Page 5

His bluntness startled her. “Surely you will be held captive, or perhaps be sent to London. But my father has never killed a captive before, sir.”

Galien laughed. “Ask him his plans for me then.”

She swallowed. “I cannot.”

His eyes narrowed, and then Galien realized why Lord Anbath had not been to see him, or taunt and torture him, more like, yet. He was not in residence. But rather than celebrate the fact, Galien felt his shoulders drop. It would bring a delay to his death, nothing more. He turned when Anbarth’s lovely daughter spoke again.

“I’ve but one question. In exchange, I do promise to offer any comfort I am able while you are at Anbarth.”

The only comfort she could bring would be a set of keys and a clear path away from their wretched place. But there was one other thing she could provide. “Could you bring parchment for a missive and see it sent north?” He laughed again, even more bitterly this time. “Surprised I am able to write?”

She didn’t bother to deny it. “Aye, I am.”

He waited for her answer, and when she provided none, the lantern in her hands swaying back and forth, Galien prompted her again. “Parchment? For a missive?”

“I. . . I will see it done.”

Her lack of confidence did not bolster his, but what did Galien have to lose? She asked only for the answer to one damn question. “Ask it,” he said, moving back toward the bars.

“And you will answer honestly?”

“I will,” he vowed, meaning the words. “Unless you ask again for my name.”

“Have you heard—” She took a deep breath, as if the question were deeply important to her. Despite his circumstances, Galien found himself curious now. What could the daughter of an English baron have to ask of her father’s prisoner that she would be willing to provide a boon for it? “Have you heard,” she started again, “of Dennochbrook?”

Was she trying to trick him? “That is your question?”

She nodded.

“’Tis an easy answer, my lady. Aye, I’ve heard of it.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You have?”

“Aye, lass. I have.”

“What, or where, is it?”

Had the woman hit her head? “What is it?” he repeated. But her eyes were guileless. She really had asked the question but did not know. Galien thought back to the last time he’d passed through there. “A patch of land and trees,” he answered. “There is naught there any longer.”

“Where, precisely?”

He was too tired to play her games. “You asked your question, Lady Reina, and got your answer.” Galien stopped speaking when he saw the tears forming in her eyes. How could he feel pity for the daughter of a man that would be responsible, either directly or indirectly, for his death? But if this woman would give Galien a chance to tell his family, one last time, how much he loved them, then he would do anything to appease her. “Go on,” he said with a patience he did not feel.

Sensing her internal struggle, and knowing he’d not get that parchment once Lady Reina’s father returned—an event that was no doubt imminent since Galien and his companion’s capture—he prompted her to speak. “If you truly wish for information, remaining silent won’t aid your cause, lass.”

God’s bones, did the woman lick her lips then. In answer to the question of whether his cock could grow hard while his body was well-bruised and his death imminent, the answer was, aye.

“For a time I had cause to believe my mother did not birth me. None will speak to me of it. And I’ve no clues as to my real birth, save that one. Dennochbrook. I can find no reference to such a name in any book, and none at Anbarth will speak the word. There is one who was alive during my birth, however, and she freely has shared the word with me, though she also has no notion of its origin. My mother and father have little love for Scots, and even less for my questions about your country. And so I thought, perhaps. . .”

As she trailed off, Galien did a quick calculation in his head. She was the right age. Lady Reina. Anbarth. Dennochbrook.

She waited for his response.

“Pluck me for a bow string.”

“Begging your pardon?”

For the first time since that morn when their camp had been swarmed by English soldiers, the very faintest glimmers of hope formed. “The only thing you should be begging for, my lady, is the keys to this cell. Get them, and not only will I tell you the tale of Dennochbrook, but I will share your identity along with it.”