by Alexa Aston
The robber flung the lute aside and Raynor caught it in mid-air. Gently, he placed it on the ground. Seeing her lute was safe, the woman released her hold on the thief and sprang away.
Her sudden move threw the highwayman off-balance. Though he faltered, he still whipped a dagger from his belt and wheeled around to attack her. Then the man froze, catching sight of Raynor beside him.
Raynor’s anger exploded. He unsheathed his sword and brandished it before running it through the man.
Chapter Five
Beatrice tried to catch her breath, only to have it taken away again as she watched the handsome newcomer put a quick end to her attacker. The robber fell to the ground. The man who towered over him with a grim expression on his face pulled his sword from the body, wiped the blood off on the dead man’s clothing and then sheathed it.
He shot a look her way and started to speak, but the cry of the frantic horse attached to the cart distracted him. She watched as the cart started to split apart as the horse tried to break free. She was afraid the animal would trample Tolly’s body. The kind stranger reached the horse the moment the cart collapsed. He snatched the tangled reins and tried to calm the frightened beast. Beatrice shivered as the horse snorted and stomped its feet. She retreated several steps, her fear of horses ever present.
The man led the horse from the smoldering remains of the vehicle. He stroked the animal’s neck and spoke to it softly. Beatrice turned back to her grandfather’s trusted servant and a lump formed in her throat. Wordlessly, Beatrice made her way to the body and knelt beside him. Tears blurred her vision as she stroked his cold cheek.
Profound sadness overtook her at Tolly’s senseless death. If she had felt alone before, now she truly was. Everyone from her past had been taken away.
“My lady?”
Beatrice glanced over her shoulder and found the stranger standing behind her. He offered his hand and she took it.
Though she hadn’t met many men in her isolated life, she knew, beyond a doubt, this tall, broad knight was the handsomest man she’d ever meet.
Though she should fear being alone with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, instinct told Beatrice this was a good man who would treat her with respect.
“My lady,” he repeated. “Could you tell me what happened here?”
She brushed the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hands and nodded. Taking a moment to compose herself, she was glad that this knight did not rush her.
In that brief moment, Beatrice decided to lie to protect herself.
“I was traveling with my dear servant to my wedding at Brookhaven.”
“I see.”
For now, she would do nothing to dispel the man of this notion—at least until she knew more about him.
“We’ve been journeying for three days to Sir Henry Stollers’ estate, which is far to the north. We were about to stop for the night and make camp at a nearby stream.”
“I am familiar with it,” the knight said.
“Just as twilight fell, we came upon something blocking the road. Tolly stopped our cart, and we both climbed down. As we approached the form, we discovered that it was a man. We didn’t know how he came to be there, whether he had collapsed or been trampled by a horse or if he had fallen ill.”
She dug her nails into the palms of her hands, fighting through the memories of the recent violence. She took a calming breath and pressed on.
“The man stabbed poor Tolly with a knife, so I ran for the ax in the cart.”
The knight frowned. “And what did you plan to do with this ax?”
“Why, frighten the man away!” she exclaimed. “I assumed he was going to rob us. I wanted him gone so that I could tend to Tolly’s wound.” Beatrice halted as the images kept playing in her mind. “But I found a second man in the cart, going through my trunk. Somehow, the lantern I’d held overturned and started the fire. After that, things became a blur. The robber’s clothing caught fire and he fell from the cart. Then the man who had been in the middle of the road grabbed me. I struggled free, but he tried to take my lute. I had the ax and . . .” She searched for words, not finding any to describe what had happened. “Well, then my cloak caught fire. I managed to put out the fire.”
She glanced down at what remained of the tattered cloak. “Then another thief appeared. He took my lute before the flames reached it.”
“This lute must mean a great deal to you.”
“Aye. It has comforted me in good times and bad, my lord. I would do anything to keep it safe.”
“I saw exactly what lengths you were willing to go to in order to retrieve it from the robber.”
A flush crept up her neck. “I will admit that I was determined. I have a great fondness for my lute.”
“Indeed.” He paused. “I am sorry that you lost your servant.”
She bit her trembling lip, unable to speak. She couldn’t imagine life without the quiet, steady servant. Only now, she realized how much she’d relied on Tolly.
The knight interrupted her thoughts. “Did others travel with you?”
“Nay,” she said. “Both my mother and grandfather passed away a sennight ago. We were . . . close. They were my whole world.”
“And your father?” he asked gently.
She shook her head. “He died long ago when I was but five.”
Determination filled his face. “I want you to know that you may trust me implicitly, my lady, despite all that has happened to you in these woods. I am Sir Raynor Le Roux, a knight of the realm. I was traveling from Lord Geoffrey de Montfort’s estate of Kinwick to my family’s home of Ashcroft, where my brother is baron, when I came upon you and your misfortunes. ’Tis my duty as a knight to see to your safety and well-being.”
“And I am Lady Beatrice Bordel.” She smiled. “Hopefully, you feel you can trust me, despite the fact that when you came upon me, I appeared as a wild woman might.”
“You only defended what was yours.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Ashcroft is a short ride from here. I would ask that you return there with me so that I can see to your immediate needs.”
She glanced at the destroyed cart and realized that every item she owned—beyond her lute—had gone up in flames. Nothing else remained. She had no home and only the clothes on her back. Tears began to well in her eyes as she took in the enormity of her situation.
Beatrice picked up her lute, glad her beloved instrument had been saved from the fire. Suddenly, she seemed colder than she’d ever been. Her entire body quaked. Her knees buckled and she slipped to the ground.
Then she found herself standing once more. Raynor Le Roux’s arms came about her. He enveloped her in an immense yet comforting heat. Beatrice buried her face in his chest.
*
Raynor tenderly held Beatrice Bordel as she cried. He couldn’t blame her. Not only had she recently lost two people close to her heart, she’d also witnessed the death of her devoted servant and her own life being threatened by thieves. That forced the lady to take violent action. The man on the ground didn’t put that ax in his own neck. Lady Beatrice had done so—and she would have to live with her actions for the rest of her life. Raynor could only imagine what might have happened to the noblewoman if he hadn’t come along when he did.
He looked at what little remained of the burned cart and the shell of her trunk, realizing that she probably had all her worldly possessions with her. Nothing had survived the fire. A few stray pieces of parchment fluttered in the wind, all that was left of what he guessed to be treasured books that accompanied her to a new life.
The only thing this poor woman could lay claim to was her lute.
Pity filled him. No one should have to face such circumstances, much less alone.
As he held her, he hoped to ease her fears. He rubbed his large hands up and down her back, providing warmth and comfort.
Her sobs stopped. As he repositioned her in his protective embrace, that’s when he became aware of her physical presence as a woman.
Soft in all the right places. A foot shorter than he, his chin rested atop her silky, dark hair. Everything about having her in his arms felt right.
But she was betrothed to Sir Henry.
Raynor eased away from her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and put some distance between them while still holding her steady.
“I will escort you to my home. Though you have lost your possessions, there are ample clothes at Ashcroft. My sisters wed many years ago. I lost my mother a few years back, and we can also draw from her chest to make sure you have a variety of things to wear.”
He paused, watching her take in his words. “I will accompany you to your betrothed’s estate, my lady. I know my brother will allow a guard to come with us. You are perfectly safe in my care until I hand you over to Sir Henry.”
She worried her lip, mulling what he’d told her. Raynor didn’t rush her decision.
“I suppose that would be the wisest course of action,” she finally agreed. “And it’s not Sir Henry Stollers I marry. Sir Henry was my grandfather’s friend when they fostered together years ago. Sir Henry has a grandson named Edwin.”
“Have you met Edwin Stollers?” Raynor found himself jealous of a man he’d never seen. The nobleman would gain quite a bride in this courageous young woman. Raynor had never met anyone he’d admired more. Lady Beatrice’s bravery this night in an impossible situation, coupled with her iron will to survive, put to shame most men. Her indomitable spirit had certainly earned his lasting respect.
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “But Grandfather thought the world of Sir Henry. He truly looked forward to our journey to Brookhaven and renewing their friendship. In his letters to my grandfather, Sir Henry described his grandson as a fine man. I have no reason to doubt him.”
“When is your wedding?”
She jumped, looking startled at his question. “Ah . . . the wedding is . . . in about three months’ time. No specific date has been set. Grandfather and I were simply to journey to Brookhaven when . . .” Her voice trailed off and Raynor knew she must be thinking of her grandfather’s death.
“Then we have plenty of time to go to Ashcroft first,” he declared. “I have not been home in several months. I must fulfill a few duties there, but then I’ll be happy to escort you north for your wedding. We can even send a messenger to Sir Henry to notify him that you will be delayed.”
Lady Beatrice started to speak, but it looked as if she changed her mind. He wouldn’t worry about the details now. The important thing was to get her safely to Ashcroft.
Raynor released her and then motioned to the horse that he’d rescued from the cart and loosely tied to a tree. “If you ride, you might want to sit atop a horse that you are familiar with. And if you don’t, then you may ride with me.”
“I won’t ride upon any beast! I shall walk to this . . . Ashcroft.”
Her angry outburst puzzled Raynor. “But it would be an hour or longer to do so, Lady Beatrice. By riding—”
“I said I will not ride.”
Pushing aside his frustration at her odd reaction, he tried again to convince her. “Surely, you can make an exception in such circumstances, my lady. It’s grown dark. I must see you protected behind Ashcroft’s walls.”
“Do you not have ears to hear with, Raynor Le Roux? I said that I will walk.”
For a minute, Beatrice Bordel looked like Alys de Montfort, a child who intended to have her way. Then he looked deeper and believed he saw fear in her eyes.
“What troubles you, my lady? You showed tremendous courage this evening. You wielded an ax against highwaymen, ready to defend yourself and your servant. You physically attacked a man twice your size. Yet you will not sit a horse and ease our way?”
Raynor watched fear engulf her as her breathing became ragged and her body began to quake again.
“Nay! I cannot!” she cried, wrapping her arms tightly about her, as if to ward off some unknown threat.
He stood there a moment, uncertain what to do. Part of him thought he should simply place her on Fury and be done with it, but it disturbed him to think that any trust he’d built with her might be shattered by such a thoughtless action.
Mayhap a different approach would work. “Why are you so afraid of horses, Lady Beatrice?”
Raynor watched her begin to collapse and reached out to catch her. He drew her close. Once again, he enjoyed the way she fit next to him.
She did not speak for some minutes. He left her to her thoughts, deciding she would tell him what he needed to know in good time. Finally, he released her.
Beatrice raised her eyes to his. “I have not been atop a horse since the day I turned five,” she whispered. “The day my father died.”
Chapter Six
Beatrice couldn’t believe she had confessed her greatest weakness to this man. No one knew how she felt about horses. Her invalid mother had not cared about anything beyond her sickroom, so Beatrice never confided in her. She suspected her grandfather had an inkling about it, but being a man of action and few words, he never pushed her to discuss her feelings. Tolly had cared for their lone horse—grooming and feeding it—while she’d taken care of the chickens and goat. She gave the horse a wide berth anytime she tended to the other animals. She rarely left the manor house, but on the few occasions she did, Beatrice rode in the back of the cart as she had on their journey north.
She glanced at the knight’s giant steed and shuddered at the thought of going near the beast, much less sitting atop it.
Turning back to the nobleman, Beatrice saw the concern etched upon his brow. It struck her that this handsome man really cared about her well-being. Raynor Le Roux was sincere in his intent to see her to safety.
“My father was a knight, as you are, my lord. My earliest memories are of him taking me from my mother’s arms and lifting me to sit next to him in the saddle. We would ride Blaze through the meadow while Mother cheered us on. I recall how I would cry out for him to go faster and faster. The world rushed by so fast, it became a blur.”
Beatrice paused, willing herself to keep calm. “I don’t remember exactly what happened that day, but Blaze faltered as we galloped through an empty field. Both Father and I were thrown from the saddle. I thought Blaze would trample us. I hit the ground so hard that I couldn’t breathe.” She crossed her arms protectively in front of her.
“Father . . . he . . . did not survive the fall. He broke his neck.” She pushed aside the image ingrained in her memory.
“And you haven’t gone near a horse in all these years?” the knight asked quietly.
“Nay.” The word came out a whisper.
Raynor nodded in understanding. “I can assure you that Fury is an extremely good horse.”
Her eyes flew to the beast, then back to its master. Beatrice shook her head. “I am sorry, my lord. Simply hearing the animal’s name frightens me.”
He looked fondly at his horse. “Despite his fierce name, Fury is as gentle as a lamb. I promise you I will keep him at an easy pace. You would be perfectly safe in my arms.”
A part of Beatrice longed to be in those very arms again. She’d never felt more protected than when this man had held her close. Though she had no experience with men, this gallant knight had rescued her from a fate worse than death. She could tell he was a man marked by honor and took his knightly oath seriously.
How she wished her life had been different and that her father had lived. Beatrice knew he would have showered her with affection and attention. Her father also would have found a just nobleman to be her wedded husband and ensure her future was secure. But none of that had come to pass, and she was alone in the world. Why couldn’t she find a good man such as Raynor Le Roux, one she could share her life with, laugh with, and love long and well? She would give anything to be the wife of a knight as noble as Sir Raynor.
But his reverent tone when he spoke of Ashcroft led her to believe that the place must be a huge estate. Besides, the man was well over a score—so surely he had a wife
and children waiting for him at home. Even if he didn’t, Beatrice had led him to believe she was promised to Edwin Stollers. Though she had never directly referred to him as her betrothed, she had mentioned her wedding. Because of that, this chivalrous knight would never foster any personal feelings for her. Beatrice determined to put aside such wishes and dreams, for they could never occur.
“Thank you, Sir Raynor, but I can’t. Call it childish fear, but nothing could ever entice me to ride on a horse.” She bowed her head. “I’m sorry, my lord.”
“I understand, my lady.”
Beatrice gazed into his eyes and believed he truly did.
The conversation over, Raynor lifted Tolly’s body and placed him face down on their horse. After carefully securing the body, he led the horse to Fury and fastened the animal behind his.
“Let us set out, my lady. We have a good way to walk and no time to waste.”
She reclaimed her lute and faced him. “Just because I choose to walk doesn’t mean you have to do the same. You may ride, my lord.”
“And leave a lady on the ground to trail after me?” He shook his head. “Heaven forbid that I would be so callous. ’Twould go against all I stand for.”
“Then I’ll follow you and the horses.”
Raynor approached Fury and stroked the horse fondly, murmuring words too low for her to catch. Then he pulled an apple from his pocket and placed it in his palm. The horse eagerly took the offered treat.
He took the reins. “Do not fall too far behind me, Lady Beatrice,” he warned. “It grows dark. I would have you close by.” He pulled on the reins and both horses started after him as he led the way, leaving the dead highwaymen behind without a backward glance.
Beatrice fell into step. She knew he wasn’t pleased at the distance she put between her and the animals because he kept turning around to check where she was.
“You must come closer, my lady,” he finally called out.
