My Noble Knight

by Cynthia Breeding

  But he was betrothed.

  She pushed away from him. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

  “Ye know this was naught of my doing.”

  Deidre circled the old altar stone, keeping it safely between them. If she were going to maintain any kind of dignity, she must not let him near her. His touch would be her undoing.

  “Maybe not. But I don’t see you protesting too much. Wait,” she said and held up a hand. “I know what I see. In the mornings, you bring her to your mother to visit. You both come back in the afternoon. At dinner you pay more attention to her than you do your food. You dance afterward—”

  Gilead stared at her in amazement “I dinna know ye noticed.”

  Heat flared across her face. How stupid could she be? She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she was jealous. She tossed her head. “A person would have to be deaf, blind, and mute not to notice.”

  “I’m only being polite,” he protested. “Let me explain...”

  Deidre glared at him. “I heard your father’s pronouncement. You are betrothed to Dallis. Do you deny it?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then there isn’t anything left to say.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears back. He was betrothed. The words sliced through her like a cleaving knife. “Just leave me.” If he didn’t, her heart would be laid open soon.

  “If ye’ll just hear me out, Dee. Please.”

  She shook her head. Even if Gilead thought he could get out of the betrothal—and she wasn’t really sure he did—Angus would never let him. She had been there long enough to understand that the land and the alliances needed to keep it safe were all that mattered to Angus. Better not to listen to Gilead. Better to make a clean break. She took a deep breath. She had never been good at lying and this was going to be the hardest thing she ever did.

  “Save your breath and your dignity, Gilead. You and Dallis are well-matched. You can’t deny that.” She looked past him to fix on a distant tree. “And...I...I don’t love you. So just leave.”

  “But—”

  “Go.” She turned and picked up the shovels to return them to the shack. Her legs were trembling so hard she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t fall down. She knelt and rolled the equipment in old leather skins to keep it from rusting and fought to control her breathing. Breathe deep. Have courage.

  When she straightened and looked back, Gilead was gone. Only then did she allow the tears to come.

  ◊♦◊

  Gilead stomped furiously down the hill. She wouldn’t even listen to him! Not even let him try to explain! He was willing to risk clan war to break this vow he had never made. And now she told him she didn’t love him!

  Did their night of lovemaking mean so little to her? He had taken her virginity, had been her first lover. Bloody hell, that should mean something.

  He cringed inwardly, remembering how aloof she had been the morning after. How ramrod stiff she had held her back to him. She had regretted letting him take her.

  Gilead broke into a lope, pushing himself harder as if he could outrun his feeling for her. She didn’t love him. She had been cool toward him even before Dallis arrived. He had been a fool not to see it.

  He slowed, panting a little from the exertion. Maybe he should just go ahead with this stupid plan. Dallis was pretty enough; didn’t Drustan remind him that he was a lucky man, every chance he got? War would be avoided. Dallis was also docile and polite and been trained properly to be a lady. He could grow to love her, he supposed, even though she lacked the fire that Dee had.

  Dee. He would not call her that again. As far as he was concerned, Mistress Deidre was an imposter. The best thing would be to inform his father who she was and have her sent home. Unfortunately, keeping her secret was a vow that he had made.

  And Gilead did not break his vows.

  Chapter Seventeen

  REVELATION

  Niall slammed the empty tankard of ale down on the small table beside his bed in the guest quarters of Angus’s hall. He cursed as he picked up the empty skin and threw it on the floor. Since Elen’s “accident,” Angus had kept the liquor locked up and his soldiers sober. Niall had to bribe the chambermaid with pure silver coin to purloin this one lousy skin.

  The damn job had been botched. Again. Elen should be dead. He had outlined, in detail, exactly how it should be done. Could he not count on his accomplice for anything?

  He gave a sharp laugh that sounded more like a bark. How ironically different his motives were from those of the woman who had agreed to help him. She wanted Elen dead so Angus would be a free man. He wanted Elen dead so Angus’s rutting with Formorian would finally be exposed—what little discretion they possessed now would vanish into thin air—and Turius would be forced to take action. The Briton king’s army was mighty and Angus wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

  And then Turius would need someone to oversee the land in his stead. Niall allowed himself to drift into his favorite dream. Married to Deidre, a distant “kin” of Angus, Niall could assure Turius that he would keep the clan from rebelling. Yes, sir. Niall would be ready to pledge loyalty to Turius. At least until Fergus grew bold enough to lead the Eire raid that was still brewing.

  Oh, it would work. And the best thing was, he wouldn’t have to do the killing. Not that he would mind slicing Angus through and watching his entrails fall out—he might even relish that, after all these years—but if he had no hand in it, the way would be clear for him to take control.

  Gilead would have to die, too, but that could wait. Too many killings would raise suspicion. A convenient arrow in his back during the heat of the eventual battle with Turius should do it. Pity he couldn’t make it more torturous, though. Gilead had interrupted his fun with Deidre too many times and he resented the way the young cub was always sniffing around Deidre’s skirts, like a dog after a bitch in heat.

  He felt his groin tighten and grinned ferally. Mastering that little bitch was something he was looking forward to. And he’d be careful that the bruises didn’t show.

  The thought of all that power nearly overwhelmed him. He was so close to having everything he wanted. So close. If only that damn woman hadn’t bungled the job.

  He kicked the empty wineskin and cursed. He needed a drink.

  ◊♦◊

  With relief, Deidre stood on the steps with Janet and Sheila and watched Dallis and her father depart two days later. The past week was the longest she could remember. Gilead had virtually ignored her after the afternoon at the ruins and even though she knew it was over between them—if there had been anything in the first place—it was still good to know she wouldn’t have to watch him lavishing attention on Dallis.

  By the time the girl returned for her wedding, Deidre would be gone. Lugnasad was approaching fast; she would have to leave soon. Her big regret was that Elen’s attacker was still at large. She would have liked knowing Elen was safe.

  Deidre waited until Gilead had disappeared into the stables and then walked to the little partitioned garden that held the roses Elen so doted on. She’d cut some for her. As she passed the men’s quarters, she heard Drustan’s harp and stopped to listen.

  The music today was slow and mournful, like a funeral dirge. He must be in one of his black moods again. She’d noticed last night while he played that his mouth had been drawn into a tight line and his usually bright eyes had been listless and dull. She knew he didn’t drink, and she wished she could ask Gilead what was wrong.

  She jumped suddenly as a particularly high-pitched pluck pierced the air like a shriek, and then faded with a long wail that made her hair stand up. Goose bumps rose on her arms and she hurried on. The men of Kernow were known for wildly swinging moods. Meeting up with Drustan in the middle of his angst wasn’t something she wanted to do.

  But it would have been better than running headlong into Niall, which is what happened as Deidre rounded the corner of the Great Hall, long-stemmed roses in her arms. He took the
opportunity to grab her and she turned her head aside at the fetid odor of his breath.

  “Ye won’t be denying me much longer, lass,” he said with a sneer and jerked her head around with one hand. “I’ll be taking a wee kiss now to let ye think about it.”

  Deidre sealed her lips tightly together as he tried to cover her mouth with his. Angrily, he pulled her tightly against him and she felt the thorns from the stems cut into her arms. She gasped in pain and he took advantage to shove his tongue between her lips. Instinctively, she bit down, hard, and he howled in pain. He reared his hand back to strike her.

  Gilead caught his arm. Where he had come from, Deidre didn’t know, but she nearly bent double in relief as she stumbled back from Niall’s clutches.

  “Ye’ll strike no woman on this property,” Gilead said.

  Niall wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and narrowed his eyes at the blood. “I’m getting verra tired of ye coming between me and my betrothed.”

  Gilead’s eyes darkened. “Then mayhap ye best leave.”

  Niall glowered at him, but before he could answer, Angus came out the front door. He looked quickly from one to the other and then nodded curtly to Deidre. “If those flowers are for Elen, ye’d best see to them.”

  For once, she was grateful to him. She nodded and glanced at Gilead, but he was still staring down Niall. She decided a hasty departure might prevent a fight.

  She nodded to the guard posted at Elen’s door and went in, glad to find her sitting in her chair and working on her stitching. Since the attack, Elen had seemed much stronger. Whether it was the extra protection or maybe the little bit of attention Angus was giving her, Deidre didn’t know. She was just glad for it.

  Elen looked up from the window and smiled. “What lovely roses! Let me smell.”

  Deidre held them out to her and she sniffed appreciatively and then hissed at the sight of the scratch marks on Deidre’s skin.

  “How did that happen, child?”

  Deidre tried to tug down the sleeves of her dress. “Nothing, my lady.” But her fingers trembled as she reached for a vase for the flowers.

  Elen stayed her hand. “I want to know.”

  Deidre crumbled then, sinking into the chair next to Elen and strewing the roses on the table. She hid her face in folded arms and began to sob.

  “There. Get it all out. Ye’ll feel better.” Elen gently massaged her shoulders. “Did Gilead do aught to upset ye?”

  Deidre wailed louder. “No,” she managed to blubber, “he helped.”

  Elen stroked her hair softly and eventually Deidre’s tears slowed. She hiccupped and accepted the small linen cloth Elen offered and wiped her nose.

  “It’s Niall, my lady. He tried to force himself on me. I bit him and he was about to hit me when Gilead stopped him.” Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes again. “I cannot marry that beast. I cannot.”

  Elen made soft, soothing noises as she embraced her. “Ye poor child. I will try talking to Angus, but I doona know if it will help.”

  Deidre raised her head and swiped at a tear dribbling down her cheek. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Elen picked up two roses and studied them. “Pink is for love and red is for passion. I doona think ye are the only one who does not feel that.”

  Deidre sniffled and dabbed at her nose. “What do you mean?”

  She sighed. “I doona think my son loves Dallis.”

  In spite of herself, a little spark of hope flared in Deidre’s heart. Could it be possible that Gilead really wasn’t as smitten with Dallis as every other male? How she wanted to believe that! She hesitated. “What... what makes you think that?”

  Elen brushed the silkiness of the rose along her cheek. “It’s not in his eyes,” she said softly. “When a man loves a woman, there is a burning depth in them. A longing never to look away.”

  Deidre stared at her. Was it possible that Angus had felt that love for Elen once? And if so, how on earth had Formorian come between them? She took Elen’s hand in both of hers. “May I ask, my lady...” She stopped.

  “What is it?” Elen asked when Deidre remained silent.

  “It’s none of my business, my lady,” Deidre replied, “but... but was that the way it was for you and your husband once?”

  Elen fingertips caressed the rosebud before she laid the flower carefully down on the table. “Nae,” she said sadly. “Ours was a thorny road.”

  Deidre sat quietly while Elen gazed off into the distance, seemingly lost in memory. Then the woman turned to her and smiled gently. “Would ye like to know the way of it? Mayhap it’s time I told someone.”

  “If you like, my lady. My lips will be sealed.”

  Elen arranged the plaid over her knees and crossed her hands. “I had adored Angus even as a child. My father and his were strong allies and the Mac Erca helped the three cenels settle here. I would accompany my father on the trips two or three times a year.” She paused, with a little smile on her face. “Angus was all boy, never without his wooden practice sword and usually sporting a bruise or two from a recent fight. He had not time for girls—certes, not me, who could scarce stand my slippers being dirty. There was only one he tolerated back then and she was as willing to get into scrapes as he was.”

  “Formorian,” Deidre said softly.

  Elen nodded. “Even then, I should have known. But as we grew out of childhood, I saw less of her on our visits. Whether Gabran was keeping her away—Ambrose had already come to his aid a time or two—or whether it was just timing, I doona know. I was just glad I had Angus to myself.”

  “He courted you?” Deidre asked.

  “I thought he did,” Elen answered. “He was always polite and attentive to me and paid no mind to the wenches who chased him endlessly. I can’t blame them...Angus had a wild, unbridled look about him and if ye got close, ye could actually feel some sort of force radiating from him. He drew lasses to him like snakes following St. Patrick.”

  There was an image Deidre could imagine. As arrogant as Angus was, she could see him piping away, leading women astray. Only she could also see tiny horns sprout from his head and a tail whipping behind him.

  “But he paid attention to you?” she asked.

  Elen grimaced. “I was young and besotted. Now, I can see that the attention was because of who my father was. Even at four-and-ten, Angus valued the land more than anything.” She dabbed at tears. “It was five years later that I did my foul deed.”

  Deidre waited quietly while Elen composed herself. She took several shaky breaths and then continued.

  “We had come on a visit in the fall, shortly after the harvest was in. I was surprised to see Formorian there, and even more surprised to learn that she had wedded Turius. Angus was awfully quiet on that visit and he kept watching Formorian when he thought no one saw him. Remember the look I said a man had? I dinna recognize it as love, then. Not until I accidentally found them in the walled garden later, kissing.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Oh, they split apart immediately and Formorian pretended that something was wrong with her slipper and Angus acted as though he were merely helping her balance. But I knew what I had seen. I just smiled and left.”

  “Neither of them followed you? Or tried to explain?”

  “Nae. They both have too much pride.” Elen paused. “But the thought of them—his strong arms around her and her fingers twined in his hair, their mouths hungry for each other—stayed with me. I wanted that. I wanted to know how it felt to be pressed against Angus, to have him caress me like he did her.” She looked away, blushing. “And then the wicked idea hit me.”

  “I can’t believe anything you’d do would be wicked,” Deidre said.

  Elen shook her head and continued. “Formorian was married. He could never have her. And I had never wanted anyone besides Angus. So I thought, ‘Why not me?’ I would bring a good dowry and a powerful alliance. I was sure that, once he got to know me, I could make him forget Formorian.”
<
br />   “So what happened?”

  Elen dropped her gaze to the floor and her voice was nearly a whisper. “I...I sent a note to Angus saying that I was going to tell Turius, unless he could explain himself. I told him to meet me in the barn just after moonrise. The hay was fresh cut and soft and smelled sweet. A perfect spot for tumbling a maid. I thought—oh, it was wrong—that if I could get him to kiss me, to do to me what he did to her...” Her voice trailed off.

  “He came?”

  Elen nodded and a teardrop fell on her hands. “He was angry; certes not in the mood for what I had in mind. He asked how I dared to ensnare him like that. That I had no idea of how he and Formorian felt about each other.”

  Deidre frowned. “But he married you?”

  Another tear splashed down. “My evil trickery wasn’t over. I had arranged for my maid to find my father and tell him I was not abed. That I had mentioned wanting to go for a moonlight ride alone. I knew my father would come to the barn to stop me.” She wrung her hands pathetically. “When I heard footsteps approaching, I threw my arms around Angus’s neck. He caught my arms—more to push me back than anything—and my father found us like that.”

  “Didn’t he try to explain?”

  “Aye. My father roared like a bull. Said I would never have met him in a barn if he hadn’t filled my head with promises he didn’t intend to keep. That Angus was not going to compromise his daughter. I could feel Angus seething beside me, but he contained his anger. He just looked at me, waiting for me to explain and make things right.” Elen covered her face with her hands and wept. “I lied. I told my Da that Angus had promised to marry me.”