The sinking feeling of despair pulled her down. She was going to be in so much trouble. Not only would her father stare at her with displeasure and disappointment, but once Raven and Sage found out how impulsive she had been, they would look at her in that harsh, judgmental, superior way.
Her booted feet took step after step toward her doom. She was an adult. She would accept whatever punishment her father decided on.
They turned a corner.
A hand wrapped around her mouth, dragging her back against a hard body. Another hand locked her arms to her side, holding her just below her breasts. She was hauled into a dark room before she could even struggle—before she realized what was happening.
“Not a word, do you hear me?” a voice whispered against her ear.
Christian. Her heart pounded, but not out of fear. Relief and excitement surged through her.
The dark room was lit by one candle on a table casting a small circle of light. A hard body held her tightly against him.
“Where is it?” he demanded. He loosened his hold enough so she could speak, but his hand hovered inches away in case he had to silence her again.
“Where is what?” she asked innocently.
Christian shook her. “Stop it, Willow,” he demanded. “This isn’t funny. You stole the book from me. Where is it?”
“Why would I steal a book?”
“I don’t know why. But no one else could have. It was you. I’m not going to ask again.”
“I mean, a sword I might have taken. Maybe a dagger. But abook?”
He whirled her around to face him, his hands on her shoulders. He shook her again, scowling fiercely. “You are a spoiled, pampered child playing games for men.” His hands swept across her waist, across her belt to the pouch. He ripped the sack off and squashed it in his hand. He tossed it aside, his jaw clenched tight, his blue eyes burning with rage like the hottest part of a flame.
His comment stung. He still saw her as a child. She returned his glare, anger replacing the sting.
His eyes swept over her body. He bent and felt inside her boot.
She stepped away from him. “I don’t have it.”
He glowered up at her from his stooped position. When she remained stubbornly silent, he rose slowly, dangerously before her. “There are men that would kill to get their hands on that book. And those men are here, in this chateau.”
“But there are Templar Knights—”
“These men have infiltrated the chateau. The knights don’t know who to trust any longer.”
She studied him for a moment and then lifted her chin. “I gave the book to Brother Nicolas.”
“Brother Nicolas?” Christian gasped. “Stay here.” He headed for the door.
Willow raced after him, her heart pounding in her chest. “Sage is with him.”
Christian looked left and right at the open doorway and then moved into the hallway, retracing Willow and Raven’s steps.
Willow followed, glancing over her shoulder. Where was Raven? Why hadn’t she come for her? A horrible feeling of anxiety filled her. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Her hand instinctively dropped to the hilt of her weapon as she hurried after Christian.
He strode down the corridor, knowing the way without her having to tell him. He was more familiar with the layout of the chateau than she was. He turned a corner and took the stairs two at a time.
As they reached the bottom, darkness engulfed them. One wavering torch at the bottom of the stairs did little to illuminate the catacombs where Brother Nicolas’s chambers were.
A hiss sounded in the darkness, and Willow recognized it as a sword being removed from its sheath.
Why would Christian take out his sword? Had he seen something she missed? Chills of dread engulfed her. She trailed the sound of Christian’s steps and his darker shadow in front of her against the very black shadows of the hallway. The glow of a flickering candle came from a room ahead of them.
Christian quickened his pace. Willow almost slammed into his back as he paused beside the doorway to Brother Nicolas’s chambers, pressing himself against the cold stone wall.
