Warriors Of Legend

by Kathryn Le Veque, Kathryn Loch, Dana D'Angelo

  Micah shrugged. “But now Kate will suffer because of Henry.” He morbidly watched the flames grow in strength, imagining Henry staked to the middle of it. Micah lifted the wine bottle to his lips and took a long pull. Even the alcohol did not slake the inferno of his anger.

  “Take it easy on that stuff,” John said. “You know what it does to your temper.”

  Micah glared at him but his shoulders slumped. “Good God, John, what am going to do? You know full well declaring Kate a traitor and sending her to a convent will destroy her.” He marveled at himself. Normally, he wouldn’t care about such things but since he had met Kate, he had discovered a valiant and courageous spirit. MacLeary had not been able to crush her…but this would. How could Micah have a hand in that and still live with himself?

  John studied him a long moment. “You could marry her.”

  A blaze of lust shot through him but it tangled with a chill of shame. “How can I marry Kate? I have nothing, no lands, or status, not even an honorable name.”

  “I don’t think that will matter to her.”

  Micah blinked at him, startled. “John, I don’t want a wife, at least not until I clear the stigma from my name. To do that, I need Appleby. God’s teeth, why has Henry done this to me?”

  John rubbed his eyes. “I had hoped he would end his petty games.”

  “Not likely.” Micah raked his hand through his hair. If he sent Kate to a nunnery he could have everything he wanted and the power to choose his own wife at a later date. Westmorland was a good sized barony and Micah would increase his lands with a marriage to a woman with a proper dowry. That answer was tempting…too tempting.

  Micah watched the bonfire grow. It snapped and popped, sending sparks into the night sky. The embers sailed upward then faded, only to fall as black ash at his feet. Just like my foolhardy dreams, Micah thought and again lifted the bottle to his lips.

  Chapter Five

  A howl and a loud crash awoke Kate out of her tortured nightmares. She had cried herself to sleep, still flung over her bed.

  “Trois fois merde!” A voice bellowed.

  The voice came from the courtyard not in the keep. She opened the shutters of her window and looked out.

  The sleet had lapsed to an icy drizzle. A huge bonfire roared in the middle of the bailey. But to Kate’s shock, Micah, clad only in boots and braes, stood before the pyre. He lifted a bottle to his lips and drank. Wine spilled on his bare chest, tiny rivulets trickling down the deep cuts of muscle.

  Micah emptied the bottle and flung it with all his might into the flames. “More wine!”

  “Micah, please…” Kate recognized John’s voice. “This is enough for tonight.”

  Micah turned and seized the remnants of a huge chair from a large pile of broken furniture. Muscles rippled and strained. He lifted it over his head and tossed it into the fire with a primal roar. “I said more wine.”

  John motioned to a servant. Others gathered out of range to gawk at the insane knight. Kate quickly grabbed her cloak and hurried downstairs.

  By the time she reached the courtyard, Micah had another bottle in hand and he staggered agonizingly close to the flames.

  “I should have killed him,” he growled, picking up a piece of smaller furniture and tossing it into the pyre. His lurching stagger reminded Kate of a pagan dance around a Samhain bonfire.

  She silently approached John who stood, helplessly clenching his fists. “What is going on?” she whispered.

  John studied her a moment. “Micah told me of Henry’s orders.”

  Kate winced, tears welling in her eyes again but she refused to give way to them.

  “My lady,” John said softly. “Those orders are what drives Micah to this right now.”

  Despite Kate’s best efforts, a tear trickled down her cheek. “Why?” she asked, her throat tight with emotion. “I know the choice Micah will make and I do not blame him in the least.”

  “Nay, lady.” John paused and sighed, his hazel eyes regarding her with sympathy and kindness. “Micah has not yet decided. If I may be so bold…he has grown quite fond of you.”

  Kate’s jaw went slack and she stared at John but abruptly the memory of Micah’s kiss returned. The blush rose in her cheeks and she was grateful it was dark. She took a deep breath and reigned in her rampant emotions. The fact that Micah had not made his decision was encouraging but also confusing.

  “The choice should be simple,” Kate whispered, not wanting to speak but unable to stop herself.

  “It is not, especially in Micah’s regard. You see, Micah needs Appleby. Beyond that, he needs someone to understand him.”

  Kate’s heart softened as her gaze returned to the furious knight who paced before the fire. Her brow furrowed. “Micah swore he did not need Appleby, but you say he does.”

  John glanced at Micah as if to be certain he was not within earshot. He had taken no notice of them. John looked back at her. “Lady, I speak only so that you will understand what drives Micah to make the choices he does. The fact that he’s drinking now only proves how deeply this wounds him.” John paused and tilted his head in Micah’s direction. “See the scar on his right side?”

  Kate squinted. In the bright light of the fire she could see the whiter skin that patched Micah’s side, just over his hip, and cut a narrow line the span of her hand toward his belly. She shuddered. It is a wonder a wound like that hadn’t killed him.

  “It almost ended his life,” John said as if he had heard her thoughts.

  “What does that have to do with this?” Kate wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know.

  “You have heard of the Battle of Bourgthéroude?”

  “Aye.”

  “Micah’s uncle gathered the Normans and led them in the revolt but Micah remained loyal to the king. Micah met Amaury on the field, believing his uncle would yield, but Amaury tried to kill him.”

  Kate’s hand flew to her mouth. “His uncle did that to him?”

  “Aye, lady, but there is a greater treachery here. When Micah was six, his father died and his mother passed two years after. His uncle fostered him, trained him how to fight, and saw to his knighting expenses. They were truly fond of each other. The man was like a father to him. We never did find out why he tried to kill his own nephew.”

  Kate shook her head, suddenly understanding Micah’s rage. “He has lost as much as I have. So Henry means to repay his loyalty with the reward of Appleby.”

  “Not exactly, lady. Because of his uncle’s treachery, all Montfort lands were forfeited to the king. For two years, Henry has baited Micah with the reward of land for service.”

  Kate’s eyes widened as understanding dawned. “So he has nothing unless he takes Appleby.” Micah had told her that he did not need the barony and she had assumed he had been landed like any other knight of his status. “Why did he tell me otherwise?”

  John scowled. “I know not, lady.”

  She thought for a moment, suddenly seeing Micah’s reasons. “He was trying to reassure me, so I would not fear him. He had every reason to believe Henry was going to make the decision himself.”

  “Aye,” John said slowly. “Micah had been willing to obey it – even if it meant giving up all he had fought for and leaving.”

  Kate’s throat tightened. “Because of his uncle’s rebellion, Micah has nothing.” Even worse, he had been betrayed. Kate wondered if he felt twice orphaned, the death of his father at six and then again with his uncle.

  John folded his arms over his chest, his jaw tight. “Now, because of Henry, Micah does not even have the ability to select his own wife unless…”

  “Unless he first damns me. The king he has been faithful to has also abandoned him.” Three times orphaned? She shuddered.

  “By forcing the decision back on Micah, Henry walks away without worry.”

  Kate scoffed. “Henry’s politics victimize Micah as much as they do me.” She hesitated. “Strange, I never thought a man, especially a knight, being a
victim to much of anything.”

  “It happens more often than you think.”

  “We do seem on more equal terms than ever before.”

  “Aye,” John said slowly. “Now if we could only get Micah to see that fact.”

  Kate continued to watch Micah prowl like a trapped wolf but her mind spun in thought. She straightened her back and summoned her resolve. Micah was a good man, Kate knew that in her heart, and the fact that he battled the decision helped strengthen her hope. “John, please clear the courtyard of these gawking servants. They should not see their lord in this state.”

  “Aye, lady.” John turned to the crowd.

  Kate walked to Micah. He looked like a giant wrapped in the glow of the fire, head bowed, muttering to himself. Again, he lifted the bottle of wine to his lips.

  “Micah,” she said softly.

  He turned on her like a cornered animal, Kate halted mid–stride.

  “What are you doing here?” Surprisingly, Micah’s words were only slightly slurred.

  “You were making quite the racket.”

  Micah bowed with a flourish and almost fell over. Kate took three more steps but he straightened and glared at her. “My apologies, chéri. I shall endeavor to have a quieter tantrum next time.”

  She managed a bitter smile and folded her arms across her chest. “You do seem to have a talent for glorious ones.” Kate eyed the bonfire. “It’s a wonder they can’t see this in London.”

  Her smile faded as his expression turned flat. “I’d use Henry for kindling if I had the choice.”

  “So would I.”

  Micah stared at her for a long moment. “Lady, I would spare you from this if I could.”

  Kate’s tears burned again and she cursed herself for that weakness. “Micah, may I speak honestly with you?”

  He took a step closer, his harsh expression easing slightly. “Of course, chéri. ”

  “You know I do not wish to go to the convent.”

  “I know.”

  “If I say that I prefer the marriage, you will think it is because I want to avoid my fate.”

  Micah’s lips lifted but his blue eyes blazed in the firelight. “Given the circumstances, what else would you say?”

  “Circumstances aside, I’d say that marrying you is not something I view as a vile choice.”

  He blinked at her in stunned confusion.

  Kate forced herself to remember the wine he had consumed. “If it was different, and I did not have the threat of the convent, I would still find marriage to you an appealing consideration.” She bit her lip. Sweet Mary forgive her but she sounded wanton. “Micah,” she said quickly. “I know you think I am saying this to save myself, especially after reading that damnable letter, but I tell you honestly. If my choices were open, marriage to you would be something I’d consider first.”

  Micah snorted. “Lady, I am not as innocent as a babe in swaddling.”

  Frustration rose within her. Kate knew Micah would expect the worse. “Nor am I,” she snapped. “Do you think I would be so foolish as to tell you this when I know you’d question my motives? Nay,” she said before he could reply. “I would do everything to seduce you with my feminine wiles, to lure you to get what I wanted. That’s supposedly what I did with MacLeary, isn’t it? I watched my family hang, then bedded their murderer.” Anger and frustration boiled within Kate. She clenched her fists and glared at Micah. “Is that how I appear to you? That I am nothing but a bloodied whore?”

  Micah’s eyes widened in alarm. “Nay, Kate,” he whispered and caught her hand in his. “Nay.”

  But Kate lost herself to her frustration and pain. She knew she shouldn’t vent her fury at Micah, this wasn’t his fault, but the emotions were loose and she couldn’t help herself. “I am nothing, Micah. Because of what MacLeary did, I have lost not only my family but my future as well.”

  ***

  Kate’s words ripped his heart open.

  Micah fought to deny it, he fought to get his emotions under control, but as he gazed down at her and saw so clearly her pain…only one thought echoed through his mind.

  I know. I know because it happened to me.

  His hand tightened around the neck of the bottle and he wished he could crawl into it. In so many ways, Micah could understand Kate’s pain and he cursed himself for it. That understanding made him weak, it was a gap in his armor he needed to repair.

  But could Micah repair it at the price of Kate’s life?

  He admired her spirit…damnation, it wasn’t spirit…it was fury. His lips tugged upward. Micah clearly saw her earnestness as he gazed at Kate’s beautiful face. She said marriage to him would be something she would gladly consider aside from the circumstances. For some reason, Micah believed her. If he was the average knight, Kate would undoubtedly consider marriage to him with a glad heart. But she did not know the truth.

  “Kate, speak not that you would marry me when you do not know the man you would take to the altar.”

  “But I do know,” she said, her eyes glittering with tears that she refused to shed. “You lost everything in the battle of Bourgthéroude.”

  Micah’s eyes widened. How did she know? He glanced over his shoulder and saw John chasing off the servants. Wagging tongues no doubt. John meant well but this was not something Micah wanted public and John knew that.

  “Do not blame him,” Kate said softly.

  He sighed. “Am I so obvious?”

  She smiled timidly. “Sometimes.”

  Micah rubbed his eyes. “Kate, it’s not that I don’t want to marry you…I do…” He stopped when he realized what he just said. “Damnation,” Micah muttered and took another drink. Kate only stared at him as if he had grown a second head and Micah forced himself to continue. “How can you want to marry a man who has nothing, not even the respect of the king?”

  Kate stepped closer and cupped his cheek. “You are the most honorable man I know. You should be held blameless for what your uncle did.”

  Micah closed his eyes as Kate’s fingers caressed his roughened cheek. Her delicate hand was soft and cool, her touch feather–light against his flushed skin. Kate’s gentleness and compassion cut through the fog of Micah’s drunken rage, soothing his torment, offering peace.

  How he wanted that in his life.

  Micah opened his eyes and stared down at her. Kate’s creamy skin glowed golden in the firelight, her unbound hair glittered with a richness that made him want to plunge his hands into it. Her lips beckoned for him to kiss her, to ravish her sweet mouth until she was breathless, until his name was the only thing she could whisper. Kate’s gray eyes grew dark and smoky as if she knew Micah’s thoughts, as if she felt the power that drew him to her and accepted it.

  The sweet scent of her filled him. A lonely ache rose within, tightening his loins and constricting his chest. Kate gazed up at Micah steadily, understanding his agony.

  Micah set the wine bottle down. “It would have been so much easier if I had never found you alive,” he murmured. He trapped her face in his hands, looking deeper into her beautiful eyes.

  Fear flashed across her features.

  Fury shot through Micah, clenching his stomach. He jerked away from her, his mouth twisting cynically. Has her experience turned her completely cold? Does she fear any man who would touch her? Kate would marry me rather than go to a convent, can I blame her for that? Would I do anything differently if I was in her position?

  It would be so much easier to condemn Kate and walk away. The nunnery would trap her, but how much worse would she be trapped in a marriage with him?

  Kate would never understand the madness boiling just below the surface, the knowledge that Micah’s dreams…home, family, love…were something he could never have. They existed only in stories and fanciful legends. She could not imagine the demon Micah fought to hold at bay and the power of the rage burning within him. It threatened to leap from his control at any moment. Until Micah reclaimed the honor of his name, that demon would
continue to haunt him. But if he took Kate in marriage would the demon rise against her as well?

  Yet Micah could not deny the craving to sweep her into his arms and kiss her, his body quickened as the blood roared through his veins. Never had he felt anything so strongly. In the past, women had pleased him well but never had he so powerfully lusted after one, not like this, not like Kate. And he wanted more than that. Why?

  Micah’s jaw tightened. He did not need anything from her, he could not show such weakness. Micah had to master himself.

  “Lady, I fear I am still not convinced of your sincerity.”

  Kate put her hands on her hips and snorted. “What do you want me to say? I’d just as soon pet a wolf than marry the likes of you, my lord…is that what you want to hear?”

  Micah glared at her a moment. She proved undaunted, staring back at him just as equally. Kate would not back down, no matter his bluster and rage. He felt the pull of a smile.

  Micah abruptly realized the bridge of trust he had built with her now acted in other ways. Kate was going to stand face to face with him and make him understand. Glory, she was beautiful and courageous. She was not going to give in to a drunken barbarian…and he didn’t blame her one bit.

  Again Micah lifted the bottle and Kate eyed him for a moment. “Will you not offer a lady a drink?”

  His grin broadened and a chuckle bubbled up within him. Micah handed her the bottle. Kate took such a long pull that he started laughing. Micah doubled over, uncertain why he found it so funny. He backed toward the flames and Kate caught his arm, tugging him toward her.

  “I fear you will not find a singed backside so amusing.”

  Micah renewed his fit of laughter. “Well met, lady,” he gasped. He snaked his arm around her waist and tugged the bottle away from her. “It is cold out here despite my grand fire.” Without giving Kate any choice in the matter, Micah headed for the keep.

  ***

  Kate held her breath as they walked back. Micah did wonderfully as they entered the keep, until he made the right turn for the steps to the sleeping rooms. His shoulder plowed into the wall. The bottle slipped from his grasp and smashed to the floor. He started to fall and Kate tried to steady him. He nearly pulled her down.