Bad Boy Heroes Boxed Set

by Patricia Ryan

  “Oh,” Firdolf groaned. “Oh… oh God.”

  Lynette took a step toward Luke and reached up to gingerly touch the stinging flesh around his eye. “What a nasty thing to do to such a lovely eye,” she cooed. “Does it hurt?”

  “Nay,” he lied, backing up until he felt the table behind him.

  She made tsking sounds as she drew closer. “You mustn’t deny it. I know how it must pain you. I’d dearly love to make it better.”

  Her hands stole up to rest on his shoulders. He took them and lowered them to her sides. “The Lady Faithe tends to my wounds. Just her.”

  Lynette smiled slowly. “How lucky for her,” she murmured.

  “Oh, yes!” Firdolf gasped. “Yes! Oh my God, Leola!” The squeaking quickened, keeping time with his harsh breathing.

  Lynette continued to smile at Luke. He slid sideways to put some distance between them. Turning, he indicated the satchel full of food. “Do you mean to take that to Alex?”

  “Aye, soon as we find out where he is.”

  “Hold still,” Firdolf growled. “Yes… yes…”

  “I should think you’ll have your answer soon,” Luke observed.

  “What are you doing?” Firdolf explained in breathless outrage. “Come back here! Leola, for God’s sake, I’m just about to—”

  “I don’t know, Firdy. I just don’t feel right enjoying myself like this, knowin’ Sir Alex is out there in the middle of the woods somewheres…”

  Firdolf made a sound between a groan and a whimper. “Leola, please. You can’t stop now.”

  “I wouldn’t, if I knew I could go fetch him after we’re done here, but I don’t even know where to find him, and you won’t tell me. Perhaps if you told me…

  “He’s in the woods to the southwest. In a clearing. I’ll tell you how to get there, just please finish—” He sucked in a breath. “Oh! Yes…” The bed ropes set up a furious racket, and presently Firdolf let out an ecstatic howl the likes of which Luke had never heard before.

  Moments later, the curtain flew open. Leola stood there, wearing a dressing gown that hid little, inasmuch as it was open down the front. On a large bed behind her, Firdolf sprawled naked, his eyes closed, his chest still pumping.

  Leola smiled with delight when she saw Luke. “Milord! You got out!”

  Firdolf bolted upright, gaping at Luke and clutching the sheet between his legs.

  “You poor thing,” Leola purred as she approached Luke. “Look at your eye.”

  Lynette cleared her throat and indicated her sister’s open robe. “Leola, sweetie…”

  “Oh. Right.” Leola’s movements were unhurried as she covered herself and tied the sash. “Good news. Firdolf’s agreed to tell us where he put Sir Alex.” She turned toward her bed partner, who continued to stare at Luke in abject terror. “Ain’t that right, Firdy?”

  The young man appeared to be nodding his head, but he might have just been shaking.

  “Firdy?” Luke prompted.

  “Right!” he croaked, bobbing his head up and down. “I’m sorry, sire, I was only doin’ what Orrik told me. I didn’t want to…”

  Luke strode toward him purposefully, causing him to shield his head with an arm. “Just tell me where he is,” Luke said.

  “In… in the woods southwest of here.”

  “I know that. How do I find him?”

  “T-take the road till you come to the second stream, and follow it south. When it b-branches, go right. When you see the stand of birch, leave the stream and ride straight for the tall boulder. There’s a kind of clearing beyond there that dips down, like a little valley. That’s where I put him.”

  Turning away, Luke grabbed the satchel off the table on his way out the door, ignoring Firdolf’s litany of apologies and the twins’ pleading to come with him. “Don’t tell anyone I was here.”

  The stable was close by, and blessedly deserted. Saddling up his mount and Alex’s, which he led by the reins, he followed Firdolf’s directions through the woods, guiding himself by the bright moonlight.

  Relief consumed him when he spied the tall boulder that marked the drop-off to the clearing where Firdolf had left Alex.

  And then he heard the growls.

  Chapter 23

  *

  THE SILVERY BEASTS slinked in the moonlight, circling their quarry as wolves were wont to do. Luke had to strain to make out the dark form in their midst, obscured as he was by tall grasses. Alex lay on his side, his hands and feet tied, a white cloth wrapped around his mouth. The grassy hollow was larger than Luke had expected; his brother was a good hundred yards away.

  As Luke rode forward, a wolf broke away from the pack and lunged for Alex, only to retreat when his prey kicked out with his bound feet. They’d probably been harrying him this way for some time—feinting in and out while they worked up their collective courage to attack; although ruthless hunters, wolves tended to be wary of men.

  The largest one, less cautious than the others, rushed in and closed its jaws around Alex’s leg before he could respond. Luke kicked his horse into a gallop as the wolf pulled and tugged, ripping Alex’s chausses; Luke saw dark smears of blood on his brother’s calf. This success emboldened some of the others; they pounced on their helpless victim with ravenous growls.

  The animals who’d hung back to watch all scattered when Luke reined in his mount and jumped down. The four who’d closed in on Alex merely bared their fangs, their hackles raised, low rumbles of warning issuing from them.

  “Over here!” Luke yelled, waving his arms. The large one took a few lazy, menacing steps toward him. Luke withdrew Baldric’s knife—an inadequate weapon, but all he had—and held it at the ready. “Come on! Come on, you godforsaken curs!”

  The big wolf leapt; Luke ducked and rolled, slashing out with the knife. A canine yelp told him he’d done at least a little damage. A ripping sound, along with a hot sting of pain on his shoulder, told him the damage wasn’t one-sided.

  The great beast turned and charged again. Luke dropped the useless knife and wrapped his hands around a big rock, slamming it into the wolf’s head as it leapt. A chilling howl rose from it as it staggered back. Heaving the rock overhead, Luke delivered a final, mortal blow; the animal trembled and went slack.

  Still holding the bloodied rock, Luke turned to face the three remaining wolves, all stealthily retreating. He lifted it high, roaring at the top of his lungs for good measure. The wolves darted away, three streaks of silver dissolving into the night.

  Throwing down the rock, Luke located the knife and slid it beneath his brother’s gag, slicing it off with one stroke.

  “That’s six,” Alex said.

  “Six what?” Luke cut through the ropes knotted around Alex’s wrists and ankles.

  “Six times you’ve saved my life. And I haven’t saved yours once.” Alex sat up awkwardly, with a little help from Luke. “You’ll have to slow down, so I have a chance to catch up.”

  “If I slow down,” Luke observed, “you’ll end up dead, and you never will have the chance to catch up.”

  Alex grinned crookedly. “Good point. Anyway, thanks.” He clapped Luke on the shoulder, igniting a jolt of pain that made him gasp. “Damn,” Alex muttered, looking at the blood on his hand. “Son of a bitch got you.”

  “You, too.” Luke peeled aside the shredded remnants of wool clinging to the gash on his brother’s calf. Luckily, it was shallow.

  “Then there’s Orrik’s handiwork,” Alex said, indicating Luke’s head wound and swollen eye and the purpling knot on his own forehead.

  “I wouldn’t mind paying him back for that,” Luke grunted as he got to his feet.

  “And I can’t say I’d mind helping you.” Alex let Luke help him to stand up and mount his horse. He laughed like the Devil when Luke told him how Leola had coaxed his whereabouts out of Firdolf. “He’s been sniffing around her all summer.”

  “You’re not jealous?” Luke asked as they rode across the clearing toward the woods.

>   “Serves me right. I’ve been greedy, keeping both girls for myself. Besides, she did it for me, and I actually think she’s a little sweet on that fellow. Of course,” he added with a grin, “she’s a little sweet on just about anything in chausses. She and her sister both. Don’t tell me they haven’t rubbed up against you from time to time.”

  “I won’t,” Luke said dryly.

  Alex laughed again. “But I take it you resisted their charms.”

  “I’m married.”

  “You sound like Father,” Alex said, his voice quietly mocking. Before Luke could retort, he added, “That’s a compliment. He was a good man, and he knew what was important in life. There are worse fates than being like him.” As they entered the woods, he asked, “Where to now, brother?”

  “Foxhyrst,” Luke answered immediately. “I’ll turn myself over to Alberic and demand to be taken to London for trial by King William.”

  Alex made a face. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to Hauekleah and give Orrik a spoonful of his own tonic?”

  “And then what? I’ve admitted publicly that I killed Caedmon. Do you think Faithe can simply go on as if nothing has happened? I’ve deceived her horribly. I’ve got to make up for all the lying and covering up, got to undo the damage and win her back.”

  Alex shook his head in resignation. “All right, but why put yourself in Alberic’s hands? The man despises you. Why not ride to London on your own and present yourself to the king?”

  “Protocol demands that I surrender myself to the sheriff and that he brings me to the king. Don’t worry. Alberic hates me, it’s true, but he would never risk William’s wrath by taking matters into his own hands.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m going to do everything the proper way for once, so that there can be no question of my good intentions. I’ve got to get everything out in the open—be tried in the king’s court, explain things, and be officially exonerated.” He took a deep breath. “When all of that is behind me, I can work on… winning Faithe back. Regaining her love.”

  “Assuming you’ve lost it.”

  “Any other assumption,” Luke said grimly, “would be the most pathetic wishful thinking.”

  *

  UPON RETURNING TO Hauekleah, Faithe woke up young Bert, who slept in the stable. He blinked in drowsy confusion when he saw her standing over him in the dark, holding her mare’s reins. “Milady! Is that you?”

  “Tend to Daisy.” She handed him the reins. “I rode her too hard.”

  “Wh-what hour is it, milady?” Bert asked as she walked away.

  “Nearly matins, I should think.” Nearly matins, she reflected as she made her way by moonlight to Hauekleah Hall. It was the middle of the night, and she was as exhausted as her horse, and greatly troubled. She’d covered many miles searching for Alex, only to find no evidence that he’d been that way. This did not bode well.

  Detouring to the kitchen, she procured a wineskin and some bread, then lit a lantern and carried it out the back door to the moonlit croft. As she approached the storehouse, she hesitated. Nyle was nowhere to be seen. When she saw the keys dangling from the door handle, she was truly puzzled.

  She knocked on the door. “Luke?”

  No answer came.

  “Luke?”

  Dread crept up her spine. She couldn’t shake the image of Vance hanging from the rafters of this very storehouse. Her fingers shook as she turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

  Holding the lantern before her like a talisman, she stepped into the storehouse. “Luke?”

  Faithe dropped the wine and bread when she saw him, bound and gagged on the dirt floor. The realization that he wasn’t Luke but Baldric, brought a moment’s relief, but…

  “Where is Luke?”

  Baldric, thrashed and grunted. Setting the lantern down, she pulled off his gag and began untying him. “Where is my husband? What’s happened to him?”

  “Obviously,” intoned a voice from behind her, “he’s escaped.”

  Faithe turned to find Orrik blocking the doorway, his hands fisted on his hips, his eerily luminous eyes fixed on Baldric.

  “I… I’m sorry, Master Orrik, truly I am, but he tricked me! He used them kids. They told me—”

  “You whine like a weasel, Baldric. Have you no shame?”

  Baldric stood and rubbed his wrists, looking terrified. “‘Twasn’t my fault, master, I swear it!”

  “Of course it was your fault,” Orrik said with deadly calm. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk to him? Didn’t I tell you not to open the door?”

  “Aye, but I just…”

  “You just disobeyed me. And now our prisoner has escaped. And it’s all your fault.”

  “I… I can explain! Truly I—”

  “Go,” Orrik commanded, and pinned Baldric with his steely gaze. “I’ll deal with you on the morrow.”

  The bailiff stood aside just enough for Baldric to creep through the doorway.

  “What was Baldric doing here?” Faithe demanded. “I specifically told you he wasn’t to come anywhere near—”

  “Nyle fell down on the job,” Orrik said. “I had to replace him, and Baldric was the only man available.”

  “I’m sick to death of your lies, Orrik!”

  “My lady—”

  “What have you done with Luke? Did you hang him?”

  Orrik’s face darkened. “On my mother’s soul, I did no such thing. I haven’t laid eyes on him since I locked him up in here. And I daresay I never will again. Neither will you.” He nodded knowingly. “Aye, we’ve seen the last of your lord husband, I’ll wager. He’s well on his way to Bulverhythe Harbor by now. By the time the sun has risen, he’ll be on a boat, crossing the Channel. A man can disappear very easily on the Continent. He’ll never be brought to justice now, but the Normans would have mucked up the job anyway. ‘Tis just as well this way.” He spat on the ground. “Good riddance to—”

  “Shut up, Orrik.”

  He stiffened his stance, but gentled his voice. “Now, my lady, don’t be getting all—”

  “All what?” she demanded in an unsteady voice. “My husband has… has disappeared, and all you can say is—”

  “He didn’t disappear, Faithe. He escaped. There’s a difference.”

  “And what of Alex?” she demanded. “What happened to him?”

  “I already told you. He got on his horse and rode—”

  “I’ve spent half the night riding west, Orrik, and there was no sign of him.”

  Orrik looked momentarily stunned. “You didn’t believe me? You went out at this time of night, alone—”

  “Of course. I have no reason to believe you anymore. What really happened to Alex, Orrik?”

  He thrust his jaw out. “He rode away, just like I said. If you didn’t find him, ‘twas merely because he was fleeing like a rat, worried I’d change my mind and come after him.”

  She sighed heavily. “I’ll never find out the truth from you—about Alex or Luke.”

  “Your husband escaped, and that is the truth.”

  “I’m sick of listening to you.”

  She lifted her lantern and tried to squeeze past him through the doorway, but he blocked the way. “He tricked Baldric and escaped, and do you want to know why?”

  “Shut up! I’m tired of your explanations, your… your heartless logic.”

  “The truth can be heartless, my dear, but it is the truth, and it bears a little respect now and then. Luke de Périgueux escaped because he couldn’t face the king’s court. He knew that if his vicious crime were scrutinized in the open, he’d be found out for what he is—a murdering beast, without conscience or remorse.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Not that his beloved King William would have meted out the punishment he deserved for such an offense. He might not have even been found guilty—officially. But they would have known. They all would have found out what he really is. That’s what he fears. That’s why he escaped.”
>
  “Shut up!” She slammed a fist into his chest, but he didn’t even flinch.

  “Don’t you see? That he escaped proves his guilt. He’s afraid to stand trial.”

  “Perhaps he’s merely afraid of what you’ll do when my back is turned.”

  Orrik shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re still defending him. He admitted killing Caedmon, yet you still think him the beleaguered innocent. You still want to give him the opportunity to avoid punishment for what he did.”

  “I want to see justice served.”

  “So do I,” Orrik said solemnly. “But it’s too late for that. Luke de Périgueux has eluded justice.” He closed his hands over her shoulders and said quietly. “All we can do now is go on with our lives. In a way, he’s done you a favor by sneaking off this way. You’ll never see him again. You can put him out of your mind. Forget he was ever here.”

  Forget Luke? The notion was too ludicrous to contemplate. She could no more put him out of her mind than she could forget to breathe. He’d become a part of her. Everything he was, everything he’d done, was intimately connected with her now.

  “I need to find out the truth,” she told Orrik.

  “You need to forget,” he said. “But for now, you need to sleep. ‘Tis late. You’re tired. We’ll talk again in the morning, when you’re rested. I’ll come by around terce.”

  By terce she’d be halfway to Winstow, looking for the truth, but it would be the height of folly to share her plans with Orrik. “I’ll see you then,” she said and went upstairs to her chamber to wait out the rest of the night.

  *

  IT WAS MIDDAY by the time she arrived at the oil merchant’s shop. She found Dunstan upstairs, tending to his sister. The poor woman’s wasting disease had transformed her into a virtual skeleton covered in skin the color of yellowed parchment.

  “‘Tis only a matter of days now,” Dunstan whispered as he closed the curtain that separated Audris’s sickroom from the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry,” Faithe said as she took a seat at the table.

  “I pray that God will take her soon.” He poured them each a tankard of ale. “I’ve made some soup.”