“Daley,” Garrick said in a calm voice, though he did not think it was very soothing. “Daley,” he said again, and this time he could not keep from his tone the note he expected to be obeyed, regardless of the circumstances.
Finally, the boy lifted his head slowly, his role here was one of submission, and it appeared as if he had learned it well. His pale eyes were ringed by fatigue and fear, as they met Garrick’s. They nearly fell back to the bed had Garrick not called his name again. His eyes darted back to his, and slowly it was as if recognition began to dawn. He cast a look past Garrick to Cyrille, and beyond, to the empty doorway before he decided it was okay to unwind his legs. Slowly he crept across the bed until he stood his full height, and shame filled his features as he looked at his lord.
“Are you well?”
His skin held whelp marks across it, but the boy nodded after only a brief hesitation. “Where is Stroud?”
Fear flickered through his eyes before fury took its place. “He knew you would come. He left yesterday.”
“Cyrille,” Garrick began to speak, but the man was already gone.
“I need your help finding him. I have never met the man.”
The boy hesitated only a moment, before nodding his head.
“Do you have clothes?”
Daley shook his head in a way that told Garrick this too shamed him. There was only one reason Stroud would have taken the boy, so it had not come as any surprise to find him here. “Stay here.”
In no time Garrick found clothes that could fit the boy, then led him down the stairs. Searching for Stroud was a long process and once completed, Garrick was furious and Daley had a look of fear crossing back into his features.
“I will find him,” Garrick assured him. “Come, there is someone who has been waiting a long time to see you.”
Garrick heard the boy’s steps falter behind him. “She’s here?” he asked, the prospect did not sound as if it was good news to him.
“Yes, she would not let me come get you without her.”
Daley shook his head. “I can’t see her. She’ll know. She’ll be disgusted.”
Garrick took two angry strides to the boy and raising his hand, backhanded him. It wasn’t enough to leave a mark, just enough to sting, and get the boy’s attention. “Could you stop that?”
“N-no,” Daley replied, stunned as he raised a hand to his cheek.
“Nor could you stop Stroud and all he did that day he took you and Ryann and every day since. If my past stopped me I would not be here today. I look forward not behind, and I demand the same from my men.” Garrick used the voice he used when ordering his men, a voice that brooked no argument, and Daley nodded slightly, and fell into step with him.
~ ~ ~ ~
Ryann waited by the small camp. When Garrick exited the gate she saw him, watched him cross the field to the safety of the camp. With them was Daley, his stride was different, the way he carried himself was different, and her heart plummeted. She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around him, but instinct told her it could only make matters worse. He was a young man, and dignity at this point was imperative. Garrick brought him all the way to her. She looked up at the young man and it took all her strength to keep from bursting into tears. She saw it on his face, his innocence was gone, and in its place was shame.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” she said, settling with taking his hand in hers. She felt him tremble.
“Thank you my lady,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze, and for just an instant she felt him cling to it, and then he released her.
“Are you hungry?” she asked. He looked as if he had missed a few meals.
“Later,” he began hesitantly. “I…I would like a bath if possible.”
“I have soap and cloths, and there’s a nice pool just through those trees,” she said pointing.
“Will you come with me? I don’t want to be alone,” he asked of her. The boy turned to Garrick, Ryann could tell he struggled with his words. “Would you please come as well?” he asked. Unspoken was the request he come with them to protect them.
Garrick gave a nod, and waited for Ryann to retrieve her items, then followed her to the stream. Daylight was beginning to give way to the black night when she stood on the bank with Daley. She remembered him as the young kid who was endangering himself on the street. She hoped that one day his devil may care attitude would return, and this morose young man would disappear.
“Today is nearly done,” Daley muttered in the adolescent voice that wasn’t quite man, but was far beyond child.
“Tomorrow will be a brand new day,” Ryann declared.
Daley cast a look behind them to Garrick, who by all appearances was not paying any attention to them. He turned back to the water with a forlorn sigh, then began to unclothe himself. When he was younger she had held the boy in the tub with one arm, and used the other to scrub him when he did not want to bath. She had mended scrapes throughout the years, even a huge rash that had covered him from head to toe recently, so his nudity was nothing out of the ordinary. He took the soap and cloth from her, then stepped down into the water. He walked out to hip level, stood with his back to her a moment, before sinking down into the water. That’s where he stayed for such a long time she became concerned, and called out his name. She said his name again, and still received no response. She kicked her slippers off her feet and stripped her tunic off, tossing it onto the ground near the shoes. She spared a look at her husband who watched her, but made no comment.
She stepped into the water, the chill of it took her breath away. Daley had to be desperate to brave such cold water. She walked out to him, sinking down into the water behind him, before laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder, fighting away the tremors so he would not send her away when he needed her most. Daley turned toward her and studied her for a moment, his chest rising and falling, no longer the thin chest of a boy, but growing into a broad expanse of a man’s. Then he burst into tears and reached for her, clinging to her as she wrapped her arms around him, stroking his hair as she did when he was a child and she soothed his pain. He sobbed, his head tucked under her chin, allowing her to comfort him. It struck her this would probably be the last time she would hold him in this manner, as a mother would hold her son.
“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you,” he whispered, pulling away.
“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you,” she replied, because she was supposed to have protected him. She had known beyond a doubt Garrick’s orders were foolish, but had let him have the last say regardless. No man was infallible, not even the great Lord Fenton.
“Did they hurt you?”
Ryann nodded. “All the men Stroud left,” she said with a sob trying to catch in her throat. It was the first time she had ever spoken of it. “What of you?”
He studied her for a moment, and she knew he wanted to have someone to help carry his burden. She smoothed a piece of hair off his brow, and that seemed to give him courage to continue. “When we arrived, Stroud ordered a bath in his chambers, and for me to take use it. Then he came in. He had two men with him, and told me what he wanted me to do. I-I couldn’t. Then the men held me down in the water, under it, until I thought I would die. Stroud told me he did not care if I was alive or dead, my corpse could serve the same purpose for him. For two days he played his game.” He fell silent, and his head dropped down unable to look her in the eye. “I did everything he wanted.”
“It’s survival, Daley. It took courage to survive, and that is nothing to be ashamed of.”
The boy nodded his head, and Ryann took that opportunity to begin to bathe him. “Tomorrow is a new day. I told you when you first came to me, I was offering you a new day and you took it. You shed your life as a thief. You can shed Stroud just as easily. Wait and see, tomorrow will be better than yesterday.”
Daley nodded, his hand came out to squeeze hers that rested on his bare shoulder. “Thank you Ryann. I owe my life to you.”
“Whether you believe
it or not, I owe you mine,” and she reached up to plant a kiss on his cheek, before returning her attention to his shoulders.
“Does your husband treat you well?”
“People do not know I was attacked. They believe Garrick beat me on our wedding night, should I become pregnant. He did not want a bastard born, I think that shows kindness. Please do not say otherwise.”
Daley turned his head to study her. “I will not,” he finally assured her, but she saw her request caused him confusion before turning away from her.
Memories of the lost young boy assailed her, as she helped wash the memory of the vileness from him. She prayed silently to take all the memory from him, all the bitterness, but she knew first hand it would never be possible. All she could hope for, for the both of them, was that time would fade the memory to a dull ache instead of a gaping wound left to bleed and fester. Long after the night took over, they climbed from the water and with his back still to them, Garrick continued to stand guard while Daley dressed. With his shoulders squared and his head high, he left them, walking past Garrick and moving back toward camp.
“Is it worth catching your death?” Garrick’s voice broke the stillness of the night. He still did not turn, but must have heard her ringing the water from her skirt, and her teeth chattering.
She never paused in her task, but studied his back. He spoke as if he genuinely wanted to know the answer, curiosity replaced the condescension that usually laced his words.
“To help him bathe?” she asked, unsure of the question.
“Taking him in, all the worry and nightmares to come?” He turned and glanced over his shoulder at her, before turning back around.
She finished ringing out what water she could, and straightened. “They’re all worth it,” she said, walking toward him.
She stepped beside him, feeling his overwhelming power sheltering her. Standing next to him she had the strong feeling she would be safe from any storm.
“I have a difficult task to ask of you. Can you be strong?”
“I’m strong,” she assured him, looking up at his dark, somber expression.
“You must look over Stroud’s men, and tell me which ones touched you.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Why must I do this husband?” she finally managed to ask. She felt better when she added the endearment, for the man beside her was suddenly as hard and cold as stone.
“I must kill them.” He turned back to look at her, and even in the darkness, she knew he saw the damage they had done, and remembered what they had taken from him.
“Wh- What if I do not want you to kill them?” she asked, as her body trembled with fear and cold. She wanted to never see those men again, for it would make the memory all the more vivid. Nor did she want the man she married to kill them, for he had enough deaths haunting him.
He turned so that he faced her. His eyes were black orbs as he studied her, but she would not be daunted out of this decision. “If they did it to you, they will do it to another.”
She stared at him, and in the pit of her stomach she knew he was right. “I do not wish you to be the one to do this,” she whispered.
Garrick did not move a muscle as he studied her. “If I do not do this, who then would I choose?”
At the moment he did not appear to be an approachable man, but she moved toward him, and wrapped her arms around his ramrod straight back. He was so hard, so strong, but she knew no human could be as strong as her husband tried to be. Slowly she felt him lift his hand and rest it on her head, a few breaths passed before his hand awkwardly stroked her hair. After a moment of silence stretching, he stepped an arm’s length away from her.
“Why do you worry for me?” he asked, with no malice or irritation in his voice, only the curiosity to know the answer to a question he could not comprehend.
“You are my husband, my family. Is it not my duty to worry after you when you are not near, and to care for you when you are?”
He studied her for a few moments, as if he had to weigh her words. “Do not fear for me. It must be done.” He frowned at her shivers, then unclasping his cloak, he pulled it from himself and settled it on her shoulders. The warmth of the man before her was still held in the fabric, as she pulled it closer about herself.
If Garrick had not stayed near her it was a task she did not think she could complete. Only two of the men were there, and after a short debate with herself, despite their conversation, she pointed them out. Garrick’s men pulled them away and she received some satisfaction seeing their fear. They felt the fear they had created in her, but the satisfaction quickly faded to guilt. Despite they made her suffer, she did not wish it for them, for she knew firsthand what it was like.
She turned to Garrick, tugging on his sleeve as he turned away. He paused as if he did not wish to hear another plea from her. He turned back, his cold eyes boring into her. “Quickly?” she asked in a whisper. The only word she could get out, and she hoped it would be enough.
His dark eyes searched hers, and finally he gave a slight nod before turning away.
Chapter 8
Before dawn, a drizzle began that had everyone ready to break camp before the sun started to brighten the cloudy sky. Ryann questioned her decision to sleep outside the walls for only a brief time, she could not bring herself to leave Daley’s side, nor ask him to return inside the place of his nightmares. After she requested her tormentors receive a quick death, she did not see Garrick for the rest of the evening. Marcus saw to her needs and ordered the camp made comfortable, then he and Alena remained with her, along with Daley and Winford.
This morning Daley appeared better recovered, and his friend Winford was close by his side, as if by giving him a minute by minute accounting, it would seem, of their time apart, he could keep his mind from what had happened. As they mounted their horses and prepared to return to Kilkenny, she spotted Garrick with Damien, his hooded brother, and the man named Roland, she was not sure she liked. Damien’s army separated themselves from Garrick’s, and began moving in a different direction. Fleet quickly moved to her husband’s side in time to hear Damien’s departing words.
“Lord Damien,” she called, before he could turn away as she sidled Fleet next to Malik. “I wish to thank you for your help in returning Daley.”
“Don’t thank me, I may call on you to rescue one of my kitchen maids one day,” he said with a grin.
“Would you make the journey to Kilkenny with us, and we will present you with a feast in your honor, to show our appreciation.”
“No my Lady, I must decline. I have a wife who eagerly awaits my return,” he said, with a broad smile that lit up his eyes. Was this man such a warrior as her husband? She smiled back and couldn’t help the sidelong glance at her husband, to see his attention was on her, and not his friend. She had the fleeting notion she should have asked about the feast before inviting the man. “Have a safe journey,” Damien said, offering a slight bow from his saddle, as he turned and rode away with his two men flanking him.
Suddenly she found it difficult to swallow as she turned to look at her husband. It was not his friends he watched depart, but her. His gaze was so intent she nearly gasped under the heat of it. There was nothing cold about it, but was like a flame, making her cheeks flush and heat rush through her, all the way to her toes. “I will give you until we arrive at Fenton to heal. Then I will have you.” His words thrilled her, and frightened her. That they were said as a matter-of-fact, as if it had been etched in stone and was a decree she could not be released from sent a chill up her spine. It was time for her to become a wife, time for her to put the brutality of the other men behind her, and open herself to her husband. Yes, it was a time to fear, and a time to anticipate.
Before he turned from her, the shield was back in place. His eyes cold, his face hard, as he rode away from her. The weather made the journey a miserable one, but it was made within a day, with Garrick pushing man and beasts to their limits, so they would not have to
sleep outside the dry protective walls of Kilkenny.
As they called to the guards on the walls, the gates opened and the keep became a flurry of activity as torches were lit, their flickering flames hissed in the falling drizzle, as they cast away the shadows of the courtyard. Warily Ryann pulled Fleet to a stop and prepared to slide her stiff body to the ground. Then Garrick was there, reaching for her, wrapping his large, strong hands around her waist. She allowed herself to slide toward him, his strength lifting and easing her against him. He pulled her to him so she felt every tight muscle of his body as he slid her downward, until her feet were firmly planted on the ground. He steadied her, his features showed her nothing, his dark eyes even less, and finally he stepped away from her, releasing her to the cold rain. She was left wondering if he had pulled her from her horse to deliberately touch her, or if it was just a man helping his exhausted wife.
“To bed with you, all things can wait until morning,” he ordered, and then he was gone.
It was not because she was following her husband’s order, but because she was far beyond exhaustion. She climbed the stairs to her chamber, changed from her travel wrinkled clothes, slipped on a fresh shift, and promptly slipped into the embrace of her bed.
~ ~ ~ ~
Garrick sat upon the knoll overlooking the land spread out before Kilkenny. He would feel better if he stayed a few more days. He would feel more secure knowing all was put into place, so his property would be as well cared for as it had been up to this point. He assured himself it was being run as it always had, the only difference was it would be run without Ryann, because she would be at Fenton with him. He suddenly wished he had chosen a better last name for himself, not the name of the first castle he took. He wanted her to have a real name, a name to be proud of. The image of her warming his bed, baring his children, invaded his thoughts and he could not deny that was why he was in such a hurry to be on his way.
It would take a day for Ryann to leave her old home for her new. If it were not for the children, who would be left behind, he would have left at dawn because he found himself prowling the wall before the sun had even risen. Thoughts of his wife’s small body pressed against his. He felt he would go mad if he did not possess her. He did not like the feeling, for he was a man used to putting actions to his desires but not now, not where the delicate woman was concerned. He felt apprehension in the past, but never a fear that resided in him as his fear of bedding his wife. He knew last night, as he lifted her smallness in his arms, he would hurt her when he finally did take her to his bed. Any man would hurt something so fragile, but especially a man such as he, who knew no tenderness.
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