“Going somewhere?”
The earl was astride a tall black warmblood, gazing down at Riston as if he had expected nothing less than the man’s escape. Riston’s heart sank as he glanced around, noting several soldiers and Lyla unceremoniously slung across one warrior’s saddle. She continued to squirm and struggle, tears on her face. Immediately, the situation was very, very bad.
“Yes, actually,” Riston said calmly. “I was going to go for a walk. The vault is so terribly cramped, you know. Bad for my health.”
The earl smiled humorlessly. “So you were going to take a walk with a personal escort. My, my, we do treat our prisoners well.”
“Well enough,” Riston agreed simply for the sake of conversation. Lyla was still squirming in the arms of the burly soldiers and Riston felt an extreme sense of protectiveness towards her. “I would remain forever your humble servant if you would let the lady go.”
The earl passed a glance at Lyla and shook his head. He appeared genuinely sad. “Wicked child. All of these years I have treated her as family and this is how she repays me. Shocking.”
“I forced her to.”
Lyla heard him and shouted. “He did not! I did this of my own free will, Uncle Richard. Do you hear me? Do not harm him. This was my own idea!”
Richard shook head again. “I know her far too well. I knew she was going to help you escape. It was inevitable. Quite frankly, I was surprised it took her this long. It was simply a matter of waiting for her to make her move.”
Any pleasantness or humor was gone from the conversation. Riston knew that he and Lyla were in a good deal of trouble. “Whatever you do to me, I accept. But do not harm Lady Lyla.”
The earl cocked an eyebrow. “Why not? She has betrayed me, has she not? Just like her uncle and cousin. They are all traitors and must be dealt with accordingly.”
Riston feared for Lyla more than himself. “She is young and impressionable, my lord. I would pray that you show mercy and wisdom when considering her punishment.”
The earl snorted. “Hmm, perhaps. But you are a different matter entirely. You know better, De Titouan, and now you have given me little choice in the matter.”
Riston’s blood ran cold. “What do you intend to do?”
“What I should have done this morning.”
Quickly, Riston evaluated the situation; there was a grove of trees about three hundred yards to his left. He could not outrun the men on horseback. His mind was whirling and suddenly he saw Lyla jerk, as if she had been hit or some other violent movement. The warrior behind her on the horse abruptly toppled to the ground and in a blur of red hair, Lyla was suddenly racing towards him. No words needed to be spoken; she reined the horse close enough so that Riston was able to leap onto the animal’s back. Though he nearly lost his grip and fell off, eventually he righted himself and together, he and Lyla raced through the trees with the earl and his men in pursuit.
It was the most wild, fearful, exciting thing either of them had ever done.
*
Dennis awoke to a very bright morning. The chamber was fragrant with the scent of cloves and a fire smoldered in the hearth and for a brief second, Dennis felt contentment such as he had never known. Thoughts of Ryan were thick in his brain, having dreamt something very pleasant about her somewhere in the night. But in the next brutal moment, all of the previous night’s events tumbled down on him and he realized that he was very much alone in his great bed. Ryan was no longer in his arms and panic, more than he had ever felt in his life, swept him.
He bolted from the mattress with astonishing agility. “No!” he roared. “God, no! Ryan!”
He was nearly to the door when a soft hiss came from the direction of the hearth. He had been in such a state that he hadn’t noticed the chair next to the flames, or the figure sitting in it. But he turned on his heel at the sound, so hastily that he lost his balance and crashed backwards into the door. And then, his astonished gaze could hardly believe the sight that faced him.
“You are loud enough to bring down the walls,” Ryan said, her voice very soft and weak. “What are you shouting for? I am right here.”
He thought he whimpered, or something that sounded very close to it. He moved toward her, a sort of unbalanced gait, before finally plunging to his knees. He wanted to embrace her, touch her, eat her up all at the same time and his hands were shaking as they reached for her. Ryan smiled at him, exceedingly pale but quite obviously alive, and Dennis came apart at the seams.
“My dear God,” he breathed, touching her face, her hair. “Are you real, Ryan? Have you truly come back to me?”
She nodded. “Indeed, and I have been awake for hours waiting for you. Do you know that you snore like an old bear?”
He laughed, sort of, but it was more of a pent-up release. His arms went around his wife and before he realized it, he was sobbing into her lap. Ryan stroked his hair tenderly, her soft coos soothing his tired, relieved heart.
“Dennis, Dennis,” she hushed him. “All is well, my love. I am fine, truly.”
“I thought I had lost you,” he mumbled into her thighs. “The physic said you were as good as gone. Never did I think… I simply cannot believe…”
He was struggling to compose himself. Thoroughly weak, so much so that she could barely spend the energy to comfort her husband, Ryan’s heart was filled with elation as she ran her fingers through his fine blond hair. Never could she have imagined his reaction to her recovery; her father, true enough, had shed tears during the night when he had realized that his daughter was stirring in her sleeping husband’s arms. It had taken both Thomas and Charlotte to loosen Dennis’ grip on Ryan so that Patrizia could pull her free.
At Ryan’s insistence, Thomas had placed her in the chair by the hearth; I am tired of lying about, she had told him, though she was as weak as a newborn babe.
But… you are supposed to be dead! Thomas had exclaimed. True enough, she felt near death. But she wasn’t. And sitting by the warming fire had helped her spirits and body a great deal.
Do not wake him, Da, she had told her father. Let him sleep. He is exhausted. Thomas had spilled out the story of Dennis’ fierce vigil between fatherly hugs, and Ryan had been more than touched. So Dennis had slept well into the morning, as Ryan listened to his great snores rattle the walls. It had been a joyful, comforting sound.
Charlotte had come and gone, the old physic had also come and gone, and Patrizia was sleeping in the next room with her small daughters. Thomas was downstairs observing the rebuilding of St. Austell to leave Ryan alone, at her request, with her husband. She wanted hers to be the very first face he saw when he awoke. And now, he sat at her feet, his face buried in her lap, weeping like a child.
“I am sorry, love, truly,” he sniffled and wiped his eyes, gazing up at her with more emotion than he could put into words. “I am acting like a complete fool. You really should not be sitting up, you know. You should be in bed.”
She touched his face and he eagerly kissed her hand. “I know, but my body aches terribly from lying about. It feels much better to sit up.”
He put a gentle palm against her forehead. “Your fever is vanished. How do you feel?”
“Weak,” she said truthfully. “Weak and weary. But I suppose not bad, considering.”
His tears were gone, his composure quickly recovered. “Have you eaten anything?”
“The physic will not let me. He has only allowed me to drink.”
He was rapidly becoming the stern husband again. He rose to his full intimidating height, gazing down at her with his arms crossed. “Nonsense. You must regain your strength.”
“And I shall,” she agreed. “But I do not feel like eating right now, really.”
“It would bring me great joy if you would.”
He was insisting she eat in the nicest way possible. Dennis was so polite, so sweet, that it was difficult to resist him. Ryan pursed her lips irritably, though, just so he would not think she was so compliant.
&
nbsp; “Well,” she said slowly. “I do not want any… meat.”
He understood completely. “Of course not, my love. And I swear to you, I shall buy you a thousand goats to replace the one so erroneously lost.”
She giggled because he was serious. “I do not want that many,” she said. “But I would like…”
“What?” he asked eagerly.
She chewed on her lip in a gesture reminiscent of Clive. “Sweets.”
“Sweets? What kind?”
“Honey cakes with butter. Bread with jam. And cow’s milk to drink.”
Dennis kissed her on the forehead, feeling so much relief that he was nearly weak with it. “You shall have all you can eat and more. Anything else?”
She gazed up at him with her golden brown eyes, dark-rimmed but sparkling. “Yes.”
“What?”
“I want you to sit here with me while I eat.”
Dennis’ entire body softened with warm, fluid emotion. He could not remember ever feeling such happiness and he kissed her forehead again, and then her hand. “Of course, madam,” he said softly. “I would have it no other way.”
He went to the kitchen and retrieved her food himself.
*
“Where is Dennis?” Thomas asked.
“He went to get me something to eat,” Ryan replied. Her father looked so very tired and she smiled wearily at him. “It looks as if you could use something to eat, too.”
Thomas shook his head, pulling up a small three-legged stool that was propped against the hearth and plopping his aging body upon it. The room was fragrant and warm, the sunlight from the cold day pouring softly through the window.
“I do not need any food,” he muttered. “It is enough to know that you are going to be well again. That is all the sustenance I require at the moment.”
There was something very dark to his manner, something that caused Ryan’s smile to fade. Her father seemed terribly distressed. “What’s wrong, Da?”
He grunted. “Wrong? Nothing is wrong.”
“You are lying,” she said flatly. “I know very well when something is troubling you. What is it?”
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. For a moment, it looked as if he might actually say something of value, but he simply smiled and patted his daughter’s leg. “Nothing that should concern you. I… I would speak with your husband, though.”
“About what?”
“That is our business.”
“Anything that involves St. Austell involves me.”
Thomas cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is that why you disobeyed your husband to help the wounded during the siege?”
She tilted her chin defiantly. “It was my duty as the Lady of St Austell, but…”
“Christ, then it’s true,” Thomas exclaimed softly. “You were indeed being obstinate.”
“I was assessing the situation, as is my duty and my right.”
Thomas put up a hand. “Enough, Ryan. I am not going to rehash this argument with you. But you really should have listened to your husband. You damn near lost your life being someplace you should not have been.”
Ryan eyed her father, letting the subject settle. She did not want to pursue her history of disobedience, so she shifted the focus. “What are you going to talk to Dennis about?”
Thomas snorted and stood up. Kicking the stool back to its place beside the sooty hearth, he wagged a finger at her. “That is between your husband and me. Truly, Ryan, it does not concern you. Do not worry over it.”
“It has to do with Miguel, doesn’t it?”
Thomas good humor faded. He crossed his arms, paced about, and seemed to be haphazardly heading toward the door. But he did not make it. “Why would you say that?”
She shrugged, made difficult with her bound shoulder and torso. “A hunch, I suppose. I do not know, really. Does it truly have something to do with Miguel?”
Thomas inhaled a long, slow breath. He lifted his shoulders, though weakly. “St. Austell has been thoroughly thrashed,” he said quietly. “You have been wounded. Miguel isn’t entirely to blame.”
Ryan was puzzled. “What do you mean? He was the only one to attack the fortress, or so I was told. Did he have help?”
Thomas’ mouth twisted ironically. “Help? I suppose you could say that. What matters now is that your husband must know the forces at work behind it. I have…”
Thomas never had time to finish his sentence. Suddenly, the chamber door flew open and Douglas de Lohr stood in the frame, his broadsword wielded high. It seemed as he were poised on the brink of battle and his cold expression assessed the room in an instant.
Startled, Thomas had virtually no time to react before Douglas’ sword plunged deep into his chest, sending him to the floor in a heap of instant death. Seconds passed with lightning speed, frozen frames of horrifying images, and somewhere above the mayhem Ryan heard her terrified, high-pitched scream.
By the time Douglas turned to her, intending to ram her with the broadsword, Dennis was in the doorway. It was obvious that he was startled by the scene, but not senseless. The food in his hands crashed to the floor as he threw himself at Douglas, disarming the knight and using his own sword against him in one swift, deadly movement. Ryan was still screaming, visions of her dead father and a dead knight on her chamber floor, as Dennis rushed to her side.
He shouted for Clive and Charlotte as he swept his wife into his massive embrace. Terrified beyond reason, Ryan continued to shriek as Dennis carried her from the room and ran headlong into Charlotte just as she was exiting her smaller chamber. His sister, armed with a dagger and little else, exchanged a few curt words with her brother before bounding into the chamber fully prepared for a fight, but whether it was defensive or offensive, she was not sure. All she knew was that her brother’s wife was screaming, her brother had blood on his hands, and there were two dead men on the floor of Dennis’ bedchamber. It was a chaotic, gory scene.
The entire castle was jolted with the shrieking. Patrizia, sleeping in the loft, had been roused by the screams and bolted into the hallway to see what had happened. Charlotte’s bellows sent her back into the chamber to bolt the door. Clive was the next man into the upper gallery, leading a host of St. Austell soldiers, and Dennis nearly knocked him over in his haste.
“Christ, Dennis, what goes on?” Clive demanded.
Ryan was gasping and Dennis was pale. “De Bretagne’s own man killed him. I was just in time to save my wife from being slaughtered.” Dennis was furious, frightened. “Hell, I do not know what happened. I need you to come with me; send the soldiers to guard the room and help Charlotte should the need arise. Touch nothing until I return.”
Clive nodded shortly, snapping orders to the men behind him. He followed Dennis into Charlotte’s smaller bedchamber and watched as Dennis sat Ryan down upon the rope and wood cot wedged into the corner. Ryan was verging on hysterics as Dennis put his big hands on her face, forcing her to look at him.
“Ryan, tell me what happened,” he begged softly. “Love, look at me. Tell me what happened.”
She gasped and swallowed, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Douglas… he came into the room and… he… Dennis, he killed my father! Why did he do it?”
Dennis’ heart was pounding. Clearly, he did not understand any of what had just happened. “I do not know,” he said hoarsely. “Did he say anything when he entered the room? A shout, a challenge… anything at all?”
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she wept. “He already had his sword in hand. He just… he went ahead and…”
She could not finish. Dennis looked up at Clive. “What in the name of God is going on? Do you realize what this will look like?”
Clive nodded grimly. “It will look as if you killed de Bretagne and his knight.” He began to chew his lip furiously. “Christ, Dennis, we have two hundred Launceston soldiers in the bailey. We cannot tell them what just happened. They will destroy us!”
“Perhaps that was de Lohr’s plan u
ntil I thwarted it. Perhaps he’d been ordered to make it seem as if I had killed de Bretagne and then he would kill Ryan to silence her.”
“Then Launceston could declare the treaty null.”
Dennis shook his head, his hands still on his wife. “Launceston has been trying to breach this treaty since the very day I arrived to claim Ryan. Why in the hell did they agree to it in the first place only to go through so much trouble to destroy it?”
“Perhaps they seek only to destroy us.”
It certainly made sense. Dennis, torn with confusion and frustration, gazed up at Ryan and wiped her wet cheeks with his thumbs.
“One thing is for certain,” he murmured. “They are doing more damage to my wife than they could ever do to me, and for that, I myself am considering breaking the treaty. Nothing would lend satisfaction more than razing Launceston for the pain they have caused her.”
Ryan was close to swooning. The past several days had been more than she could handle. But she was a strong woman, and she realized very well the implications at hand. It was crucial that she regain her wits, no matter what horrors she had witnessed, in order to help her husband. She struggled with her composure as Dennis gently caressed her.
“Father was going to talk to you before Douglas came along,” she sniffed. “He would not tell me what it was about, but he hinted that the subject was Miguel.”
Dennis’ gray eyes grew stormy. “But he did not elaborate?”
She shook her head, feeling weak and nauseous. “He said it was none of my concern. Perhaps he was going to divulge something terrible.”
“Or covert,” Clive snorted. “Maybe de Lohr knew this. Maybe he was simply trying to shut him up.”
Dennis’ square jaw ticked. “But why go after Ryan as well? He was fully preparing to kill her, too. I saw it myself.”
“Perhaps he was afraid she knew too much.”
“Knew what?”
“Mayhap… mayhap he thought Thomas had confided in her whatever he planned to tell me,” he ventured. “If it had to do with Miguel, then maybe it has something to do with that attack upon us.”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 144
