Page 12 of An Outlaw’s Desire

Pitt set both of his hands flat on the table, not caring that he’d spilled some of his drink. “Why did you mention Fenton? By God, he had better be all right.”

“He is fine.”

A strangled breath rushed from Pitt.

“He will stay fine—safe, unharmed in any way—as long as you do what I ask.”

Pitt fought the punishing tightness in his chest. Reluctantly, he took his seat again.

The mercenaries also sat.

“My son will remain at the keep, where—?”

“Where you left him, aye, and where he’s been serving as a page,” Sherborne said. “The lad is thriving.”

Pitt’s eyes burned. He’d known his bright boy would do well.

Months ago, Pitt had gotten down on his knees and begged Wallensford’s new lord to accept Fenton into his household. The boy deserved a good life. If he trained to be a squire and then a knight, and his skills became sought-after, he’d be able to rise above the rumors of his grandfather’s treachery. Fenton would never go hungry or be homeless. The lord, who happened to owe a debt to Pitt’s late sire, had grudgingly agreed to take in Fenton, but not Pitt.

Never had Pitt imagined he’d be putting his boy into Sherborne’s realm of influence.

He must get Fenton away from the castle as swiftly as possible.

His lordship drank again and dried his mouth on the back of his hand. “I know what you are thinking.”

“Is that so?”

Sherborne’s mouth curved in a merciless smile. “You’d never get Fenton out of the keep.”

Helplessness rose like bile in Pitt’s throat.

“He does not know it, but he is being watched. Every night. Every day.”

“Why my son? Why me?”

“You can accomplish what I want done.”

Pitt grabbed his mug and downed a large mouthful, unable to wash away the foul taste in his mouth. “What is it you want from me?”

Sherborne leaned forward and braced his elbows on the table. “Do you remember our conversation in the gaol?”

Pitt scowled. “You spoke of treachery and lost riches.”

His lordship nodded.

“I will not betray the crown.”

“I do not ask you to. Well, not exactly. You are going to find the treasure.”

A harsh laugh broke from Pitt. “There is no treasure.”

“Lower your voice.” Sherborne’s sharp gaze darted to the broad-shouldered thug who had risen once more. When his lordship subtly shook his head, the lout sat.

“There is no treasure,” Pitt insisted.

“It exists.”

“I want proof.”