Chapter 7
In the dead of night, Ellie crept out of the tower chamber. The icy chill in the stairwell made her grateful for the hooded cloak. The pair of boots she’d discovered in the wardrobe pinched her toes, though that was the least of her worries.
After finishing supper, she had intended to stay awake reading in bed. But an irresistible weariness had come over her and she had fallen asleep over her book, only to awaken a few minutes ago to find the room dark save for the glow of embers on the hearth.
The problem was, she now had no notion of the time. It might be midnight … or it might be near dawn. If the latter was the case, then she needed to hurry. It was imperative that she put as much distance as possible between herself and Damien Burke.
Descending the steep, curving steps in her long skirt was a slow process that required her full concentration. The torch in its wall bracket had long since guttered out and her only light came from the candlestick in her hand. Cold drafts of air swirled around her, so that she was forced to keep one gloved hand cupped around the flame.
Heaven help her if she lost her only source of illumination. She’d never find her way through the pitch-dark castle. She might become lost in the dungeons, never to be seen again until one day someone stumbled upon her skeleton …
Ellie pushed the fanciful thought out of her head. It wouldn’t do to spin stories when she faced a series of genuine trials. First and foremost, avoiding the Demon Prince.
Over a supper of cheese, sausage, and fresh crusty bread, she had engaged Mrs. MacNab in conversation, asking questions while trying to make the inquest sound like mere, wide-eyed curiosity. Where was the kitchen? Were there stables? A gatehouse? Did anyone else live in the castle? Where did the laird stay?
By the time she finished her food, Ellie had gleaned a rough idea of the layout of the castle. It sounded fairly simple. She was in one of the towers that marked the four corners of the fortress. A stone keep stood in the center of the castle yard. Once she managed to find that yard, there should be enough moonlight for her to see the gatehouse.
Beyond that, she had no idea how the portcullis was opened, or if she would have to let down a drawbridge as well. But there must be a way out. She had to be as clever and resourceful as Princess Arianna in her storybook.
At the base of the tower, Ellie arrived at a closed door and tugged at the iron latch. When it refused to budge, her heart sank. Was that why no one had bothered to secure her chamber? Because this lower door kept her imprisoned?
All of her hopes were dashed in an instant. No! It couldn’t be true. She wouldn’t let herself be trapped in here.
In a fit of desperation, Ellie set down the candlestick on the floor and used both hands to wrestle with the latch. She couldn’t see a keyhole in the gloom. Was the door bolted from the outside? Or was there a bar across it to hold her inside? If so, her plan was doomed.
Beneath her fumbling fingers, the latch abruptly lifted with a loud, scraping protest. She laughed in relief, the sound a hollow echo in the gloomy stairwell. Praise God, the fastener had only been stuck in place.
Then disaster hit. As she pushed at the heavy door, a rush of frigid air came through the opening and doused her candle.
At once, a stygian blackness enveloped her. Ellie stood quaking in her too tight boots. She was afraid to move, afraid to step out of the tower and into the unknown. Heaven only knew what lay waiting for her in the darkness ahead.
It might be the Demon Prince.
Swallowing hard, she considered making the trek back up the winding staircase to relight the wick at the glowing embers of the hearth. Alternatively, she could simply crawl back into the warm cocoon of her bed and go to sleep.
Would Princess Arianna be defeated by the loss of a tiny flame?
No. Ellie drew a deep, cold breath. She had come this far and she mustn’t turn back now.
Abandoning the useless candle, she applied her shoulder to the heavy door and it fully opened to a loud creaking of hinges. Icy fingers of air clutched at her face. The breeze must be coming from somewhere ahead of her, perhaps an opening to the outdoors.
Encouraged, she ventured slowly into the dense darkness, her arms outstretched. On either side, her fingertips brushed the unyielding stone walls. Was she in a passageway? Apparently so, yet the place had the oppressiveness of a tomb.
Gradually, her eyes adjusted and she distinguished a faint paleness in the form of a large archway some distance ahead of her. As she moved in that direction, the cold gusts grew stronger, tugging at her cloak and chilling her to the bone.
Ellie arrived at the opening and cautiously peeked out. To her great relief, she could discern the crenellated walls of the castle outlined against the vast expanse of the night sky. There was no moon. Only a few stars were visible between the massive charcoal clouds. Yet that small trace of light had lifted the mask of her blindness.
She was gazing out at the courtyard. In the center, the tall square keep crouched like a menacing black giant. According to Mrs. MacNab, the monolithic structure was the den of the Demon Prince.
Of course, the maidservant had not described the building in quite so gothic a fashion. She had merely confided that the laird had his quarters there, and that Ellie was not to worry about him troubling her because he was a fine, upright man despite his gruff manner.
Fine, upright man, indeed! Ellie didn’t believe that description for the snap of a finger. Only a villainous rat would abduct a lady and hold her for ransom.
Over the whistling of the wind, she could hear the rhythmic roar of the sea. So the castle was located on the coast, after all.
Before leaving the shelter of the doorway, she scanned the open courtyard, straining her eyes to spot any movement in the shadows. All lay still. Where was Damien Burke? With any luck, he was sound asleep in his bed, secure in the unwise belief that a pampered debutante would never attempt to escape.
Well, perhaps Beatrice would have been too distraught and weepy to formulate a bold plan of action. She would have been aghast at the notion of abandoning her creature comforts and creeping through a cold, gloomy castle in the middle of the night.
But not Ellie.
The gatehouse loomed on the adjacent outer wall. She decided against taking a straight route across the courtyard, opting instead to follow the wall where the shadows would conceal her progress. She needed to be certain that Damien Burke or his henchman, Finn, weren’t hiding nearby. As she hurried along, the wind yanked at her hair and she drew up the hood of her cloak, holding it tightly beneath her chin.
The prospect of foul weather daunted her. If a storm was brewing, she would have to find shelter quickly once she left the castle. Perhaps there was a village nearby where she could conceal herself in an outbuilding or, better yet, throw herself on the mercy of a kindhearted crofter.
Reaching the gate at last, Ellie found the portcullis firmly shut. The crashing of the waves sounded louder here, and through the iron grating she could see the faint glimmer of water in the distance.
She walked back and forth, studying the massive barrier, but could find no handle or latch with which to open it. Now what? There had to be a way for the gate to be drawn up. Was there some sort of mechanism in a nearby chamber?
Spying a door in the wall, Ellie opened it. Instead of a room, however, she was startled to see an extremely narrow passageway. At the far end lay a shadowy aperture. Hardly able to trust her senses, she scurried through the tunnel and in a moment found herself standing outside the castle walls.
Euphoria lifted her spirits. She started to whirl around in a jig. Then a sudden squall of wind nearly knocked her over, reminding her of the need to make haste before the weather worsened.
On the theory that any pursuer would expect her to follow the dirt track in front of the gate, she turned in the other direction. Rocks and boulders littered the slope and she had to proceed slowly in the darkness. But at least there was no moat, probably because the castle appeared to be perched on a cliff overlooking the sea.
Ellie stumbled a few times going down the steep hill. Her boots were stiff, and she could barely see her way. Fierce gusts off the water cut like knives through the layers of her clothing. She kept moving, conscious of the need to flee the area as swiftly as possible. She had a vague plan of following the coast for a bit before veering inland and doubling back to the road.
At last the way flattened and the going became easier. On her right, the crashing waves glimmered in the faint starlight, foaming over the rocks and pebbles on the beach. To her other side, the castle loomed on the bluff facing the churning sea.
The cold seeped into her bones, and Ellie hunched inside her cloak, trying to stay warm as she hurried along the rocky beach. She cheered herself by imagining how dumbfounded Damien Burke would be when her absence was discovered in the morning. The Demon Prince would rant and rave, furious that his dastardly plot had been foiled.
Of course, it would have been foiled anyway when the ransom money failed to arrive. And then what would he have done to her?
She didn’t want to contemplate that scenario.
Shivering, Ellie picked her way over the stone-littered sand. Freezing droplets of salt spray spattered her cheeks. She hastened onward, driven by the need to put distance between herself and the castle.
But when she glanced back to gauge her progress, the fortress still towered over her. Frustrated, she increased her pace, tramping over pebbles and keeping to the shoreline. The wind forced her to keep her head down, lest her hood be blown off. Her boots squelched in the wet sand, her hem felt damp and dragging, and several times she nearly stumbled under the sudden buffeting of a squall.
After a long period of slogging onward, she noticed that just ahead of her, an enormous boulder loomed on her left. Beside it lay a dirt track which ended abruptly at the edge of the rocky beach. Looking to see where the path went, she stopped dead, unable to believe her eyes.
The track meandered up the steep slope to the portcullis of the castle. She was back where she’d started.
How was that even possible?
Ellie blinked the salt spray from her lashes, convinced she must be hallucinating. It seemed she’d walked for close to an hour. Had she somehow become disoriented in the dark?
No, that explanation made no sense, either. The coastline had been at her right the entire time. She was absolutely certain of it.
Just then, something moved from behind the boulder. The silhouette of a huge hulking beast reared against the night sky. Like a creature from the netherworld, it sprang straight at her.
Shock paralyzed Ellie. Her heart gave a mighty jolt. She screamed, but the wind swallowed up the sound and carried it away.
She started to run, but the monster was upon her. His massive paws latched onto her shoulders. In the same instant, she spied his familiar features through the dense darkness.
Damien Burke. The Demon Prince.
“There’s a storm brewing,” he shouted over the wind. “You chose a rough night for a stroll on the beach.”
Aghast, Ellie could only stare up at him. Her initial terror mutated swiftly into relief and then into anger at the fright he’d caused her. She yanked herself free and stepped back, nearly coming off-balance when her heel hit a stone. “You! You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I would have been had I not spotted you from the window, creeping through the castle yard. I must say, it’s been rather cold waiting for you to complete the entire circuit.”
“Circuit?”
“We’re on an island, my lady. Surely by now you’ve figured that out.” His mocking chuckle joined the crashing of the surf.
The news crushed Ellie. An island! No wonder she had never lost sight of the castle. No wonder he hadn’t bothered to lock her door or station any guards. Her escape had been doomed from the start. She was as much a prisoner as if he’d thrown her in the dungeon.
And now, after all the ill-treatment she’d endured at his hands, he had the gall to laugh at her.
In a blind rage, she launched herself at him, hammering his hard chest with her fists. “Monster! Evil rat villain! I hate you! I’d kill you if I could!”
She kicked viciously at his shins, stubbing her own toes without a care. At the same time, she lashed out at his jaw and boxed his ears. He caught hold of her upper arms, but she managed to stretch up her fingers to claw at his eyes.
Uttering a muffled curse, he twisted Ellie around and pressed her bosom against the huge boulder. She found herself trapped in between the hunk of cold stone and his large, muscled frame.
His fingers shackled her wrists so that she could no longer punch. The weight of his thighs at the back of hers immobilized her legs. Still, she fought in a fury to throw him off, wriggling in vain, panting from the effort. He merely held on tightly and waited her out, until eventually, she recognized the futility of the struggle and went still.
As she regained her breath, an unwelcome awareness of him seeped into her. The wind whipped frigid droplets against her face, but she felt toasty warm with his massive form molded to her back. His spicy scent invaded the brininess of the air. Never in her life had she been so close to a man. It felt shocking … scandalous … and curiously exhilarating.
No, that was anxiety churning in the pit of her belly. Although he hadn’t struck back at her, she didn’t trust him an inch.
He bent closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Evil rat villain?”
Ellie bristled at the humor in his tone. “It’s the perfect description of you. Or would you prefer that I called you the Demon Prince?”
A deep growl emanated from his chest. “Walt told you that name. When?”
“What does it matter? Now, remove your hands from me at once.”
He did nothing of the sort. “First, I must have your assurance that you’ve recovered from your tantrum.”
Her blood boiled again, and she tugged at his iron grip. “Tantrum? Did you expect me to be docile when you’re holding me imprisoned? When you kept me drugged for three days?”
“I expect you to behave, my lady. Else I’ll be forced to lock you in your chamber.”
Ellie bit back a retort about his fiendish nature. It was more important to correct his misconception. “Stop addressing me as ‘my lady.’ I’m not Lady Beatrice. I’m Miss Stratham. Miss Ellie … Eloise Stratham.”
“So we’re back to that again.”
“Yes, because it’s the truth. Beatrice is my cousin.” In wretched frustration, Ellie turned her head, looking over her shoulder to glower at his harsh features through the gloom. “She has strawberry-blond hair while mine is auburn. She has blue eyes and mine are brown. Her skin is like cream, mine is freckled. And you yourself said that I’m not pretty. That’s because my cousin is the beauty of the family—not me!”
The darkness shielded his expression. But Ellie could feel his hands tighten ever so slightly on her wrists. His entire body felt rigid with skepticism. Did he believe her? She couldn’t tell.
Abruptly, his weight lifted as he stepped back. “Come along,” he growled. “We’ll talk inside, out of this gale.”
With that, he started up the dirt path to the castle.
Left alone on the beach, Ellie stood shivering in the absence of his warmth. She resented being ordered to heel like a pet dog. Especially by a man who was a despicable, ill-mannered rat.
For a moment she contemplated hurling herself into the sea, drowning in the cold brackish depths just to spite him. But then she would never have the chance to finish writing her storybook. She would never know the joy of reuniting Princess Arianna with her long-lost royal parents. She would never have that cozy cottage in the country where she could be free to pursue her dreams.
Gritting her teeth, Ellie started up the rocky slope to the castle. She had a plan for her life, and Damien Burke mustn’t be allowed to ruin it. Somehow, she had to convince him that he’d abducted the wrong woman.