by Allie Borne
She'd stay for the moment, she decided, turning resolutely to help Lord Polk's knight. Then, she would await the first opportunity to make her way back home.
~
Sir David's gaze blurred then came into focus as a sharp pain sliced through his right side.
“God's teeth, tis but a scratch,” Hannah tittered nervously, as she examined the naked expanse of David's rib cage.
It had been quite a feat to roll his large, unconscious form over and pull his blood-stained tunic and shirt from his form. Placing them gingerly beneath his head, Hannah released a nervous chuckle of relief.
Must be the blow to the head he'd received when the pig reared back that had knocked her assailant unconscious. The gash to his ribs was superficial. The blood was already beginning to congeal and slow its run down the side of his body. Twas the iron-rich smell of blood in this cave that Hannah now feared the most.
Other predators were likely to smell the aroma and come to see about an easy meal. She must do something to stave off another attack. The woods about them were wet. She had no flint with which to start a fire. There was no material large enough to block the entrance, that she was strong enough to move. What could she do?
The man at her feet groaned and looked up at Hannah groggily.
“Fire. We need a fire.”
“Of course we need a fire,” she snapped uncharacteristically. “We won't last till dawn in this blood bath without it. What do ye expect me to do? Whip one up out of thin air?”
David grinned despite his pounding head. This little doe-eyed innocent had quite a vixen's tongue when provoked. He liked it.
“I stayed in this cave once before, with my father's soldiers. We stashed some kindling and logs back in the crevice.” He waved towards the dark side of the cave, and Hannah shivered. She did not wish to stick her hand down some snake-infested shaft.
“And how do ye propose we start it?” she scoffed, hiding her fear.
“I've flint in my boot,” he groaned, rolling over on his injured ribs to offer her the side of his boot.
There, she saw a small flap. Untying it, she was able to dig out two pieces of flint. Sighing, she thanked God for their good fortune and resolutely faced the dark crevice at the back of the cave. Finding an errant stick beneath an old mouse skeleton, Hannah poked about the darkened crack in an effort to scare off anything with teeth.
Slowly, she placed her hand in the space and grasped what felt like a bundle of sticks. Pulling it out, she again sured up her courage and reached in for wood. She felt a large wedge and yanked.
“Aaaaah!” she screamed, as a field mouse scurried across her foot. Dropping the wood, she hopped up and down, shaking out her skirts vigorously.
Pushing himself up into a seating position, David groaned and rolled upon his knee as if to stand.
“I can do this!” Hannah insisted, holding out her hand and eyeing David with the clear message that he was to sit back down.
Once more, Hannah kneeled and pulled out the two remaining logs.
Moving to the center of the cave, Hannah quirked her brow, and looked back at David. “There is no evidence of a fire here.”
“We dared not risk a fire on our approach,” David explained.
Hannah shivered, reminded of her first abduction, and then again of David's second, successful attempt.
She must not lose sight of the fact that this man had captured her with the intent of turning her over to the foul villain, John Polk. She would make this fire and stay safe for tonight, but before first light, she'd be gone.
Kneeling down to her task, Hannah took little time to coax the kindling into a roaring flame.
Sir David was impressed by the gentlewoman's skill. He had known very few ladies, but his mother and aunt were surely never expected to light their own fires or care for their own hearth. Lady Hannah was much stronger than the frail bird she appeared.
“Thou art Lady Hannah?” he asked, uncertain.
Hannah shrugged, “If thou sayest I am.”
Alarm bells gonged through Sir David's addled brain. Had he abducted a mere companion and not the late Lord Sander's daughter? Had this venture all been for naught?
Nay, he reasoned. This was Lady Hannah. Her velvet gown, the slope of her shoulders, the color of her hair, the shape of her nose, all mimicked that of the late Lord Sanders. She was his daughter, even if she would not own up to it.
Smiling ruefully, he rested his pounding head against the pillow of his tunic. “Well, then,” he chuckled. “If thou art no lady, I suppose I need not worry about protecting thy innocent maidenhood.”
Snaking a hand out, David grabbed the back of Hannah's gown and pulled. Unbalanced from her crouched position at the fire, Hannah fell hard against David's bare chest with an, “oomph!”
Grasping her about her arms, he pressed her closely to his torso and whispered in her ear as she struggled. “I can keep ye for myself, then, I suppose, my little vixen. No need to save ye fer the likes of Sir John, after all.”
Hannah gasped, uncertain as to what the man referred, but very certain he meant to do her harm.
With a swift twist, Sir David had straddled Hannah beneath him and looked down upon her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“What should we do first, my doe-eyed vixen?”
David ran the back of his hand along Hannah's cheek and down the 'v' of her gown.
Hannah grew very still and very cold. Her lips trembled. What should she do? If she claimed to be Lady Hannah, he would stop. This would save her in the moment. But then, she would soon be turned over to the pig Sir John. If that happened, she would become a broken play thing of that pock-marked swine until she was lucky enough to die from plague or child birth.
If she denied her station, this man would ravage her right here, beside the bloody boar carcass. Large tears pulled in Hannah's eyes, and she turned her head away from David's greedy gaze.
The vacant hopelessness that David glimpsed in Hannah's eyes before she turned her head, broke some place deep within him. He had become as vile as his brothers-preying on the weak and innocent for sport.
Slowly, and carefully, David lifted himself from atop Hannah and turned to tend the fire. Back turned, he grumbled, “My apologies, Lady Hannah. I was thinking just to tease ye a bit. I forget that ladies are a might more sensitive than us blokes.”
Hannah shivered and sat up. “I should think so, ye, ye miscreant.”
David grinned to himself as he added the first log to the fire. Lady Hannah didn't even have the foul words in her vocabulary to be able to truly tell him off.
She was endearing and captivating. Never had he met a Lady like her. She represented civilization, restraint, sophistication, kindness, softness...all the things he'd longed for as a child. His own mother was cool and reserved. She had not taken an active hand in raising any of her six sons.
He had left his own harsh hearth to be trained by the equally merciless Lord Haversham. Capable as he was, Sir David had no interest in leading the hard life of a mercenary. Not that he was afraid of a fight. He was fast, brave, clever, and strong. He'd fought in fifteen skirmishes already in his young life and lived to tell about it.
Yet, it was not the life for which he longed. From a young age, he had believed there must be something more. A life of books, music, farming, and family. Lady Hannah represented just such a life. The way she had cared for him, her assailant, proved she would make for a kind-hearted mother some day. She was a fine lady to boast as a gentleman's wife. Rough edges be damned. He would find a way to make her his, rightfully and legally, or he would die trying.
“Hast thou nothing to say for thyself?” Hannah demanded, interrupting his reverie.
Sir David turned and allowed a ghost of a smile to play across his classically handsome features. Standing, he gave his most courtly bow. “I beg thy lady's forgiveness and humbly plight my troth. I am now and forever more in thy lady's service. I thank thee for staying and seeing to my welfare, r
ather than running off at the first chance.”
Hannah was taken aback. She could not understand the extreme mood shifts of her captor. What game was he playing at now? She was not experienced with the flirtations and quips of the nobility, but it seemed that this young man most certainly was. Narrowing her eyes, she took stock of his features and shivered. When she was eight years old, the Lord and Lady Polk had deemed to visit the lowly Lord Sanders. She remembered the visit because her father had nearly beggared himself, putting up the best food, wine, and entertainment. This young man, if she were not mistaken, looked the exact image of Lady Polk. If he were not her son, he was a close relation. She was now more certain than ever that she had been abducted by a gentleman.
“How fairs thy mother, Lady Polk?” Hannah hazarded.
Sir David stiffened. “Ye shall find out shortly, I presume.”
It was Hannah's turn to stiffen. “Please, Sir...whoever ye are, I beg ye. Do nay turn me over to Sir John. I cannot abide the thought of suffering such as that. There must be some agreement we can come to amongst ourselves.”
David stifled a grin and suppressed his rising guilt at how easily he could manipulate the young woman. She was barely out of the nursery, of that he was certain. Her womanly figure could not hide the softness of her cheeks and the innocence in her eyes.
He should not manipulate her, but turn her back over to the protective custody of her stepmother. The Lady Sara had a reputation for being a doting care giver to her stepchildren. Yet, she had no real power to protect Hannah against the plotting, scheming masses of men who would use her to promote their own ends...Men like yerself? he silently chastised.
At least I would care for her, respect her person, his alter-ego argued.
Sighing he turned to Lady Hannah and boldly broke the code of chivalry by offering, “Ye could marry me instead.”
Hannah sat up strait and looked at her youthful captor. She had never imagined that she would have the choice to marry a young man. Gentlewomen in her station were wed to men of thirty or forty years, sometimes more.
This young man offered her the opportunity to buck convention and marry someone young and attractive, if not safe and established.
“And how wouldst thou care for me?” she scoffed, dropping her head to admire the folds within her skirt.
“I would form a liaison with Sir Gavin, establishing him as rightful Lord Sanders and myself as his troop commander. I hold the title of Sir David, son of Lord and Lady Polk. T'would be a wise merger for myself and thy family.”
After a long silence, Sir David continued. “I would be good to thee, Lady Hannah. I have never once raised my hand to a woman. I would make thy happiness my sincerest ambition.”
Hannah looked up at Sir David and considered the ludicrous proposal. Was it possible that they could act on such an impulse and gain stability for themselves and their families in turn?
Yet, how was she to know that he was whom he claimed? How was she to know he meant a word of what he said to her now?
Once married, she became a man's property to do with as he desired. Yet, if he were whom he claimed, and she could remain under Sir Gavin's domain, as he suggested, would she not retain protection therein?
Despite the fact that the man had stolen her, had he not also protected her from the pig laying at his feet?
She would have to think on this before she hazarded a response.
Chapter 6
Betrayal
The first rays of light trickled through the leaf litter across the forest floor, as Sir Gavin set out to find his missing ward. His ire and anxiety mounted. Last night had been restless and miserable. Lying beneath an outcropping, which offered little shelter from the bitter September wind, the men had taken turns keeping watch while the others tried to sleep. Sleep had proved impossible.
The trail had grown cold the evening before, and yet, Gavin pushed forward, in the general direction of Lakeshore Manor. If his instincts were correct, Lady Hannah's captor would be headed that way.
Pausing, Gavin thought he caught a whiff of smoke. Squinting into the far distance, Gavin noted a rock outcrop. It boasted a trickling waterfall and a thin stream of pale smoke puffing from the top of the largest boulder.
Gavin's heart raced. Someone was inside. The dawn had not quite lifted its golden fingers into the slumberous sky when Gavin and his men stealthily mounted the side of the rocky structure. Silently, he motioned for his men to follow behind as he felt the rock face for an inevitable opening. Brushing past the ivy, the three men filed inside.
Step by painstaking step, they moved in silent accord until the narrow passage finally gave way into a small open chamber. Gavin stopped cold at the scene before him. A low-burning fire lighted a small portion of the cavern. There, amid the shadows and embers, lay his precious stepdaughter, draped across the naked expanse of a young man's chest.
In wanton abandon, her mouth slightly agape in peace-filled slumber, she smiled and snuggled into the arm the man wrapped intimately about her waist.
Before he could react, his men came behind him and beheld the scene; their eyes grew large and dark with understanding. “Lady” Hannah had run away as Sara predicted after all. With the aid of a young man, none-the-less.
Pointing his sword in the young man's face, Gavin hazarded a kick to his bruised ribs.
“Ugh,” the man sat up, one arm shielding his head while the other wrapped protectively about Hannah.
“Unhand her ye vile knave!” Gavin growled, offering his arm to Hannah in silent entreaty.
Hannah woke with a start, looking at the man who held her against his chest and the other who offered her fatherly protection.
Her mind raced. If she were to move, Sir David's life was at risk. If she stayed, Sir Gavin would surely draw the wrong conclusion.
Slowly, very slowly, she drew her hand up to Sir David's wrist and loosed it from her person. Cautiously, she stood, allowing David time to do the same. They took a step back, but Gavin closed the distance.
“Lord Sanders, might I present to ye Sir David, son of Lord and Lady Polk.”
Gavin growled and nearly lunged at David, but Hannah held up her hands and stepped before the sword. “This world is full enough of death as is, without us taking one another's lives.”
Gavin ignored Hannah and glared at Sir David. “Art thou who she claims ye to be?”
“Aye, Lord Sanders, I am.”
“And how come thee to be in possession of my stepdaughter?”
Sir David hesitated, prompted only by the tip of Gavin's sword at his throat. “I-I escaped the cage Lady Sanders prepared and returned to capture the Lady Hannah of my own accord.”
“And yer intent, Sir?”
“I-I had hoped to garner an understanding betwixt thee and myself, Lord Sanders...an understanding that my bring favor from the king.”
“Keep talking...”
“I myself am a knight by blood and title and a mercenary by trade. I am a skilled fighter. Yet, I have no love for the life I lead. Having seen the opportunity afforded my most vile and reprehensible brother, I thought myself much better suited. Despite my lack of education and experience, I would have made a much better Lord than my slothful, gluttonous brother.
“I found myself unwilling to return to my father in disgrace, cast out upon the world with nothing but an honor-less knighthood to make my way. At first, I thought to capture the Lady Hannah and return her to my father, to ensure I earned my way back into his good graces.
“My father, however, is a powerful man. He did not earn this power through kindness and empathy. He, would, no doubt, turn Lady Hannah over to my vile brother, thus ensuring the title of Lord Sanders stayed within our family.
“I do not wish this for Lady Hannah. I dared to wish something better for all of us. I propose, therefore, that I make a truce with thee, Lord Sanders, by acknowledging thy right to the land and title and by marrying the Lady Hannah myself. This would thus cement the connection of our two
families, please the king in offering a plethora of heirs for the surrounding region, and offer me a place to call home.
“I would willingly pledge my loyalty to thee and serve as thy troop commander, should thou find me worthy to do so.”
Gavin's face turned red, and his voice erupted in loud, echoing bellows about the chamber. “Ye steal my daughter from her family estate, debauch her in God knows what villainous manner, than propose I make a truce with thee!”
Gavin lifted the sword and swiftly brought the hilt down on top of Sir David's head. “She'll marry thee in Hell first!” David crumpled to the ground.
Hannah screamed in fear and vexation, kneeling down to rest Sir David's head in her lap. “Ye've killed him, ye've murdered him!” she screeched crumpling over David's limp body in wrenching sobs.
Gavin pulled up short. “Of course, I have nay killed the wee usurper. I'm not as daft as all that, ye wicked imp. Have ye gone and lost yer mind, child? How can ye throw yerself on the first eligible man to come yer way? Ye have nay way of knowing he is whom he says or that he'll make good on his promises to ye.”
Lady Hannah looked her dirty, tear streaked face up to Gavin and he could see for the first time how truly young she was. This was the first time she had ever felt the warmth of a man; the attraction and affection had overwhelmed her. He must be more sensitive to her feelings.
“Come, now, lass, and let me take ye home to yer mother.”
“I'll not leave him here to be harmed, my lord. Please, I beg of ye!”
Sir David groaned and turned his head from the harsh light streaming through the ceiling of the cave. Smiling and hiccuping, Lady Hannah patted his face.
Gavin rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “We'll get him home and see that he is the man he claims to be. If he is Sir David Polk, ye can marry the fool and let him live to regret his allegiance to me forthwith.”
“I am not so certain I am ready to marry the man,” Hannah hedged.
