Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “The moment they realize we are after the lady, her life is forfeit,” he whispered. “I am going to run for her and no other. You make a break for the north side of the roof as a distraction. Kill anything that moves. Chances are, they’ll be so surprised to see us that the lady will not go over the side immediately. It’s those few precious seconds I need to reach her.”

  Kress got a good grip on his sword. “Understood.”

  “I will go first.”

  Kress simply nodded. Now, the moment was upon them and each man knew what he had to do. A lady’s life hung in the balance and, in a sense, so did Juston’s. He couldn’t lose a woman he loved a second time. Taking a deep breath, Maxton lifted the hatch.

  Because the rebels weren’t expecting any manner of ambush or attack, no one gave notice when the hatch opened. Men had been coming through it all day, so it was a normal occurrence. Maxton was able to lift the hatch completely and he and Kress were able to make their way out onto the roof without any issue.

  In fact, they made their way up to the rebels without anyone noticing until someone happened to turn and catch a glimpse of Kress. Kress ran the man through immediately before he could sound the alarm but the noise from his body hitting the roof alerted the others.

  From that moment forward, the battle was on.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  She’d given the wounded a fight but, in the end, it hadn’t been enough. There had been too many of them and they had been able to overwhelm her. But Emera didn’t give up; she’d fought and twisted, bitten and screamed, as they’d tied her up tightly with hemp rope.

  Some fool kept kissing her head and petting her like a dog, telling her to quiet down and be calm. That had only made her angrier and the next time he tried to pet her, she bit him. That’s when someone had shoved a piece of cloth into her mouth to gag her. Terrified and furious, Emera had been effectively corralled.

  Now, her future was cloudy. She had no idea what the wounded intended to do with her and there was a great part of her that was insulted by their behavior. After she’d risked her health to remain with them and tend their wounds, their manner of gratitude involved ropes and mistrust. Still, there was a greater part of her that understood their motives. They knew, as everyone at Bowes knew, that she and Juston were attracted to each other. Since Juston was the enemy, that made her an enemy as well.

  The only comfort she had was in the fact that Jessamyn had escape, so at least her sister wasn’t at risk of being thrown off the roof. But that comfort faded when she realized that was exactly where they were taking her – to the roof of the keep. Four of them carried her up the spiral stairs, through the roof hatch, and into the bright, cold day beyond. The sun was bright, the wind blowing dark clouds around, and it was a rather glorious day but for the fact she was in such danger.

  Just because they could no longer throw Jessamyn off the roof didn’t mean they weren’t considering that same fate for her.

  There was a good deal of yelling and activity going on, but the voices weren’t simply coming from the roof. They were coming from the bailey below. As they were carrying her over to the edge of the roof, one of her captors squeezed her breast and she howled in spite of the gag, trying to twist and kick. She could hear lascivious laughter all around her when, suddenly, they tilted her up and propped her on her feet, right on the edge of the roof along the crenellations.

  Emera yelped when she realized that she was right on the precipice of the roof, with a fifty foot drop in front of her. She was absolutely terrified. She could feel hands on her, gripping her to prevent her from falling, but that could change in an instant, she knew. Closing her eyes tightly, she began to pray furiously.

  And then she heard it.

  Juston’s voice! Her eyes flew open and she dared to look down, seeing Juston standing below with a second knight. Their shields were raised, no doubt to protect themselves against rebel projectiles, and she tried to scream and call out to him but it was impossible with the gag in her mouth. Therefore, all she could do was stand there and listen to the exchange, praying she wouldn’t be thrown to her death right in front of Juston.

  Please, God! Please do not let this be my last moment on earth!

  “We have your whore, de Royans,” a rebel yelled down to Juston. Emera thought she recognized the voice but she could not be sure. “Take your men out of Bowes or I will throw her down into the bailey and all you’ll have left of her is pieces. Do you understand me?”

  There was quite a delay before Juston replied. The second knight with him moved away, fading out of Emera’s line of sight. Evidently, the delay was excessive because the rebel spoke again.

  “Well?” he yelled. “What have you to say?”

  There was a bit more of a delay until Juston spoke again. “That would not be wise on your part,” he said. As those on the roof watched, Juston began to move towards the north side of the keep, pointing to the dead bodies that littered the ground. “Do you see these fools? Such will be you and your men if you harm one hair on Lady Emera’s head. The fact that she is alive and whole is the only reason I am not storming the keep and slitting your throat. Are you listening? Keeping her alive is the only thing keeping you alive.”

  Tears popped to Emera’s eyes as she watched Juston down below. The sound of his voice was comforting and soothing even if his words were not. When she turned her head slightly to see what the rebel leader’s reaction was, she could see that it was Arthos. That foolish, chatty man who had been the source of much of the gossip about her and Juston. Disgust and disappointment filled her heart.

  “You are a fool to threaten us when we have captive that which you hold dear,” Arthos shouted down. “The only way she will live is if you take your men and leave.”

  Juston shook his head. “I will not leave without her,” he said. “So let us determine the best way for you to get what you want and me to get what I want.”

  “There is no other way.”

  “Aye, there is. I can give you more money than you have ever seen in your lifetime but you must give me the woman. Then, I will leave.”

  Arthos frowned but his rebel companions began hissing excitedly at him. He waved them off. “What money?”

  Juston shifted the shield he was holding, holding it at more of an angle so he could more clearly see those he was speaking with. “My money,” he said simply. “If you want to keep Bowes running sufficiently after I am gone, then you will need money to do that. In that instance, money will be more valuable to you than a hostage.”

  Arthos actually appeared to be considering it; a man like de Royans was enormously rich. But he quickly shook his head. “If I keep the lady, it is a guarantee you will not come back. She is more valuable.”

  Juston snorted. “Mayhap I will not come back, but Richard has any number of supporters who will march on Bowes and they will not care that you hold one small woman hostage. The House of de Lara might march on you or even the House of de Velt. How would it be if the Dark Lord broke from the north and came down here to lay siege to Bowes? You know what he does to his enemy, don’t you? He will put you all up on poles, rammed through your body, and leave you for the ravens to pick at your flesh. Is that what you want?”

  The rebels began to look at each other with uncertainty. No, that wasn’t what they wanted. They certainly didn’t want the army of Ajax de Velt to end up on their doorstep. Perhaps accepting money for the lady wasn’t such a bad exchange, after all.

  “Then let us say I am willing to take your money,” Arthos said. “How much is your whore worth?”

  “You will stop calling her that or I will not negotiate.”

  Arthos frowned. “Then you must not want her back very badly!”

  “I want her returned more than you can ever know. But if I leave this place without her, I can promise you that I will send word to de Velt for the man to send his army down here. I will take great pleasure at his men shoving a spiked pole into your body and leaving you to die a slow a
nd painful death.”

  Two threats in as many minutes of Ajax de Velt’s army coming to Bowes. Arthos couldn’t be completely sure the man wasn’t bluffing. “De Velt would not bother with Bowes,” he said with more courage than he felt. “Tell me how much money you will give me for your wh -… I mean, for the lady.”

  Emera had remained largely silent until this point, listening closely to everything that was being said. But the moment Juston offered to pay the rebels for her release, she started to feel a great deal of resistance. She didn’t want Juston to drain his coffers for her because it would devastate him militarily. Armies were expensive. As a great general, his army defined him and princes depended upon him. She simply couldn’t let him give it all up for her.

  So she began to shake her head, crying out even though her voice was muffled by the gag. The rebels began to note her agitation and Arthos shook her to force her to stop moving, but she didn’t heed. She continued to shake her head and try to yell to Juston, which aggravated Arthos. Reaching out, he slapped her across the cheek, not particularly hard but enough to sting. Her head snapped sideways and her black hair ended up over her eyes. Down below, Juston lost some of his carefully held composure.

  “Strike her again and I will scale this keep with my bare hands, find you, and pulverize your head into dust,” he snarled. “I will make sure you feel every blow and every pain as your skull slowly cracks into a hundred pieces and your brain becomes mush. Is this in any way unclear?”

  Arthos knew he meant it. Already, he was coming to suspect that turning the lady over to de Royans would not sate his bloodlust against those who had taken the woman hostage. He looked at Emera, with her hair across her face and a wet gag in her mouth, and he muttered to her.

  “You will tell de Royans to leave me his money and then go in peace,” he said, squeezing her arm painfully. “He must take his army and leave, and I will release you tomorrow. Tell him that he must go now.”

  Emera shook her head and looked away. Arthos nearly slapped her again but thought better of it. If de Royans was at all capable of scaling the keep with his bare hands, which Arthos wasn’t so sure the man couldn’t, then he didn’t want to take that chance. Frustrated that these negotiations weren’t going exactly as he’d hoped, Arthos turned to Juston.

  “Leave your money and take your army away from here,” he shouted, annoyance evident in his voice. “Do it today and tomorrow I will release the lady to you unharmed.”

  Down below, Juston shook his head. “I am not leaving without her.”

  “I told you I would release her!”

  “You will release her now if you want me to leave.”

  Arthos’ temper flared. He shook Emera hard enough to cause her to lose her balance and she screamed as she started to pitch forward, over the side of the roof. Hands held her legs steady, however, and those men standing behind her were the only things keeping her from falling to her death.

  “Do you think this is a game, de Royans?” Arthos nearly screamed. “I hold what you want! If you do not obey me, then I shall throw her from the keep and she will die in front of you! If that is what you wish, then continue arguing with me. I grow weary of your refusal to obey!”

  Emera was starting to believe he might actually do it. Her heart was pounding in her ears, the terror of a frightening death filling her mind. These past two years, working alongside these men, tending their wounds, only to find out that her diligence and kindness towards them meant nothing. They were willing to sacrifice her for their foolish cause. And Juston… pitiful Juston. He’d been unable to prevent his wife’s death and now he was facing the possibility of watching another woman he adored die. She could only imagine the fear in his heart. Truth was, she felt far more concern for him than for herself. Thoughts of Juston dealing with yet another death flooded her thoughts as a very odd thing happened.

  Emera was aware of scuffling and shouting behind her. It sounded like a fight. Men began screaming. Suddenly, she was pitching sideways, she thought, but she closed her eyes tightly, afraid she was about to plummet to her death, so she really wasn’t sure what was happening or which direction she was falling. All she knew was that she was going down and someone suddenly grabbed her from behind, around her legs, and she was being hauled away.

  More fighting. More sounds of scuffling. She opened her eyes to see blood on the roof of the keep as someone carried her away. She caught glimpses of weapons and then she saw one of Juston’s knights, Sir Kress, as he sliced his way through several rebels with a sword. She didn’t see Arthos but she saw his companions, Kenelm and Edgard, dead at Kress’ feet. But that was about all she saw because whoever was carrying her lowered her down into the stairwell and then carried her down to the master’s chambers.

  There was more fighting in the stairwell. She could hear the fighting both above and below as the man who had rescued her now plopped her onto the master’s bed. He loomed over her as he removed the gag and began untying her hands.

  “Sir Maxton!” Emera gasped. “Sweet Mary… how did you get in here?”

  Maxton ripped off the rope around her hands and went to work on the ties around her ankles. “Someone lowered a linen rope for us,” he said quickly, unraveling the rope around her legs. “Was it you?”

  Emera sat up, helping him remove the last of the rope. “Nay,” she said. “It must have been Cowling. That was how he helped my sister to escape!”

  “And that is how we are going to escape now,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her off the bed. “Come along, now. Hurry!”

  They raced to the linen rope, still hanging from the window. Maxton climbed into the windowsill and held out a hand to her. “Come,” he commanded softly. “We are going to climb down together. I will help you.”

  Emera was looking at Cowling’s body, sickened at the sight. She knew the man must have somehow sacrificed himself for Jessamyn and she was greatly saddened. But Maxton was beckoning her and she could not delay, mostly because he was terrified the rebels were going to rush into the chamber at any moment and recapture her. She would have jumped out of the window to avoid such a thing, so she climbed up onto the windowsill, following Maxton’s instructions as he helped her to climb from the window.

  Holding tightly to the rope, Maxton was half-supporting her as they inched down the rope together, bit by bit, until they reached the bottom. He let go, falling the last several feet to the ground, and ended up on his feet. He held out his arms for Emera and she released the rope, falling right into him.

  Setting her feet on the ground, Maxton took Emera’s hand and pulled her along the south side of the keep, keeping her tight to the stone so those in the keep wouldn’t have a clear shot at her. The moment he came to the southeast corner, he peered around the side of the keep only to see Juston still standing where he’d left him.

  Juston was standing over a dead body and Maxton immediately recognized it to be the rebel he’d been negotiating with. Kress must have somehow thrown the man from the roof, only to land at Juston’s feet, a fitting end to the man that had threatened to do the same thing to an innocent woman. In fact, Maxton knew that Juston would be mad with worry over Emera’s fate so he emitted a sharp whistle between his teeth, catching Juston’s attention.

  Emera, still in Maxton’s grip, peered around the big knight in time to see Juston running in their direction. The man was moving like the wind. When he came around the corner and saw her, the shield fell to the ground and he drew her up into his arms, her feet dangling off the ground, squeezing her so tightly that she couldn’t breathe.

  Happy sobs filled the air as Emera wept, her arms around Juston’s neck and her face buried against his. It was a joyful reunion of the most glorious magnitude, relief and delight and utter delirium filling the air. As Maxton left the couple and made a break for the inner ward entrance, Juston backed her against the keep, shielding her with his big body, protecting her as he hadn’t been able to do until now.

  It was happiness he’d n
ever felt in his life.

  “Are you well?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Did they hurt you?”

  Emera shook her head. “Nay,” she assured him. “I am not injured. Is Jessamyn well? Did she make it?”

  He released her, taking her face between his two big hands. “Jessamyn is well,” he said, gazing into her face. Words failed him for a moment and he choked up as he looked at her. “I… I was not entirely certain I would ever know a moment like this again.”

  Emera could see his eyes welling. She threw her arms around his neck again, kissing his cheek. “I am unharmed,” she said. “All is well, Juston. Did you truly believe a few foolish rebels could keep us apart?”

  He cleared his throat, struggling against the lump in it. “I had hoped not.”

  She looked at him, her hands on his face, soothing the man who evidently needed more comfort than she did. She could see how shaken he was. “Nay, they could not,” she whispered. “Nothing can ever keep us apart again, for I shall be by your side for always. Do you believe me?”

  He nodded as she flicked an errant tear from his right eye. “I believe you.”

  She smiled. “Good,” she said, “for I love you dearly.”

  He swallowed hard. “I know.”

  Her smile fled. “Is that all you have to say to me?”

  He took her cold hands within his big warms ones, bring them to his lips. “What more would you have me say?”

  “That you love me, too.”

  “Why should I? Is not my presence here proof enough of that?”

  With a growl of frustration, she tried to yank her hands from his grip, but Juston held her tightly. He began to laugh; the more she tried to pull away, the more he laughed. Behind them, de Royans soldiers, led by Maxton, began pouring in through the inner ward entrance, some heading to the front of the keep while still others ran past Juston and Emera on their way to the linen rope that still hung from the window. On the roof overhead, Kress and Achilles were already declaring victory. The recapture of the Bowes keep was in full swing as Emera finally stopped trying to pull away from Juston only to plant her soft lips on his, a kiss that was as pure and passionate and promising as when the world was first new.