

"Easy," the man ordered. "Slow down."

But she couldn't. If she stopped breathing, she'd die. Like a drowning animal, she clawed at him in desperation, twining her fists in the folds of his tabard, hanging on for dear life.

He gave her a little shake. "Slow down. You'll faint. Breathe with me."

"I... I... can't..." The sound was no more than a whispery squeak. No air. No air. She scrabbled at his chest.

He tightened his grip on her, almost to the point of pain, shocking her from her panic, and barked the

ferocious command inches from her face. "Breathe with me. In!"

He rasped in a breath, and she battled to match his rhythm.

"Out!" The breath shuddered out of her.

"In!" She sucked in another draught of air.

"Out!" She released her breath.

"In!" They drew in a loud gasp together.

"Out!" Her breath escaped on a long sigh.

Then they were breathing together, deeply, calmly, and Hilaire felt her lungs gradually expand to take in

all the air she required. For the moment at least, her fears were eased.

"You see? There's plenty of air," he told her.

Suddenly ashamed of her panic, she slowly untangled her fingers from the man's tabard. "I'm sorry. I..."

"Don't be." The man ran his thumb soothingly over her arm, as if to apologize for his harshness. For the

first time, she noticed the soft clink of chain mail and felt the rigid contour of his hauberk beneath her hands. She wondered who he was.

"Thank you, Sir..."

He didn't enlighten her. Who was he? Who was her savior?

His hands were rough, the hands of a man accustomed to labor or warfare, as coa.r.s.e and rugged as his voice, and yet, like his voice, possessing gentleness and warmth. He smelled of earth and iron and leather, and though she could discern neither his age nor his bearing, he exuded strength and comfort enough to a.s.suage her fears.

"You are a knight?""Aye," he grunted.She wondered if she'd seen him before. Her father had so many knights, she honestly didn't know them all by name. But if this man somehow managed to get her out of this h.e.l.lish grave, she'd embroider his name on every kirtle she owned and remember him in her every prayer.

The man released her arms, interrupting her thoughts. "What is this place? How came you here?"

She flushed, forgetting her own curiosity. The tunnel was a mild embarra.s.sment to her, having been constructed exclusively for the immediate family's use and no other.

" 'Tis an underground pa.s.sageway," she admitted. "It leads from the keep to beyond the curtain wall."

"You were fleeing the castle?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm." Perhaps it was best not to elaborate. After all, she still traveled in disguise.

"Because of the attack?"

"Aye."

"Were you alone?"

There was no reason to incriminate Martha, G.o.d rest her poor soul. "Aye."

"No one knew of your flight?"

She bit her lip.

"Will anyone miss you?" he persisted.

"Nay. That is, I mean, aye!" She could ill afford to stretch the man's patience, but deception came

uneasily to her.

"I must know," he said evenly, "if anyone will come looking for you."

"Oh." If he'd brought a torch, he'd have seen her cheeks redden in chagrin. "Oh, aye, I suppose they will.

At least, I hope so."

Her father was not especially pleased with her. She'd begged and pleaded with him to resist the siege so she could escape. In the end, he'd buckled in the face of his only daughter's copious tears. But it had

been a gruff farewell he'd bid her, replete with reminders of the King's wrath he invoked with his actions and the great risk he invited in countering the forces of The Black Gryphon.

Hilaire s.h.i.+vered. If only the ancient tunnel hadn't crumbled, she'd be safe now beyond the wall, far away

from the tempers of unsympathetic men like the King, her father, and The Black Gryphon. Safe from the

darkness that kept creeping in at the edges of her mind...

Nay, she must not think of that.

The man grunted as he struggled with something among the gravel. His low murmur interrupted her thoughts. "He wouldn't have harmed you, you know."

"Who?"

"The Black Gryphon."