CHAPTER THREE

At the farewell feast, a little later

"My lord."

Luke loathed to take his eyes of her. She was as breathtaking as when he first saw her and he could not look away. But he could detect that note of urgency in that voice and he turned his head slightly, quickly taking in the sight of the pale lackey at his shoulder.

"Grimm, what news?"

"They are hungry, mi'lord," the lackey replied, jerking his head slightly towards the back of the room. Luke turned to look at whom his lackey was gesturing at and he pressed his lips hard in frustration. Three of his father's men; recently turned. Luke knew they were not entirely ready to mix in public like this but his father had insisted they were to come. And like the dutiful son he was, Luke had concurred.

He could sense it.

In amongst the plethora of thoughts and feelings in this room, on top of that very annoying, very pervasive smell of wet dog, he could sense their ravaging hunger. And Luke O'Cullenain immediately took matters into his hands.

"That one's looks especially delicious," one of them whispered.

"No, you don't want that one. Far too thin," another whispered back. "You want a nice, plump one. They are always so grateful for the attention. And they taste so rich."

The trio chortled heartily, their eyes bright with the possibilities before them. They didn't see the blonde man striding over to them until he bore down on them, eyes flashing, jaw set in a grim line.

"Perusing the banquet, by any chance?" Luke's voice was colder than ice. They had the grace to look down in guilt. "Need I remind you we are guests?"

Luke stared at the three of them in turn. Each man avoided his eyes, only too aware of what could happen if they dared to disobey. They would be torn from limb to limb. It would be wiser to stay quiet. But hunger can be a strange thing. Luke was about to turn away when one of then piped up, "But mi'lord, are we to starve? When there is this willing feast before us?"

It was a blur. He moved so quickly that no one would notice. In that instant, the insolent man's face was pinched with pain, his arm twisted grostesquely behind him in Luke's iron grip. He whimpered. Anyone looking would think Luke was casually standing behind him. No one would see how tight he was holding that arm, how his nails were now like claws raking into the flesh of that stupid, brazen cur.

"Control your thirst!" Luke hissed. "If this is too much for you, go outside!"

With another wrench of his hand, the man nearly yelped. Luke let go in disgust. The three looked suitably cowed and he immediately left them and headed towards his father. Lord O'Cullenain was downing yet another goblet of wine and saw his son purposefully striding towards him. "Ah, my son wants a word with me!" Lord O'Cullenain said a little drunkenly. "Excuse me, my lords." He stood up and walked a little unsteadily before laying a heavy hand on Luke for support.

"Father."

"I am well! I am well!" Lord O'Cullenain declared, a comical grimace on his face. He leaned heavily into his son like he was trying to steady himself. It was an act, of course. His eyes were clear and his grip steady.

"Something is bothering you, my son."

"Those three are trouble, father," Luke muttered indignantly, glancing back the troublesome three.

"I'll keep an eye on them. Don't worry," his father replied. His eyes then narrowed a little. "Are you to see her?"

"Yes."

"Good. She's retired to bed. The time is nigh."

Luke glanced quickly round the room and it was true. Beca was gone.

"Don't be hasty. She has to be plucked at the right moment," the older O'Cullenain whispered.

"I hear you, father."

"Remember, Luke. She has to be willing." Lord O'Cullenain's eyes were bright. "She has to be willing. Or she will be no use to us."

Beca kicked off her gold slippers as soon as she stepped into her room. She sat down on the hard, wooden chair, taking off the lustrous pearls from around her pale neck, letting the strand rippled off her fingers onto a velvet cloth. She then took off the matching earrings, placing them carefully on the same cloth.

It had been a worthy farewell feast, full of fun and music. Beca wished she could have stayed a little longer but a lady should always know when to leave. Damn it, she wished she was no lady. She wouldn't mind dancing another dance; perhaps flirting a little more. Lord knows when would be the next time she could do such things.

A flit of frustration crossed her face.

No, there wouldn't be a next time. She would be a wedded woman soon.

"That was some feast!"

Beca turned around, smiling. Amy was bustling into her room, without a knock as usual, her loud voice clarion enough for her entrance.

"Woooo! I've never danced so much!" Amy declared, slumping onto a seat. She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her sore foot. "How's your feet, Beca?"

Beca looked down at her right foot, poking out from underneath her gown and rotated it slowly. "Fine. Perfectly fine." A frown creased her forehead. " Although that stupid knight did try to break this one."

Beca glowered at thought of that dark haired, rude knight. Treading on her foot. The nerve! And did he actually called her a thief? Of all the boorish, crude, offensive things he could say. Fine! It was true she did take his horse without hispermission but to say it like that! He must have a death wish, insulting her like that. That knight was a peasant! An uneducated, surly, unkempt, clumsy peasant! She hoped she'll never see him again. Whatever his name was.

"Jesse."

Beca snapped back and looked at Amy. "What?"

"The knight who stepped on your foot. His name is Jesse."

"What a strange name," Beca mumbled. She began to pull out the pearl ornaments from her hair. Amy got up, strode over and began to help her. They were silent for a minute and Beca waited until Amy was brushing out her hair, before speaking up again. "You seem quite taken with him."

Amy's brushing was bordering on yanking and Beca yelped a little.

"Eh. He's good looking. In a broody sort of way," Amy said dismissively. "His arms were quite strong."

Beca coloured a little, remembering how those arms had lifted her ,him looking up at her with his dark eyes. He had mumbled something about horses and let her down far too quickly; like he had been burned.

"You both seem to be quite cosy." Beca said, trying to sound casual.

"Hmm.."

"Chatting, talking, heads together..."

"So, you were looking."

"What? No. I have no interest in that...that peasant!"

"And yet you were looking." Amy said slyly. "I didn't even ask whether you are interested."

"No, I'm not. And I wasn't looking."

"The lady doth protest too much, " Amy smirked before finishing the last brush with a flourish and placing the silver backed brush on the table. Beca's face was a shade of pink. All this hard hair brushing was making her face pink. Yes, that was it. Nothing to do with whatever nonsense Amy was saying.

"Will you be able to undress without my help tonight?"

"Oh," Beca said, a little surprise. "Are you heading out?"

Amy shrugged a little and smiled.

"Amy! You've just met him!" Beca squealed a little. The thought of Amy sneaking out to meet that dark haired knight was highly improper. They hardly know him.

"No, not him,"Amy merely rolled her eyes at her brunette friend. Her eyes glazed over for a minute like she was in deep thought and Amy broke into a smile. "Besides, he is not mine."

Beca was a little preoccupied now to pay heed to Amy's words. She was busy unhooking her gown, her back to Amy and Beca was a little glad about that. That way Amy could not see the look of utter relief on her face. Luke was to come to her room later. Beca knew Amy would not approve and she could not lie to her best friend. She could hear Amy moving to the door and Beca turned to face her friend. "Stay out of trouble, Amy!" Beca shouted after her. Only to be answered by another shrug and a non-committal sort of snort.

He could not do it. He could not.

It was impossible.

He tried. And tried. And failed.

And he hated to fail.

Jesse stalked out of the castle, leaving the warmth and merriment behind. Once he had finished what he needed to do, he headed for the exit straightaway, not even asking leave from Commander Allen. For once, Bumper had let him passed without a word. He still had that look of morbid fascination on his face and Jesse pretended he did not know what was that all about.

He just needed to get out.

Her scent. It was everywhere.

And now clinging to him. To his hands when he held hers in the dance. Along his arms when he supported her in that lift during the dance. He needed to get it off. He needed to wash it off. He was hurrying along, desperate to get away now. He needed to feel the cold air on his face, the earth under his feet and smell any other scent. Any other scent beside this warm, sun-drenched scent of hers that was clinging tenaciously to him. Jesse almost broke into a run as he approached the stables.

A little later, that poor village idiot did not quite know what he saw. Anyone asking him would only get a gabble of words. One moment, he saw a dark, great brute of a horse with a white streak, surely risen from the depths of hell, clattering down the dirt road. A dark rider hidden deep in his cloak sat astride the beast. Then the next moment, the rider seemed to collapse forward. The village idiot swore the rider was headless.

And then before long, he heard a deep, rending growl. He had ran as fast as he could. He prayed he would not trip on anything. He prayed for his life. He prayed for deliverance from that monster behind him. Especially when he heard that chilling sound of a wolf howling at the moon.

"Mi'lady!"

Beca was standing on the balcony of her bedroom, waiting, a black sable cloak wrapped around her tiny form. Her balcony opened out to the woods behind the castle and it was chilly at this time of the night. She pulled the fur cloak around her tighter as she leaned forward on the balustrade. She had heard the urgent whisper and tried to find the owner in that pitch darkness below her.

"Who's there?" she whispered.

"Are you alone?"

Beca glanced behind into her room, a little worried perhaps Amy had cut short her little night visit. No, she was alone.

"If you are whom I think you are, good sir, I am perfectly alone."

She heard a rustle and stepped back and before long, a pair of hands were on the balustrade, followed by strong arms and then Luke O'Cullenain languidly pulled himself over and settled down on the stonework. He lounged on that balustrade, smiling at her and for a moment, Beca forgot herself.

She stared. At this perfect specimen of manhood.

Luke O'Cullenain was a sight to behold. He was paler than Beca remembered. Much paler, she thought. But it could be because of the moonlight and his clothes, the black and red colours of his house. His skin glowed pale silver in the moonlight, his hair spun gold. It was hard not to run her eyes over him. So pale. But no less handsome. No, not with those hypnotising green eyes. Eyes like the greenest jade.

It took a few moments for her to shake off that stupid stupor and Beca suddenly wondered how in the world did Luke climbed all the way up her balcony. Her room was high up the tower - at the insistence of her father only too aware of what mischief she could get up to. There were no trellis and the foothold was slippery on that stone wall. There was a covering of ivy, but surely not strong enough to take the weight of a grown man.

Beca frowned a little.

"How did you climb up?" she jested. "Did you fly?"

Luke just smiled and merely replied. "I'm a very good climber."

He hopped to his feet and came closer and yet again, Beca could not think straight. She forgot that little niggle about the climb and smiled up at the blonde man.

"You wanted to see me, Sir Luke?"

Curses! Why was her voice so shaky? He must not think she was nervous. He must be led to think she did this all the time; entertaining young gentleman at her balcony in the middle of the night. Yes. That would be right.

No. Wait. That could not be right.

No, he must not think that either.

Beca pouted a little in frustration. Her thoughts were muddled again. And then she heard him laughing softly and her thoughts were more confused as he stepped closer.

"Why so formal, my sweeting?" His voice was a caress. "Surely I get a little kiss?"

She nodded a little, turning up her face and he covered the little distance in a mere moment. His cool lips descended onto hers. His hands were cradling her face as he deepened the kiss.

She was pliant under his hands. He could feel that sweet hammering of her heart against him. So sweet, so alive. His hands were on her neck and he could feel her pulse under his palm, her blood coursing through and for a moment, he was lost into that kiss, his mind screaming with all the delicious possibilities.

Perhaps this was not entirely a good idea - Beca thought. She suddenly irrationally wished Amy was here. She would have coughed loudly and break the moment. Beca would flushed red and Luke would have stepped back. But without Amy, she felt she almost helpless; like she was being swept out to sea. As if hearing her thoughts, Luke broke the kiss and stepped back with a wry smile.

"I am so sorry. That little pout of yours nearly drove me to distraction."

Beca nodded dumbly and turned away, trying to hide her flaming face from him. She sat down on a little stone stool, urgently pulling the fur cloak round her. "It is good seeing you again." Beca said in a low whisper. "I was afraid I will not have a chance to say goodbye."

Luke was silent for a moment before answering. "Will this be goodbye?"

Beca was nervously lacing and unlacing her fingers underneath the coat. "You know very well I am betrothed to Lord de Lessops." She tried hard to keep her voice steady.

"I've heard," Luke replied. "It was very hard news for me to swallow."

"As it was to me," she whispered. "But I have to do a daughter's duty."

He was on his knees in front of her. His hands quested for hers under her cloak and he stared into her eyes as he held her hands.

"Would you?" Luke asked. "Would you go ahead with this? Is this what you want?"

"It does not matter what I want."

"You cannot marry Lord de Lessops. You don't love him, surely."

"Love has nothing to do with this," Beca said flatly.

"Then don't go."

"What would you have me do? Defy my father?" Beca said, her voice spiking. "Would you defy yours?"

He let go of her hands and sat back, his face unreadable. He need not say it; Beca knew his answer. She was not being fair to him.

"Come with me, Beca," Luke said suddenly. "We can be together for always. Just you and me."

Beca laughed mirthlessly. "And what a scandal this would be! Lord Mitchell's only daughter with the son of his enemy. Roving the high roads like vagabonds!"

"You are too beautiful to waste away in the De Lessops' cold castle," Luke replied. "Come with me, Beca. I'll make you my queen."

He was staring at her again with those green eyes. It was too intense - she felt like she had to look away but tried as she might, she could not. She could not think straight. Sensing her hesitation, Luke leaned closer, gently caressing her cheek.

"I've frightened you," he murmured. His fingers was gently running through the river that was her hair. "You need not defy your father, my lady. If you would come with me, I'll meet you along the road with my men in disguise. No one would know. They would think the brigands had attacked your caravan and carried you away."

"What about my father?" Beca whispered.

"He would be beside himself," Luke said, nodding slowly in thought. "But think how relieved he will be when he finds out that you are safe with me. And he will look upon us with favour."

Beca's breath hitched. "Do you think that would work?"

"Why not?" Luke whispered again, his voice a seductive spell. "Just say yes, my sweet."

"I don't..."

"Say yes."

"I.."

The scream that rend the air was bloodcurdling.

"Amy!" Beca leapt up to her feet, running to the edge of the balcony. Another high pitched scream cut through the night, followed by a cacophony of shouts and dogs barking. "Amy! Amy's hurt!"

Beca hurtled back into her room. She needed to hurry. Amy was hurt. She needed to help her. She needed to get dressed and find her. Beca's fingers fumbled with the fastening on her cloak, too distressed that she could not undo it. She then felt Luke's hands stilling hers.

"Stay here. I'll find out what's wrong."

"But Amy..."

"Hush. Stay here where you are safe," Luke said urgently. He walked out onto the balcony, with Beca behind him. Luke sat on the balustrade and swung his legs onto the other side. He turned back to face Beca.

"I'll take your leave, mi'lady. Please think of what I've said." Luke said, eyes not leaving her worried face. "And if you would come, just send me word."

She nodded slightly.

"One last kiss."

He asked and Beca obliged with a swift peck on his lips. He then slowly clambered down the wall, fingers and toes gripping tightly into the stonework. But when he was swallowed by the darkness and Beca could not longer see him, Luke let go of the wall, falling gracefully to the hard ground, forty feet down.

Where are you?!

What?

God's earth! Come back now!

What's the matter? I'm hunting.

I told you to stay close!

Bumper, what's wrong?

The parasites. They've attacked.

A cold shiver ran through Jesse. He skidded to a stop, turned on the spot and loped back as fast as he could.

I'm on my way.

He should have known. No one could trust those parasites. Parasites feed on their host; everybody knew that. He should have stayed. He should have been on his guard. He should have not give in to his weakness and stayed at his post.

Jesse flew through the distance, feet hardly touching the ground. He could see Shadow right ahead, almost imperceptible in the darkness, exactly where he had left him. He slowed down. The transformation ran through him like a dark shudder and he leapt onto Shadow's back. He didn't even need to spur Shadow on. He was off quick as lightning as soon as Jesse landed on his back, his hands grabbing the reins. And Shadow galloped back to the castle like a beast out of hell.

Luke landed lightly on his feet and strode through that pitch darkness, away from the tower. That forty foot drop was nothing to him. Nor was this darkness. He could see very well. Anger always made his senses sharper and at this very moment, Luke O'Cullenain was furious. He had an inkling what was that scream about.

The torches burned bright against the dark night. He had to shield his eyes a little as he made his way towards the back of the castle, near the kitchens. Still more shouting, more torches. And he found the knot of vassals and Lord Mitchell's guards surrounding a patch of wall near the vegetable beds. He pushed through the crowd to the front.

"What happened here?"

Commander Allen was in front of him, kneeling in the dirt, his back towards Luke. At the sound of Luke's voice, he stood up and turned around, his maroon cloak whirling a little. Luke had said those words authoritatively and calmly but he nearly stepped back in surprise at the ferocity billowing out of the shorter man. He glared at the blonde man, his eyes beady and hard in the flickering light.

"A fine question," Commander Allen growled. "I would like to know the same."

He turned back and seemed to offer his hand to the person behind him. When he stood aside, Fat Amy was standing shakily, her dress now covered with dirt. There were scratches on her arm and cheek and her hair was in a mess.

"Lady Amelia!" Luke rushed forward. "Are you alright?"

She was shaking like a leaf, her breaths in gasps, her face blanched of any colour.

"Someone get the lady a seat. And a stiff drink." Bumper commanded and in a few moments, a servant had fetched a stool from the kitchens and a cup of strong mead.

"I'm alright," Amy gasped out, face still drained. "I'm fine." She gulped down a swig of the drink and steadied herself. "I'm not sure about the girl at the stables."

Another shout went up from the stables and the group turned as one towards the noise. Someone was running towards them and when he was within the ring of torches, they recognised the burly stablehand.

"Commander! Come quick! The stables!"

The stablehand was a burly lad, a little on the quiet side. He was built like a mountain, always imperturbable but at the moment, he was shaking and his face was twisted with horror. Bumper eyed him for a moment before quickly saying, "Ned, Robert. Both of you stay here with Lady Amelia. The rest of you come with me."

He then swung round and stared at the tall blonde man. "Would you care to join us, Sir Luke?"

He jumped off Shadow even before he stopped. There was such a melee at stables no one noticed him rushing in. The guards seemed to double at the gates and at the entrance to the castle and now, here at the stables, there were men and dogs barking furiously.

I'm here, Bumper. Where do you want me?

Late to the party, as usual.

Jesse stayed silent at the rebuke. He deserved it.

Stand guard by her room.

What? No.

Don't argue. I don't have time.

What's the damage?

A dead horse. And a half dead girl. It would be more merciful to kill her. Before she turned.

Jesse, so sure footed, stumbled forward in shock.

Now for God's sake, go and stand guard by her room!

Jesse was about to hurry off when Bumper spoke to him again in his mind.

Jesse, change of plans.

What is your command?

Escort Lady Amelia to Lady Beca's room. And see what you can find.

Amy was hurt. Beca knew it. That was her screaming just now. She was hurt.

Beca was frantically pacing in front of her bedroom door. Despite Luke's warning to stay, she had hastily dressed, intending to leave the room and find Amy. But her way was barred by two guards who was very apologetic. No, they were not to let her leave. By orders of the Lord Mitchell.

She had slammed the door shut in frustration. It was all her fault! She was too eager to see Luke all alone. She should have insisted Amy stayed. No one knew whom Amy was meeting. There were so many guests. It could be anyone. This was no good - she had to do something! If only she could climb down the wall like Luke did. It was dangerous but perhaps if she fashioned some sort of rope...

Beca was looking speculatively at her bed linen when she heard that urgent knock on her door. She ran to the door and wrenched it open.

"Amy!" Beca shouted out in relief. "Oh my god, Amy!"

She nearly dragged the dazed blonde girl into the room into the nearest chair.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine..."

"No, you are hurt!"

Beca was so busy fussing over her blonde friend that she did not noticed the dark knight who was behind Amy and had been holding her steady.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" Beca asked fiercely as she fussed over the scratches on Amy's arm and cheek. "By gods, they will answer for this!"

"I'm fine!" Amy was saying, waving her arms in front of her. "Enough! Enough!"

"But you are hurt," Beca said stubbornly.

"Mi'lady, I think Lady Amy needs rest."

Beca whirled round to see who was speaking.

Oh. It's him.

She momentarily flushed before drawing herself to her full height, all five feet two of her before addressing that unpleasant man. "Did you found her hurt? Were you the one to rescue her?"

The knight gazed at her with his dark eyes.

"No. I was merely asked to escort Lady Amelia back to your rooms."

"Oh," Beca replied curtly. His gaze was quite penetrating. "You've done your job, sir knight. I thank you. You may go."

She was already turning away, used to dismissing knights and servants alike. It took her a few moments to realised he was still standing there. Like a lemon. Beca turned back and frowned.

"I bade you goodbye, sir knight." Her tone was a little bored yet biting.

"So you have, Lady Rebbeca," he answered drily. "But I've been commanded to stand guard here."

"There is no need for that. We are perfectly safe here." Beca said irritably. "Besides, there are guards outside the door."

"All the same, I am to ensure the rooms are secure," he said, eyes already raking over the place. He walked along the length of the room and then stepped out onto the balcony. Beca was highly irritated now. How dare he walk around like he was familiar with her chambers! Fat Amy let out a little moan and Beca looked at her worriedly, forgetting about that annoying knight.

"You are not well. Let me call for Nurse."

"No, I'm fine. I'm just a little out of sorts," Fat Amy said.

"What happened?"

"A monster. I saw a monster," Amy whispered hoarsely.

"A monster?"

"More than one. Eyes red like burning coals. And fangs. And blood."

Beca looked shocked for a moment and then she burst out laughing. "Oh Amy. What faerie tales you tell. There are no such things as monsters!"

"Perhaps mi'lady would do well NOT to laugh. Lady Amy had quite a fright."

That laugh died in her throat. Beca was too surprised to even speak. Did that knight just rebuke her? Like she was some five year old? The nerve of him! He had came back into the room and was just standing there, looking at her calculatively. She did not care at the way he was looking at her.

"Where you in your room all this time, mi'lady?"

Beca opened and shut her mouth a couple of times. She was still speechless.

"I left the Lady Beca not a few hours ago," Amy spoke up. She saw that look on Beca's face. "The lady does not sneak about at night. She would have been in these rooms."

"Alone?"

"Wha..." That came out like an angry squeak. Beca's face was white with rage.

"I would guard your tongue, sir knight," Amy said calmly. "What are you trying to imply?"

Jesse seemed to remember himself. "Forgive me. I have trespassed my welcome. I would leave you to your rest." He bowed stiffly and left the room. When the door was finally shut, Beca exploded, "What the hell was that?! Does he have a death wish?! Because if he does, I gladly help him along!"

She's safe.

Found anything?

The stench is in her rooms. One of them had been here. I'll bet it was the blonde one.

Bumper could hear the little snort in Jesse's thoughts. He could not work out whether it was disgust, anger or jealousy.

Stand close to her, Jesse.

As you wish.

"I do not understand what is all this fuss for!"

Bumper's attention was back in the room. Lord O'Cullenain was busy wiping his face and wringing his handsl. They were standing in the reception hall, the warmth and merriment feast had died down with all that commotion. The guests had now all retired and what was left was only the heads of houses surrounding Lord Mitchell.

"Surely this is all an accident? Some highly drunk gues,t perchance," Lord O'Cullenain continued.

"Commander Allen does not think so," Lord Mitchell said testily. "One of my horses dead, drained of blood and one of the serving wench, now down with fever and not likely to last the night."

A collective intake of breaths and a ripple of shudder greeted his words. Bumper's eyes did not waver from Luke's face. Luke's face was as still as sculpted marble.

"I do offer my condolences, Lord Mitchell," Lord O'Cullenain spoke. "There is a beast loose! I offer you my men to track them down."

"Thank you, my dear friend. But we have it under control." Lord Mitchell replied. I am sorry to end the feast this way, mi'lords. I could not offer my hospitality beyond this night. I thank you for all your courtesies."

The lords murmured their thanks, dipping their heads and scurrying away. They looked eager to be away. Because if it was true, that there was a monster loose, a monster seeking blood, they would want to be away as soon as possible.

Only Lord O'Cullenain tarried a little.

"Are you sure, my good friend?" he said, laying a heavy hand on Lord Mitchell's shoulder. "We could help you flush out this monster."

"Thank you for your offer but I have to refuse. We will find it. And kill it," Lord Mitchell answered, his voice hard and final."Besides, who knows where the monsters be hiding nowadays?"

The O'Cullenain's party was the first to leave in dawn's early light. The camp was struck down quickly in the middle of the night and by the time the sky turned light, streaked with pink and yellow, they were riding hard on the road back to their stronghold.

Luke did not ride his horse this morning; his father had called him into the black carriage, to sit by him. Lord O'Cullenain gazed at his son with hooded eyes. Both of them silent until they were well on their way home.

"I trust you made arrangements? To tidy up that little mess we left behind?" the older man rasped out. His hand went up a little feebly towards the opened window of the carriage and Luke immediately adjusted the blinds to keep out the sun.

Luke nodded. "Yes. It was the three, father. The ones I warned you about."

His father nodded. "Are you rebuking me, my son?"

Luke lowered down his gaze but he could not keep that frustration out of his voice. "I was with the lady Beca and she was about to say yes. She would have if I have not been interrupted by some silly men who can't control their thirst."

"You are too hard on them. Don't you remember how terrible the thirst was?"

Luke felt the reprimand and kept quiet.

"Did anyone took the dying wench? It would be a shame to waste a breeding mare. We need as many 'children' as we can."

"Yes. I've sent someone."

"So you have planted the seed in Lady Beca's mind?"

"Yes."

"Will she come?"

"I am not entirely sure. She will send me word if she agrees."

The older man shut his eyes and rasped out. "We are running out of time. We have to have her. You know what our plans are, Luke."

"Yes, father."

"Perhaps we should carry out the 'raid' as planned. Word or no word."

Luke shuddered a little. "I thought she has to be willing, father."

Lord O'Cullenain opened his eyes and stared at his son. His eyes flashed red. "I rather have her come willingly. It would be sweeter and easier. But if she doesn't, I rather have her unwilling and afraid than not at all. Do you understand?"

There was a moment's silence in the coach, only interrupted by the whinny of horses outside and the sound of the creaking wheels over the stony, dirt road.

"Yes, father. As you command."

Three days later, on the eve of departure

Beca stared at the activity in the courtyard; she was staring at all the servants scurrying about, getting the retinue ready to travel at first light tomorrow but she was not seeing anything. Her heart felt broken. She felt hollow. She was to leave her home, the one she knew all her life, to travel across the land to wed someone she hardly even knew.

And to make matters worse, she had been informed by her father earlier that evening that no, Lady Amelia will not accompany her to her new life. Amy, her friend and companion, would not be joining her. Beca had a screaming fit in her father's chambers when she was told but not even her tantrums and screams moved him. He was adamant that Amy should not go; that there was no need for Amy to go since Beca would have new handmaidens when she took her place at the de Lessops.

It was the worse ever news.

And Amy seemed to have disappeared, without as much as a goodbye.

And Beca felt alone and abandoned.

She sat for a long time watching all the activity before finally rising from her seat and making her way to her bedroom. Her maids were trying hard not to cry in front of her. Impossible as she was sometimes, Beca was still their mistress and they would miss her. Beca guarded her thoughts and sadness from showing on her face. She had to be brave.

But the dinner on her tray laid untouched, the wine not drunk. She had no appetite.

Perhaps it was better this way. She was terrible at goodbyes. She would rise the next morning, get dressed in her travelling finest and board the carriage with a brave smile on her face. It was what Father would want and she would do her daughter's duty.

Beca unclasped the light dressing gown, leaving the silk material opened at her front. It was getting late and she should be in bed. She padded softly in her bare feet towards her bed and was about to get into the bed when she heard that slight sound.

It was the softest shuffle but she heard it all the same.

She did not whirl around in panic. She stayed very calm, fussing with the bedclothes like she was about to get in. Her hand slipped under the pillow on her bed and closed around the dagger. And with a loud yawn, she drew her hand towards her chest and tucked it close, her hand holding the hilt.

Her senses were on high alert.

And then she felt a heavy cloak dropping around her and she opened her mouth to scream. Except a huge hand was covering her mouth, her scream now muffled. She lashed out with her dagger. A soft curse and her hand was caught and wrenched so hard she dropped the dagger. Beca screamed fruitlessly against the hand on her mouth and then she bit down hard.

She drew blood.

She could taste it.

And she felt a fleeting moment of victory.

Before she felt her airway being blocked with that hand again.

And she felt herself losing consciousness. The colours swirling in front of her eyes. The tightness in her chest. The last thing she remembered was her body slumping, losing all strength, before she succumbed to the darkness.