Renard had resumed petting Iris, who was starting to squirm. “As will you,” he said. “Forgive me, my lady, but your mother has promised me money and that is what I want. Not you, although you are comely, but your money.”
Catherine threw up her hands in exasperation. “Then if it is money you want, there are many women here that are far more wealthy that I am,” she said. “I swear to you upon the bible that I have hardly anything to my name. I am not worth anything to a man seeking a fortune.”
Renard sighed faintly, grasping Iris on the scruff of her neck because she was starting to wriggle so much. “You will forgive me for not believing you,” he said. “Your mother tells a very different story.”
Catherine was focused on her dog now, who was trying to get away but being held fast by Renard. “Please let my dog go,” she said. “She is uncomfortable.”
“I will throw your dog in the river if you do not come with me right now.”
So there it was. Renard wasn’t capable of a pleasant exchange. He didn’t have the patience for it. What he did have was a bargaining chip in Iris and as Catherine looked at her dog, she knew she didn’t have any choice. She couldn’t allow the pup to be thrown into the river and drown.
But she could agree to go with him and then scream for her life.
As terrified as she was to do it, she had to make that decision.
“Very well,” she said quietly. “I will come. Put my dog down.”
“Give me your hand first and I will put the dog down.”
Taking a deep breath, she closed the distance between them, holding out her hand. The moment he took it, he dropped Iris and the dog yelped as she hit the ground. Horrified that he’d been so callous, Catherine lashed out her free hand and raked her nails across his bruised face.
Renard screamed.
After that, the fight was on.
*
De Reyne’s own men didn’t know where he was.
De Reyne’s group in the staging area was the first place Martin went in his hunt for Ridge, but they didn’t have any idea where he’d gone. They knew that Ridge and Payne had been speaking to the de Tuberville brothers, but that group had broken up a short time ago. Tavis and Osbert were off finding food, while Payne and Ridge seemed to have disappeared. That was all the soldiers could tell him.
Martin ran over to the de Tuberville group.
They weren’t much better, although they were at least able to tell him that Charles and Geoffrey had gone to find food on the avenue, but no one seemed to know where George had gone. Everyone was scattered, which didn’t help Martin’s sense of panic. He knew that Renard had practically run to the opposite end of the encampment to check out Catherine de Tuberville’s appearance, so time was of the essence.
He had to find de Reyne.
Rushing towards the avenue that held the food vendors, he passed by the joust field and happened to catch sight of men inside. He was rushing so quickly that he nearly went past them, but something told him to take a look. One of the men was quite large and, coincidentally, de Reyne was quite large. Pausing by the open gate, Martin could see Ridge in discussion with four marshals somewhere towards the edge of the field, near the stands.
Martin bolted inside.
“My lord!” he shouted. “De Reyne! Ridge!”
By the third word, Ridge’s head came around and he spied Martin running towards him. There was no denying the expression of concern on his face as he broke away from the marshals and headed towards him.
“What do you want?” he demanded. “I told you…”
Martin cut him off. “You must come,” he said urgently. “Quickly. Renard has found Lady Catherine.”
Ridge’s features twitched, as if panic were verging but he fought against it. He fought for that control, struggling to the point where his cheeks were startling to flush.
His composure was about to snap.
“Where?”
“Your camp.”
Ridge’s brow furrowed. “That is not possible,” he said. “She is with her brothers on the avenue.”
Martin shook his head. “She is not,” he said. “We saw her go into your camp and Renard followed. You must come now or God only knows what will happen.”
Ridge’s face rippled with horror. It didn’t matter why Catherine was in his camp, or how she’d managed to get away from her brothers, only that she was – and she had.
And Renard had found her.
Ridge had never run so fast in his entire life.
*
Catherine was in panic mode.
She never knew she could scream so loud. She never knew she could fight so hard. Renard came at her, grabbing her hair, and she punched and kicked and scratched as much and as hard as she could. Renard responded by hitting her, close-fisted, on the side of the head and stars danced before her eyes.
Down to her knees she went.
He was still yanking on her hair, however, and somehow, the threat he’d made about Iris stuck in her head.
I’ll throw your dog in the river.
He could very well throw her in the river.
On her knees, Renard’s pelvis and legs were right in front of her. Without a second thought, she reached out and grabbed his privates through the rough linen breeches he was wearing and squeezed as hard as she could. As he let out a howl, she twisted and yanked, sending Renard into fits of pain. He pulled away from her, releasing his grip on her hair as he did so, but with one hand on his privates. He lashed out the other one and caught her in the face this time.
Down Catherine went onto her back, but as Renard charged her, she kicked at him, kicking him in his throbbing privates and also in the belly. Bellowing, he stumbled back, tripped, and fell on his backside.
Catherine leapt to her feet.
“I will kill you!” he roared. “Do you hear me? I will kill you!”
Catherine knew he would. She could see the two soldiers that Ridge had left behind on their feet, running into the trees. She’d wandered a significant distance away, so they had heard the screams but hadn’t really known where they were coming from. She feared for her life, but knowing that some help was coming fed her bravery. Catherine had never been so brave in her entire life, now when she knew it was a fight for her life. She wasn’t going to give in easily. At her feet was a branch, perhaps a few inches in diameter, and she reached down to pick it up.
She wielded it like a club.
“Not if I kill you first,” she said breathlessly.
That defiance enraged Renard. His face turned red. He reached into the belt at his waist and pulled forth a wicked-looking dagger. By this time, Ridge’s soldiers were closer, but closer still was a blinding flash of gray. Catherine could see it moving in her periphery, not realizing what it was until Odin leapt onto Renard, the dog’s jaws clamping down over the man’s left ear and the left side of his face.
Renard fell onto his side, with Odin tearing up his face. The dog was snarling and growling, and the more Renard struggled and tried to fight, the more Odin clamped down. He was a very large dog and quite strong. Ridge’s soldiers had reached Catherine at that point but she held out her hand to stop them. She didn’t want Odin turning on them because the dog was most definitely in attack mode.
Renard simply screamed.
“Get him off!” he cried. “Get him off me!”
Catherine knew that she should try to call the dog off. It made her queasy watching Odin chomp and rip at Renard’s face and ear. In fact, as she watched, the dog ripped off most of Renard’s left ear but, still, she didn’t move. The soldiers kept looking at her, wondering when she was going to give them the command to move in, but she didn’t. She didn’t want to. Renard was getting everything he deserved, courtesy of that big, lazy dog who evidently wasn’t so lazy. He was fearsomely protective. It was both fascinating and horrifying to watch until Renard raised the dagger in his hand and managed to slash Odin on the leg.
The dog yelped, but he didn’t let go. Cathe
rine screamed, rushing Renard. When she moved, the soldiers moved, and they managed to get the dagger away from Renard when Catherine stepped on his hand. Bellowing in pain and covered with blood, Renard was in a bad way.
But not as bad as he was going to get.
Ridge burst through the trees with Martin on his heels. One look at the struggling going on, with Renard and Odin and even Catherine bloodied, and he lost what remained of his composure. He didn’t even realize that de Wolfe and Hage were on his tail because they’d seen him running through the camp like a madman and thought it was a good idea to follow him. Ridge’s only awareness at the moment was of Catherine and Odin, battling with a bloodied Renard, as his soldiers pulled Catherine away. That was a good thing because, after that, Ridge was singularly focused on Renard.
He was blind to anything else.
Reaching down, he pulled Renard up by his neck. The man was covered in blood, the entire left side of his head a bleeding mess. Renard may have been bloodied, but he wasn’t senseless. He had more daggers in his belt, pulling one out and driving it into Ridge’s left bicep because he couldn’t get it any closer to his torso. Ridge heard Catherine scream, but he didn’t feel the pain. He had a dagger sticking out of his arm and didn’t feel a thing.
All he felt was rage.
He began to squeeze.
Realizing that Ridge was going to strangle him, Renard began to fight. He began to kick and twist and scream, catching sight of de Wolfe and Hage, but receiving no help from them. In fact, they were looking on rather impassively. Ridge had both hands around his neck, lifting him off the ground as he headed for the riverbank, and Renard knew that he wasn’t long for this world. He tried to kick Ridge in the groin, but he didn’t have the strength. He couldn’t breathe and the world was starting to darken.
“You… you bastard,” he said through bloody, foamy lips. “I will kill you first, do you hear? I… will kill… you first and then… I will… kill her!”
That was it for Ridge. It was the last threat against Catherine that he was ever going to hear. One good squeeze and a hard twist and he snapped Renard’s neck as easily as snapping a twig. Heaving the body up, he tossed it into that gently flowing river and watched it go under. Drifting, drifting away.
Gone.
It was finally over.
Moments passed. A full minute passed and then another minute. Ridge just stood there, watching Renard’s body finally go under for good, when he heard a quiet voice.
“Hold still.”
De Wolfe had come up behind him, swiftly removing the dagger that was still protruding from his left arm. Ridge hadn’t felt it going in, but he felt it going out. The haze of hatred and vengeance that he’d been swept up in was starting to fade and he was becoming more aware of his surroundings.
He put his hand to the stinging wound on his arm.
“I’m all right,” he said, looking at William. “Thank you.”
William smiled weakly. “For what?” he said. “You did not need my help.”
Ridge smiled faintly. “I may when I must explain this to the marshals.”
William’s smile faded. “Why would you do that?” he said. “From the looks of your lady, Renard was beating up on her and you defended her. But I still wouldn’t tell them anything about this encounter with Renard. You did everyone on the tournament circuit a favor, Ridge. You know that.”
Ridge sighed heavily, nodding. “I do.”
“If anyone asks, you have no idea where he went or what happened to him. Your hands are clean.”
Ridge looked at the group behind him – Catherine, two of his soldiers, Martin, and Kieran. His gaze moved back to Catherine.
“But everyone saw what happened,” he said hoarsely. “Eventually, the marshals will know. But I do not regret my actions. I would do it again, a thousand times over.”
William pulled Ridge away from the water’s edge, heading back to the small group where Catherine was crouched down next to Odin.
“No one will say a word,” William said softly, looking around to the group. “What you did was utterly justifiable and no one will say a word. Didn’t the marshals intimate that de Luzie should be killed in an accident? It was not an accident that killed him, but his own greed and violent behavior. That bastard got what he deserved, so let the dead lie. It is done.”
Ridge nodded, feeling somewhat dazed. The rush of battle, the death of a man who was trying to kill Catherine… now that it was over, he felt weary. Muddled. But not so muddled that he didn’t bend over and pick Catherine up, holding her against him. The moment he touched her, tears sprang to his eyes.
He’d never been more relieved, nor more grateful, in his entire life.
“Are you well?” he whispered. “Did he hurt you?”
Catherine held him around the neck tightly enough to strangle him. “Nay,” she said, though she had a big welt on her face where he’d struck her. “Nothing that will not heal. But he stabbed Odin.”
Ridge held her a moment longer, just to reassure himself that she was alive and safe, before setting her down and bending over his dog to check the damage. Odin had a wound to his right front let, but it wasn’t horrific. Simply bloody. Ridge petted the dog, noticing his mouth and neck were bloodied as well and inspecting him for injury.
“He was so brave,” Catherine said, her hand on Odin’s head. “He charged Renard and bit him on the face. He wouldn’t let go no matter what Renard did. He was heroic.”
Ridge looked the dog over, but now that the battle hysteria was fading, he had a lot of questions. He wanted to know why his soldiers hadn’t done more to help Catherine and why she was here in the first place. So many questions but he couldn’t bring himself to voice any of them because, in the end, it didn’t really matter. Catherine was safe, Odin would heal, and that was all that mattered to him.
As he picked his dog up, preparing to carry him back to his tent and tend his wound, Iris and Bando ran up and began barking at him furiously. Ridge looked at the two tiny dogs, wondering where in the hell they’d been the entire time. He looked at the pair, barking ferociously, and started laughing.
“You are too late,” he scolded the little dogs. “All of the fighting is over with, so your gesture is fruitless. Get out of my sight, you little maggots.”
He stomped his foot and the dogs scattered, though they were still barking. For Catherine, it was a good sign because Iris hadn’t been injured when Renard dropped her to the ground. As she went after the dogs to collect them, Ridge turned to William and Kieran.
“Your support means more than you know,” he said. “But this… if you take this to your graves, I would be appreciative. Not that I care if people know, but simply because there could be… complications. I’d rather not deal with them.”
William and Kieran understood. But all three of them turned to Martin at that point, who was standing there rather wanly. Having witnessed the death of his liege’s son, he was in a particularly bad position. The worst he could say was that it was a justified killing, and even though everyone on the tournament circuit would thank Ridge for what he’d done, the fact remained that if such news got back to the Comte de Gavere, it could go badly for Ridge. Those were the complications Ridge spoke of. The count had a big war machine and could very well use it against Ridge and anyone associated with him.
In a sense, everything rested on Martin.
And he knew it.
“No one will hear anything from me,” he said after a tense pause. “I come from a good family, you see. My brother serves the count and my father had served him until his death. When the count asked me to serve his youngest son, it was because he hoped I would have some influence over him. Keep him out of trouble, as it were. But that was never going to happen because Renard had a soul as black as a moonless night. My lord, the only reason he wanted the lady was because you wanted her also. He saw it as a competition, a victory if he could take her from you. He could not best you on the field, so he tried to best you wh
ere it mattered the most. In your heart.”
Ridge nodded faintly. “I thought it was something like that.”
Martin lifted his eyebrows, a regretful expression. “He hated you for being the knight he always wanted to be, so if he could not be like you, then he would destroy you.”
Ridge was listening with some empathy for a knight who had served a monster. Martin seemed genuinely sorrowful about Renard’s behavior.
“It was that determination that forced my hand in the end,” he told the man. “Had he stayed away from me and away from Catherine, none of this would have happened.”
Martin nodded. “I know,” he said. “But we should probably make sure we have the same story about his end. I will simply say I do not know what happened to him, that I lost sight of him in the encampment and never saw him again, but people saw me running here with you. They probably saw Renard heading in this direction, as well.”
“That does not mean we ran into Renard or had any dealings with him,” Ridge said. “Mayhap he was robbed and killed, his body thrown into the river. Who knows what happened to him? Only that he is gone. And that is all anyone need know.”
Martin sighed faintly. “There is another de Luzie knight, Fulke,” he said. “He is back in Renard’s camp. I will return and tell him that I lost sight of Renard. When the man does not return tonight, or even tomorrow, we will realize something is amiss. We will search a little. We will go to the marshals and tell them Renard is missing, but we will not do more than that. Truth be told, Fulke was not fond of him, either.”
“But you will not tell him what you know?”
Martin shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I will not. The truth will die with me.”
“That is best.”
The Black Storm (De Reyne Domination Book 4) Page 21
