by Jillian Hart
A rustle in the undergrowth ahead riveted Caradoc’s attention. His grip on his sword tightened. He could hold his own in a fight, but he was no knight and now fervently hoped he’d not been spotted from the tower.
“Brother.” The tarnished knight stepped into the shadows, careful to keep low and out of sight. “Good you came at my request. ’Tis a sad day when a bastard commands a baron.”
Relief weakened him, but Caradoc did not release his hold on his weapon. “Enough with the insults. What news of le Farouche’s plans?”
“He travels soon. Back to Evenbough, along the forest path between this holding and yours. With his wife and at least a dozen knights for protection.”
Caradoc’s rage caught fire and flamed. “That woman! She is a pox on me, I swear it. Long has she plagued me with her sharp tongue and even sharper weapons. ’Tis why I cannot receive the respect I deserve. But soon all will change.” Satisfaction glimmered in his eyes like the rarest of rubies, bright and bold and as red as spilled blood. “All of England will bow at my feet, for the ruin I will cause Edward. Imagine him casting me from his court because of my association with Helwain.”
“You paid the knights who freed him from le Farouche’s men.” His ally chuckled. “Le Farouche has been a sword in my side, always the best and taking by rights all that should be mine.”
“Fear not, there will be plenty of gold to fill your pockets.”
“You know I want more than gold,” the tarnished knight growled.
Caradoc smiled. “I will leave you to kill le Farouche as you please. As long as it incriminates another, especially that harridan of Evenbough, I care not how the bastard dies. I want him out of my way within the sennight. If I am to secure the throne, then he must be a pile of bones six feet under.”
“I live to serve, Brother. Lord Malcolm will not live long.”
Evenbough gleamed like a great pearl upon the emerald land. Sunshine had coaxed flowers and leaves from their buds and warmth into the air. The beauty felt infectious and took hold of Elin’s heart.
She had never imagined marriage could be so wonderful. She rode at Malcolm’s side, not behind him as custom dictated. He gazed vigilantly upon the road ahead and behind, now and then speaking to Ian in low tones about hidden dangers.
But the roads to Evenbough were safe ones, and Elin enjoyed riding next to her husband. Birds chirped merrily in the high boughs as they left the shelter of trees. The castle towered ahead, all signs of battle gone. Even the village looked nearly restored.
Home. The enormity of it struck her as she led the way across the drawbridge. Never had she been safe here and never before felt a joy riding through these gates.
Cheers rose from the freemen and servants gathered in the bailey. She watched Malcolm glance around, stunned, and draw his horse to a halt.
“We feared you dead of poison,” one villein explained, kneeling before his lord. “And you, Lady Elinore, we praise you for saving him.”
“I could not have a better champion,” Malcolm quipped.
Laughter roared through the yard. Elin’s heart flipped end over end as his hand caught hers. His grip felt unbreakable. Something greater than pride flickered to life in her chest. Every moment she was with him she found more to love.
Malcolm dismounted, then reached up to help her down. She did not need help, but would take any opportunity to touch him. Her shoes settled on the ground, but she feared her feet did not. She walked upon air—that was how greatly he affected her.
He led her through the bailey, accepting congratulations, bestowing compliments on the construction of the new workshops and praising the hard-working people. The malty scent of brewing ale seasoned the air as they passed the restored alehouse.
Once in the keep, Elin led Malcolm up the stairs, her fingers twined with his. In the solar, made new and awaiting them, she undressed her husband and led him to the steaming tub.
She soaped a cloth and knelt at his side. She felt the caress of his gaze upon her face. He looked so serious, when she was so happy. “What troubles you?” she asked.
His throat corded, then he spoke. “You cannot guess the rage I felt when Edward announced we would marry.”
“Your rage? What of mine? All I could see was the demon man who’d overpowered Father’s knights and threatened me with the dungeon. I would rather die a thousand painful deaths than spend a night in those dark depths. And yet that is exactly where you sent me.”
“I was only keeping my word to my king.”
“I should have known you were a good man then.” She stroked the soapy cloth up his arm and across his shoulders. How she loved touching him. Even now heat built low within her stomach. “You never harmed me, though many men in your position would have.”
“You made me hard as rock even then.” He caught the soapy cloth, and his fingers caressed hers. His eyes flashed. “You need not serve me, Wife. Take off your garments so we can wash one another.”
“We’ll likely do more than wash.”
Gladly she shed her clothes to climb into the tub with him. Water sloshed over the rim and they laughed. His arms folded her close to his chest, and his hard shaft jutted against her stomach. He guided her onto his lap so she was straddling him again.
“You take such liberties, sir.”
“Not nearly enough.” He brushed the hair from her brow, both big hands cupping her face gently. “You have laid my heart wide open, Elin of Evenbough. You have a greater power over me than my greatest enemy.”
“Your greatest enemy is dead.” Her hands covered his, her heart beating with tenderness for him. “And I will never hurt you. I give you my word.”
“A woman’s word.” How dark his eyes, as if he could not quite believe her. As if he did not like the power love gave a woman.
But it gave like power to a man. “As my husband you have complete control over me. And yet you allow me to ride and walk beside you, not behind.” And it mattered to her, truly mattered how well he treated her.
“I would fear turning my back to a woman warrior.” He teased, and yet he did not. The sting of old betrayals and new ones darkened his eyes.
“Oh, Malcolm.” Hurt tore through her chest and she launched herself against him. Upon her life, she would give him all the love she had. She would heal his scars. She would chase away the last of his pain.
When she rose up over his stiff shaft, it was with this same vow. He entered her with urgency. His hands gripped her and he drove up into her with all his strength. ’Twas as if he believed this bliss between them would be short-lived, and he had to gather all the love and comfort he could for the time when there was none.
Oh, Malcolm. Her chest squeezed with pain for him. For as much as he wanted her, he could not allow himself the weakness of being loved. It hurt that he would not believe in the strength of her word, of her love and her honor.
She pressed a kiss to his brow as release broke through him, hard and pounding and taking her with him.
They told me your wife is the one who dallies with a baron. God’s teeth, but Giles’s words haunted him like a persistent ghost.
Malcolm gestured for the blacksmith to quit with his bowing, and laid a dagger on the table with a clatter. “Is this your handiwork?”
“Nay, my lord. Although I know the brand. I apprenticed beneath Uilleag of Ravenwood. My work is similar, but I shape the hilt differently, for more strength.” Pride beamed on the man’s round face. “’Tis your lady’s dagger, then? I would have made her any number of weapons to save herself from her father’s treatment, but he threatened me with death if I did.”
“So, you sent her to Ravenwood. Hand-forged weapons bear the unique mark of their makers.” Malcolm told himself this did not trouble him, but it did. Helwain’s weapons were the same as his wife’s, the same as Caradoc’s.
“Provide my wife with a new set of daggers, and make certain to seize all her old weapons. I want her to carry a better blade than this flimsy one.”
Malcolm retreated into the bailey and headed toward the gatehouse, troubled by yet another piece of evidence that pointed to the man who wished his death. Caradoc was Helwain’s overlord. And Caradoc was a baron wealthy enough to afford an army of mercenaries outside of his own garrison.
“Send Ian to the wall above,” Malcolm ordered the guard at the stairwell.
A tranquil sun smiled upon the land. Malcolm faced the breeze and gazed at the village spread below. Most of the ruined dwellings had been replaced. Hammers beat upon wood as the rest of the buildings were completed. The bray of a stubborn donkey split the air. Larks soared past with carefree songs.
Footsteps drummed behind him. “My lord?”
“Ian.” Malcolm studied the sturdy man, made hard from years holding a sword. “I have a message for the king. Send six of our swiftest men. I would have Edward know what I believe. I want his men to accompany mine when I capture Caradoc for questioning. Though he has threatened me, his ultimate betrayal is to his uncle. I would have the king’s approval on this.”
“Edward’s torturers are the most successful for obtaining information.” Ian gazed out at the lands below, at the farmers sowing the vast fields. “You are certain, then?”
“I have the evidence I need to raise suspicion. ’Tis Edward’s job to judge.”
“May we speak of Giles?” Shadows darkened the warrior’s eyes. He was obviously troubled. “Did you put him to death?”
“Nay. I let him live.” Malcolm wondered even now if it was a mistake.
“The great le Farouche would never hesitate to kill an enemy or a traitor to country.”
Malcolm heard the censure in his commander’s voice, and it angered him. “I’ve grown tired of battle. Now I fight only to protect my king and what is mine.”
“Then marriage has weakened you, like many others.” Ian’s jaw worked. “Beware placing so much trust in a woman, my lord. Emotions toward a loved one can be blinding. After you swived the noblewoman on our last night at Rosecliff, she left you alone on the battlements and headed for your chamber.”
A chill snaked down Malcolm’s spine. “I saw her in the window.”
“A servant vowed she was not alone.”
“Impossible. I would have seen another in her room. She opened the shutters and I could see that she was alone.” Why would Ian say this? Malcolm’s temper threatened to flare, and he fought against it.
“But you could not see the bed, my lord. Look, even now rage builds in your fists. Next you will strike me or jail me as you did Giles. But think, I have naught to gain by lying. And I would not have my friend and lord be made a fool. She is but a woman. Swive another and it feels the same.”
Wrath built like flames in a forge, raging enough to melt steel. Malcolm clamped his teeth hard. “Elin was alone.”
“A servant in the corridor heard the sound of lovemaking. Hot and wild, my lord.” Ian’s face also twisted with controlled anger.
“’Tis only a rumor.”
“The poison used to murder you was the same she’d sickened us all with. The same. The rest of us know how she makes a fool of you. Emasculating you as surely as a bull becomes a steer.”
“Silence.” Pain sliced like the rasp of a thousand blades upon his skin. “You wait until now to tell me this? If it were true, you would have reported her behavior immediately.”
“You were blind to it! I swear, I saw a man leave the keep. A servant swore it was the same she saw enter Elin’s chamber. The lover was disheveled from lovemaking, but he was stealthy. He slipped away through a gate in the wall, I presume, for one moment I saw him in the bailey and the next in the fields heading toward the woodland. Do you doubt me?”
Malcolm saw the pride in his commander’s eyes. He could not believe Ian’s words, and yet why else would Ian make such claims?
“On my honor as a knight, I saw a man leave Rosecliff Castle. I had a servant tell me he’d been with your lady wife.” Ian knelt and held out his sword with both hands. He bowed his head, leaving his neck exposed. “Believe me or take my life. But know this, I have spoken the truth.”
Did that explain Elin’s happiness that morning? Because she had met with her lover? Nay, she would not. “It makes no sense for her to take a lover now.”
“You need not believe me.” Ian remained as he was, head lowered, but his voice rang with conviction. “Have her watched, but do not let her know. ’Twill prove whether the information I received was false or whether your wife would sleep with another man.”
I will never hurt you. Her pledge pummeled Malcolm’s conscience.
He would not believe Elin lied to him. He could not believe it. Or was this like the poison, made to look as if she plotted against him? Had someone paid a servant to spread lies?
And if so, then Caradoc was to blame. “Ready those men.”
The knight stood, proud and tall, and sheathed his weapon. He left with a fast stride, eager to carry out his orders.
Left alone in the comfort and warmth of the sun, Malcolm no longer felt tranquil. There would be no peace as long as his doubts remained.
“Alma, I’ve not seen you since London.” Elin held out her arms to the woman climbing down from the horse. “I tried to find you at court.”
“I had the best visit, and ’twas all Hugh and Justus could do to tear me away.” The old woman’s eyes shone. “Why, I discovered a cousin of mine who sews for the queen. We played together as small children, when her mother once traveled to Evenbough. ’Twas a grand occasion then, and to see her again after a lifetime was a treat. She taught me a few new tricks with an embroidery needle.”
“Why, Alma, you could have stayed with your cousin longer. Mayhap you should gather what fun you can afore there is another babe to tend.”
“Why, Elinore!” Pleasure sparkled in Alma’s loving eyes. “What secrets are you hiding? Tell me, is there a babe on the way?”
“I am not certain yet, but ’tis possible. That is why I’m in the stables.”
“Pray, do not tell me you plan to meet your husband here.” Alma looked scandalized. “Little one, you are a wife now and a baroness. You must no longer act like a wild bird. Look, you wear your daggers still.”
“Malcolm does not mind. He commissioned better weapons for me. The blacksmith only just provided them.” Elin took her nursemaid’s hand and led her down the aisle of nickering broodmares. “Come tell me about your cousin as I choose the horse for our babe.”
“A babe has no need of a horse, Elin.” Alma’s hand never strayed from Elin’s, her affection true as a mother’s.
And how grateful Elin was for it. “By the time I choose the dam and sire and the foal is born, my sweeting will likely already be here. And by the time the foal is ready to ride, so will my child.”
“Most mothers would provide swaddling clothes.”
“Then ’tis a good thing I have you, Alma.” Elin gave her nursemaid a hug, then halted before a mare. “Oh, she is gentle, this one. Look at those eyes.”
Alma shook her head, but her joy was unmistakable. “I have never seen you this happy. Methinks you have found your soul mate in our great le Farouche.”
Elin sent her maid to look after Alma, for she planned to be in the stables a long while. Her palfrey nickered a plea for attention, and so she complied. After offering an apple from her pocket, she scrubbed the horse’s chin and neck with her knuckles.
The sound of steel striking steel shattered the afternoon’s peace. A shout of victory rang from the bailey outside. Cheers rose from the idle stable boys posed in the doorway. Sunlight glinted off blade and armor as the practice began.
A hundred knights filled the courtyard with their glitter and strength. Elin’s breath stalled at the sight of the greatest among them. Malcolm radiated sunshine like the great Apollo as he raised his sword and knocked I
an’s from his grip.
A good-natured victory transformed his warrior’s face. A grin softened his features so he looked young and relaxed, a man of strength and light. Malcolm’s gaze found hers, as if he’d felt her admiring glance like a touch to his cheek, and his smile deepened. Dimples framed his mouth and his handsomeness tore at her heart.
Ian climbed to his feet, wiping the grass blades from his hindquarters. His smile was not so good-natured.
“Elin?” A whisper rasped from the stall behind her and a familiar face peered over the boards.
“Giles?” She could not believe the disheveled appearance of the meticulous knight nor the pain etched into lines on his face.
“Quickly and quietly, lady.” Giles gestured for her to join him in the shadows of the stall.
She glanced over her shoulder. No one watched, so she crept into the straw by the disgraced knight’s side. “Why are you here? Malcolm banished you.”
“My presence here risks not only my life, but my sister’s.” A grim sorrow narrowed his face, pale from grief and injury. “But I cannot leave to rescue her until I know who wants Malcolm’s death.”
“Oh, Giles.” He’d risked his reputation helping her out of the king’s dungeon. “I know you are innocent.”
He hung his head, his throat working hard with unspoken emotion. “I would give my life for Malcolm’s. He is in danger, and not just from those who want this wealthy barony. This is a personal battle. The one who would kill le Farouche wants more than his death. He wants to be seen as innocent of the act, for Edward would sorely punish the man who kills Malcolm. And any number of knights in this garrison would want revenge.”
Elin glanced over her shoulder. She saw no one, but felt watched. “Oh, Giles, you are flushed. You have developed a fever.”
He grimaced as he evaded her touch. “My wounds concern me not, but Malcolm’s life does. Now that I am gone, you are closest to him. I can watch him by day, but not by night. You must make certain no one tries to kill him in his sleep. It has been attempted before.”
