Shameless - By Annie Stuart Page 0,117

would let it remain, knowing it was the last time he would touch her.

She managed to scramble to her feet, only the slightest bit shaky. She knew she couldn’t indulge that shakiness, and she started after him, her bare feet cold on the hard stone floor. As she passed the table they’d trussed her to she realized she was starving, and at the last minute she plucked a bunch of grapes to take with her. No one, no one could crush her, no matter what they did. She might fall apart momentarily, but she was ready to fight once more, and she wasn’t going to let a perverted group of randy aristocrats terrorize her.

She didn’t bother to consider why he’d come after her; she could only be glad he did. The monk’s robe still retained his body heat, delicious around her chilled skin, and his spicy scent lingered. She wouldn’t give this back, she thought, even though it symbolized everything horrific about the group she was determined to wipe out. It smelled like Rohan, and like a lovesick adolescent she wanted to hold on to it, cling to it for safety.

She could hear the noise of the chanting from a distance. There was no sign of Rohan, and she felt an icy chill sweeping through her body. Had they caught him so quickly? Was he now lying trussed up as well, one more offering to whatever strange god they seemed to worship. She held her breath, praying it wasn’t too late. She’d been insane to stop long enough to…what would he call it? To fuck him, that’s what it had been, plain and simple. Well, perhaps not so plain and not so simple, but it had hardly been making love. Her fear and need had blinded her to the much more important task. Saving Betsey’s life.

By the time she reached the hallway approaching the large gathering room the myriad candles were sending out bright pools of light into the darkened corridors, and she could see Benedick ahead of her. He’d set the lantern down, pressing against the side of the cave, disappearing into the shadows. He was so busy concentrating on the scene in the vast room beyond that he hadn’t noticed her arrival.

She stopped where she was, flattening herself against the wall. She had to face the unpleasant fact that he was, at least this time, right. She needed to be out of the way so she didn’t distract him. The odds were bad enough without her getting in the way.

She held her breath, waiting. And then she closed her eyes and began to pray.

35

Benedick leaned back, not moving. The chanting was loud and mindless, in some kind of Pig Latin. He could only hope his sister and the Scorpion had moved quickly. Things were rapidly getting out of hand, and if he didn’t get out of here alive then someone would need to rescue Melisande. At this rate time was running out.

“Has someone joined us?” A smooth, oddly familiar voice carried from the chamber beyond, and Benedick cursed beneath his breath. Scratch that. The time had come. And without another word he strode into the center of the great hall, grateful at least that Melisande was safely out of the way.

The chanting didn’t stop when he walked into the room. They didn’t even seem to notice, though their faces, hidden in the depths of their hoods, were turned upward to watch as they knelt around the perimeter. But he wasn’t interested in the mind-addled mad monks. It was the center of the room that caught his attention.

The young girl lay spread out on what could only be an altar. She was wearing a lacy white dress and her hair was clean and flowing around her peaceful face. He could only hope that whatever drug the so-called Grand Master used on his acolytes had been given to Betsey, as well. She’d be a lot easier to deal with if she were unconscious.

The man stood alone in the middle of the room, cowled, hidden like the coward he was, an ornamental dagger in one hand. There was something that resembled a tray surrounding the platform where the girl was placed, presumably to catch her blood, and he didn’t want to think what they planned to do with it.

“I was expecting you,” the man said, moving around so that the altar lay between them. He was limping badly, and it took Benedick a moment to realize why. He was pretending to

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