“No textiles or sheep?”
“This isn’t Yorkshire, Summer,” he said with a faint smile. “The Wiltshire countryside is fairly devoid of lush lands and soil. But there is enough to sustain the cattle and whatever flocks the villeins cultivate.”
She pondered his statement a moment, indeed noticing the chalky downs that covered the Wiltshire landscape. “S-Surely with all of this land, Ravendark can be made far more profitable by increasing her herds and expanding her interests. Have you ever given thought to raising goat for their milk and cheese?”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You mentioned that your father’s steward schooled you in basic learning. Am I now to be the recipient of your grand knowledge of profit and fortune?”
She laughed softly. “I t-took over all stewardship duties when Kermit passed away last winter and I am rather proud of the fact that Chaldon has never run more smoothly. I can do the same for Ravendark too.”
He nodded faintly, knowing she was an intelligent and educated woman but truly having no idea how deeply the vein of knowledge ran. Instead of feeling threatened by her mind as most men would have been, the idea of his brilliant wife taking charge of Ravendark and her holdings pleased him immensely. She pleased him immensely.
“I would be very interested in any and all ideas you might have on the subject, Lady de Moray.”
Resting against her husband’s mighty chest armor, Summer was flattered by his declaration of confidence; not all men were acceptant of a woman whose intellectual education neared their own.
“We make a good deal of cheese at Chaldon,” she continued on thoughtfully. “Mayhap we could use the milk f-from your cattle to mass-produce cheese and sell it. If we make enough money, mayhap you can leave the tournament circuit altogether.”
“And help you make cheese?”
She nodded, feeling his soft chuckle against her ear. “Blue V-Vinny cheese is delicious. It’s indigenous to Dorset, you know. Why, the entire province is famous for its blue-veined cheese and….”
In the quieting trees flanking the dirt trail, a branch snapped loudly and Bose suddenly stiffened in the saddle, interrupting his wife’s prattle as his entire body tensed with anticipation. He was already moving for his sword when the bleak foliage surrounding the roadway suddenly came alive with men on horseback, shouting and whooping in a most terrifying manner.
Summer shrieked, instinctively covering her face protectively as Bose deftly collected his shield, throwing it up in front of his wife in an effort to protect her from the onslaught. But the destrier startled as the roar turned deafening, rearing on its hind legs in fear. With both hands occupied, Bose had no chance to grab her as she fell to the dusty road in a heap.
“Summer!” he cried, using an impassioned tone she had never heard before. “Hurry, love, come to me! Come to…!”
His desperate plea was cut short as several men rushed him, bombarding him with their swords and battleaxes. Summer shrieked again, laboring to regain her footing as massive hooves threatened to crush her. Stumbling away from the action, she fell to her knees on the damp grass, ugly green stains ground deep into the fabric. She barely had a chance to regain her balance and her breath when gloved hands were grabbing harshly at her wrist.
“Ha!” came the triumphant cry. “Think not to escape me again, wench, for now I have you!”
Hair hanging wildly in her face, Summer managed to right herself, struggling ferociously against the iron grip to her arm. Through all of the twisting and gasping and restrained screams, her hair moved from her vision and she suddenly found herself face to face with Breck Kerry.
He smiled lewdly at her, a smile she had come to hate terribly over the past three days. Instinctively, without thought, she brought a clawed hand to bear on his pimpled face and with a powerful, vicious surge, raked her sharp nails across his reddened cheek in an act of self-defense.
Breck screamed like a woman, releasing his hold on her arm. Whimpering in panic, Summer stumbled away from him, struggling with every ounce of strength to reach Bose as he engaged several men on the chalky dirt road. Crying his name, fumbling in a blind panic, she was entirely focused on his armored charger when something grabbed her about the ankles. Falling heavily, Breck’s bleeding, furious face loomed over her and she opened her mouth to scream at the terrible sight of him.
A scream of terror that never came as a blow to the head jarred her into blissful darkness. Heaving and panting, Breck grabbed his unconscious quarry by the arms, slinging her limp form over his shoulder. He began to shout Bose’s name, struggling to be heard over the sounds of battle. But no amount of shouting would gain him the man’s attention until Bose happened to turn in his direction, his panicked black eyes searching for his wife. He found her lying across Breck Kerry’s shoulder.
His sword clattered to the ground. The shield did not and he fought off several heavy blows before Breck’s order to cease was obeyed. Slowly, the mass of men came to an unsteady halt as all concerned focused on the red-haired knight bearing the lifeless lady. And none more focused upon the man’s face than Bose himself.
The shield fell beside the discarded sword as Bose swiftly dismounted, shoving his fist into the face of a man who attempted to stop him. As the wounded soldier fell away, Bose’s black eyes were smoldering as he focused on Breck.
“Give her to me.” It was not a request; it was a command.
Shifting Summer’s weight, Breck wiped at the blood on his cheek. “I have come to claim my bride, de Moray, and to escort you back to Chaldon to stand trial for thievery.”
Bose maintained his advance on the small man, shoving aside another soldier who was foolish enough to get in his way. Ignoring the knight’s statement, he extended his arms demandingly.
“Give her to me now.”
Breck stumbled back, away from the approaching knight, tripping over his feet in the process. Bose seemed to lose a measure of his composure as Breck struggled to regain his balance, fearful that his wife would be dropped to the unforgiving ground below. He slowed his advance somewhat, but not entirely. He meant to regain Summer and was determined to accomplish his goal.
“Come no closer, de Moray, or I might not be able to keep your lover from falling to the ground the next time,” his threat was confident. “There is no way to know what she would strike upon landing. Her head. Her beautiful face. Would you see her come to ruin?”
Bose’s expression darkened as he slowed his pace. “You damnable bastard,” he growled, an accusation and not a display of emotion. “You’ve no quarrel against her. Give her to me this instant.”
Breck cocked an eyebrow. “Not until I extract a promise first.”
Bose came to a stop. Standing a few feet in front of Breck, there was nothing more he could say or do to turn the situation in his favor. Already, the circumstance was out of control.
“What is it?”
Breck eyed him. “I will return her to you for safekeeping if you promise to return to Chaldon peacefully. Do I have your vow in the matter?”
“Aye.”
“Any deviation will be swiftly met. Against the lady, of course.”
“I gave you my word, Kerry. Now give me my wife.”
Breck’s eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. “Wife? Do… do you mean to tell me that you have actually married her?”
Bose regained some of his lost composure as Breck seemed to falter. “She was my betrothed before she was erroneously pledged to you,” he said coolly. “Did you truly believe I would abduct her from Chaldon for any other reason but to marry her? To consummate our marriage so that you could never have her? A foolish belief if those were indeed your hopes, Kerry. I have done all of that and more.”
Breck’s red face washed a deeper shade of color. “I… I knew you left Chaldon to elude me, of course. But I also knew, eventually, you would have to return to Ravendark and therein would lie your capture.” Taking a deep breath, he shifted Summer again upon his tiring shoulder. “After you are exec
uted for your deed, I will annul the marriage and the lady will become my legal wife. And I shall take pleasure in erasing all memory of you upon her mind and body. Especially her body.”
His men chuckled rudely but Bose refused to react. Consummately controlled, he maintained a steady expression.
“I have given you my vow to return peacefully to Chaldon,” he rumbled. “You will give me my wife.”
Still chortling with his lascivious thoughts, Breck shifted Summer’s body from his armored shoulder and practically threw the woman into Bose’s waiting arms. Cradling his wife to him tenderly, his heart sank when he noticed blood trickling from her left ear.
“God’s Beard,” he muttered, smoothing the hair away from her pale face. “She needs a physic, Kerry. I have a man who tends my soldiers and….”
Breck waved him off disinterestedly, more concerned with regaining his wandering charger. “We’ve no time to spare. The surgeon at Chaldon will attend her.”
For the first time since the ambush, Bose’s cheeks colored with his surging fury and concern. “For the sake of Mercy, Kerry, allow me to send to Ravendark for my surgeon. He is less than two miles away and I refuse to allow Summer to be carried over miles, injured, simply because you are intent to return me to Chaldon as soon as possible. She needs to be tended to immediately.”
An obedient soldier had captured Breck’s unruly charger, handing the reins to his smug liege. “If she is still breathing, she can make it back to Chaldon. Moreover, your surgeon will have his hands full when your men hap across the patrol I was forced to subdue. The patrol that was waiting for you, I suspect, to escort you home.”
Bose’s expression hardened. Momentarily diverted from Summer’s injured state, he found himself disturbed by Breck’s callous statement; no wonder a welcoming escort of soldiers had not awaited him as he approached the fortress. Kerry had disposed of them all in his murderous determination to capture their evasive liege. “Subdue? Or murder?”
Breck mounted his great beast. “I had no choice but to disable them. Not only would they have made your capture quite difficult, but they would have alerted the troops within Ravendark’s walls to my presence. I could not take that chance.”
Bose sighed faintly, with tremendous disgust. “Where are my men, Kerry? What have you done with them?”
Breck tilted his head toward the southeast. “In the woods beyond. Adgar put up an admirable fight, but he was simply overwhelmed by our number. A shame, truly. He was a fine knight.”
Bose closed his eyes tightly, briefly, in a painful display of emotion. Adgar Ross, a knight whose intelligence and wisdom had been an immense source of comfort, had been a great asset to Bose’s company of fighting men. Already, Bose missed the man and his quiet sense of humor and as the news filtered deep into his heart, the more enraged he became at the senseless, needless action.
“You did not have to kill him,” his bass-toned voice was scarcely audible. “’Twas me you wanted. There was no need to take Adgar’s life.”
Breck gathered his reins, fussing with the leather straps. “Aye, it was completely necessary,” he replied carelessly, gesturing for his men to escort the two captives to de Moray’s subdued charger. “Mount up, Sir Bose. If we ride hard, we can make it to Chaldon come sunrise and be done with this unpleasantness.”
Bose stared at the sinister knight, feeling the piercing jab of a collection of broadswords against his backside. Afraid Summer would be taken from him if he did not comply, he kissed her softly and gathered his reins as an escort of armed men surrounded him.
The horses began to move and Summer abruptly stirred, breaking Bose from his train of thought. Features etched with great concern, he patted her cheek lightly in an attempt to bring her out of unconsciousness.
“Summer?” he whispered, kissing the hand that flailed against his face. “Can you hear me, love? Open your eyes and look at me.”
She sighed raggedly, batting at the left side of her head. “Bose?” she murmured thickly. “What… what ha-happened?”
Her golden eyes rolled open, glazed and cloudy and he smiled, partially with relief and partially to ease her dazed mind. “A small setback, love. Nothing to worry over. We are returning to Chaldon.”
The half-lidded eyes suddenly opened wide. “Breck!” she gasped, her hand still to the left side of her head. “He f-found us! He grabbed me and…Good Lord, my head hurts terribly.”
A massive hand stroked her hair gently as Bose attempted to mask his anxiety; a blow to the head, no matter how weak or insignificant, was not a good thing and he struggled to contain his concerned demeanor. “I know, love. I am sorry I could not protect you better.”
Rubbing at her ear, she shushed him softly. In spite of her throbbing head, she was coming to think rationally and she sat up slightly, the sway of the horse and the pounding inside her skull causing her stomach to twist.
“You were correct all along,” she murmured, glancing about at the Kerry guards and swallowing her nausea. “Breck and my father were indeed on our trail. But I d-do not see any du Bonne men. Where are they?”
Bose shook his head, holding her tightly, protectively, as she endeavored to sit upright on his thighs. “There aren’t any,” his reply was soft. “’Twould seem that only Breck and his troops have managed to capture us. I’d be very interested to know where Edward du Bonne’s interests lie in all of this.”
“Where my f-father is concerned, it is difficult to know,” she shifted slightly, attempting to find a measure of comfort as her upset stomach and dismal thoughts took hold. “What will happen n-now?”
Behind her, she felt his heavy sigh on the top of her head. “Breck intends to return me to Chaldon to stand trial for thievery. You, I would assume, will be held at the fortress until my trial is over and the sentencing is carried out.”
She did not like the sound of his response. Fighting off dread and panic, she clutched at the massive arm wound tightly around her waist. “Good Lord, B-Bose, what does that mean? What sentence?”
“Probably death.”
Her body stiffened and he clapped a hand over her mouth before the scream could escape her lips. Mouth pressed close to her ear, Bose’s breath was hot upon her flesh.
“Calm yourself, love. You know as well as I that Stephan will not allow this to happen. God willing, neither will your father when he sees the truth of the matter.” When he saw the splatter of tears on his armored gauntlet, he squeezed her gently. “No tears, Summer. Please. I need you to be calm and brave for me, love. We’ve far too much ahead of us to allow emotions to interfere with our determination.”
Although she sobbed softly once or twice, she nonetheless endeavored to dry her eyes. “You n-never said y-you would b-b-be ki..k-killed. You n-never s-said….”
He squeezed her tightly, silencing her stammering words. “But you knew it was entirely probable that I would be tried for the crime of abducting you, be it kidnap or robbery or thievery. But the fact that we have consummated our marriage will weigh heavily in our favor. If I am forced to answer to the charges and the magistrate rules in our favor, at the very worst I’ll be ordered to repay your dowry to Breck in compensation for the loss of his bride.”
She sniffled pathetically. “B-But if you are found guilty, they’ll do what they do to all thieves. They’ll… t-t-they’ll execute you.”
Bose did not reply, eyeing Breck as the man turned around and noticed that Summer had regained consciousness. When the pock-faced knight returned his attention to the road ahead, Bose endeavored to answer his wife’s fearful statement. “You knew this from the inception, love. With all that we have undertaken, you’ve always known the potential consequences. Why panic now?”
“B-Because we weren’t captured before. And b-because I believed you would return us to Ravendark before Breck or my father could find us. I suppose I never truly believed we would be facing these circumstances.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Then I am sorry to have disappointed you,
” his voice was husky. “I suppose I was a victim of my own confidence. I, too, believed we could make it to the safety of Ravendark and thereby elude capture. Yet with everything that could potentially befall us, I believed my marriage to you to far outweigh the repercussions of our actions. You were the only matter of import.”
Tears and nausea forgotten, Summer turned to face him. Pale and damp-eyed, her expression was nonetheless gentle and warm. “You did not disappoint me,” she murmured, touching his scarred, rugged cheek. “You’ve exceeded my wildest dreams. But that does not prevent me from worrying over your fate.”
He met her smile, kissing her gently. “We took a chance, love. ’Twould seem that Fortune did not favor us this day.”
She kissed him again, feeling her throat constrict with emotion as her cheek rested against his stubbled flesh. But she fought the tide of sentiment, knowing he had asked her to be brave.
“F-Fortune has been favoring us since the day of our introduction,” she whispered, her lips to his jaw. “Surely it will not disappoint us in our hour of need.”
Bose did not reply and Summer lifted her eyes, studying his intent expression. His black eyes were focused in the distance, his features taut and unreadable. Curious and concerned, Summer turned in the direction of his focus and was mildly alarmed to see a rather large company of men bearing down on them. When she turned to question her husband as to the identity of the incoming riders, she was shocked to discover a smile upon his lips.
“B-Bose?” she intoned questioningly. “Who is it?”
He continued to stare at the approaching party, his smile broadening by the moment. When Summer prodded him gently, he tore his gaze away from the distant vision and gave her a saucy, hopeful wink.
“It’s Fortune, I think.”
Her eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Fortune? Make sense.”
He nodded his head vaguely, his attention returned to the incoming tide of soldiers. “I have,” he said quietly. “You said Fortune has been with us since the moment of our introduction. And he has arrived once more.”
Medieval Romantic Legends Page 30
