After he departed the chamber, he went down the stairs and returned outside. As he cast a look back at the ruins, a sense of guilt passed over him. He felt responsible for the brethren who had lived within these walls. The abbot and the holy men were innocent, blameless for what had happened. The raiders had been seeking holy treasures, and they had set the abbey on fire during the attack.
The moment he’d witnessed the flames against the night sky, he should have ridden hard to reach the men instead of alertinghis commander. The delay had meant the difference between life and death.
Raine stopped before one of the graves, brushing the snow from the simple wooden cross he’d made. For a moment, he rested his hand upon the wood, feeling the rise of anger. He’d been too late. Although he’d tried to help the monks escape, their quarters had been consumed by flames and he’d nearly burned to death himself. Had it not been for one of the brethren dragging him out of the fire, he would not have survived. And then that monk had died, too.
The raw ache flooded through him. He hadn’t been able to save these men any more than his sisters—and he could sense the ghosts of their disapproval haunting his conscience.
The air was cold, and it was nearly Imbolc, the Irish feast of Saint Brighid. Raine returned to the stables to prepare a horse. He wondered if his commander, Sir Darren de Carleigh, would send men to bring him back. It had taken a great deal of convincing for the man to grant him leave. He suspected that Darren had only allowed it because he recognised the need to bury the bodies—and because it was a means of doing penance.
The two days Raine had spent here alone had given him a false sense of peace. His soul was already damned, but at least he could give the monks a proper burial. He glanced back at the chapel, wondering what to do about Lady Carice. Her very presence had tangled up his plans—but not in the way she imagined. His conscience warned that he should leave her alone...but there was no doubt she could be of use to him.
He took a bow and arrows, then rode out into the forest, moving deeper into the stillness. The morning air was cool, andthere were no sounds at all—not even birds. Their lack of noise made him wary. The shadows of the trees hung over him, while golden light skimmed the tops of the bare branches. Raine drew his horse to a stop and dismounted. Nocking an arrow to his bow, he paused, searching for the source of the tension. Frost rimmed the dry leaves, and he moved with stealth.
There. He spied a small group of men on the far side of the wood. Perhaps a dozen intruders, most on horseback. He didn’t know if they were searching for Carice, but he intended to find out why they were here. Silently, he gave his horse a light push, sending the animal out of the woods and back to the abbey. Then he moved in closer, climbing a tree to get a better glimpse of them.
One was carrying the High King’s banner, and he saw another older man whose face appeared grim. The Irish soldiers broke off into smaller groups, searching the forest—most likely for Carice.
She’d wanted her freedom and had fought with all of her strength to flee these men and reach the sanctuary of the abbey. If he wanted to be rid of her, all he had to do was bring them to her.
Yet, that wasn’t at all what he wanted. He didn’t know why a possessive urge had come over him, but he could not allow her to fall into the hands of these men. He had failed, time and again, to save innocent people from being harmed. Carice would face punishment for daring to run, and he didn’t want that to happen.
This time, he would succeed in protecting an innocent life.
An insidious voice within him prompted,Or you could use her to get close to the High King.
He shut down the thought, for his own purposes didn’t matter. What mattered was protecting the lady from being recaptured—for if those men reached the abbey, they would find her within moments.
Unless he intervened.
The best way to keep her free of these men was to hide all traces of her. Raine climbed down from the tree, hurrying back to the outskirts. They would find his tracks and follow him, but he had an advantage. He knew the abbey well, after spending days here. He also knew of the secret passageways between the walls, for the abbot had left one of them open. Most of the alcoves were so narrow, his shoulders brushed against both sides of the walls—but no one would find them.
When Raine reached the clearing, he found his horse and swung up, riding hard for the abbey. The only thing that mattered now was protecting her.
And in this, he would not fail.
Chapter Three
Carice awoke to the sound of her chamber door being thrown open. Raine de Garenne stood there, his hood down at last. Why? He’d gone to such lengths to conceal himself that she’d begun to think he was scarred or disfigured in some way. Instead, he was one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.
His dark golden hair was cut short against his head, his face clean-shaven. His eyes were a deep green, his mouth a firm slash. There was a quiet sense of determination about him, an air of command that gave her confidence. She had lied before when she’d claimed she had seen his face. But now that she saw him, a rush of self-consciousness made her cheeks flush.
Before Carice could say anything, he dumped sand upon the fire, extinguishing it immediately. Then he crossed over to the bed and pulled back the coverlet. “Come with me,” he commanded, lifting her into his arms.
“Where? What is happening?” Her pulse quickened with fear as he strode toward the wall.
“The High King’s men have come for you. And I suspect your father is with them.”
Dear God. Then they had tracked her here, as she’d feared. If they found her, they would force her to continue toward Tara, the dwelling of the Ard-Righ. She couldn’t bear the thought.
But Raine’s strength was comforting, and she rested her cheek against his chest, feeling the cool links of the chain mail armor he wore. It was a tangible reminder that he was a soldier, a man fully capable of guarding her.
He led her to the back corner, where a simple cross hung upon the wall. After setting her down, he seized the cross and pushed hard. A chunk of stones the size of a window moved inward, revealing an opening just large enough for her to climb inside.
She wanted to ask questions about how he’d known of such a place, but Raine’s swiftness revealed the need to remain silent. He lifted her into the space, and she found herself within a narrow corridor hidden behind the wall.
He stood upon the bed and swung one leg, then the other, into the opening, before setting the stone and cross back into place. Darkness enveloped them, and she kept both palms upon either wall, trying to ignore the cold. Her body shuddered, her teeth chattering.
“Your hood,” she started to ask, but he drew his arm around her waist and touched a finger to her lips.
