Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519)

by Jillian Hart

  “Mayhap that is not what Giles thinks.”

  Malcolm knew the taste of betrayal. When he’d been granted the title of Evenbough, what a fool he’d been. He’d stood upon the castle walls and dreamed of peace. For a life without deception, combat and heartache.

  Feet heavy, he climbed back up into the light. Elin’s brightness caught his gaze, where she knelt beside an injured knight. She worked like an angel, with a gentle mercy that both invited and repelled his shadowed heart. ’Twas she who made him weak and who made him dream of peace.

  “Find Giles.” Bitterness flooded his mouth. “I will not rest until I have that traitor in my dungeon. He will speak what he knows or die.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Ian dashed off, barking orders. The bailey burst into activity.

  Elin’s gentle voice trilled like lark song upon the wind. Breezes ruffled her hair, bound only at her nape, and she looked fresh and pure, like spring itself.

  The bare-chested young man she tended offered another joke. Admiration and lust burned in the knight’s gaze. Malcolm felt jealousy cleave his chest.

  All loyalties ended, given enough time.

  He ordered half the knights to stay behind, tend to the dead and take his wife back to Rosecliff Castle. “We ride,” he commanded, and led his men into the forest, leaving Elin behind without so much as a glance.

  The traitor’s dash through the forest was obvious. Malcolm kept watch for an ambush. But as his destrier chewed up miles of ground, none came. Then up ahead in a clearing, he spotted the tarnished knight alone, resting on a boulder.

  “Could be a trick,” Ian warned, his rage unveiled and harsh. “They will coax you into the open and attack.”

  “There are no soldiers in the forest. Look, the tracks continue north. I feel no one watching in the shadows.” Malcolm pulled his destrier to a stop. “Giles, what have you to say in your defense?”

  Stoop shouldered, the strong knight hung his head. “Naught. Would you believe the truth?”

  Malcolm’s grip on his sword’s hilt did not waver. “’Tis the truth I seek.”

  “The truth?” Ian raged. “Fifty men and I saw and heard Giles command the mercenaries. He ordered us to lay down our weapons or die.”

  Malcolm unsheathed his sword. “Is this true?”

  Giles quaked at the thunderous command. “I spoke the words. With a dagger pressed to my spine.”

  “I saw no dagger!” Ian drew his weapon. “I would kill you now for how you betrayed us. We trusted you.”

  The disgraced knight’s head hung lower. “They said they would rape and slay my sister. That she is still alive and untouched.”

  “I saw no blade,” the commander of Elizabeth’s garrison declared. “Nor did my men. Ask them.”

  Malcolm faced the knights and saw the truth upon two dozen accusing faces.

  “Bind him well.” The order beat at him like an ax’s blade. He did not like this turn of events.

  “Hands together, traitor.” Ian slid from his horse. “Glad I am that Edward’s dungeons are wretched and perilous. You will suffer well before they hang, draw and quarter you, friend.”

  Malcolm reined his destrier away from the sight. He could not bear to witness another person he trusted placed in chains. A small part of him hoped Giles told the truth, but experience and the twist of his guts told him a betrayer lived among them.

  “We will not take him directly to the king.” Malcolm spun his destrier toward Rosecliff Castle. “He suffers in my dungeons first.”

  After an evening of waiting, Elin saw him against the black veil of the sky, his shoulders braced, looking as invincible as the night. Men flanked him, riding hard to keep pace with him.

  “Malcolm!” She leaned over the crenellations and waved, a corner of rock biting hard into her ribs.

  He did not glance up as he rode across the drawbridge and past the portcullis. Hooves crashed against wood as his men followed. She ran to the other side of the wall and saw Malcolm dismount. He gestured toward Ian, and then she lost him in the confusion.

  A guard appeared at her side. “The baron wishes you to return to your chamber.”

  She caught sight of Malcolm in the fray of the courtyard below. Fatigue darkened his face, and the line of his jawbone looked hard as rock. He would need her tonight. She told herself it did not hurt that he’d ridden off without a word today and even now did not glance up and acknowledge her.

  But she knew he loved her. He carried great responsibilities on his immense shoulders, responsibilities that distracted him now. But that did not change the truth between them. Tenderness for him welled in her heart. If he hurt, she would comfort him. If he were weary, she would renew him. That was how great her love for him was.

  “Pray you are not losing your stomach for torture.” Ian leaned his elbows on an edge of the battlement.

  Malcolm let the night winds cool his face. “I dislike watching a man brutalized for the sake of the truth. How many seasoned warriors relinquish the truth after torture? Few. They are well used to pain. And bound by loyalties few understand.”

  “Aye,” Ian argued, “but I believe my work will be effective. He is starting to break.”

  If only Giles would just agree to talk. If only he hadn’t participated with men suspected of plotting against the king. Malcolm sighed, deeply troubled. His gaze strayed to a slash of light between closed shutters. He’d watched Elin close those shutters earlier with candlelight like heaven’s glow upon her face. Now, thin beams of light shone through the cracks in the wood. She waited for him still.

  Footsteps drummed against stone. “Lord Malcolm, the prisoner is unconscious. We’ve ceased with the beating.”

  Sadness tore through him, for Giles had been his friend. “Summon a healer. Patch him up for more torture come dawn.”

  The knight rushed off, his footsteps fading in the dark.

  “Your lady awaits.” Ian gestured toward the keep. “She loves you, Malcolm. ’Tis dangerous ground you walk upon.”

  “Well I know it.” Did she wait for him with the bed turned down? Or did she lay naked beneath the covers? He wanted to go to her. He needed the comfort only she could give.

  But he owed Giles a visit. “Ian, see to the night watch. There’s a foul stench in the air. Helwain and his conspirators are out there. Mayhap to rescue Giles ere he reveals their plans.”

  “It will be done.”

  Malcolm headed down the stairs. In the courtyard, he looked up and again found Elin’s light. He ached for her, but he turned away and marched down the steps to the dungeons beneath. Water seeped through the stones and splashed against his boots.

  He passed stalwart knights, weapons unsheathed, standing guard at every turn in the corridor. One unlocked the steeled door. Through the bars he could see Giles, slumped in the corner, motionless. Malcolm crossed the cell and ordered the guard to lock him in.

  He knelt at the traitor’s side, but Giles did not move. Blood and bruises distorted his face. Aversion for this part of his work had always troubled Malcolm, but this—this was Giles.

  Yet the truth had to be known.

  “Why did you do this, my friend?” Sorrow battered him like waves upon the shore. “If they held a threat over your head, you could have come to me. We would have found a way to both defeat the traitors and save your sister.”

  A drop struck stone. Then another. Giles’s tears.

  “I would have helped you. For all the times you guarded my back during battle.” The battering waves within Malcolm’s chest raged. “If you would tell me what you know, I would stop this. I would make Edward agree to spare you.”

  There was no answer. Only the falling tears.

  “Tell me, Giles. Save your life, mine and the king’s. The torturer will return at first light.”

  “Prithee, do not do this to me.”

  “Then speak.” His demand echoed along stone and steel. “Do you know for certain that your sister lives?”

  “Nay.”


  “Then they could be using your fear, Giles. She would already be dead. A pretty thing like her? Could she survive untouched and unharmed in a tower with barbarians to guard her?”

  Giles gave a quiet sob.

  “I want the truth out of you, Giles. Ian said you refused to speak.”

  “Ian lies. I told him from the beginning of the beating that I would speak with you. I did not plot against you, Malcolm. Helwain’s men truly did have a knife to my back. They told me they would not kill our knights if I did as they ordered.” A sob was wrenched from him. “That is the truth.”

  A knight banged on the door. “Baron, he uses his friendship against you. I have seen many guilty men in my time. I can recognize the smell and sound of it. This one is guilty.”

  Malcolm paced the length of the cell. “When they took you, what happened then?”

  “I saw how they made me look guilty to our men. I knew no one would believe me. To my surprise, they didn’t kill me, but left me in the forest, where you found me.”

  “If they want me dead, why not use you as bait to draw me into the open? It happened in the forest. There could have been an archer in the trees. Nay, your story makes no sense, Giles. If it did, I would be inclined to believe—”

  “The truth in this instance makes no sense. Except they told me your wife is the one who dallies with a baron, the baron who would have both your head and your title, maybe more.”

  “They told you this?”

  “They told me to tell you this, only you. I know not whether it is true or nay.” Giles struggled to sit up, and his moan of pain rent the darkness.

  Malcolm banged on the door, and the knight unlocked it. He strode out into the corridor, troubled and weary.

  He seemed part of the night, bleak and shadowed, hunched as he was against the sky. His head cocked at the whisper of her slipper upon stone.

  She set the trencher on the stone battlement beside him. “You did not eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I heard about Giles.” She leaned against the ridge of stone. “I cannot believe it.”

  “He gives a feeble explanation.” Malcolm stared up at the sky, where no stars shone. “One without proof.”

  “An untrue explanation might make more sense. And have proof.”

  “Aye. ’Tis what troubles me. According to Ian, Giles would not cooperate with the jailers. He took a painful beating and still wouldn’t speak. Only afterward did he tell me what he knew.”

  “What were the signs that Giles had turned?” She laid both hands on his broad shoulders. “There had to be some indication.”

  “None.”

  “One would think a man driven to break a close friendship and the sanctity of his word would be troubled over it, or at least not hide his treachery well.”

  Malcolm scrubbed his hands over his face, tension tight in his neck and jaw. “Logic and the law dictate he be brought to justice before Edward.”

  “Would he be found guilty?”

  “With the evidence we have? Aye.” Malcolm propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in both hands. How tortured he sounded and how sad he looked. “Besides, I’ve often made the mistake of trusting a betrayer among my friends.”

  Elin began to knead his tense shoulders. She wished to give him all the comfort she could. “I waited for you.”

  “I know.”

  “Your bath is now cold. I planned on washing you.” His muscles were hot and supple beneath her fingertips. She pressed a kiss to his nape, no longer able to fight the love in her heart. “You will have to be content with a back rub.”

  Malcolm moaned as his muscles relaxed beneath the firm caress of her thumbs. The guards on that section of the wall turned away, leaving them alone.

  His hand caught both of hers, and he drew her to his side. The night gleamed with darkness and painted him with shadows. She could see the pinched muscles around his eyes and the tension in his jaw.

  His fingers tugged at her collar. “How many barons have you met?”

  She arched her neck to allow him to work the tie of her laces. “Father knew most of them, but I never spent much time in the castle when he had visitors. Many of those arrogant barons gazed with such hunger at any female, I had the sense to hide.”

  “You know Caradoc.” Malcolm’s forefinger sneaked beneath the laces and pulled. “And you knew Elizabeth’s husband. You have met no others?”

  “Face-to-face?” She shivered when the gown skimmed over her shoulders and breasts. “None.”

  “Save Ravenwood and Rosecliff?”

  “Aye. I wish I could be more help to you.” She sighed as his mouth closed on her left breast. Shards of pleasure twisted and pulsed. Already she ached for him. She lifted his tunic over his head and tossed it to the stone walk.

  He brushed the windblown curls from her eyes, his touch so tender. How he must hurt. Anger at Giles’s betrayal kicked to life in her chest, but she controlled it. Anger would not comfort Malcolm. Only she could do that. Only she could give him a safe, tender haven from betrayal and conflict.

  She pressed kisses to his brow. She stroked her hands across the bunched tension in his shoulders and down his marbled back. Her fingers delighted in the rugged feel of him. He made her ache deep inside. Simply touching him gave her infinite pleasure.

  She pressed kisses to his throat and ran her fingers across his steely chest, and then lower to loosen his laces. But his hand caught hers before she could take hold of his thick shaft. Silently, he guided her hips over him. Air stalled in her chest at the feel of his hardness nudging her apart. She sheathed him with a slow, deliberate glide.

  “Oh, Elin.” His voice broke. His arms enfolded her. Instead of driving hard, he held her against him, their bodies quietly joined. His shaft pulsed and jumped inside her, and she answered with a ripple of muscle and pleasure. Concurrent release rent through them—a sweet aching tenderness that nearly tore her apart.

  She knew in that moment, hearing the anguish in his release, that he loved her. For he was right. Nothing hurt like a love tender and true.

  Only a single torch illuminated the damp stones of the lower dungeons. Malcolm’s footsteps rang in the silence. “Guard, unlock the door.”

  Inside the cell, a figure huddled motionless. The healer had come and gone. Malcolm knelt beside his friend and unlocked the chains.

  “You did not believe me.” Giles’s brow brushed the floor.

  “I have been lied to by far too many to believe in anyone.” Hardness lodged in Malcolm’s chest. “Get up.”

  Giles climbed to his feet, choking back a moan of pain. Despite his ordeal, he stood straight and tall. He would not be broken or look the criminal.

  “Come.” Malcolm led the way through the corridors and up the stairs into the bailey, where rain scented the air. “Your horse waits at the gate. I’ve taken the liberty of packing foodstuffs and weapons and coin—enough for your passage to Normandy. Find your sister, Giles. And if you are a traitor, then have enough honor never to step foot on English soil again.”

  “Malcolm, I know not what to say.” Giles fell to his knees. “You give me my freedom, but you still do not believe me. In time you will see I am not the one who betrays you.”

  “Go, before I lose this softness and bring you to the king.” Malcolm turned, his chest so tight he could not breathe. He heard Giles limp away, heard the creak of a leather saddle and then the squeak of the gate.

  It was Elin causing this weakness within him. He fisted his hands and called himself a fool. But by the rood, he’d grown tired of death and a king’s justice.

  He only wanted peace and the rare comfort he found in his wife’s arms.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A knock at the chamber door drew Malcolm from her arms. She hated letting him go because she wanted to savor him yet again. But he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his tongue leaving a wet trail, and rose from the rumpled linens. Naked and still half-erect, he hauled a tunic over his hea
d.

  “What is amiss, Ian?” he called out as he reached for his chausses.

  “Giles is gone,” Ian answered through the closed door. “The guard on duty said you took him from his cell.”

  “I did. I will be down in a moment.” Malcolm finished dressing, then grabbed his boots and sword. “Elin, can you stay out of trouble?”

  “I shall try. What did you decide about Giles?” She grabbed her shift and slipped from beneath the linens. Malcolm’s eyes darkened with renewed desire, and that pleased her. How it pleased her.

  “I released him, although all will think that I killed him in anger. Watch.” Malcolm caught her mouth with his and pulled her hard against him.

  She could not halt the moan of want.

  “I ask you to pack our things.” He kissed her tenderly again, until she moaned once more. “We return to Evenbough Castle.”

  “Not to court?”

  “Nay.” Merriment flickered in his eyes. “A certain lady I know has been banished from Edward’s sight forever.”

  “I was desperate to save the man I loved. Can he not understand that?”

  “He cannot understand why I would not tame my wild, weapon-bearing wife.” His lips brushed her brow. “We will leave shortly, in the time it takes for me to gather my knights.”

  She watched him go, a man made stronger by compassion.

  Sunlight sifted through broad green leaves in the woodland not far from Rosecliff Castle’s front gates. ’Twas a poor choice of meeting times, but Caradoc had no recourse. When the messenger arrived, he made it clear there was no way to speak with the knight who sent it, but to meet him as he asked.

  Those men on the lookout tower appeared vigilant today. They carried bows in hand. If the castle was on alert, then that could only mean Giles had been found in the forest as planned. Stupid loyalty drove a man like le Farouche. How furious he would be at his friend’s betrayal. And less one loyal knight who would avenge the Fierce One’s death.