At the Warrior's Mercy

by Denise Lynn

  The worry was useless simply because she wasn’t going to change her mind. She’d set out on this course of action knowing full well that it wasn’t going to make him happy in the least. He certainly hadn’t gone out of his way to make her happy, so what did his happiness matter?

  Beatrice moved away from the window and crossed the chamber to sit on the edge of her parents’ bed. She could keep track of Gregor’s movements from here.

  Tired of worrying, and of thinking in general, Beatrice climbed into the bed. Everything would still be there in the morning, waiting for her to plan, worry and think some more.

  * * *

  ‘I need to know what she’s plotting.’ Gregor sat down on the log next to Simon in front of one of the few remaining fires.

  ‘How do you plan on doing that?’

  Gregor stared out across the clearing through the darkness. The faint light in Beatrice’s chamber had gone out. He hoped her sleep was troubled by dreams of him. It would serve her right since this should have been their wedding night.

  ‘Have the scouts reported in?’

  Simon nodded, yawning. ‘Yes. There are guards positioned on every tower and all along the walls. So you aren’t going to be able to sneak inside.’

  ‘As I feared, FitzHenry fortified this keep well.’

  He patted his man’s shoulder, then said, ‘I’m going to rest for a few hours. Have the prisoners rounded up and ready just before the sun rises.’

  ‘I’ll see it done.’

  Chapter Ten

  Morning had come far too quickly. Beatrice felt as if she’d just closed her eyes when Almedha had awakened her. And now, going down the stairs to the Great Hall, she felt as though she was struggling through a thick sucking mud.

  Sir Robert met her at the bottom of the stairs. ‘My lady, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...’

  When he trailed off, she said, ‘If someone has to bring me the news, I’d rather it come from you.’ She motioned towards the food-laden table. ‘But could we break our fast at the same time?’

  ‘Yes, food would be welcome.’

  She’d not expected any other response since they hadn’t eaten more than a bite or two yesterday.

  The hall was too crowded to bother with sitting down to be served. Instead, they walked the length of the long table, helping themselves to whatever they wanted.

  With her stomach still in knots, Beatrice settled for a tankard of water, a hunk of soft bread and a bit of cheese.

  She took her choices to the rear of the hall where the lord’s chair sat upon the raised dais and sat down. It felt strange to sit in her father’s over-sized, ornate seat, but at this time it was her right. Beatrice shivered at the brief passing thought of Gregor occupying this seat.

  Sir Robert joined her. Hooking a small stool with his foot, he dragged it closer and sat down.

  Once he was settled, she asked, ‘So, tell me—what is your bad news?’

  ‘We did a head count as you’d requested and almost thirty people are missing.’

  Beatrice tightened her grip on the tankard in an attempt to keep control of her dismay. She knew there were people not accounted for, but had no idea it was that many. ‘Do we know who?’

  ‘The entire crew of one ship, some warehouse workers, a barkeep, a child and one of the serving maids.’

  She swallowed her curse. ‘Any hope they made it to the caves?’

  The shake of Sir Robert’s head dashed her hopes. ‘Not likely. This invasion was so unexpected that nobody had any time to escape.’

  ‘So they are likely being held captive.’

  Sir Robert nodded. ‘Probably. What do you think he’ll do?’

  The bread she’d been chewing took on the texture and taste of sawdust in her mouth—dry, crumbling—making it impossible to swallow and difficult to breathe.

  The wolf of legend—the one of story and rumour—would kill them to set an example or give a warning.

  But she feared that she already knew what the Wolf she’d come to know would do. He would use them to force her hand in marriage—a marriage that would most likely take place very soon. He possessed too much leverage not to use it to his advantage.

  ‘Have my father’s ships been sighted yet?’

  Sir Robert shook his head. ‘No, my lady.’

  Beatrice set her trencher down on a small side table—any food had suddenly lost its appeal—and said, ‘Send word to the camp. I need to speak to their leader.’

  ‘And what are you going to say?’

  ‘I’m not sure. All I am certain of is that he will use these prisoners as bait to punish me.’ She looked down at her hands. Without realising it, she’d clasped them together so tightly that her knuckles were white. Easing her grip, she sighed deeply, knowing what she had to do. ‘I cannot allow them, or their families, to suffer for my decision.’

  ‘My lady—’

  ‘No. I’ll not listen to further discussion on this matter. I want those people released to Warehaven.’

  ‘But, Lady Beatrice—’

  ‘I said, no.’ Once again she interrupted him, then explained, ‘Don’t you see, Sir Robert, he knows me and, God help me, he does care in his own way. He may make my life miserable, but he will not harm me.’

  ‘While you are his captive, he will have the power to take Warehaven.’

  ‘And that is what I will use as barter—the safety of all within these walls.’

  ‘So you will become a martyr for this keep?’ He scratched his head. ‘Forgive me for saying so, but the role doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘I am far from a martyr.’ Beatrice laughed at the thought. ‘I do this not only for the people of Warehaven, but so that I retain my home—intact. This is as much for me as it is for you. I would think that makes me a little greedy for martyrdom.’

  ‘And your parents?’

  ‘Will be better able to devise a plan if they know I am safe. I think it will be easier to sway the Wolf if I am in his lair.’

  ‘I think this is a mistake.’

  ‘It is not your decision to make.’ She rose. ‘Send Almedha to me and have hot water sent up to the master chamber.’

  She would take her time getting ready, it would help to calm her jangled nerves. If she was going to hand herself over to King David’s Wolf, she would do so as the Lady of Warehaven.

  * * *

  As ready as she could be for whatever was going to happen, Beatrice shook out the skirt of her gown and then nodded for the men to open the tower door. Once again she walked the length of the battlements to the main tower gates.

  But this time she felt as if she were going to her death.

  Beatrice chased away that odd thought and joined Sir Robert. He said nothing, just nodded towards the clearing.

  Just as she’d expected, the men and one woman he held were tied together like prisoners. They stood in a line behind Gregor, with armed guards at their backs.

  She squinted to see better and noticed that he held the child before him on his horse.

  He rode forward. Just before he reached the gates one of Warehaven’s guards gasped. Beatrice turned her head to stare at the red-faced guard standing mere feet away.

  ‘That is my sister’s son.’ He’d kept his voice low, but his distress was obvious in the way his words shook.

  She turned her attention back to Gregor, knowing he wasn’t going to harm an innocent child.

  She watched, as he hauled the boy up to sit on top of his shoulders and dismounted before shouting up at her, ‘I do not hold children hostage. Send someone down to get him.’

  He swung the laughing boy down to set him on the ground, then waited until the child ran towards the gates before spreading his arms and saying, ‘You wanted to talk. I’m here.’
/>   As she turned away from the wall, Sir Robert grasped her wrist. ‘Are you sure about this?’

  Beatrice glanced back at the people being held prisoner before turning away from the wall once again to answer Sir Robert. ‘Very sure.’

  He released her. ‘Be careful, Lady Beatrice. Hopefully this will all be over with soon.’

  She couldn’t agree with him more. She, too, hoped this was over soon. The worrying was eating at her. He’d already broken her heart. Could she trust him to take care of her people?

  What choice did she have? She had to believe he would be merciful to those who had done nothing to him.

  Regardless, no matter what he did, or didn’t do, giving herself to Gregor was not going to be easy.

  This time, since she wasn’t shaking, she climbed down the ladder. Once on the ground, she put her hands on her stomach and took a deep breath before walking over to the gate.

  ‘No.’ Gregor tapped the bars of the portcullis. ‘You come out here.’ He then stepped away, waiting.

  Beatrice held his stare and ordered loudly, ‘Raise the gate.’

  The sound of the gate being winched open grated on her ears, threatening to dislodge her hard-won composure. After it was secured open, she walked out of the keep to stand before Gregor.

  ‘I will trade my life for those of the prisoners.’

  He crossed his arms against his chest. ‘Why would I agree to that? You are already mine.’

  She looked down at his feet. He was going to make it difficult to keep her vow not to argue with him. She reached up and removed a chain from around her neck. Holding it up, with the wedding ring dangling from the chain, she said, ‘I will wear this without argument.’

  He took the ring and chain from her. ‘You had that chance yesterday.’

  Beatrice lowered her arm. ‘Gregor, there is no need to make this harder than it already is.’

  He reached out, placed his fingertips beneath her chin and lifted until she met his stare. ‘You could look at me while stating your demands.’

  ‘I will trade my life for their safety.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  She could tell that he was enjoying this by the shimmer in his eyes. ‘And for the safety of those already inside the walls.’

  ‘I have conditions of my own, Beatrice.’

  She closed her eyes, waiting to hear what he’d demand of her.

  ‘Look at me.’

  When she finally reopened her eyes, he continued, ‘You wish to take the place of the prisoners?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her chin trembled and at this moment she couldn’t determine who she detested more—him, or her own lack of strength.

  ‘So be it. As my prisoner, you will be led in chains to your cell. For all to see.’

  Beatrice swallowed hard. He was going to ensure there would be no mistaking her status.

  ‘Yes, or, no.’

  When she didn’t answer right away he said, ‘Be warned, if you say no, all your people will suffer.’

  ‘Yes.’ She spoke so softly that she wasn’t certain the word ever left her mouth.

  ‘Again.’

  She took a breath, then repeated louder, ‘Yes.’

  Gregor lowered his arm and turned to wave his men forward. Once Simon, Colin and James joined them, he said, ‘Bring the prisoners to the wall and release them. Put her in their chains and lead her to the cottage.’

  The two guards stared at him as if he’d sprouted a horn. Simon rubbed a hand across his forehead. ‘My lord—’

  ‘You heard me.’ Gregor’s low tone cut off his man’s argument. ‘She already knows what’s going to happen. This is how she will pay for her defiance.’

  Beatrice touched Simon’s arm. ‘If I am to go in chains, I would rather it be done by the three of you than any others. I am willing, Simon, but I beg you to get this over with before I lose my nerve.’

  They didn’t appear happy about their task, but they nodded their acceptance to their lord. Gregor turned away to mount his horse and ride back across the clearing.

  Simon motioned to the men. ‘Get the prisoners.’

  ‘Is he very angry?’ Beatrice asked.

  ‘What do you think, my lady? He waited for you long into the night.’

  ‘He is going to take my home and my father’s life. How could I marry him?’

  ‘You said you would.’

  ‘I am not the only one who has lied.’

  Simon looked at her and shook his head. ‘Oh, I think you are. I have known Gregor his entire life. I would wager he never lied to you. Might not have told you everything, but what he did tell you was the truth.’

  ‘An omission is the same as a lie.’

  ‘That is debatable.’

  Beatrice wanted to scream. Were all of Roul’s men so contrary? ‘He said he was going to visit his brother.’

  ‘We are. After we finish here.’

  ‘How convenient for him to have left that part out.’

  ‘Hush. I warned you to guard your heart. Apparently you ignored the warning.’

  The guards led the prisoners by them. Beatrice gasped when she saw Sir Brent. He’d been a knight for King Henry until Henry’s death. Then he’d come to her father and now commanded ships. She turned to Simon. ‘A moment, please?’

  ‘Make it quick.’

  She grasped Sir Brent’s arm. ‘Are you well?’

  ‘Lady Beatrice, it is good to see you. Yes, we are well.’

  ‘Sir Robert is in charge of Warehaven in my absence. I ask you to second him if you will.’

  ‘You know I will do anything Warehaven asks of me. But I must ask something of you in return.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I know not where your father is, or if he will survive his return. You are all that Warehaven has left here of the family. Take care of yourself, Lady Beatrice. We count on you to still be here when all is said and done.’

  Was she the only person who did not take her father’s life, or death, so lightly? Simon nudged her and she knew there was no time to argue with the man, or convince him of the error in his thinking, so she simply said, ‘I will. Fear not.’

  Colin and James led the prisoners to the gate and released them from their bonds one by one. She shook a little more each time one of them disappeared into the keep. By the time they had all been released and the gates were once again closed, she trembled so hard that she wasn’t at all certain she could remain standing.

  ‘Stop this.’ Simon grasped her arm. ‘You know me. You know the men. While this might be humiliating, it will not physically hurt you. Everyone at camp knows you are under Lord Gregor’s protection. They will not touch you.’

  ‘But I don’t know what he will do.’

  ‘That, my lady, is your own fault. But worrying about it now isn’t going to help anything.’

  James tied her wrists together, making sure the rope was not too tight, while Colin secured a lead rope to the bindings. Both of the men grumbled an apology before leading her back to their encampment.

  She never realised how wide the clearing between the keep and the edge of the hill was until now. What was in truth only a few minutes felt like hours. By the time they reached the road leading down the side of the hill her footsteps faltered and she stumbled to the ground.

  Simon reached down to help her back to her feet. ‘You are working yourself into a fine lather for no reason. Would you like me to have Lord Gregor come retrieve you?’

  ‘No!’

  Those gathered along the sides of the road looked at her as if she were little more than a beetle, something to be crushed underfoot. Some laughed, others shouted obscenities, and still others had lewd suggestions as to what should be done to her. But as Simon had told her, not one of them tried to lay a
hand on her.

  When they turned off on to a narrow footpath, Beatrice knew that Gregor had taken over the midwife’s cottage. It was the smallest one closest to the keep.

  Simon knocked on the door before opening it and pushing her inside. They didn’t even stay to untie her. The three men left immediately.

  She turned away from the door to stare into the darkness of the cottage. When her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, her breath stuck in her throat at the sight before her. Gregor, the priest from Warehaven and another priest who was unfamiliar to her stood in the centre of the cottage.

  Warehaven’s priest moved his lips in silent prayer, while the other one asked, ‘Gregor of Roul, do you take this woman as your wife?’

  Before he could answer, Beatrice dropped to her knees. ‘Please, no.’

  Gregor crouched down so they were at eye level. ‘Last night it would have been done properly. But obviously that wasn’t what you wanted. Now you say this is no good either. So, let’s try this again. Are you telling me that you will willingly wed me in a proper ceremony before all of Warehaven?’

  She hung her head. What choice did she have? ‘Yes.’

  ‘Beatrice.’

  She raised her head and met his gaze. ‘Yes.’

  Gregor stood and motioned the priests from the cottage. Once they left he slammed the door closed and dropped a long, thick wooden bar into place across the door. She glanced at the new addition of iron holders on both sides of the door frame. Obviously, she wasn’t getting out of here without help.

  Before she could say anything, Gregor tugged on the rope, forcing her to her feet. His eyes shimmered, a small smile played at the corner of his lips—both warned her that she was in dire danger.

  Beatrice panicked and opened her mouth to scream, only to have him cover her lips with his own effectively swallowing the sound.

  Without breaking the contact, he spun them around and backed her across the one-room cottage to the bed, where he dropped both of them on to the mattress.

  With her hands still bound, caught between them, she had no way to fight him, except to squirm beneath him and try to kick free.