Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519)

by Jillian Hart

  “You can sleep here.” He spread his furs upon the frost-crisp earth near the newly lit fire. “’Twill be the warmest and safest place for you.”

  “Safe from whom?” Flame illuminated the horror upon her face. “From you?”

  “As I said, you will sleep alone.” He’d not had a woman look upon his bed with horror before. “Justus will bring your meal. Sit and rest, dove. It has been a long day, and you’ve fought hard and well.”

  She turned, and the darkness hid her face from his sight, but it was clear she did not want him.

  He faded into the shadows alone, where he belonged.

  “I did not mean it, Father. I swear!”

  “So says a child too stupid to learn.” Her father’s face contorted with rage, and his voice echoed against stone and darkness.

  “Please, Father. I’ll not do it again.”

  “So you said last time. Wipe those tears off your face.” Flame from his torch illuminated the door that led to the dungeon below. “I grow weary of your crying.”

  “No!” Elin dug in her heels as the light licked at the metal lock. Desperation clawed like talons in her stomach. “I’ll not spill my milk again.”

  The squeak of hinges and the groan of metal answered. There would be no forgiveness. There never was. So she swallowed her tears and tried to swallow her fear, as well. Father trapped her hard against his chest and started down the staircase. Elin screwed her eyes shut, but the sound of his boots tapping on the stone steps echoed deep in her heart.

  Down they went. She could hear the scurry of vermin. She was so afraid of the dungeon. Father knew she was afraid, and held her with bruising force. She didn’t dare cry. If she let out any sound at all, then the fear would eat her up.

  Father dropped her to the cold floor, and she curled up in the corner. The door rasped shut, and his footsteps faded away—

  She sat up, horror clinging to her soul like fog to the ground. She gazed through the mists to see not damp stone walls but stars, open space, trees and the lumps of sleeping knights near the fire.

  She had not meant to doze off. But the food Justus had brought her was warm and the radiant heat from the fire had soothed her. She’d lain down, and Malcolm’s furs had enfolded her, the softest bed she’d known since leaving home.

  She shivered. She’d slept here vulnerable amid so many armed knights. And yet she’d been safe, just as Malcolm had promised. For now.

  She slipped from the warm furs. Her boots crunched upon the frost-crusted earth. She spotted several knights asleep in their armor, swords unsheathed at their sides. If only she could manage to slip one weapon away from its owner. She knelt upon the rocky ground and reached out—

  But he stirred, and she snatched back her hand. Were they all light sleepers? She headed toward the bushes, pondering a plan of action.

  “Elin.” Malcolm’s voice rose out of the darkness, thick with amusement. “I see you sneaking through my camp.”

  Where was he? She couldn’t see him. “I need some privacy.”

  “Why? There’s no sword to steal behind those ferns.” Fie! It sounded as if he laughed at her. His chain mail jangled as he stood, rising like a ghost from the shadows. “I’ll stand to keep better watch on you.”

  “You intend to watch me?”

  “What if you were to pick some local plant to poison us with? Or run off? Or meet with an enemy?”

  “Mayhap I just wish to reflect upon life behind a private bush.” ’Twas annoying how suspicious he was and how hidden by the dark.

  “I know better than to trust you, dove.” He chuckled, as if mocking her. “Hurry up with your business.”

  By the rood, that man had audacity. “Turn your back. You’ve the eyes of a demon and can see despite the dark.”

  “’Tis a good thing, so I’m not a target for every rock you might throw at me.” There he was, leaning against a tree trunk.

  She chose a very dense fern to climb behind. “You hold me prisoner. You have to expect me to try to escape.”

  “You are not my prisoner, but my wife.”

  “I see little difference between the two.”

  Malcolm chuckled. “Giles, dawn is not an hour away. I say we wake the men and ride. I cannot shake this feeling there is trouble ahead. I would rather know what it is, so I can best decide upon a course of action.”

  “The men have slept long enough. I’ll roust them.” Giles strode away to carry out his orders, and the camp soon bustled to life.

  Malcolm’s chest tightened with a strange emptiness. Today he would journey through these cold mists toward the first home he’d had since he was a small boy.

  Elin appeared at his side. Sleep had eased the smudges of exhaustion from her face, but the worry remained. “If we are to ride, then I want my sword.”

  “You shall have it, true to my word.” He took the weapon from his belt and handed her the cold steel hilt. She hefted it with her right hand, and he suspected her shoulder was still sore.

  He watched her walk away, chin down. Her ragged gown was too big on her, and she looked more like a waif than a baroness. “Elin?”

  She turned, a ribbon of shadow against a thousand shades of night. “What is it now?”

  He produced a crock. “Lift up your sleeve.”

  In answer, her sword gleamed silent and menacing. “You may not touch my person.”

  He easily pushed the weapon aside. “This will help your sore muscles. You have your herbs, but we knights have our solutions, too. ’Tis a balm of oils. Let me rub it on your shoulder to ease the hurting.”

  “I’ve no need of your weak balm.” Her chin shot up, but the challenge in her voice did not sound convincing.

  ’Twas as he thought. Her shoulder was very sore. He stepped closer. “What if you need to lift that sword? You’ll fight better without an aching shoulder.”

  Silence lengthened, and the muscles in her jaw tightened. She stared up at him with a hard gaze, debating silently. Then the tensed muscle in her jaw relaxed.

  “’Tis sense you speak, le Farouche.” She leaned the broadsword’s hilt against her abdomen and rolled up her sleeve.

  Malcolm uncapped the crock and scooped up a dollop with one finger. How pale her arm was, her skin so creamy it glowed like stardust, white and enchanting. And how soft. Why, ’twas the softest skin he’d ever touched.

  He rubbed the balm against the curve of her shoulder joint, making certain to cover well the muscle above the socket.

  “’Tis hot and it has burned away most of the soreness.” She rolled down her sleeve. “Thank you, Malcolm.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He watched her walk away, her right shoulder sagging beneath the weight of the gigantic sword, determined and proud and so very naive.

  He hated to think what trouble awaited them at Evenbough Castle.

  Chapter Seven

  “We dared not scout farther,” Giles reported as his destrier’s galloping hooves churned up earth and stone. “But I’ve no doubt. Evenbough Castle has been seized.”

  Fury drove deep into Malcolm’s heart. “Who dares such treachery?”

  “I see no colors, but I suspect more mercenaries.”

  “Men for hire.” He peered through the budding foliage on the hill, through leaves just opening, to the moated walls beyond. “’Twill be a hard castle to storm.”

  They had split into two parties, a smaller group traveling swiftly, while the bulk of the men stayed behind to guard the slower moving carts. Malcolm would wait for his knights to arrive, then take what was his.

  Giles wheeled his stallion to a skidding stop. “Malcolm, the castle looks well defended, but the walls are not manned. Mercenaries, by the looks of them.”

  “Scoundrel!” Ian rode close and cuffed Giles along the back of his head. “Address Malcolm as lord. He is our better now.”

  “Hit me again and you’ll lose your head, friend!” Giles’s hand curled around his sword’s hilt.

  “Hold, you two.
We have troubles enough.” Malcolm rubbed at the tension behind his brow. “They do not yet know we have arrived.”

  Ian released his sword. “Mayhap they are not expecting us. Mayhap those murdering swine do not realize whose keep they have seized.”

  “They know.” Malcolm lifted a hand to point at the tall towers, ill concealed weapons, and the pails of rocks and oil and sand, ready and waiting for an anticipated attack. “This is the king’s most valuable barony. Nay, they’ve been paid well to seize this land.”

  “I had the bolt-hole key.” Elin moved her mare alongside him. “In my packs on the mare you left behind in the forest.”

  “You insult our lord with your tone, woman!” Ian scolded, his fury unveiled. “Cease—”

  “’Tis to be expected, Ian. I’m used to her sarcastic tongue by now,” Malcolm interrupted. The solution was simple. “We will pull back and make camp out of their sight. Giles, scout us a site. Elin, I need to speak with you alone.”

  “Alone?” Her eyes rounded. Her hand settled upon the huge sword’s hilt.

  Did she think she could defeat him in a fight? “Pray, fierce warrior, do not run me through.”

  “You insult me.”

  “No more than you insult me.” He spurred his stallion deeper into the woods on the rise overlooking the great castle. “Have you lived in this keep all your life?”

  “Aye. I know it well.” She lifted her chin, challenge hard in her jeweled blue eyes. The gauntlet had been thrown. “If I help you, I will expect much in return.”

  “What do you wish?”

  “One favor of my choosing to be granted upon my request.”

  He had no time for a woman’s games. “How about the request to drive those abhorrent vermin from your home?”

  Sunlight filtered through the reaching limbs to illuminate the anger upon her face. Obstinate, she was. And prideful. And the loser of this debate.

  He sent his stallion into a trot. “Come ride around the hillside, and you will see what I already suspect. The village is in ruins.”

  “The village? Why, it was full of good people. Surely they were not harmed.”

  “By violent mercenaries?” He maneuvered his destrier to the edge of the woods, where bramble and fern gave way to the lush meadowland below. The walled town lay in ruins.

  “Those filthy swine! A pox upon them!” Anger twisted her voice and she sounded like any warrior, brave and fierce.

  But when he looked at her, ’twas a woman’s tears staining her face, trailing from eyes filled with horror and pain. “Those poor villagers! What has become of them?”

  “They have likely fled into the forest or run to Caradoc’s Ravenwood for protection.” Malcolm’s heart was hard—he’d seen far too much of this type of destruction and knew it to be not the worst in life.

  But looking into Elin’s eyes, he saw differently. To a peaceful town and to a peaceful people, this was sin enough. How amazing those tears were, shimmering in her eyes. They did not fall, and he looked for a long while upon her face, soft like an angel’s.

  He did not like how this woman attracted him. “I can make the villains pay for their attack on these unarmed people. But I could use your help. Tell me about the castle.”

  “What do you need to know?”

  “The weaknesses and strengths in defense.” He dismounted, snagged a broken limb from the ground and began to draw in the dirt. ’Twas best to concentrate on the attack to come instead of her beautiful face. “Here are the castle walls and the baileys and keep within.”

  She knelt beside him gracefully, and he could not fight his awareness of her. She smelled like spring wildflowers. Like sunshine, she warmed his blood and, in turn, warmed every part of him.

  He’d never before plotted strategy with a beautiful woman. ’Twas damned distracting.

  “Here is the portcullis.” She grabbed the stick from his grip. The brief brush of her fingers against his left a heat upon his skin that radiated and grew. “The front gates will be well guarded. But I know a back way into the keep.”

  “Tell me.”

  “There’s a hidden gate within the wall. I used it often as a child to escape my father, but then he assigned knights to guard me and I no longer used it. I wager none of those vile mercenaries in my castle will know of it, either. Look, they guard here, at the front gate and the back.”

  “And leave the keep and curtain walls less protected. Where is this secret entrance? Draw it.”

  She knelt over her work. Her slender hand gripped the rough stick. “How many men must we fight?”

  “There cannot be more than a hundred.” Malcolm gazed off at the castle, at the crest of a rise, where new spring green struggled to life amid the old dried grasses. “Evenbough is a large castle and their knights will be pressed to defend it. We have a good chance with just my men.”

  “You do not wish the help of Caradoc’s army?”

  “Nay. ’Twill be best to work with the knights I know well.” And could trust not to betray him.

  “How do you know the number of mercenaries?”

  “Look at the number of horses that have traveled the road. Look at the crenellations. They must expect our arrival soon and our challenge, yet I see but ten men. Look, their helms reflect the sun’s light.”

  “But will your armor?”

  “’Tis why I keep to the shadows.” His gaze fell to her mouth. Her lips were a lush pink and generous. How soft they looked. His blood beat with a strange yearning. This woman was his wife, and she belonged to him. Yet he did not know the feel of her kiss. He cleared his throat. “Come, mount up and show me the location of this hidden gate.”

  “I do not have that key, either.” She grabbed the mare’s reins and refused his help into the saddle.

  He swung up on his stallion and followed Elin’s lead through the dense underbrush. He ducked when the limbs grew too low.

  “There.” She pointed to the distant wall, unbreachable and strong. “The kitchens are but a step beyond. The servants are loyal to me.”

  “Those who still live.” Grimly, he rubbed his chin. ’Twas a finely built castle Edward had granted him. Too bad he was on the wrong side of those walls.

  “I say we gather the knights driven from Evenbough, plead for help from neighboring Ravenwood, and storm the walls.” Ian’s voice rose amid the whisper of breezes through greening trees and grabbed Malcolm’s attention. He signaled Elin to follow him.

  “I say we wait until nightfall and surprise them,” Giles proposed. “We could have entry through the sally port in a few minutes of battle, and then take the castle by stealth. ’Twould cost less in the lives of our men, and of the servants and hostages within the keep.”

  “Giles, you are no bold strategist, and ’tis your weakness—”

  Malcolm rode his stallion into the clearing. “Ian, Giles thinks as I do. Justus and Raymond, mount up and ride to meet the rest of our party. Bring them as quickly and as quietly as you can. They must be here by dusk, for I plan a night battle.”

  “Those are the most treacherous, my lord.” Ian stood respectfully, but his pride still obviously prickled. “We would be going blind into a keep we are unfamiliar with.”

  “I am familiar with it.” Elin dismounted, chin high.

  “Why would the traitor woman help us?” Ian’s hands fisted with undisguised anger. “Lord Malcolm, pray, do not listen to her. She would have us all betrayed into the hands of the enemy. We both witnessed her plotting with Caradoc after your marriage. ’Twas not long after that we were attacked by mercenaries. Now they happen to inhabit her castle.”

  Malcolm harbored the same doubts.

  Elin stalked toward him, radiating fury. “If I were to betray you, I would not rely on any man to do so. I would do it myself.” She met his gaze, but only he was close enough to see the quiver of her lips and the way her fingers itched to take hold of her sword’s hilt. “I’ve sworn to never be at any man’s mercy.”

  “Yet you are at min
e.” He did not know what to make of his wife. “I do not like these events, but they can be overcome. Work against me, Elin of Evenbough, and you’ll find me a fearsome enemy.”

  “You have no need for threats, le Farouche.” Her chin trembled, but no fear showed in her eyes. “That is my home.”

  He’d made the mistake of believing in a woman’s promises before. “Giles, set up a watch and make sure our men get some rest. We have a battle ahead, and how deadly and dangerous depends upon the traitor’s daughter.”

  By midnight tonight he would know if he took Elin of Evenbough as his true wife or if he would be sending her back to Edward as a traitor.

  Hopelessness beat within his chest, hard and unyielding.

  “I will not betray you.”

  He turned to see her posed in the shadows. The sunshine from above followed her and found her wherever she went, crowning her golden-red curls and limning her slender, womanly body. It haloed her as if she were heaven’s only angel.

  Yet he knew a woman’s nature, and it was far from angelic. “I learned long ago never to trust any female. Lies come easily to many women.”

  “I do not want those demons hurting the servants in my home. Is this too much to believe?”

  “I have no beliefs, dove.” He stared down at the castle, impenetrable and proud, constructed of gray stone that gleamed among the first vibrant colors of spring.

  “Surely you have even one belief.”

  “I’ve found but one truth in this harsh world to cling to—that of loyalty. Through all the battles I have fought and the horrors I faced, defending Edward is the only good I have done. Do not betray us in this battle, Elin. Do not make me forsake this one goodness now.”

  She looked away with a heavy silence.

  There was no way he could know the color of her heart—whether it was a traitor’s or if it were true.

  “Heaven smiles upon us tonight.” Giles gazed at the sky above. “Look, clouds have rolled in to cover the light from the waxing moon. ’Twill make us harder to see from the battlements.”

  Elin clutched the sword in her left hand as she slid down the embankment after Giles. Danger surrounded them. Ahead were the mercenaries and their deadly arrows. Behind were Malcolm’s troops cloaked by night, ready to storm the castle upon command.