Tall, Dark, and Medieval

by Barbara Devlin

  She followed, studying his back. His shoulders were broad. He was probably a warrior.

  Bria almost slammed into a woman carrying a basket of eggs, but she dodged to the left and moved around her.

  The man paused to speak with another man, a peasant by the looks of his brown tunic and breeches frayed around the ankles. Bria tried to see the visitor’s face when he glanced back toward the open gatehouse, but he turned away from her to the peasant, giving her only a teasing glimpse of his tanned skin. Then he continued into the keep.

  Bria pursued, bounding up the steps. Inside there were fewer people, and she moved a little faster. He was directly in front of her, walking down the hallway. His black hair just touched his strong shoulders. At this range, she could see blue highlights in his hair as he moved past the torchlight. It looked thick and wavy, and she wondered if it would feel as soft as it looked.

  She shrugged off the thought. He could have the most luxurious hair in the land, and it wouldn’t make his late arrival any more correct.

  “Excuse me!” she called.

  He didn’t stop.

  “Excuse me!” she called louder. Her voice echoed in the hallway.

  He halted in the middle of the corridor.

  Bria slowed her rushed walk to stop directly behind him. She’d opened her mouth to reprimand him for his ungracious behavior when he turned. She stood, staring, unable to say a word. Her anger dissipated like water in a drought.

  The visitor’s face was rugged, a knight’s face, but there was more to it. His jaw was strong and square, clean of stubble. His sensual lips were curved in a cynical twist. His nose was straight. But it was his eyes that captured Bria’s attention. They were black, the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. Yet there was something gentle in them, something that called to her. His glorious hair framed his face with black waves.

  Bria stared, unable to utter a word. For here she stood, face to face, with the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  MIDNIGHT SHADOW

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “You!” Terran gasped, recognizing the woman he’d seen standing at the gatehouse at Castle Knowles. What was she doing here? Who was she?

  He could only stare into those blue eyes. Like rare gems, they shone and sparkled with an inner light. His eyes perused her face slowly, savoring every gorgeous inch, her slightly uplifted nose, her high cheekbones, her full, kissable lips. He had a sudden desire to take her into some alcove and sample those lips to see if they were as soft and delicious as they appeared. Her hair was uncovered, and the wild, rebellious locks hung loose, curling around her cheeks and neck, as if to call attention to her most delicate attributes.

  He’d never in his life felt this kind of desire. With Odella it had been different. He’d wanted to worship her beauty, not touch her. He realized with unexpected shock that Odella had been more like a prize to him than a flesh-and-blood woman. But this woman, God save him, this woman he wanted to kiss and ravish and worship in a very different way.

  Is this some sort of witchcraft? he wondered. How could I possibly feel such an attraction when I’ve only just come face to face with her?

  “Welcome to Castle Delaney,” she greeted. Her voice was soft and husky. Terran found himself strangely mesmerized by the movement of her lips.

  “Thank you,” he said and found it was all he could say.

  “You arrived late last night.”

  Terran stared at her. A scowl crossed his brow as her accusation penetrated his musings. He nodded. “How did you...” Then he remembered seeing the woman far above in the keep, watching. At first glance he’d believed her to be an angel floating far above him. But slowly he realized she’d been seated on a ledge and her ethereal glow was due to her white night dress and the light of the moon. “Ahh,” he said. “It was you who greeted me with your silent gaze.”

  “I’m sure Lord Delaney would have greeted you himself if you hadn’t arrived at such a late hour.”

  A grin curved his lips. This bewitching little nymph had spirit. It took courage for a woman to speak so boldly to a lord. He found himself liking that willful energy very much. “We rode long and hard, but could not have made it earlier.”

  She nodded, thoughtfully. “I see,” she said softly. “And who does Castle Delaney have the pleasure of welcoming?”

  Terran opened his mouth to reply, but closed it promptly. How much did she know about Lord Knowles? He wasn’t oblivious to some of the foul rumors that had been spread about him. If she were anyone in the castle of importance, or even anyone who lived in the castle at all, she would already know of him. And most likely dislike him. “You may call me lord.”

  A frown crossed her brow and her lips gave a sensual little pout, but she assented with a nod.

  “And you?” he wondered.

  “You may address me as lady.”

  Terran chuckled. “This game could become most dangerous.”

  “Oh,” she asked innocently, “how so?”

  Was she truly so innocent, or was she enticing him? One side of his lips rose in a grin. “How so, indeed,” he whispered. “Perhaps lady would like to give me a tour of this grand castle.”

  Her gaze swept him and he felt his blood race. A mere look from those blue eyes was enough to call forth images of her naked body below his, her lovely lips parted in a moan of ecstasy.

  “Very well,” she agreed.

  Terran stared at her, intrigued. She was either too trusting or a sly vixen. He would decide which.

  He held out his arm to her, and she hooked her hand through it. Her touch sent tremors racing through his body. God’s blood! If a mere touch of her fingers gives me this much pleasure, I’ll be in heaven tasting her lips.

  As they walked, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Why was he so attracted to this woman? He was in mourning for Odella, and yet he felt as though... as though she was nothing compared to the vibrancy and life he felt from the woman beside him. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her and touch her. Maybe she could cure him of this horrible ache in his chest, this emptiness, at least for a few hours.

  “You must have ridden a long way,” she said.

  The little vixen. She was trying to get information from him. “Long enough to need a hot bath,” he admitted.

  “I’m sure the servants saw to that last night,” she said. “What would you like to see first?”

  “Nothing,” a voice from behind them called. “If he wants to see the castle, he can find someone else to show him.”

  An old man stood just behind them in the hallway, and Terran’s smile died as he saw the fury in the man’s eyes. It was quite obvious the old man knew who he was and quite apparent he didn’t like him. This was the reaction Terran had prepared himself for. He sighed and calmly removed lady’s hand from his arm. “I’m afraid our excursion is over,” he said regretfully.

  “Grandfather!” she objected. “I’m more than capable of taking him –”

  “Do as I say, girl,” he commanded. “Come away from him.”

  Terran’s jaw tightened at the way the old man spoke. There was no reason to be harsh with her. It wasn’t her fault.

  The woman stood her ground for a long moment, her chin raised slightly, her eyes flashing like lightning. Then she stalked away from Terran and joined the old man.

  Terran bowed slightly to the old man before moving away from them.

  “Grandfather! That was rude.”

  “He is not welcome here,” her grandfather snarled, “and you will stay away from him.”

  “Who is he?” Bria asked, taken aback by his vehemence.

  “It’s best your father tell you.” Harry took her hand and led her in the opposite direction of the man.

  Bria walked beside her grandfather, her curiosity more than piqued. Who was the man? Where had he come from? And why did her grandfather hate him so?

  “We should start our practices again,” Harry said. “Meet me tonight.”

  Lord Delaney and th
e suitors returned from the hunt that afternoon. Terran watched them dismount from a balcony in the keep. He’d been denied a room at the castle, further evidence Lord Delaney wanted nothing to do with him. But that didn’t dissuade Terran. He set up camp on the meadows just outside the castle.

  Falconers rushed up to the men, removing the falcons from the hunters’ wrists to bring the birds to the mews for a rest.

  Lord Delaney was at the front of the group. The others followed him like lap dogs, vying for attention. Terran shook his head slightly. He looked closer at one of the suitors. Even from this distance, the blond hair and handsome face were unmistakable.

  Garret Dysen. The man Odella called for as death claimed her. Terran’s jaw clenched; his shoulders became rigid. He had the sudden desire to run the man through.

  Suddenly, a woman ran out to the group. She threw her arms around Lord Delaney’s neck and spoke briefly with him. Terran recognized her instantly. It was lady from the hallway. As he watched the vibrant little nymph, she exchanged words with all the men and then grabbed Garret’s hand, pulling him through the inner ward toward the outer gatehouse.

  A fierce rage seized Terran. What was this? he wondered, scowling fiercely. Where was she going with him? But then he knew instinctively: she was going for a tryst with her lover.

  So, he thought, this Garret whom Odella had loved so much was a faithless dog. And his little vixen was just that, a temptress for all men to beware. Including him.

  MIDNIGHT SHADOW

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Show me!” Bria whispered.

  “All right,” Garret exclaimed, “all right!” He laughed. “You certainly can be insistent.”

  She crossed her arms. “You haven’t seen the half of it.”

  They were standing in a clearing just outside the castle, hidden from any castle occupant’s view by a thick growth of trees.

  Garret held out his sword to her. Her fingers wrapped around the handle. Bria swung the sword from side to side, testing it, feeling its weight.

  Garret moved away from her to the outer edges of the clearing and searched the ground until he found a large branch.

  When Bria turned to him, he was approaching her with the branch, swinging it in circles first around one shoulder, then the other. He hefted it once and then held it before him like a sword.

  Bria took a step forward and crossed her sword with the branch.

  “By now your grandfather knows all your moves,” Garret said.

  “He taught them to me,” Bria answered with a slight shrug.

  “Then you have to come up with new ones. And don’t think about just using your sword. Use your body as well.”

  “My body?”

  “Sure,” Garret said. “For example...” He swung the branch at her several times, slowly. Bria easily blocked each move. Then he grabbed her wrist and moved toward her, stepping on her toes lightly with his.

  “Garret!” Bria cried. “Isn’t that cheating?”

  “Not when you’re not as strong as your opponent.” Garret shrugged slightly, still holding her wrist. “And don’t use your feet just to step on someone. Kick with them.” He brought his leg around to kick her softly behind her knees, making her buckle. He quickly helped her right herself, pulling her closer. “Or you can use your shoulder to ram them,” he added.

  Bria nodded. “I see.”

  Garret drew closer to her, looking at her over the crossed weapons. “You’re guaranteed to win,” he whispered.

  Bria smiled. She could just picture her grandfather’s face when she beat him! His surprised look, his... suddenly she realized Garret was leaning closer, his eyes closed, his lips puckered. “Garret!” she protested, pushing away from him.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “Don’t do that!” Bria hollered.

  “I just thought that since we might marry –”

  “Stop it!” Bria said. “Don’t talk like that.”

  Garret frowned. “You know that’s why I’m here.”

  Bria backed away from him. Everything felt too strange. It would be like kissing a brother. Not like kissing... well, not like kissing the man she’d met earlier that day. “I said stop.”

  “But Bria –”

  “I have a sword, you know.” She waved it before her to keep him at bay.

  “All right,” Garret assented, holding up his hands and taking a step away. “But when we’re wed –”

  “I said stop it!” Bria cried, dropping the sword. She turned and raced back to the castle. She wasn’t ready to talk to Garret about marriage. She didn’t even want to think about it.

  But there was something she wanted to think about. Another man taking her into his arms and kissing her, a man with midnight black hair.

  As she moved toward the castle, she saw the cloth merchant she’d been speaking to in the inner ward packing up his cart. She stopped as she spotted the black velvet draped across the side of the cart wall. He smiled tiredly as she approached. She reached into the cart and ran her hand across the softness.

  “It certainly seems to be calling to you, don’t you think?” the merchant said. “I’ve seen it happen often. Some women and some fabrics are just meant to be together.”

  Bria studied the velvet for a long moment. Strange as it was, it did seem as if the cloth was something she had to have. She couldn’t take her gaze from its black sheen.

  “Would you like me to have a horse’s width brought up to your room? It would make a fine dress.”

  The ghost of a grin appeared on her lips. A dress wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. “Make it three horses’ widths.”

  The merchant bowed slightly.

  Bria turned a brilliant smile on him and raced inside, moving toward the Great Hall. She didn’t quite understand the surge of excitement blossoming in her chest, but something inside her was telling her she’d just made one of the most momentous decisions in her life.

  Dinner was being served as she entered the Great Hall. The smell of spiced duck filled the large room. She took only two steps before she faltered, coming to a dead stop. The cloud of elation she’d brought into the room with her immediately darkened, turning into a thick fog of disheartenment. One seat was empty on the raised platform at the far end of where she always sat to eat. It was between Lord Prescott and Lord Brent. Funny, she remembered their names when she least wanted to. She winced slightly and glanced over her shoulder at the double doors. There was still time to run.

  Before she could make her escape, Garret entered and moved past her, whispering, “Coward.” He moved around her and walked confidently up the long aisle to his seat at the head table.

  Bria ground her teeth. There would be no escape from her suitors wherever she went. She could avoid them for only so long. It was time to face her future. She straightened her back in resolve and walked up to the head table, smiling as graciously at her suitors as she could while gritting her teeth. Lord Brent smiled up at her like a tiger spotting its kill as she sat next to him. Thankfully, a large portion of duck and bread was placed before them and everyone set about immediately to eat.

  She reached for the food and stopped, slowly glancing around her, noticing the conversation in the room had lowered to a murmur. She lifted her gaze to the rear of the Great Hall. A tall man dressed in black moved up the middle aisle toward her, toward the head table.

  Bria gasped. It was the man she’d met in the hallway, her lord. She straightened, trying to see him better past all the servants who scurried about the table to accommodate the nobles.

  His black hair hung to his shoulders, glimmering in the light from the torches on the wall, the dark strands framing his face. Somehow he was even more handsome than she remembered. His black tunic clung to his broad chest, open in a V shape to reveal the strong, smooth skin beneath. She followed the opening in his black tunic down to his waist, where he wore a black leather scabbard. His muscled thighs were clad in tight black leggings and his black leather boots barely made a
sound as he moved toward her.

  But again his dark, brooding eyes caught her attention, making her heart hammer in her chest. They were locked on her. A tremor raced up her spine.

  He stopped before the head table, and his gaze shifted from her to pin her father to his chair. For the first time, Bria realized her father’s hand was clenched in a fist atop the table.

  “Lord Delaney.” The man’s deep voice sent shivers through Bria’s body.

  “Good day,” her father answered amiably enough, but Bria heard the barely restrained tension in his voice.

  “Since you didn’t greet me last night when I arrived –”

  “It was very late,” her father answered.

  The lord continued as though her father hadn’t spoken. “I will state my intentions now. I’ve come to marry your daughter.”

  Excitement flared through Bria. Her heart raced. He’d come to seek her hand! Bria had guessed as much. Still, the words gave her a thrill she’d never experienced. The thought of being encompassed by those strong arms sent shivers of excitement racing up her spine.

  A murmuring of objections came from the lords seated around her at the head table. How could they hope to compete with her lord?

  Her father slowly rose from his chair. He was shaking his head as if in amusement, but there was a serious scowl on his brow. “Lord Knowles, I’m afraid that’s quite –”

  Lord Knowles? Bria’s mind repeated the name over and over, first in confusion and slowly in mounting anger. “Lord Knowles?” Bria gasped. Any thought of finding excitement in his arms quickly vanished. Anger and humiliation washed through her. How dare he deceive her? He was her enemy!

  She was on her feet as she pounded the table with her fists. “Never!” she ground out between her clenched teeth.

  That drew his gaze. The two beacons of darkness centered on her.

  “I’ll never marry you,” she vowed and stormed from the table.