Exile’s Bane Read Online Free PDF Page B

waned. “At this time, the security of this house is my responsibility. I cannot and will not allow you to just willy-nilly walk away.”
    I waved a hand, dismissing his words. His clean-shaven face appealed to me. I longed to run my fingers along its contours. His gaze followed the nervous movements of my hands that accompanied these illicit thoughts.
    “I do not understand what you are afraid of. You have no reason to fear me.”
    “And I do not appreciate your point of view,” I snapped.
    He seemed strangely constrained, as if I had asked him to desert his post.
    “I respect your feelings,” he said. His sudden words flowed out as though he had been holding them back. “I can see that you are not being treated well or fairly. And I say this despite my responsibility to Tor House, to my King, and to my prince, whom I honor above all things.” The constraint remained, and now something else, irritation, I think, played across his features. “Nor should I tell you that I think you should be very careful around Lord Devlin.”
    “I am well aware,” I said, my natural poise regained. “Regardless, I must see him. Whatever he is, he is my only hope. And you are my only chance to get to him.” I fumbled with my hands, to conceal the cuticles I had ravaged in the past hours. “Can you not simply escort me to Lord Devlin and return me to my prison, should he so command, after I’ve seen him? That is within the range of your duties, is it not?”
    His gold-flecked eyes locked with mine in amazement.
    “Perhaps,” he said, his face reddening.
    He pulled me close, turning us both around as he did so, so that his back was to the door and his guards. His head dipped to my neck, but stopped short.
    “I will protect you,” came his passionate voice in my ear. His untainted breath enveloped me.
    My aspiration caught in my throat. I stepped resolutely away from him. “You can do that best by doing as I ask,” I insisted, unable to keep the waver out of my voice.
    He delayed, studying my face. For some moments, he ran blunt fingers around his hat’s edge, finally settling the plumed hat onto his head. Hand at my back, he ushered me quickly across the littered room, between his guards, and out the doorway.
    “Hold your position,” he told his two men.
    Relief left me shaky and anxious. I looked down at my clenched hands as Duncan’s sheltering arm wound around my shoulders. We moved quickly down the back hall toward the private tower. He leaned close, his hat and its peacock feather once again in my face.
    “You are hardly my only responsibility, Elena,” he said in a delicious, chilling whisper. “You must learn to trust me.”
     
     

Chapter Three
    There were lifeguard cavaliers at the library door, all with firelocks. The door stood ajar, the deep hum of voices beyond. Duncan returned the cavaliers’ salutes. He turned his head, listened intently, then smiled. With a lift to his chin, he boldly opened the door and pulled me in with him.
    The library was on the first floor of the private tower, a large, pleasant stronghold untouched by the recent siege. Watery sunlight knifed through the three evenly spaced windows to illuminate the document table on the opposite side of the circular room where sat a cavalier’s tri-bar helmet, probably the earl’s, for he had earlier carried just such a helmet in the great hall. At this time of year, the light left the table well before noon. This I remembered from many days spent in this room with my father. It was still early in the day then, still morning.
    The air was chilly though the hearth popped and fizzled to my right, the old fourteenth century battleaxe still mounted in place above the mantel. Not even the warming fire could dispel the stuffy, moldering parchment smell of the room, this sanctum that had been homey, bright, and clean when my father was alive. I had been here often in those days. My mouth dried up in distress at the painful, abandoned memories