“Show me yer hands!”
His shout reverberated off the walls, startling the horses. Even Robby jumped, startled that his usually composed cousin had taken to bellowing at a farmer. The man in the tattered clothing merely shifted, however, the folds of his cloak parting. Slowly, deliberately, his dirty hands came into the light. Douglas stared at them.
“Turn them over. Let me see the palms.”
The tension mounted, although it was difficult to know why. The man in the tattered garments turned his hands over, exposing the palms to the sky above. They were callused and scarred. Both Douglas and Robby inspected them from atop their mounts until Douglas finally reached for his sword. Robby watched, curious and uneasy at the same time, as Douglas pointed the tip of his sword at the man’s head.
“Ye dunna look like a farmer tae me.” His voice was almost hoarse. “Yer hands are worked, but not from tending fields. More like…”
He suddenly stabbed at the dirty material, hooking it with the tip of his sword and tossing it back. Thick blond hair glistened in the sunlight, accentuated by soft brown eyes that blazed with challenge. Before Robby could sound the alarm, Torston was throwing off his cloak and unsheathing his broadsword.
The sound of metal on metal was deafening as Torston slammed his blade against Douglas’ sword. The Scot managed to maintain his grip, keeping his sword raised in anticipation of Torston’s next move. He could hear Robby bellowing the alarm, the villeins screaming as chaos erupted. But his focus, his vision, remained on Torston de Royans’ stone-like features.
“De Royans!” he hissed. He almost sounded pleased. “I knew ye’d come. What took ye so long?”
It was a taunt. Torston refrained from bringing his blade across again and taking another swipe at Douglas purely from spite. Instead, he kept his sword leveled defensively, frozen in a position that would allow him to attack again, quite efficiently, should the need arise.
“I had other matters to attend to,” he said evenly. “But now that I am here, I will take what I’ve come for.”
Douglas kept a grip on the hilt of his sword. He didn’t trust Torston not to knock it from his hand once the conversation distracted him. “Other matters tae attend tae?” He lifted an eyebrow. “More important than saving the woman ye love? Now, I find that shocking.”
Torston was in no mood for Kerr’s mockery. His run-in with the man had been purely accidental, a matter of bad timing, and now he was in the exact position he had wished to avoid. Hopes of sneaking in through the kitchens were summarily dashed, but he realized he wasn’t particularly surprised by his show of bad fortune. He was, however, disappointed. His adrenalin was surging, his heart pumping, and he knew that what mattered the most now was getting himself, and Alyx, out alive.
“Where is she?” he growled.
Douglas’ taunting manner faded and Torston could see the jealousy in his eyes. “If ye’re referring tae Lady Alyx, then I will tell ye that she is here as my guest.”
“Her visit is ended. I am here to take her home.”
Douglas’ eyes narrowed. “Ye’re not her father, her husband, or even her betrothed. Ye’ve no right demanding her.”
Torston was unwavering. “I have every right demanding her. We are to be wed.”
“By who’s command?”
“Mine.”
“A worthless demand coming from a man who is already betrothed.”
Torston shook his head. “That contract had been nullified.”
“How?”
“Because my betrothed died several years ago.”
Kerr fell silent a moment as he digested the news. “How long have ye known this?”
“Only recently,” Torston replied honestly. “The family forced a serving wench to pose as my betrothed, hoping to fool me into the marriage.”
“But ye werena fooled.”
“It helped that the wench confessed.”
Douglas regarded his counterpart, their swords still raised and touching. He was bitterly disappointed to realize that the one true obstacle keeping Torston from Alyx’s hand was now conveniently disposed of. Providing, of course, that the man was telling the truth. According to Torston, there was no longer anything to prevent him from legally taking what he wanted.
But Douglas had no intention of giving up the woman he had risked a great deal to obtain. Risks that included emotional as well as physical peril. Determination and resistance surged in his chest as he faced off against his enemy in more ways than one.
“That’s all well and good,” he said after a moment. “But the fact remains that Alyx is here tae stay. I’ve no intention of letting her go, with ye or with anyone else.”
Torston regarded the man, without replying. Then, very slowly, his left hand came up, untying the dirty cloak from around his neck. His massive blade was still up against Douglas’ as he shirked the tattered, bug-ridden fabric, letting it fall to the dirt.
“Then you shall have to fight me for her,” he said quietly, feeling more comfortable that the ungainly cloak was no longer restricting his movements. “I am prepared.”
Douglas knew what the man’s reply would be. Still, he chuckled bitterly. “My men are surrounding ye, Sassenach. Even if ye manage tae best me, ye’ll still have tae deal with them.”
“I’ll deal with whomever I must.”
“Are ye so damned arrogant?”
“I am so determined.”
Douglas’ jaw ticked. Throwing his leg over the side of the horse, he pitched himself to the ground, his blade still up in a defensive posture against Torston.
“Then ye’re the most foolish bastard I’ve ever had the misfortune tae meet,” he growled. “Ye’re a warrior. Ye know if ye insist on proceeding with this venture, ye’ll never make it out alive.”
“That may very well be,” Torston said. “But if the situation were reversed, would you hazard nothing less?”
Douglas lifted an eyebrow. From the corner of his eye he could see Robby and he cast the man a quick glance. Robby returned his gaze and Douglas could see the respect, and truth, reflecting in the man’s eyes. There were no wrongs or rights at this moment, simply one man against the other for what he believed in. Douglas could feel himself wanting to sympathize with Torston one moment, followed by furious defiance the next.
“I have risked a great deal already, Sassenach,” he rumbled, angry at his emotional imbalance. He was usually quite in control of himself. “Which is why I willna let her go as easily as all that. If ye want her, then ye must be prepared to face the penalty.”
“I am prepared.”
“Then let us waste no more time. I’ve no stomach for foolery.”
Robby had moved out of sight, pacing away from the crowd encircling Torston and Douglas. Whereas Torston remained focused on his enemy, Douglas was able to keep the knight in his sights as well as monitor his cousin’s movements. Douglas knew what Robby was up to when the man doubled back to the wagon Torston had been towing, stealthily moving up behind the English warrior with a plank of wood in his hands.
“Shall you make the first move, m’laird, or shall I?” Torston had no knowledge of Robby’s movements, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword.
Douglas was focused on Torston. Still, he could see Robby coming closer and closer, raising the piece of wood high above his head. The observing crowd, of course, gave the Sassenach knight no clue as to the peril he was in. In fact, the villeins and soldiers were eager to see the impending bloodshed and they held their breaths in anticipation.
Robby was nearly on top of Torston. Fearful that the knight might somehow be alerted to Robby’s presence, Douglas abruptly lowered his sword in a move designed to hold the knight’s puzzled attention. Why would a man about to be attacked suddenly drop his weapon?
“I’ll move first, Sassenach.”
A violent burst of stars suddenly danced before Torston’s eyes. He could feel himself falling, the world around him spinning violently. His head hurt terribly, the sharp
whack against his skull echoing in his ears and making him nauseous. He tried to maintain his grip on his sword, but the weapon fell away and his fogged vision prevented him from keeping track of it. Before he realized what had happened, he was face down in the dirt and struggling to stay conscious.
The crowd groaned with disappointment. They had been hoping that Robby would behead the knight, not simply knock him over the skull. They disbanded morosely as Douglas watched Torston struggle, his expression impassive. Even when Robby bent over the knight and hauled him to his feet, Douglas remained unsympathetic to his distress.
“It would seem, Sir Knight, that I am the victor of this match,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “Although I would like nothing better than tae see yer guts spilled over the ground, I havena the time for yer heroics at the moment. Ye can sit in the vault and rot until I decide what tae do with ye.”
Torston took a deep breath, yanking himself from Robby’s grasp and nearly toppling over in the process. The earth was rocking dangerously.
“I shouldn’t have trusted you to fight honorably,” he rasped. “You’ve never waged an honorable fight in your life. I don’t know why I thought this time, it would be different.”
Douglas’ jaw ticked. He stared at Torston as the man blinked his eyes and rubbed his head. Then, very slowly, he moved close and leaned into Torston’s ear.
“I have a suspicion that if I were tae kill ye, Lady Alyx might not be entirely pleased,” he whispered. “There’s a keep full of witnesses and word, I’m sure, would soon get back tae her. So for her and her alone, I will spare ye. I would do nothing tae upset her. Can ye declare the same consideration for her, Sassenach?”
Torston peered at him through unfocused eyes, the man so close that he could smell his breath. “I have ridden into Scotland, alone, to save her,” he murmured. “I am willing to take on you and your men to achieve this. I am willing to battle this whole damned country if that was what it takes. What greater consideration is there than the willingness of a man to lay down his life for the woman he loves?”
Douglas stared at him. Then, slowly, a smile crept across his bearded lips. It was apparent that he liked Torston’s answer.
“True enough,” he muttered. “Ye’ve always been a formidable adversary, de Royans. I’ve been waging war against ye for many years on the field of battle. ’Twould seem that yer cunning would hold true in this battle, as well.”
Torston knew that was as close to a compliment as Kerr would ever come. “This battle is more important to me than any I’ve ever waged,” he said, his eyes glittering with the threat of a challenge. “I shall win, Kerr. Especially now. I swear it.”
Douglas’ admiration won out over his jealousy for the moment. He had to respect a man that could stand in the middle of the enemy’s camp and declare his determination, over and over, to emerge victorious. Torston wasn’t foolish and he wasn’t falsely arrogant. Douglas knew the man had complete faith in his abilities.
“Yer victory will mean my defeat,” Douglas replied quietly. “I dunna give in tae defeat easily.”
“I would not expect you to.”
“So ye’ll take the risk against me and my men for the sake of the woman ye love?”
“A love that risks nothing is worth nothing.” Torston paused, shaking the last of the bells from his head. “Tell me something, Douglas. Do you truly love Alyx? Or does she merely intrigue you, sweetened by the fact that another man so desperately desires her. Is she simply another prize, like the sheep you steal from your Sassenach enemy?”
Douglas’ face darkened. “She’s a beautiful lass and her sweetness radiates from within. I may not love her as powerfully as ye do, for I’ve not known her as long. But my feelings for her are very strong, de Royans. Make no mistake.”
“Strong enough to die for her?”
“Strong enough tae die.”
Torston regarded him silently. Then, slowly, he shook his head in a gesture both bitter and admirable. “You’re a stubborn man.”
“That’s because I’m Scots. What’s yer excuse, Sassenach?”
A dark eyebrow lifted. “The same as yours. The Black Kerr breeds from my mother’s side.”
Douglas’ brow furrowed in horror. “It’s not true!”
“I swear upon my oath that it is.”
“How? What’s yer relationship?”
Torston couldn’t help but grin, a sort of knowing smirk that made Douglas’ blood boil. “Her name was Amelia Kerr de Royans and she was my mother,” he said. “Her father was James Lott Kerr, brother to Black William Kerr himself. The Kerr. I’ve never met the man, though I hear he’s a tyrant.”
Douglas stared at him. Then, in an action laced with pure frustration, he planted his fists on his hips. Torston thought he looked rather like a cock preparing to fight.
“Torston de Royans,” he spat. “Are ye telling me that ye’re related tae Black William Kerr?”
“I am.”
“He’s my grandfather.”
“I know. That makes us kin.”
Douglas scowled, his mouth opening as if to speak. But he shut his lips, instead, letting his disbelief show by stamping his feet and clapping a hand over his forehead.
“Damnation!” he boomed. “How can ye do this tae me! God help me, man, I should run ye through this instant!”
Torston was still grinning. He was enjoying Douglas’ distress, for one very good reason. “But you can’t.”
“No, I canna!”
“Because we’re kin.”
Douglas’ rage took over. He swore loudly, ranting and kicking at the wagon still parked behind Torston. Robby, who had been standing at a respectful distance during the dialogue, nonetheless heard what had been said and leaned against the wagon, wagging his head in sorrow.
Douglas Kerr was related to Torston de Royans.
“Ye’re a bastard, de Royans!” Douglas raged. “Ye knew this all the time!”
Torston slouched back against the wagon, feeling somewhat weak after his bout with Robby’s plank. “I knew, but I never gave it much thought.” He moved his foot out of the way as Douglas stomped by, narrowly avoiding being stepped on. “As you can see, I was not planning to use the information to my advantage. Kin or not, I still plan to fight you if you try to keep me from Alyx.”
“Alyx!” Kerr’s rantings suddenly came to a halt. His hands were over his mouth, his eyes wide with recollection. “Christ, man, she’s out in the woods. We were going tae find her when we stumbled across ye.”
Torston’s smile faded. “Alyx is in the trees?” he said, greatly concerned. “She’s not familiar with these woods, Kerr. She’ll get lost, frightened at the very least. We’ve got to…”
His mounting tirade was abruptly cut off by a shout from the battlements. Douglas, Torston, and Robby turned their attentions to the top of the stone walls, shielding their eyes from the setting sun as a sentry waved frantically to Kerr.
“Our scouts have returned from the south!” the man bellowed. “They say there is an army crossing the border. Red and yellow standards!”
Torston went pale. Those were The Lyceum colors. Douglas turned to him, his expression demanding clarification.
“I thought ye said ye came alone,” he said.
“I did.” Torston’s heart was in his throat. “Christ, there’s no time to explain this. If Harringham has somehow managed to amass his army…”
“What are ye talking about?” Kerr demanded. “Why is The Lyceum trampling Scottish earth?”
Torston shook his head, a sense of urgency grasping him like nothing he had ever known. He turned away from Douglas, searching wildly for the nearest mount.
“I need a horse,” he said. “Harringham is out for war. And if Alyx is in the woods…”
Douglas was confused. Angry and confused that Harringham was intent on launching an attack, but he was not so distracted that he did not understand Torston’s concern immediately. Rather than demand to know why he was being assaulted, h
e focused on what he considered the more important problem at the moment.
“He’ll have tae pass through the trees tae get tae me,” he finished Torston’s sentence. “She’ll be caught in the middle of a battle. Damnation, the foolish wench!”
Torston couldn’t help the ironic snort. “I’ve thought that. Many a time.”
A soldier passed by at that moment astride a leggy brown steed. Torston shoved the soldier off the horse in one easy swipe, mounting the beast effortlessly. He was so terrified, so preoccupied, that he forgot to collect his sword where it had fallen. Douglas, distracted and enraged over the entire situation, collected his black stallion.
Robby was shouting orders, sending the keep into a frenzy. Horns of alert pierced the brisk Scot air, calling all able-bodied men to arms. Soldiers rushed to the walls as those in the keep began to bottle it up. But before the mighty gates were closed and sealed, Torston and Douglas rode from the fortress in search of a certain young lady, suddenly in a great deal of danger.
They had to find her before the army did.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lance didn’t want to lead the charge, but he had no choice.
Lionel had gone around him.
Lance had spent the afternoon with the old man, watching him plan his battles, keeping an eye on him. Except for the blood that had been discreetly cleaned up from the floor, there were no signs of the death had had occurred in the solar earlier in the day and Lionel didn’t seem affected by it. Jess returned at some point to quietly inform Lance that Morley and Lady Antonia had been put in the vault near Winslow’s body. It would seem that The Lyceum’s vault had turned into a morgue.
But Lionel wasn’t showing any signs of crazed madness or wild behavior, so the knights were grateful for small mercies. He was calmly plotting out his coming attack, writing in the gibberish and talking to himself.
He seemed manageable.
That was until Jess left to return to the gatehouse and Lance, needing badly to relieve himself, went to the garderobe. He left Lionel at his table, scribbling on his map, but the two servants who had been watching over him had left when Morley and Antonia had been removed. Lance didn’t even stop to think that Lionel, now alone, might try to escape.
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