A Knight of Honor

by Laurel O'Donnell

  But it wasn’t because of the natural elements, the rocks jabbing at her back, the shrill wind, the unsettling cries of strange animals, and Taylor knew it. His fierce reaction to her feeble attempt at communication after the kiss had wounded her deeply. She hadn’t expected the passion that had ignited her body at his touch, his kiss. And before she even had a chance to understand it he had rejected her, humiliating her.

  She still burned to tell him about the payment she and Jared had received for helping the gypsy girl, but she refused to give Slane what he claimed to want. The truth. Let him think of me as he will, she thought. There was something morbidly satisfying about keeping the truth to herself. She’d be damned if she’d seek his approval.

  She had looked with distaste at the berries he offered her to break her fast and turned her back to him. Now she saddled her horse, readying the animal to continue the trip to Castle Donovan. Why was she even going there?

  She should end this farce and bid Slane farewell. But what would she do then? Look for another job? Perhaps she could find work at Castle Donovan. It was as good a chance as any.

  Taylor put her hand on the saddle, preparing to ease herself up. That was when she heard the silence of the forest around her. The eerie quiet where there should have been dozens of different sounds filling the air. She froze, remembering the attack by the black-clad knights when Jared was with her.

  Taylor eased her sword from its sheath, her eyes scanning the surrounding woods carefully, looking for any signs of attackers. The wind blew softly through the trees, rustling the leaves and branches.

  As she turned, she saw Slane bent over, pulling a belt tight on his horse. He stood to inspect the bridle and caught her gaze. She saw the tension coil around his body as his hand flew to his sword, his eyes wide with alarm.

  Taylor heard her horse whinny behind her... and knew it was too late. She whirled -- only to find the tip of a sword pressed against her throat.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Slane’s body exploded with motion as he bolted forward, moving to Taylor’s aid. The sharp edge of the attacker’s blade pushed dangerously close to the soft hollow of her throat. He was going to be too late. She was going to die. The thoughts came unbidden, igniting a powerful fear in his body.

  But suddenly, surprisingly, Taylor launched herself forward into her attacker’s arms, flinging her hands around his body, laughing with true delight.

  Slane stumbled and almost fell as the man swept his arms around Taylor in a cloak of joy. Slane immediately straightened up, holding his body as rigid and tense as a board. A fierce wave of resentment shot through him, and he wanted to run the man through.

  Why didn’t she smile at him the same way? But the thought was preposterous! Why should she? And why should he even want her to?

  “I can’t believe it!” Taylor exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

  Slane’s gaze slid to the man. His deep blue eyes gazed at Taylor with such delight that Slane wanted to hit that square jaw of his and knock the smile from his lips. He hated the man instantly. He hated the man for being able to make Taylor so happy. Slane’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed.

  “I heard about Jared,” the man answered.

  Sadness crept into Taylor’s eyes as her brows met in a scowl of pain. And suddenly, Slane felt guilt enfolding him in a shroud of shame. What was he thinking? Why was he being so selfish?

  “Yes,” she said softly, disengaging herself from the man.

  “I wanted to know you were all right,” the man said.

  Slane stepped forward. “She’s all right,” he snapped. Taylor turned her gaze to him, and Slane felt her look of pain spear him like an arrow.

  The man shifted his gaze to Slane. “Who are you?” he asked evenly.

  “I was going to inquire the same of you,” Slane replied.

  “This is Slane Donovan,” Taylor said. “Slane, this is Alexander Hawksmoor.”

  Alexander! The word sent tremors of trepidation through Slane’s body. Was this the same Alexander of whom she had been so enamored years ago?

  “You can put your sword away,” Taylor advised.

  Slane looked down and frowned, surprised that he still held the weapon so tightly in his fist. He sheathed his blade as she returned her gaze to her friend.

  “I’m fine,” Taylor told Alexander.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Why wouldn’t she be?” Slane demanded. “She is in my care.”

  Again, Alexander’s and Taylor’s gazes swiveled to him. Slane suddenly felt like an outsider listening in on a private conversation. His fists clenched tight and his teeth ground together hard.

  Alexander ignored him. “Sully, you’re all right?” His voice lowered and he went on. “He’s not forcing you to travel with him?”

  Every muscle in Slane’s body stiffened.

  “No,” she said.

  Alexander cocked his head and gave her a suspicious look.

  She smiled. “He’s paying for food and lodging.”

  Alexander looked around at the forest. “Pretty cheap lodging.”

  “Last night was better,” Taylor said. “Unfortunately, you know how I attract trouble at inns.”

  Alexander nodded. “That’s how I tracked you. And I saw you leaving town last night.” He motioned to the woods. “I followed you here.”

  “That easy, eh?” Slane asked.

  Taylor turned to him with her hands on her hips. “Alexander is an even better tracker than Jared is.” Taylor paused, then softly added, “Was.”

  Alexander locked gazes with Slane. “It wasn’t difficult.”

  Unable to stand another moment in this man’s presence, Slane turned away from them and moved to his horse. Their voices floated to him on a breeze.

  “You can’t keep still,” Alexander said. “Not for a moment. There are too many people looking for you.”

  Slane grabbed the reins of his horse a little too roughly and the steed whinnied and took a step back. Leading his horse, he returned to Taylor’s side. “Are you ready?”

  Taylor looked at Alexander with something akin to longing in her eyes.

  Slane’s hand tightened around the reins.

  “Will you travel with us?” she asked.

  Slane opened his mouth to object, but slammed it shut into a tight-lipped sneer.

  Alexander cast a glance at Slane. “I’d love to. For a while.”

  Slane knew he should be grateful for another sword to help protect Taylor. But he wasn’t. Tension, distrust, and dislike coiled his body as tightly as a spring. He didn’t want this Alexander with him... or rather, with Taylor. He swung himself up onto the horse.

  What was wrong with him? It would do Taylor good to have an old friend with her. Especially after Jared’s recent death. But why did it have to be Alexander?

  ***

  Alexander dismounted, tethering his horse to a tree near the stream. He turned in time to see Taylor glance at a brooding Slane. Donovan had ridden a good two horse paces in front of them the entire trip, his back ramrod straight, his hands clutching the reins of the horse so tightly that they turned white.

  Taylor was pensive the entire ride. She glanced repeatedly at Slane with that troubled furrow etched in her brow and the thoughtful look in her eyes. Something had happened between them, Alexander was sure.

  Taylor swung herself from her horse and bent at the stream, rinsing her face with a handful of water. She stood and faced him.

  There had been a time when he had seen infatuation shining from those eyes. Now there was only friendship. And it was as it should be.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked softly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play that game with me,” Alexander warned. “I know all about those wide-eyed looks of yours.” Taylor laughed gently, but Alexander continued. “This Corydon is no fool.” He watched the laughter drain from her face and caught just a glimpse of anger narrowing her eyes before she turne
d away. “He’s not far behind you.”

  Taylor moved to her horse and opened her pack, busying herself with fumbling through the items inside.

  Alexander stepped up behind her. “He means to capture you or kill you. Either way it’s crazy to leave such an obvious trail for him.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she snapped.

  Alexander grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

  “You don’t know anything. We weren’t important enough for you six years ago, so don’t pretend I am now.”

  “I have a job,” Alexander said, his spine straightening.

  “You did then, too,” she said quietly and turned back to her horse. “You left us when we could have used your help.”

  Alexander stared at her back. “Jared had his way of doing things. I had mine. There was no way to reconcile them.” After a long moment, he asked, “Why are you going to Castle Donovan?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe Slane’s brother will be looking to hire mercenaries.”

  Alexander scowled at her. “You’re impetuous. You’re reckless. You can’t work under a noble without Jared here to smooth things over.”

  “Then why don’t you take Jared’s place?” she said sarcastically.

  Alexander sighed. “I still have gypsies to hunt.”

  Taylor shook her head. “Still on that campaign, huh?”

  Ridding the land of the gypsy scourge was a quest he had begun long ago. He was not going to give it up to be her companion. Still, he couldn’t help but feel the old guilt raise its head. She had no one now. She was as alone as he felt. Alexander placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. Taylor shrugged his hand off her shoulder, turning away from him. Alexander stood for a long moment, staring at her tense back. They had been the best of friends long ago. And he knew she was hurting. He reached around her and pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her stiff body.

  She resisted at first, fighting the gesture of friendship. But then she sighed and leaned into him heavily.

  “I wish you luck with this crazy scheme of yours. Whatever it is that you’re planning, I hope it turns out as you wish,” Alexander whispered. But he knew it wouldn’t. And he knew there was only one way to protect her. His gaze shifted to Slane Donovan.

  ***

  Slane pulled a loaf of bread from his saddlebags. He had bought the loaf back in Sudbury, and the crust was now hard and flaky. He broke off a small piece and raised it to his lips, turning to look for Taylor. But the small chunk of bread never reached his mouth as he froze at the sight that greeted him. Fury flamed through his body with every stroke of Alexander’s hand on Taylor’s back.

  A nagging pain flared in Slane’s jaw, and he realized he was clenching it so tightly that his muscles ached. Taylor rested her head against Alexander’s shoulder with all the familiarity of lovers. With the ease she displayed around this man, he half expected her to be rolling in the grass with him by nightfall.

  He whirled away from the troubling scene, and more, from his sudden impulse to bash this man’s face in. He looked down to find his hands were clenched into fists, the bread smashed between them.

  Disgusted with himself, he tossed the loaf away. He should be thinking of Elizabeth, alone, waiting for him, instead of dwelling on another man touching Taylor.

  He forced himself to walk calmly to the stream. It wasn’t his concern what Taylor did with her life. He had his own life to live. Elizabeth. He forced an image of her to the front of his mind, struggling to find it in his memory, shocked at how long it took to remember that she had large brown eyes. Large brown eyes that would look at him with complete trust. Over the course of the year, the unease between Elizabeth and himself had diminished. Now they could sit in companionable company and even laugh together. He remembered her soft little chuckles, the way her hand covered her mouth as she laughed, almost as if it had been unladylike to show any sign of amusement. He missed her. Yes, as one would miss a sister.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Taylor and Alexander, catching a glimpse of them between the horses. They had separated but still stood close. Close enough for Alexander to reach out and caress her cheek.

  Slane scowled. What was Taylor doing to him? It was the kiss, he told himself. The lingering, ghostly taste of her lips. He had to remember his duty. He had to see her back to Castle Donovan. Beyond that, she wasn’t his concern.

  “Donovan?”

  Slane turned to find Alexander standing beside him. His jaw started to throb.

  “This is as far as I ride,” Alexander told him.

  Relief coursed through Slane so completely and intensely that he suddenly felt light-headed. His hands opened; his jaw relaxed. The muscles in his shoulders loosened. All he could do was nod in response.

  Alexander chuckled. He cast a glance back at Taylor, and Slane followed his gaze. She stood beneath a large maple tree, looking small and very vulnerable. When Alexander returned his eyes to Slane, there was a hardness there. “Sully’s been leaving scrolls behind for Corydon, inviting him to find her.”

  “No!”

  “It was one of the ways I found you so easily. And rest assured that Corydon’s men are very close behind.”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Slane said, casting a glance at Taylor. She had seated herself beneath the tree, her knees drawn up to her chest.

  Alexander shrugged. “I found a letter in Sudbury and another at an inn between Sudbury and Edinbrook.”

  “You’re lying,” Slane snarled.

  Alexander’s eyes narrowed. “If I were a lesser man, I’d have to challenge you for besmirching my good name. Just keep an eye on her.” He turned away from Slane, heading for his horse.

  Why? Slane asked himself. Why in heaven’s name would she do something like that? It made no sense. But what about Taylor Sullivan ever made sense?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Taylor studied the thatched ceiling of the Village Inn in Trenton. The candle burning beside her bed threw shadows up onto the ceiling. Deep shadows. Dark shadows. Black shadows. Black shadows that looked like men dressed in black robes. The flames flickered, taunting her with shadows that stalked along the thatch, wielding their shadowy weapons as they hunted their prey.

  Her anger had kept her awake well into the night, her determination fueling her mission. Seeing Alexander, talking of Jared, had only served to re-ignite her rage. Jared would be avenged. She would see to that. No matter what the cost to herself. Or even to Slane if he stood in the way.

  Slane. Why did he leave her senses so muddled and confused? Everything else seemed simple and clear. Simple because there was only one thing: Avenge Jared. That was all that mattered. If I concentrate on that, then nothing else can interfere.

  Finally, she rose from her bed, took a piece of parchment and a small container from her sack and settled down on the floor beside the bed. She lifted her right hand and stared for a moment at the ring that encircled her finger. Two crossed swords over an S. The Sullivan crest. Her mother’s ring.

  Taylor plugged the small container with one finger and turned it upside down. She carefully replaced it on the floor. A large black circle now covered the tip of her index finger. She carefully smeared the ink over the crest on the ring and then pressed the crest to the paper, giving it an official seal. She wiped her finger and the ring on the blanket.

  Then she rolled the parchment and stood, moving to the door. She paused, listening for any sounds, but there was no noise. Carefully, she opened the door and glanced down the hallway. Slane’s door was closed, the hallway empty.

  Taylor headed out of her room, quietly closing the door. She moved into the common room, searching for the innkeeper. She found the man fixing a broken chair leg. His head was bent over his work, his bald head reflecting the dying firelight from the hearth. He glanced up at her as she approached.

  She held out the rolled parchment to him. “If a lord named Corydon comes here, give this
to him,” she instructed. “Tell him it’s from Taylor Sullivan.”

  The innkeeper lifted his gaze to lock with hers, then shifted it to the parchment. He reached out to take the offered paper, but suddenly another, larger hand darted in and snatched it from Taylor’s fingers.

  “I’ll take that.”

  Taylor jumped and spun to find Slane standing behind her, the parchment firmly in his grip. Her heart lurched in her chest. She reached out to seize the scroll from his hand, but he deftly moved it out of her reach.

  He unrolled the parchment and his blue eyes studied the paper for a long moment before rising to gleam at her.

  She swallowed hard, every instinct in her body telling her to run, to escape the fury she could see burning in his gaze. Instead, she lifted her head and boldly stared back at him.

  His eyes never left hers as he told the innkeeper, “If you’ll excuse us.”

  Taylor could hear the barely restrained anger in his voice. Shivers of dread shot up her body.

  With an understanding nod, the innkeeper set the chair aside and moved off down the hall.

  Slane’s heated gaze bore into her. He lowered his hand and she saw it clench around the parchment. For one, wild moment, she thought he would strike her. And he did, with his words.

  “Are you mad?” he demanded in a hushed whisper. “Do demons possess you?”

  Oh, yes, demons possessed her. But not the kind he meant. Her chin rose a notch.

  He lifted his clenched fist to hold the wadded parchment before her eyes. “What is this all about?”

  She opened her mouth to explain, but then stopped. How could she tell him of her fierce determination to avenge Jared’s death? Of her agony over losing him? She had no intention of exposing herself to his ridicule. She closed her mouth and moved to turn away.

  Slane grabbed her arm in a brutal grip and dragged her deeper into the common room, closer to the hearth. Her eyes shifted anxiously to the flames before she ripped free of Slane’s grip and moved away from the hearth toward the stairs. Slane quickly followed, grabbing her arm to halt her. “You will tell me what you intended with these letters. Did you intend to betray me?”