Midnight Shadow

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Bria relinquished care of her wound to him, but wasn’t sure she wanted to involve him in her scheme. “There was a fight,” she lied. “I tried to break it up.”

  Harry lifted his eyes to hers, searching out the truth. She turned away from his stare, unable to look at him. “This is a sword wound,” Harry informed her. “I’m not a fool, Bria, and I’m insulted you’d treat me like one.”

  “Oh, Grandfather,” she whispered. But she couldn’t tell him her secret, couldn’t implicate him in her plan. She shook her head and her long locks fell over her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She stared at her arm, refusing to meet his gaze. “I was coming home from the clearing and I saw two men fighting. I tried to stop it.”

  Harry’s eyes saddened, and he looked down at her wound, cleaning and wrapping it in silence.

  Bria wanted to tell him the truth. It was tearing her apart not to be able to confide in him, but what she was doing was far too dangerous.

  Harry tied off the wrappings. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Just stay away from sword fights.”

  Bria smiled and stood. Grateful, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  He grunted in disapproval, but kissed her hand. “Go and get some rest.”

  ***

  Terran sat in the Great Hall late into the night, awaiting word of the capture of the Midnight Shadow, his rival, his hated enemy. He held a mug of ale tightly as he stared into the crackling fire of the hearth. Around him on the floor, servants slept, content in the dreams of commoners. For Terran, there’d be no contented sleep until the Midnight Shadow was captured. His coffers suffered, but not half as much as his heart.

  Footsteps echoed in the Great Hall, the sound bouncing off the heavy stone walls. Terran lifted his gaze to see Kenric approaching.

  Terran rose and moved to greet him, calling, “Where is he? I want to interrogate him myself.”

  Kenric looked away from his cousin’s piercing stare and his jaw clenched. “He escaped.”

  “What?” Terran roared.

  “He’s like a demon, my lord,” Kenric defended himself. “He disappears and reappears –”

  “Rubbish,” Terran exploded. “He is a man. I want him caught.”

  “I wounded him. I know he bleeds. I’ll try again tonight. This I promise.” Kenric whirled toward the doors.

  “No.” Terran slapped his hand on Kenric’s shoulder. “He’ll be expecting something. Wait a while. Let him grow comfortable with his escapades.” Terran’s gaze drifted in the direction of Bria’s room. “In the meantime, let’s see if we can’t secure the aid of my betrothed. Let’s find out where she’s been.”

  ***

  Terran stared at Bria’s horse. The black steed eyed him as he moved about the stall, closely surveying the animal for any clue as to where she had gone to meet this man. But her horse’s legs had been washed down and a blanket was thrown over his back to keep him warm.

  Terran’s jaw clenched. She’d taken care of her steed before returning to the keep. This was a smart woman he was marrying.

  Fury and betrayal burned inside Terran. His fists clenched tightly.

  Bria Delaney would know the full extent of his wrath. He would have answers.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I will have answers, Terran thought again.

  He hadn’t been able to fall asleep with the little night that remained after Kenric’s return. He’d only managed to rest for a few hours before rising. Now he found himself in the Great Hall, waiting for his betrothed. And waiting.

  His mood darkened as the sun lifted further and further in the sky until it was directly overhead. He’d intended to question her gently about her lover. But the more he waited, the angrier he became. His plan to question her calmly was slowly changing to one of getting what he wanted one way or another.

  He rose and headed for the door, stomping over the rushes covering the floor. He hadn’t missed her awakening. She was still asleep in her bed. Well, no future wife of his would sleep the day away.

  Kenric entered the Great Hall, momentarily halting Terran’s stride. “M’lord,” he greeted with a nod of his head.

  “Have you seen my betrothed?” Terran almost spat the words.

  “No.”

  Terran stalked past him. Kenric had to walk quickly to keep up.

  Terran rounded the comer, heading toward her room, and almost slammed into a group of serving women and ladies. He came up short and bowed slightly before them when his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

  Bria stood before him at the front of the women. She met his stare evenly, those blue eyes luminous with a smile that slowly faded from her lips.

  Terran realized he’d never seen her smile before. His anger vanished beneath the happiness he’d just seen touching her eyes, her lips, her cheeks. She was beautiful. Incredibly, amazingly beautiful.

  “Lord Knowles,” she greeted.

  Some of the women curtsied, some hailed him with a barely audible acknowledgment. But Terran’s gaze remained fixed on Bria. What had she done to make herself so vibrant?

  She stepped around him.

  For a moment, Terran watched her move past him, transfixed. Such confidence in her step, such beauty in her features, such --

  “M’lord.”

  It was Kenric. Terran turned his head to his cousin, who was staring at him in confusion, as if something were wrong. It shook Terran out of his fog. He glanced back to Bria, calling, “My lady, I would have a word with you.”

  Bria halted and turned. Her eyes were so large and so startlingly blue. Her long, dark hair hung in ringlets over her shoulder to the middle of her back. The dark blue velvet gown she wore hugged her shapely figure. She nodded and her hair brushed her breast. She whispered something to one of the women and then stepped forward.

  The group of women turned and continued into the Great Hall.

  Terran watched Bria approach with uncharacteristically tentative steps. He shifted his gaze from the subtle sway of her gown to her eyes. She wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Kenric.

  Terran glanced over his shoulder at Kenric to see a small smile of satisfaction on his lips. A frown carved its way into Terran’s forehead. He didn’t like the effect his cousin had on his future wife. He turned away from Kenric and took Bria’s hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm, almost as if protecting her. He guided her down the hall into a more secluded area of the castle. Kenric trailed them like a shadow.

  “You certainly rise late,” Terran commented.

  Bria glanced over her shoulder at Kenric. “Must we have an escort?”

  “He’s interested in what I’m going to ask you.”

  Bria stopped and faced him. “Whatever you have to ask, you may do so right here.”

  Terran studied her slightly upturned chin, the glint of defiance in her eyes. “Are you afraid?” he challenged.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  His admiration grew stronger with each passing moment. No man would dare to admit his fear, even though he felt it. For Bria to do so meant she had more honesty and confidence than any man he knew.

  “I’m afraid to be alone with you,” she clarified.

  A grin quirked the side of his lip. After his behavior two nights ago, he thought that was a fair explanation.

  “I have a right to be, after you murdered your last betrothed.”

  Her words caught him unaware. Murder Odella? Such fury as he had never known claimed his entire being. He grabbed her arm and squeezed it tightly. “You will not speak again of Odella. She was more of a lady than you will ever be.”

  Bria’s face twisted in agony and she bent her body slightly, favoring the arm he was squeezing. Terran lessened his grip, but something beneath her velvet sleeve captured his attention. He ran his fingers up and down her arm until he found the top and bottom of the discrepancy beneath her clothing. He looked at the width his fingers spanned.

  Bria pulled her arm away from his tou
ch, holding it as if it were wounded.

  Wounded! Terran’s eyes snapped to lock with Bria’s. That’s what it felt like, wrappings from a wound. A sword wound, by the width of it.

  He grabbed her forearm in a tight grip. “What is this?” he demanded.

  Bria tried to pull her arm free. “I was hurt,” she replied.

  Kenric stepped up beside Terran. His small, ugly eyes glared at her.

  Bria’s gaze shifted between the two men. “I was wounded yesterday trying to break up a fight!” she said desperately.

  Terran pulled her closer. “My enemy was wounded yesterday.”

  “Terran, you’re hurting me,” she whispered.

  Terran immediately released her arm. “How is it you have the same wound as my enemy?” he demanded.

  Bria rubbed her arm. She opened her mouth, searching for an answer, but nothing came forth. Finally, she closed her mouth.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Terran whirled to find Bria’s grandfather standing in the hallway. He was about ready to command the old man away, when he saw his left arm, which was wrapped in a cloth and cradled by a sling. Then a servant walked by, moving down the hallway. A fresh cloth covered the upper part of his left arm. Terran could have sworn he saw a mocking smile on the servant’s lips. Another man walked by, his upper left arm wrapped, too. Terran’s anger boiled and he snapped his gaze back to Bria. Good Lord! How many other men are wearing wrappings around their arms to cover for her lover?

  He glared at her with all the murderous intensity he felt simmering inside before whirling and stalking away from her.

  She was the key to finding his enemy, but he couldn’t speak with her when there was this much rage inside him. He couldn’t face her and look into her eyes and hear her slanderous words about Odella.

  He paused at an open balcony to look out on the lands, but saw nothing of the world below. He ran a hand over his face. Bria thought he had murdered Odella. It pained him to the core of his being. No wonder she didn’t trust him. No wonder she looked upon him with distaste. No wonder she never smiled at him.

  Suddenly, a terrifying thought occurred to him. Would Bria do the same thing Odella had done to avoid marrying him? Would Bria take her own life?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Terran stalked away down the corridor, and Bria turned to find Kenric glaring at her. Her left arm throbbed with the memory of his attack. But he didn’t frighten her any longer. She’d faced him in battle and had survived. It was the way he was looking at her, like all the fires in hell had gathered inside him and he was waiting for the right moment to unleash them on her.

  Then Kenric cast a glance over his shoulder at Harry. When he looked back at her, there was a restrained look in his eyes, but a dark promise nonetheless. He moved off down the hall.

  Bria turned toward her grandfather and slowly walked up to him, gazing at his arm. “That’s a nasty cut.”

  “You don’t know how nasty. Do you realize how much courage it takes to cut oneself with a dagger?”

  A thousand sincere thank you’s glimmered in her eyes. She knew now just how wrong she’d been in not telling him the truth. He was more than her grandfather. He was her confidant. “You knew.”

  “I may be old,” he replied, “but I’m not a fool.” He gently touched her cheek. “And I know my granddaughter. I had the others just put on bandages. They didn’t cut themselves. I told them it was a joke I was playing on Knowles. They don’t know what it means.”

  Bria threw herself into his arms.

  “I was afraid for you, Bria,” he whispered. “I knew Knowles would find out. But I can only protect you until that coward of a father of yours marries you off. Once you’re gone, you’re on your own.”

  “And it will be soon,” she said, pressing her cheek to his chest.

  “Aye,” Harry replied, stroking her hair. “Within the next few days. Knowles is insisting you leave for his castle within the next week.”

  Bria’s embrace tightened. She was scared. Everything she knew, everything she loved was here at Castle Delaney. She’d soon be leaving the safety of her home and venturing off into unknown lands, into her enemy’s hands.

  “Knowles will do everything in his power to find out who the Midnight Shadow is. Give it up, Bria, before it is too late.”

  “I can’t,” Bria whispered. She had to keep up the guise of the Midnight Shadow, for Mary, for Garret, for everyone she could help. “I won’t.”

  Harry squeezed her tightly. “You must promise me something, then.”

  Bria pulled back. “Anything.”

  “You must promise me...” Harry studied her features.

  Bria could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes.

  “You must promise me you will not die.”

  For the flash of a second, she considered lying to him, but he knew her far better than anyone else. He wasn’t a fool. “The Midnight Shadow will never die,” she answered, feeling tears rise in her eyes. “You taught me that, remember?”

  Harry brushed a tear from her cheek before stepping away from her and turning to move off down the hallway.

  Bria watched her grandfather, and a strange heaviness settled upon her chest. She’d be leaving him soon. But why? Why did she have to leave? Why wouldn’t her father tell Knowles to go hang? Even if he thought the worst of her, she was still his daughter, his only heir. He could refuse this marriage.

  Bria moved down the hall, then up another set of stairs to find her father. He was probably in the treasury studying the profits and figures from the tithes. Holding her skirt up slightly, she climbed the stairs. Her small, slippered feet made no sound as they moved across the steps. Finally, she reached the treasury. She tentatively opened the door, calling, “Father?”

  “Come in, Bria,” her father called from a small table. Stick tabulations lay spread out on the table, some banded together, some separate. A piece of parchment lay on the table with meticulous figures written on it. Her father paused, looking up from the sticks to gaze at her.

  “Hello, Father,” Bria called.

  Her father sat back in his chair. “I’m glad you came. I could use a rest from these figures.”

  Bria nervously ran a finger through a gouge in the wooden table.

  Her father reached out and clasped her hand.

  Bria lifted her eyes to meet her father’s. With his gentle gaze upon her, Bria couldn’t speak the truth. She couldn’t ask him why he wouldn’t fight for her. She couldn’t ask him why he wouldn’t defend her. She knew why.

  “I expected you to come to me much sooner than this, but you’ve always put the feelings of others before your own,” he mused.

  Bria glanced down at the gouge again, unable to meet her father’s direct gaze. She couldn’t hurt him. She adored him. He’d fought and been maimed in a horrible war. He was dealing with it the best way he knew how, the way that would keep him sane. She couldn’t destroy him.

  “You think me a coward for not protecting you from Knowles.”

  How could she think him a coward after what he had been through? She began to shake her head, to deny his words, but he continued.

  “You do. As much as you want to deny it, you do.” He ran his hand over his eyes, sighing. “I cannot fight him, Bria. If I declare the betrothal invalid, he will challenge me in battle. It is his right.”

  Bria heard the anguish in his voice and dropped to her knees beside him. She reached out for his hand, but he moved his injured arm away from her touch with his good hand, absently rubbing his useless limb. Bria withdrew immediately, placing her hands in her lap.

  “It would be pointless,” he said softly. “I would be killed and then he would have the run of our lands anyway.”

  “But Grandfather –”

  “Is old and would be killed, too. Knowles would have you in the end,” her father explained. “He’s a strong man, Bria. You will bear him strong sons and maybe you can raise them to be kind lords.”

  Bria s
at back on her heels. “Then your mind is made up.”

  Her father’s blue eyes rose to meet hers. “Your rendezvous with this Midnight Shadow doesn’t help my situation any.”

  Bria began to shake her head.

  “You brought this on as much as I,” her father scolded.

  Bria couldn’t tell her father there was no rendezvous. He wouldn’t understand why she risked her life. He wouldn’t understand her reasons for trying to help the people under Terran’s rule. He would forbid her from doing it.

  “Tell me who he is,” her father commanded.

  Bria wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t look at him. She was disobeying a direct order of his. Women had been beaten for less, but she knew he’d never force her to tell him.

  “Bria, I am your father. Tell me who he is!” His tone grew angry and stern.

  She snapped her gaze to him. He’d never used that tone of voice with her before. Despite every fiber in her being urging her to confide in her father, Bria stood her ground. Revelation now would be the death of the Midnight Shadow. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t, Father. Please don’t ask me again.”

  Her father sighed. “Why didn’t you come to me with your love for this man, this Midnight Shadow, whoever he is? I could have betrothed you to him.”

  Bria wanted to laugh, but couldn’t. This matter had gone far beyond the point of humor.

  “Instead, you sneak off into the night to meet with a man I don’t know. I should feel insulted. Betrayed.”

  “No,” Bria objected. “Don’t. I never meant to make you feel that.”

  “Maybe that’s how you feel about me.”

  “No,” Bria insisted.

  “I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you,” her father whispered.

  “No,” Bria repeated, running her hand over his cheek. “Father, you are not a disappointment. I don’t blame this on you. I... I just don’t know what the future holds.”