A Knight of Honor

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “Elizabeth had the forethought to tell me you might be in danger,” Richard explained, stilling the prancing horse beneath him. “As soon as I knew where you were coming from, I rode out to greet you.”

  Slane grunted. More likely rode out to lay claim to Taylor, he thought.

  “And it seems lucky that I did,” Richard said, gazing around at the carnage in the clearing.

  “Yes,” Slane acquiesced. “It was, indeed, lucky.” He shifted his stare to his brother. “Corydon is dead.”

  “Dead?” Richard asked, shocked.

  “Yes,” Slane said without any emotion. He felt dead inside now that Richard was here. Now that his brother would take Taylor from him. “I defeated him in battle.”

  “This is turning out to be a most wondrous day,” Richard said happily. “Well done, brother. We shall have a feast upon returning to Castle Donovan. To celebrate your triumph.” His gaze shifted to Taylor, his eyes small and dark, like a snake’s. “And mine.” He held out a hand to Taylor.

  Something close to panic swept through Slane.

  Taylor stepped away from the outstretched hand, and Richard’s jovial expression immediately turned dark.

  Slane knew his brother was used to women obeying him without question. He stepped forward. “She has her own horse to ride,” Slane defended.

  “Oh?” Richard wondered, his gaze searching the clearing. “Where? Where is her horse?”

  Slane cast a glance at Taylor. She was staring at him with such complete desolation that he felt it in his soul. He wanted to take her into his arms and whisk her away. Instead, he pointed to his steed in the distance. “There,” he said.

  Richard looked at him with disappointment and Slane felt a feeling of victory surge inside him. “Very well,” Richard said. “She may ride her own steed.”

  Slane turned his back on his brother, hiding Taylor from his view. “Go with him,” he whispered, hoping that this once she wouldn’t object.

  She lifted her lids to reveal those luminescent gems shimmering with uncertainty.

  “I’ll speak with you later at the castle,” Slane promised, brushing her chin with his forefinger. He was rewarded with a transformation. Her eyes lit with tenderness and a grin splashed across her full lips. She nodded and stepped around Slane, moving toward the horse in the distance. Slane watched her with growing anxiety as she took the reins of the horse and pulled herself up.

  When Slane turned around, his gaze met the suspicious eyes of his brother. Slane raised himself up to his full height, meeting his brother’s stare. He knew that he could no longer fight the feelings he had for Taylor. They were stronger than he was. And quite frankly, he didn’t want to fight them. Now he simply had to set things right. He had lost no honor yet.

  ***

  Castle Donovan rose before Taylor like a mountain of stone erupting from the earth. A strange, unsettling feeling wavered through her as she shifted her gaze to Richard. He was staring at her, as he had been the entire ride to Castle Donovan. A feeling of entrapment strangled her like a rope every time she looked at him. She didn’t like him. She didn’t like his dark, shifty eyes or his abrupt manner and curtness with those around him. No, she did not like him. Not one bit. Why, he didn’t even look like Slane!

  She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to see Slane, but there was no sign of him. She still felt a flush of excitement when she thought of his kisses, his touches, the tender way he had made love to her. She looked forward to feeling his skin pressed to hers again, feeling his lips against hers. And that was the one opportunity Castle Donovan offered to her. To be with Slane. She refused to think of what the future might hold. She refused to think beyond Castle Donovan... for now.

  The horse’s hooves clattered over the drawbridge, jarring her. She was entering the castle. The dolt beside her was still staring at her as if she were some sort of prize. Now that her father and Corydon were dead, why was she so important to him? Why was he staring at her with such triumph?

  She glanced sideways at him. His small black eyes glared at her like. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that at any moment he would strike. Angry at her uncertainty, and the trepidation she was feeling about this Richard, she turned her head to face him, gazing directly into his eyes. “Do you have a problem?” she wondered.

  The smile disappeared from his face. His eyes widened with fury, his teeth clenching. Obviously, he wasn’t used to being spoken to in such a way. But now that Slane had killed Corydon, now that Jared had been avenged, she didn’t need Richard’s help any longer, so she didn’t much care what he thought.

  He leaned toward her. “Obviously, you have a few things to learn,” he murmured, “like respect.” He straightened up in his saddle. “I will teach you.”

  Taylor snorted her disgust and disbelief as they entered the gatehouse to the inner ward. What a pompous ass, she thought, turning her head to study the castle. It was a large fortress, housing many small merchant buildings. They rode until they came to the apartments. Taylor moved to dismount but Richard caught her arm in a painful grip, stilling her movement. “You follow your lord,” he instructed.

  Taylor nodded, and when Richard released her arm, she couldn’t help adding, “If I see him, I’ll do that.” She swung her leg over the side of the horse.

  She didn’t need to look at Richard to feel his fury. He dismounted quickly, his eyes burning into her.

  “M’lord!” a child shouted.

  Richard turned his glare on the small boy, and the child skidded to a halt, bowing before turning and racing back into the keep.

  Taylor stared at Richard, her eyes slanted in dismay. What kind of lord frightens the children so much they back away from him with wide, fearful eyes? she wondered. How can terrified peasants possibly be productive?

  Richard stormed into the keep, leaving Taylor standing alone in the ward. Taylor watched as people scurried from Richard’s path. One woman carrying dirty clothing bumped into a plump man in her hurry to move out of Richard’s way. Her basket went flying through the air and landed on the ground, spilling over onto its side. The clothing tumbled out onto the ground.

  Taylor’s eyes shifted from the scattered laundry to the path Richard had taken. The bowels of the castle were dark. A feeling of impending doom settled around her shoulders as she approached the door. She had to go in. She couldn’t very well wait for Slane in the middle of the ward.

  She had no sooner stepped into the grim darkness than she was grabbed by the neck and slammed hard against the wall. Richard shoved his face near hers, snarling, “You will show me the respect I am due as your lord and your future husband, is that understood?” His fingers tightened around her neck until she gasped for breath.

  She tried to pry his fingers from her neck. But he squeezed his grip until she couldn’t breathe. She fought wildly, trying to kick and fight her way free.

  “Is that understood?” he demanded.

  One conscious thought formed in her mind. Free, she had to get free. She clenched her fist, ready to smash him in the nose. But her vision waned as darkness edged in. She lifted her fist with the last ounce of her strength.

  She heard his voice from far off. “Is that understood?”

  Richard finally released her and Taylor fell to one knee, clutching at her neck, gasping for every painful breath she could take.

  A satisfied grin curved Richard’s lips as he towered darkly over her. “Anna,” he called.

  Taylor turned her head to see that at least five peasants and servants lurked in the shadows, trying to escape their lord’s attention.

  “See lady Taylor to her room,” he commanded.

  Husband, Taylor thought numbly, finally hearing his declaration.

  One of the women stepped from her place, bobbing a curtsy to Richard.

  Richard turned to leave, but paused and added, “And make sure she wears some suitable clothing.”

  Taylor’s breathing slowly calmed, and her heartbeat regained its regular pace. Husb
and, she thought again. What the hell?

  “Lady?”

  Taylor shifted her gaze to Anna. She was a young woman, fifteen perhaps, with brown hair and eyes.

  “This way,” she said, moving toward a stairway.

  Tears entered Taylor’s eyes. There must be some mistake! she thought. How could Richard think he was to be her husband? Why would he want to marry her? What did she have to offer him? It came to her suddenly in a moment of clarity. A dowry. If Richard was so desperate for gold, would he agree to marry her in exchange for a wealthy dowry? But why hadn’t Slane told her? Didn’t he know? And with her father dead, who would pay it? Unless... Taylor slowly stood, using the wall as support. Now that her father was dead, she was the sole and rightful heir to Sullivan Castle and Sullivan lands. Is that what Richard was after?

  Taylor whirled to glance desperately at the large double doors behind her. Two guards stood lounging just inside the doors.

  Anna gently took her arm. “This way, lady,” she coaxed.

  Taylor took one step, then another, allowing Anna to lead her. Slane would come. He would tell her it had all been some sort of mistake. That he knew nothing of Richard being her husband.

  But even as she thought this, she couldn’t stop the feeling of betrayal snaking around her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “You don’t have to marry her,” Slane told Richard. As soon as he had returned to the castle, Slane immediately sought out his brother and found him in his solar, poring over his ledgers. Slane was amazed at how long Richard could look at the pitiful numbers he found there, as if he were expecting them to double before his very eyes.

  Richard glanced up from the calculations that lay before him to lock eyes with Slane. “What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”

  “You don’t need her dowry. You can let her go.”

  “Let her go?” Richard exclaimed, throwing himself back in his chair in exasperation. “Have you lost hold of your senses, brother?”

  Slane scowled and stepped forward. “Richard.” He planted his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Corydon is dead. The threat of invasion is gone.”

  “There is always a threat of invasion. Corydon was just one fool in a sea of many. I still need knights to guard my castle.”

  A prickling feeling started at the nape of Slane’s neck, crawling along his skin like a poisonous spider seeking a choice spot to sink its fangs. “You don’t want her any more than she wants to be your wife.”

  Richard shrugged. “I imagine a wife will be something of an inconvenience.”

  “She doesn’t want to marry. Let her go,” Slane encouraged.

  Richard scowled. “Who cares what she wants or doesn’t want. What is important here is what I need.”

  Slane felt his blood simmer. “Richard, you don’t need her.”

  Richard waved his hand impatiently at Slane. “I need her dowry just as much as before.”

  “If the dowry is all that you’re after, take the lands and be done with it. She wants no part of them.”

  “She is heir to those lands. I want no question of legality. Those lands will be mine rightfully and by marriage. With much thanks to you. Did I tell you how proud I am of you? I knew you of all people wouldn’t fail me. All those other worthless mercenaries.” Richard curled his lip in a grimace of disappointment. “But you! Ahh, brother. I knew I could depend on you!”

  Slane crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at his brother. “I bumped into a few of those worthless mercenaries,” Slane said stiffly. “And one of them almost killed Taylor.”

  “A pity. But as fate would have it, you came along. Well done, brother. Well done,” Richard said. He stretched his arms high above his head, groaning, then rose to his feet.

  Slane watched him for a long moment, hating his brother in that instant for his coldness and viciousness. “Where is she now?”

  “We’re going to celebrate your successful mission. You’ll join me, won’t you?” He brushed past Slane.

  Slane grabbed Richard’s sleeve and spun him around to face him. “Answer me. Where is she? Where are you keeping her?” Slane demanded.

  “For now, she is in Mother’s old room.” Richard leaned toward him, pulling his shirt from Slane’s grasp. “In your travels with her, you must have learned much. Tell me, how did you keep from gagging and binding her?”

  Slane felt rage pulse through his veins. “She is a very opinionated creature,” Slane agreed. “But that is not the way to treat a woman.”

  Richard snorted. “She is impudent and needs the strong arm of a man.” His eyes gleamed with expectation.

  Slane’s gaze narrowed. “Richard, you think everyone needs your strong arm.”

  Richard shrugged. “What works is hardly worth changing.”

  “I think, in Taylor’s case, you might think differently.” Slane turned toward the door. “She doesn’t take well to beatings.” He paused with his hand outstretched for the doorknob. “You will not release her?”

  “I never had any plans to release her,” Richard answered. “You knew that.”

  Slane’s jaw tightened. He was a fool for bringing Taylor here. What could he have possibly been thinking? But he knew what he was thinking. He had thought to pay the debt he owed to his brother so he could get on with his life. He now realized just how wrong he was.

  “Ahh,” Richard said, his face lighting with a grin. “All this talk of marriage has you missing your own beloved. Well, I’ve kept you from her for far too long. She is probably waiting for you in the Great Hall.”

  Slane threw the door open, his thoughts not on Elizabeth at all. He had to see Taylor. He had to make sure she was all right

  “Why don’t you dine with me and my betrothed,” Richard suggested.

  Betrothed. Slane froze, stiffening at the way Richard said the word. As if Taylor were some sort of possession.

  Richard brushed past Slane without looking at him.

  Slane hesitated for only a moment. He didn’t like the way Richard was commanding him. He didn’t like the sly look in his brother’s eyes. He was up to something. But Slane knew he had no choice but to play Richard’s game. He was lord of the castle and his word was law -- a law that Slane had taken a vow to uphold despite his current misgivings.

  ***

  Despite Anna’s pleading, Taylor had chosen to remain in her leggings and tunic. Now she ignored the stares of the guards and the curious looks of the peasants as she sat in the Great Hall. She lifted the cup of ale that had been set before her and drained it.

  She looked around the room. All the peasants were reveling, eating their fill. The guards lounged in chairs, squeezing the maids’ bottoms as they scurried by to fill empty mugs with ale. A juggler performed in the middle of the room, tossing bags of beans round and round in his hands. Dogs barked in excitement, running from table to table to pick up the fallen scraps of food from the floor.

  From Taylor’s view at the head table, the Great Hall looked to be ordered chaos. She couldn’t help but think this was all wrong. She shouldn’t be here. This was some sort of mistake. Her gaze scanned the hall, continually moving to the large wooden double doors at the rear, where she awaited the one person she trusted to explain what was going on.

  Slane had said he would return. The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than two men strolled in through the double doors. Taylor’s heart skipped a beat, even as trepidation gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. Forcing herself to be calm, she leaned back in the chair.

  Wife. The dark, ugly word crept into her thoughts again. Wife. Why hadn’t Slane told her? Surely, he didn’t know, or he would never have brought her to Castle Donovan. Not after what they shared.

  As Slane and Richard approached, Taylor couldn’t help but notice the strong gait, the charisma, the pure power with which Slane entered the room. He was stunning to watch, easily the most handsome man in the room.

  She failed to notice the dark scowl that crossed Richard
’s brow as he approached.

  Slane’s gaze locked with hers. There was something in his eyes that sent a vibration through her body, sent hope soaring within her heart.

  As they rounded the table, Taylor stood to greet Slane. The smile that filled her soul reached her lips in a grin. She suddenly knew that everything would be all right.

  But then Richard stepped in front of Slane. His blow struck her across the cheek and sent her reeling back onto her chair, the force of it knocking her and the chair to the ground.

  “Taylor!” Slane said and leapt over the chair to kneel at her side. He helped her to a sitting position. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and the movement drew his gaze to her neck, where Richard’s handprints had now turned to dark purple bruises. She watched Slane’s eyes widen with disbelief and then fury. When he lifted his gaze from the bruises to her eyes, pain and guilt dulled his usually startling blue eyes. His jaw tightened and his fists clenched as he rose slowly to face his brother. “Damn you, Richard.”

  Taylor’s cheek stung, but it was nothing compared to the unease that spread through her. She reached out to stop him. “It’s all right,” she said.

  But Slane didn’t hear her.

  Richard’s face was a mask of disgust. His eyes locked on Taylor in a disapproving scowl. “I told you to change out of those men’s clothes,” he warned. “I am lord here. You will learn to obey me. Or face the repercussions.”

  Slane’s fist tightened convulsively and he drew his arm back. Taylor was on her feet instantly. She leapt at his arm, catching his elbow, preventing him from fulfilling his swing. “No, Slane,” she urged. “I’m not worth it. Think about what you’re doing.” Still, he battled with her, trying to shake free of her grip. “How can I leave if you’re locked up?” she whispered.

  Slowly, Slane stopped his struggle and lowered his arm.

  Taylor felt a sigh fill her body. She felt Richard’s gaze shift from her to Slane and back again. She saw disbelief widen his eyes. A grin notched her lips. “I don’t take well to authority,” she explained, releasing Slane. “Maybe someone had better explain that to you.”