She remembered the times Mandine had stayed with her when she'd been ill as a child. It had only been fitting that she keep the same vigil for Mandine throughout the night. Mandine, whom Elise had thought almost immortal, had died quietly with a full moon high in the sky. She'd closed her eyes and there had been nothing more.
Now Elise bent her head, unmindful of the tracks the tears made down her cheeks, a lone figure in a desolate burial site. With a sense of finality, she murmured a brief goodbye to the woman who had raised her, and laid Mandine to rest.
Several townspeople had come earlier to see Mandine lowered into the ground, but Elise was the only one now on the cold bluff, the wind slicing at her, reminding her more of fall and impending snow than early spring.
Absently, she brushed at the leaves clinging to her skirt, her eyes on the wooden cross marking Mandine's final resting place. The small cemetery was not an unfamiliar place, she had come here often, yet never with the intent to view Mandine's grave. In the twenty-first century, she had often wondered about the grave, unmarked save for a flat stone. Now she knew it belonged to Mandine. If she were indeed able to return to the future, she would put a proper stone for Mandine.
There was a brief lull in the force of the wind, and for a moment Elise swore she heard again a wicked cackle on the air. Shaking her head, she turned and left the grave site. Even Mandine, with the powers she held, could not cheat death.
Elise heard a step behind her, the scrape of a boot on the dry, dusty earth. She looked up, slowly wiping the remnants of tears from her cheeks, surprised to find Darien climbing the small knoll toward her. Her heart began to beat harder, her breath quickening as he drew nearer. Even in her grief he could affect her so.
"I thought you had left," she said, meeting him halfway as she walked in the direction of the road.
Darien fell into step beside her, a frown on his face.
"My trip will wait for another day. Elise, I am truly sorry for your loss, I know how much she -- Mandine -- meant to you." He stepped closer, an arm upraised as if he would embrace her, then halted, his hand dropping to his side. Frowning, he said, "It grows dark. I thought perhaps you should have an escort --"
"I am fine. I can walk back on my own," she reassured him, lifting her chin. She needed no keeper.
"You've changed, 'Lise." She ignored the dart of pain as he shortened her name. Looking up at him, a shadow of a smile curved her lips.
"So have you, Darien." She savored the sensation of his name as it left her lips. Wind lifted the hem of her skirt and she looked to the darkened sky to the northeast. A storm was brewing. "It's only to be expected after such a length of time."
"I keep asking myself -- why now, Elise -- why did you wait so long to return?"
Elise glanced at him, her fingers curling into fists, wanting nothing more than to ease the frown creased into his forehead. She sighed, sad for the time they had lost, dispirited because he didn't know the daughter he had and that he had missed her childhood. She wondered if he could ever forgive her that. It was something he would never get back.
The burial bluff was only a short distance from the center of town, and now they paused mutually at the crossroads. His home was at the end of the road, Mandine's cottage a short distance in the opposite direction.
"Elise, I would invite you to the house for dinner."
His invitation came as if on a sudden thought. Her heart lifted, became lighter, but then Elise remembered the true circumstances. He had another woman in his life, while she. . .
"Thank you, Darien, but I do not think it would be a good idea. If I were Adeline, I wouldn't be happy to have another woman --" Forcing a smile, she turned away.
"No, wait." A certain quality in his voice halted her. "We should resolve this issue. We need to talk about the past . . . and the present."
Now that the opportunity was at hand, Elise felt strangely reluctant, off balance. She hesitated, looking into his beloved face, seeing the character, the man he was now, the man she wanted so dearly to know, but something held her back. How could she tell him of a daughter he might never see?
"What of Adeline?" Softly, the other woman's name left her lips.
Frowning, Darien looked toward the cemetery, his profile silhouetted sharply against the darkening sky. A slight breeze lifted the blond hair at his temples, ruffling it as Elise had once been free to do. At forty-one years of age he still had the power to make her heart race. "Adeline is a sweet girl. She'd never interfere with my plans --"
Elise felt strangely lightheaded as he turned his gaze back to her.
"How can you speak in such a manner of the woman you plan to marry?" Angrily, Elise turned away, a keen disappointment gripping her.
"Elise." Darien grabbed her arm from behind and brought her to a standstill. Elise felt as if her skin were burning, melting to his touch. She couldn't help the soft gasp or the startled eyes which sought his. "Adeline and I are very good friends and she trusts my decisions --"
"I think you should be home with our fiancé."
Darien released her arm and stepped back.
"I did not mean for you to think Adeline's opinions are of no consequence. I would never hurt her. She is a good friend --" he paused, running a hand over the length of his hair, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of frustration. "There is an agreement between Adeline and myself -- one which I feel I must not break. I am sorry, but I am bound by honor and cannot speak further of it, but know I meant her no dishonor."
Reading her bewilderment, Darien grimaced, then his voice became urgent. "That is of lesser importance right now. We must speak of the events which separated us. I was taken aback by your sudden reappearance -- how could I not be? I have had time to weigh the circumstances, to think, and I have decided we must talk --"
"You decided we should get this out of the way?" The very dregs of loneliness pulled at her. "Did Rufus have a hand in this? He seems a reasonable man, while you've been anything but. I can understand your anger, even disappointment in me, but for you to treat me as if I'm beneath your contempt --" she paused, drew in another breath. "I wanted you to hear my side of what happened, but you wouldn't give me a fair hearing. Now, suddenly you've decided you'll give me a chance?"
He clenched his jaw. "Perhaps I was wrong to react the way I did, but damnation, 'Lise, you suddenly appear and act as if not a day has passed, and everything should go on as before. My God! It's been a passage of many years."
"Do you think I am not aware of the time? I have counted the days of every one of those years." She could not control her body's trembling. "I know you cannot understand, but things are not as simple as they appear. Since the last time we were together, I have been trying to get back. I feel as if not a day has passed when I have not yearned to return."
Not a day has passed when I have not loved you.
But she did not speak those words aloud. She still had some pride.
The incredulous look on his face spoke of his disbelief.
Right or wrong, Elise felt he'd let her down. She had been so ready to trust and believe in him, yet he'd scorned her before an explanation left her lips.
"Forget it, Darien," she said tiredly. "Forget me. It seems that is what you want the most." The strain of the last forty-eight hours was beginning to tell. "Perhaps it no longer matters, the events of that night, long ago." She walked away, empty, knowing very well it did matter. There was no satisfaction in giving him back what she had received at his hands, there was merely a dull ache in her heart.
#
Darien let her go, watched her until she entered the cottage. With a low growl, he turned and strode in the opposite direction, eaten up inside as he recalled the closed, defeated look on her face. She had changed. Twenty-four years ago he had been able to read every emotion as it crossed her features. She had been a gentle creature, easily pleased.
Now, he knew nothing of the feelings of the woman she'd become. He no longer knew Elise. Gone was the young girl he'd so passionately loved. And gone was the young man who looked at life with fresh, eager eyes.
There was been no happiness in her now. He couldn't help but feel he'd put that sadness there, despite the fact that it had been she who had abandoned him long ago. And she had abandoned him -- to a man who took delight in meting out punishment.
It was indeed true they had both changed.
He didn't want to dwell on her beauty, or the fact that it had not lessened in the passing of time. Her presence in town was a sore eating at him, and there would be no peace until he resolved whatever it was that held him in her power, even now.
Damnation! He'd been pigheaded and stupid, as Rufus had claimed, but no longer. He would learn the truth of that night. He had a right to know, and if the truth was as he thought, then they'd both be damned to hell!
#
The hoof beats were like a pulse in the night, rhythmic and unceasing, as the dark rider flew across the landscape, the last rays of the sun catching a glint of silver harness, then losing it to the night.
Horse and rider kept ahead of the impending storm, the wind nipping restlessly at their heels, the horse flying over tree limbs that blocked his path on the road.
The horse slowed, then came to a halt. The dark rider, the Hellhound, vaulted lithely from the saddle, a silent shadow. Leaving the horse in a concealing stand of trees, he walked stealthily toward the farm house, moving closer to the disturbing mixture of crying and raucous laughter.
Torch light illuminated the small log structure that had been built into the side of a hill. From his vantage point he saw two men dressed in buckskins and feathered headbands, garish masks concealing their faces. The house had been ransacked, furniture, dishes and clothing strewn in disarray on the ground, personal mementoes flung about the yard as they pulled a weeping woman and young boy into the night. A man lay face down upon a stone wall which encircled the dwelling.
The Hellhound scanned the scene quickly, mentally taking note of a third fellow, a mounted sentry just beyond the perimeter of torch light.
Ever so quietly, he crept closer, deciding it was time for a diversion.
The diversion came a moment later on the east side of the dwelling. An unearthly puff of yellow, then a widening billow of choking, sulfurous smoke.
"Hell's fire! Do you see that --" gasped one of the outlaws. An eerie flapping of wings grew louder, then more intense, and a hundred bats or more flew down and across the yard, almost as if they were chasing the men down.
The men ran for cover, hands in the air protectively over their heads. "Let's beat it out of here. Beldar will have to see to his own raiding this night."
The two men ran toward their horses.
"Stand fast, or you'll rue the day you ran." The order was barked from the shadows and the men hesitated.
The mounted rider nudged his horse forward, narrowed eyes searching the night. Although minus the feathered headband, he too wore buckskins. As if disdaining a cumbersome mask, his face wore a concealing blackish paint.
"Beldar -- sir," stuttered one of the men, "'tis the devil's work. Why, I can smell the very sulfur of hell in the air. I fear he has come for us, I know it --"
"Be silent, you fool!" his voice cut like ice. "'Tis a mere mortal who plays with you. Now grab that boy and you there," he addressed the second man, "get her. They'll be of use to us."
He twisted in his saddle, eyes piercing the darkness. "The talk of spirits in these hills is fed by a fool's fear." He raised his voice. "Come out, Hellhound, for I know 'tis your doing. You be a mortal man, although I wager you've come from the bowels of hell." He laughed, resting a reassuring hand across his rifle. "I've a notion to send you back so Satan can torment your damned soul forevermore." His boldness encouraged the other men to stand fast, their torches high in the air as they too searched the night.
"I choose to join the game you play with helpless women and children," the whisper rasped eerily towards them, carrying a strange, disembodied element. No man was certain where it actually came from.
The sound of a whip cracked the still air, then a cry of pain. The man holding the young woman fell to his knees, hands going to his leg as he moaned in pain. Lifting his hand from the rent in his pant leg, he cried out to see a dark crimson staining his palm.
The second man, dragging along a young boy of about ten, let the boy's arm go and hurriedly stepped back to look nervously about, raising his torch in the air. He sidled closer to his horse, causing the horse to dance sideways.
Beldar laughed contemptuously, spinning his horse about as he searched the shadows. "Is there naught you can do but play childish tricks? I am not impressed."
"Perhaps you lack the intelligence to realize you are in danger --" taunted the disembodied whisper, "Indeed, you should be wary of me. I have you in my sights and you are at a disadvantage. Should I choose to do so, I could strike you down."
"Then do it, damn you!" snarled Beldar. "Show yourself, coward!" His eyes darted, noting the woman and boy now knelt beside the wounded man. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of another figure. With a grunt of satisfaction, he turned his mount, but was suddenly brought up short. Stunned as he was by a sight that disturbed him so greatly, his body began to shake as if with fever.
Mandine stood in front of the dwelling, an eerie white light swirling behind her. For the first time in his life, Beldar was afraid.
"It is impossible!"
Fingers twitching, he wheeled his horse in her direction, kicking the animal so that he reared up, then lunged forward and crow-hopped over a low stone wall.
"Son of a bitch! You are dead, you old witch -- curse you -- I know you are dead!"
She seemed to waver, then she cackled as clearly as if she were beside him.
She pointed a bony, gnarled finger at him. "There are all kinds of death," she jeered, "and when the time is right, I will rejoice in welcoming you to yours."
He lifted his rifle. When her empty black eyes were in line with the bead of his sight, he pulled the trigger. When the smoke from the shot cleared, she was still there, her mouth wide in laughter so loud it hurt his ears.
The cold sweat of fear ran down his cheeks, trickling along his back. He fired wildly again.
Her mocking laughter grew and grew, ringing in his ears, echoing around him. So unnerved was he that Beldar dropped his rifle. He looked down between his horse's legs, heard the wooden butt of the rifle as it cracked beneath the animal's restless feet.
Mouth working, he jerked back on his mount's reins.
"Let us be gone," he muttered hoarsely, not realizing his men had fled when he'd begun yelling and firing into empty air.
#
Darien watched in amazement as Beldar streaked from the yard. He stood up, carefully winding his bullwhip. He fastened it once more to the thong at his hip, then moved forward to kneel beside the unconscious man lying across the stone wall.
"Thank you, sir," declared the woman, "I am most grateful for your intervention." She wiped her cheeks, her voice still shaky with fear. "You have surely saved our lives."
He glanced quickly at her and the boy. "You are both unhurt?"
They nodded in the affirmative as he lifted the man, hefting him onto his shoulder, grunting as the dead weight shifted against his upper arm.
Pushing the door open with his boot, he carried the unconscious man into the darkened house to settle him on a cot before the fire.
The woman hurriedly grabbed a wet cloth and gently wiped her husband's brow, cleaning the dried blood from the gash he'd received to his head.
She looked up from her ministrations with tears of gratitude. "I do thank you, Sir, most sincerely." Her eyes fell on his sleeve, the gaping hole and seep of red. "Mercy! You have been wounded."
He waved away her concern. "Please minister to your husband. I will be on my way and see that the doctor from Eastkill is dispatched immediately." He paused by the door, his boots scraping the wooden threshold. "One more thing, Madam -- do you know the reason for this intrusion tonight?"
"No, Sir. I had heard of the Calico Indians, but never would I have thought they would come after us. They are said to save folks from the land agents who would steal from us. But tonight they was looking for our gold. They said we had it hid. They struck my Timmy down when he said we had none.
"'Tis not well known, but my husband's brother died not more than two weeks, leaving a wealth of fortune in hemlock and oak to my Timmy. Truth is, Timmy's been sick and hasn't been able to log the timber for the tannery. We may be rich, but any gold there is still lies in the woods."
"Be assured those men were not 'Calico Indians' but outlaw bandits come to steal whatever of value they could find."
He pulled open the door.
"Sir," the woman called, "please, how do I address you? Who can I say saved us this night?" She saw his hesitation. "Please, sir."
"My name is unimportant," he rasped.
"You are the Hellhound," she said with satisfaction, "I am sure of it. And may God continue to bless you in your efforts."
Without further ado, he left the house, ignoring the burning of his arm.
The small boy ran across the room as the door swung shut. Shoving a stool under the window, he pushed the shutters wide, staring out into the night with wide eyes, anxiously searching for a last glimpse of a new-found hero.
The night was silent.
#
"I tell you -- it is the truth! I saw it with my own eyes. She was no more dead than I. 'Twas no apparition --"
"For God's sakes, be quiet, fool! Do you wish to be overheard?" The voice was like a lash, and instantly, the first speaker closed his mouth.
Coldly, the dark eyes of the second man raked over him, a contemptuous curl lifting thin lips. "I would not have believed it, Beldar, to see you like this. You act as if you've seen the ghost of your mother --"
"You may sneer, but if you had seen what we seen this night, there might a been a different tale. It was that witch Mandine, I tell you. Real flesh and blood, or what looks like it. She stood there, laughing. I shot her full in her ugly face, and it made not a difference."
The other man watched Beldar's face, reading the hysterical terror which lingered in his eyes, the clenching of fist, the fine tremor by his mouth. He felt himself tensing, then sat down, deliberately flicking open his knife and slicing an apple.
"Perhaps what you think you saw was merely a trick -- what someone wanted you to see and think." He sat forward, jabbing the knife point down into the table before him. It quivered a moment, drawing both men's eyes. "We both know the Hellhound employs tricks."
Beldar jerked his head up and wildly shook it. "I tell you, she was real as life. She spoke." He shivered, his whole body racked with it. "I cannot get over it -- her cackle -- it give me a shiver even now."
"Pull yourself together -- you are of no use to me otherwise." The other man stood, his hand reaching out lightning fast and bringing the one called Beldar close. Cruelly, he twisted the shirt at the man's neck, watching with satisfaction as Beldar's face became mottled, then purplish."Do we understand each other?"
Beldar barely managed a nod.
With a contemptuous laugh, the other man pushed him back, watching him fall to the floor and grab his throat with shaking hands.
"See that you don't forget," remarked the one who stood, idly twisting the knife between his fingers. "You know how I feel about cowards and cheats." He shoved a chair toward the man lying prostrate, a frown of concentration on his face. "Come, sit. We must devise a plan to discredit the Hellhound once and for all. He's a mere mortal, I guarantee it, but I grow weary of his interference in my business."
#
Elise tilted her head, certain she'd heard a noise outside. Perhaps it was nerves; she was certainly on edge. It was probably just the cow in the pen, or the goat tied in the small shack out back. It was a windy night. There could be any number of things blowing about.
The noise again.
Elise tensed. It wasn't the rising wind but a sound like a footstep.
She stood and wiped her palms down the sides of her jeans, a prickle of fear darting across her skin.
Elise had been trying to distract herself, keep her mind busy in an attempt to forget for a while the circumstances she found herself in. She looked at Mandine's supply of herbs and creams, of which there were plenty. It was a wasted effort, keeping her thoughts on mundane things rather than on those which wanted to torment her.
She had no gun to protect herself, even if she'd known how to use one. Her eyes fell on the iron poker she'd used a short time ago to stir the lazy fire in the grate. It was curved wickedly into a point at the end and it might be useful.
Quickly she lifted the heavy rod and walked toward the door. Its weight made it an effort to hold it upright. Without letting fear overwhelm her, Elise pulled the back door of the cottage open.
She could see nothing. Grabbing a lantern from inside, she advanced several feet into the night, quickly looking left and then right.
Suddenly, the poker was yanked from her grasp and twisted. She swung the lantern in an arc and she heard a muffled oath. The lantern shattered as it hit the ground. In total darkness, she stumbled back and pushed the door but the thin wood buckled without much effort. Frantically Elise searched the dim interior of the cottage for something to defend herself, but there was nothing. She ran across the room, intent on reaching the front door, but he was there before her like some winged creature, his bulk blocking her escape.
Breathing hard, Elise looked up. "You!" she gasped.
His voice was barely a whisper. "I knew your welcome would be less than hearty but I had to take the chance. I've come to warn you."
"You should have stayed away," Elise shot back, mouth tight as she folded her arms protectively across herself. "I don't appreciate being locked in a barn."
"Obviously you managed to get out," he said. If she could have seen his face she was sure there was a smirk.
"Hellhound, please leave."
"You must leave this cottage, especially now with Mandine gone."
Elise retreated, her throat tight with emotion, a heavy burning at the back of her lids. It was an effort, but she looked at him, met the indiscernible gleam of his eyes through the slitted mask. "You're a stranger --" Elise shook her head. "Mandine said you have helped people in this area, but I don't know you, you remain behind that mask." She turned away from him, sat in a chair by the dying fire. "Nothing is as I expected. Everything has become very complicated, and now I've lost Mandine, the one person I could trust."
"What are your plans?"
Elise laughed. "I have no plans. I had no plan," she muttered, "and that's the problem. I returned without a plan. I was so shortsighted, you know, to think only of him. I should have thought more of myself. I should have thought of Isabeau." She shook her head, staring at the barely glowing embers in the fire pit. "I've never felt so out of place and time. Not even all those years ago when I left this place and the despair so deep."
"Who is Isabeau?" he asked.
Elise turned her head quickly away. "You ask questions but tell me nothing."
"Tell me of this other place," he urged. "And the ones you left behind."
Elise moved across the room to the fire. She felt his presence, his energy, even though she could barely see his shadow."There is no reason to regale you with a story you would be hard pressed to believe," she said softly.
"Confessions made in the dark are often the easiest."
"It's late," she said firmly. "I don't know why you've come, but you're not doing me any favors by being here. I can't see your face. I want you to leave."
"It is for your safety I keep this mask in place."
Suddenly he was beside her, tall and looming. The strength of his hand snared hers. Elise stared at his throat in the small glow cast by the embers, saw the muscles working there. She bit her cheek, letting her eyes wander up the contour of his head, the blankness of his mask, frowning. There was virtually no light. . ..
She placed a hand against his chest. It was firmly muscled, unyielding. Her fingers opened, moved, tingling at the contact, then she made herself step back. It was a half-hearted effort at best and she knew it. The chair caught her behind the knees. She sat down abruptly.
He knelt beside her. Mouth compressed, Elise looked away from him, trying to ignore the sensual tension that suddenly rose between them.
"I shall leave," his whisper was gravelly. Elise clenched her fingers against the arms of the chair.
"Yes." She hated that she felt a pull of attraction winding around her like a silken cord.
It was Darien she wanted, not this faceless stranger. He represented an unknown element of danger -- was she the type of person who needed a vicarious thrill of excitement?
He moved back toward the door.
"I have your cloak." She reached for the black cloak he'd left with her. He extended his hand to take it but with a hiss of indrawn breath he dropped his hand.
"What is it?" Elise touched his arm, her fingers came away warm and wet. "You're bleeding."
"The ball went right through. It will heal in a few days."
"You've been shot?" her voice rose. "By the feel of your shirt, you've lost quite an amount of blood. It must be bandaged."
She urged him over to the table. "Mandine has herbs to make the healing quicker." Lighting a candle, she sorted through the herb stores which were carefully labeled.
Elise came back with several dried plants. "I wish I had some antibiotic," she muttered. She ground the plants with the mortar and pestle. She'd watched Mandine mix herbs countless times, but it had been so long ago. . ..
Suddenly, Mandine's voice was in her head, instructing her as to the correct plants and mixture to use. If Elise had not known better, she would have said Mandine stood beside her.
Carefully, she used the knife he proffered to cut away the remainder of his shirt sleeve. Elise then washed the wound, deciding that he was right: the ball had passed right through the flesh. It was still a painful looking hole, red and black with the muscle tissue shredded inside.
She felt ridiculously shaky. "You'll be really lucky if you have full use of your arm again."
"It will heal." His voice was a rasp in the dark. He flexed his arm as if to show her it still worked.
"Don't!" Elise gripped his lower arm, the tough corded muscle flexing beneath her fingers. "It's bleeding again."
She knew he watched her, but she concentrated on the wound. She dabbed at it with a clean cloth, gently smeared it with a mixture of herbs and cream. Lastly, she bound the wound with strips of clean linen, hoping it wouldn't get infected.
She felt him tense as she tied the knot. Looking up, Elise found it frustrating she couldn't make out the features behind the mask. The lack of light was a hindrance.
He came to his feet. "Thank you."
She reached for a lantern beside the fire but one large hand encircled her wrist, preventing her.
"It is better if you do not."
"Better for whom?" she snapped. "You have all the answers and I'm literally in the dark." His scent teased her nostrils.
"You need a man to protect you," he said.
Elise laughed. "How out of date." How could she be attracted to this unknown man? "I care for someone else," Elise said, "but I don't need anyone to protect me."
"What if circumstances were different? What if I were the one you loved?"
"But you're not," she said flatly. "However, if you were, I would tell you to stop this dangerous game you play."
Suddenly his fingers scorched her as he lifted the delicate chain and heart she wore around her neck. His fingers clenched on the gold chain a moment, so that she feared he would break it but he released it. "Where did you come by this heart? Surely 'tis a lover's gift?"
"A gift long ago from someone I cared about."
"But no longer?"
She enclosed the locket in her hand.
Suddenly horses traveled quickly along the road. He moved swiftly to the window and peered past the curtain.
"Are they after you?" Elise asked. "If they catch you they'll put you in jail, maybe hang you. Surely it's not worth it."
"It must be done."
"Tell me who you are."
"No secrets tonight."
"But you are the Hellhound," she said.
"Yes, I am."
#
Darien wondered why he cared what happened to her. It was incredibly easy to become caught up in the play of her fire and ice. He was ensnared by her. He had vowed to stay away, and yet here he was.
He turned one last time, and in the shadows cast by the dying fire, he saw her tumbled mass of hair, her face a perfect oval. Her body was poised as if awaiting a sign from him that would push both of them into this madness of attraction.
He would swear there was no guile or deceit in her eyes. "If you will not come with me and leave this place then I must go," he muttered hoarsely. He would keep watch outside. She had no idea how much danger she was in.
Elise stared at him. "Mandine knew who you were, I am sure of it. She wouldn't tell me -- another secret she kept."
Darien shrugged. "She may have guessed -- she may have known. It does not matter."
"She just wanted to keep me safe. Maybe I should go see the Sheriff."
"You can do that but I would caution you against seeing the Sheriff from this village. Seek the law enforcement in Catskill. You should be cautious as to who you trust. Who has been to see Mandine in the last week?"
"My father, Darien Remington, and his brother Rufus -- they were all here the other day." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't even suggest Darien or Rufus might be involved, because it's not possible. Darien might have been mad at Mandine, but he'd never harm her."
"Why would he be angry with Mandine?"
Elise gritted her teeth. "For something he thinks Mandine had a hand in a long time ago. Why would you care about these people?" she asked suspiciously.
"It pays to know a potential enemy."
"Are you implying Darien and Rufus are your enemies?"
"I am merely saying I do not wish to see you harmed, therefore if anyone is bent on mischief, I would try to avert it." He paced the floor. "Living alone here, you are unprotected --"
"I won't run and hide."
"A woman alone is an easy target."
Impatiently, Elise opened her mouth to tell him he was crazy, but then she realized he was right. This was 1846, not the twenty-first century. She, better than anyone, knew the difference.
"If you're trying to frighten me, you've succeeded." However, despite his warning, she remained adamant. "I'm not running."
Without answering he left. One moment he was there, the next the door swung gently back and forth.
Elise stood in the doorway but she could see nothing in the darkness outside. She closed the door and bolted it from inside.
Darien bedded down a short distance from the cottage. Elise was stubborn, too independent, and surely would get herself harmed. He had no choice but to keep guard.
The memory of the fire in her eyes stayed with him through the night. Darien scanned the area but all seemed quiet. Elise was so different from how he remembered her. He would discover her secrets, no matter how closely she thought to guard them. And then he would tell her about Adeline.
#
Just before light Darien led his mount into the stables.
Accustomed to the routine, his horse stood patiently as he removed burlap from his hooves, removed girth, saddle and bridle.
Darien nudged the horse gently with two fingers, encouraging the animal to sidestep closer to the wall. After carefully cleaning the saddle, he then placed it in a concealing wooden box under a bundle of hay.
Returning to the animal, he curried dried sweat from muscled hindquarters, a measure of calmness coming over him as he performed the necessary ritual, the appreciative grunt of his companion affording him satisfaction.
Smiling to himself, he placed a measure of sweetened oats before the horse. The animal lifted his head, ears pricked forward.
Continuing to brush the horse, Darien remarked, "They struck the Upper Valley, way up in the Spruce Woods."
The animal dipped his head once more into the feed trough.
A shadow shifted from the doorway and Rufus appeared, lighting an oil lamp, carefully turning down the wick. Elongated shadows leapt along rough walls, twin shadows side by side. "Anyone killed?" Rufus asked, his voice rasping.
"No, just terrified." Darien's lips curled disdainfully. "The thieves were bent on mischief -- kidnapping, perhaps worse, of a woman and her child. The husband they struck down from behind."
"Very common with the likes of them," muttered Rufus, briskly rubbing his palms together. "It is a cold breeze out there."
"A storm brews from the northeast. I fear there will be a lash of ice before the morn is over."
Rufus leaned in closer, brows drawn together in a frown.
"What is this?" His fingers flicked at the strips of linen binding his arm.
Darien stepped from the horse's stall and turned to latch the gate. "Merely a flesh wound."
Rufus sighed. "The Hellhound sees more danger with the passing of time."
"You must admit our success lies in the element of surprise, the hidden danger of our mission."
Rufus grinned. "Who would think there are two Hellhounds? With a bit of magic thrown in to make things more interesting, but 'tis a wearisome task. Is there no end to that one's treachery?"
"You know he has no care for who he hurts. We agreed when this began we could not stand by and witness the slaughter of the innocent."
"Do not misunderstand, I only decry the foul means he employs in preying on the helpless."
"Well," Darien added, "we need more time and evidence if we are to eliminate his stranglehold. Should something happen to me, you know --"
"Damnation!" Rufus extinguished the lamp as they stepped from the rough shelter, "Do not tempt the hand of fate, for surely you will bring its attention to you."
They stepped outside together and stood a moment against the door. With rising fury, the chill wind tore at them, cutting through cloak and great coat alike.
"You have been to see her, have you not?" The wind almost carried away his brother's words, but Rufus saw the answer in Darien's eyes. "Argh, we are very much alike, you and I. I know what I would do in similar circumstances."
"The dark-haired siren?" Darien asked.
"Yes. When this is finished, I am going back to the sea. I swear I will find her this time."
Rufus' eyes dropped again to the neatly tied dressing on Darien's arm.
"She did that. Man! Think on the risk -- all it takes is one slip of the tongue, no matter how well you disguise your voice. By God, you should know that. We have enough on our heads with the increased looting, you must be more cautious than ever. Patrols scout daily for the Hellhound. Is she worth such sacrifice?"
"Sacrifice?" a half laugh rumbled. He ran a heavy hand through the wind tossed length of his hair.
"Should you be caught --"
"There is that risk," Darien agreed. "At one time I would have said she is worth any risk."
"And now?"
"Now I do not know."
Rufus paused with booted foot upon the bottom step of the back porch as green eyes very much like his own stared back at him. "I say this not in jest, keep clear of the Lancaster woman while in this disguise."
"If she is in danger, you know I cannot stay away." Darien balled up the black mask he held and stuffed it inside his leather vest. "What of the dark haired witch who turned your very existence upside down? What would you do if it was her?"
Rufus smiled for a moment in memory, then frowned, cursing. "Don't remind me of that."
"Well, she's got me twisted up the same way that witch had you twisting in the wind." Darien laughed. "If you had asked me about Elise last week I would have shrugged it off." He looked with far seeing eyes towards the mountains still bathed in early morning mist. "Until I saw her again, I did not realize how much I have been hiding from the past."
"I imagine you and Adeline have much to talk about," Rufus murmured.
They entered the house by way of a seldom-used entrance, the door closing on well-oiled hinges behind them.