Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)

by Catherine Kean, Anna Markland, Elizabeth Rose, Laurel ODonnell, Barbara Devlin, SueEllen Welfonder, Amy Jarecki

  Beth’s eyes slanted as she grimaced with contempt. “Fool,” she spat, stepping aside.

  One dungeon guard entered the cell, followed by another. They grabbed his arms, pulling him back against the wall.

  “I hope your sense of misplaced honor comforts you when your face is no longer so handsome and my whoring sister refuses to part her legs for you,” Beth hissed.

  Logan scowled at her words, the first inkling of anxiety beginning to creep into his stomach. Through the open door, the executioner entered the cell; in his hand was not a sharp-edged ax but a red-hot branding iron.

  THE LADY AND THE FALCONER

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Solace!”

  Solace looked up to see Peter walking through the Great Hall toward her. He reached the table where she sat and slid into the chair beside her. “I thought I missed you. Sorry I’m late.” He picked up a piece of bread from the trencher awaiting him and began eating.

  Solace had long since finished her evening meal, or rather had not even touched her food. She had thought Peter wasn’t coming. But now that he was here, she was nervous. She wasn’t sure how she was going to attempt this line of questioning. She wasn’t sure how the shield or the sword fit into the scheme of things, let alone Logan. “It’s all right,” she said, lifting a mug of ale to her lips. She hardly drank. Was Logan some family member? A cousin perhaps? Or had he stolen the sword from some man, making the whole thing just a coincidence?

  “Barclay tried another assault,” Peter was saying. “But we repelled it, thank the Lord. I just wish your father would hurry and get here.”

  Solace wet her lips with her tongue. “Peter,” she said. “Tell me about your family.”

  Peter straightened slightly and looked at her. He shook his head, his short cropped hair swaying. “You’ve been up in that dusty old room again, haven’t you?”

  Solace shrugged helplessly.

  Peter dropped his head. “I don’t know why you keep digging up the past.”

  She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of concern. “I don’t mean to hurt you. I just want to know. Those people in the tapestries...”

  “It doesn’t hurt me. That part of my past is long gone. Dead and buried.”

  Solace dropped her hand from his shoulder as he took a long sip of ale. She wondered if he even realized how much of a lie that was.

  “What’s there to know? I already told you everything,” Peter explained.

  “Do you have any cousins?”

  “Only a few. I believe one is in Cavindale. But I never heard from them.” He bit into a piece of venison.

  Cavindale. Shivers of anxiety shot through Solace’s body. Logan had said he came from Cavindale. “And what about brothers?”

  Peter’s hand dropped slightly; a distant, hard look edged his brown eyes. “I had one brother.”

  “You never told me you have a brother.”

  “Had a brother. He’s long dead now, too.”

  “What happened to him?” she wondered.

  He looked at her and Solace saw the pain in his eyes. “He abandoned his family.”

  “What?”

  Peter glanced at her with burning, reproachful eyes. “He left us,” he said vaguely. “I never saw him again after the siege.”

  Peter’s voice was cold, the frostiness of his tone chilling her. Solace’s anxiety spread, encompassing her entire body. She refused to look at Peter, locking her gaze on the blazing hearth at the far end of the room. “What was his name?” she asked.

  “Name?” Peter said, as if shaken from a bad memory.

  “Your brother’s name,” Solace entreated. “What was it?”

  “Logan,” Peter replied. “His name was Logan.”

  ***

  Logan awoke to a burning pain in his cheek. He struggled to sit up, wincing as he moved. He raised a hand to his face. The charred flesh of his cheek was painfully tender to even the most delicate probing of his fingertips. He remembered the x-shaped brand moving toward his face, the iron glowing an evil red. He had struggled, but against the guards’ holds and his steel manacles, his efforts were useless. He didn’t remember much after the brand touched his cheek.

  He scanned the cell. The torchlight from the hallway flickered in through the bars on the cell window, falling across a tray of food near his feet. He could still smell the sick scent of charred flesh. His flesh. Suddenly, he lashed out with his foot, kicking over his meal. Immediately, he heard the scurrying of rodents as they rushed forward to take the scraps of food. His neck burned from chafing. He tugged futilely at the chain, but the movement caused the pain from his cheek to flare up.

  He cursed Solace for entering his life. He cursed her for being so curvy and soft as to attract Graham’s attention. To attract his attention. But most of all, he cursed himself for getting involved.

  The drip-drip rang in the quiet dungeon again, sending the dull ache in his head flaring to a steady pounding. Logan hung his head, resting his neck on the edge of the metal manacle. His cheek throbbed in a grotesque, pulsating rhythm.

  The clang of the lock echoed in his cell. The guard coming to take his food tray, no doubt. He did not look up as a circle of torchlight probed his cell. He watched with dull eyes as the light moved to barely touch the tips of his black boots. Then, strangely, he heard the rustle of silk. I must truly be going mad now, he thought. The beat of his heart rose in his ears, in cadence with the quick drip-drip sound in the distance.

  Then a skirt moved to the very edge of the circle of light, the hem of the dress just touching his boot. Was it Beth coming back to gloat? Or was it...? It couldn’t be hope that made his heart pound so madly. It couldn’t be hope that made his breathing stop. Hope had been extinguished in him a very long time ago. It couldn’t be Solace; he refused to believe it was.

  Then why couldn’t he lift his head to prove himself wrong?

  The specter before him knelt. He saw the skirt bend, and then gentle hands took his. His gaze lifted over perfectly formed breasts to a slender neck, past full red lips to bright green eyes. All the anger that had burned in him was extinguished at the sight of her. She was lovelier than he remembered. And he wanted nothing more than to bask in her radiance, her innocence, to feel her kindness touch his wounded spirit.

  She moved toward him and the circle of illumination moved with her, as if the light were coming from her. As it engulfed him in its warmth, washing over him like a warm blanket, he lunged for the shimmering splendor of her, capturing her in his arms, crushing her against his breast. Her hair was so soft against his cheek, her body so warm in the coldness of the cell.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “Sorry?” Logan wondered in a dry throat.

  “It’s all my fault,” she told him, trying to pull free of his hold.

  Logan refused to let her go. “It’s not your fault. That bastard got what was coming to him.”

  “Oh, Logan,” Solace pulled back slightly and lifted a hand to his cheek. It froze in midair, her eyes going wide with shock. She gasped and pulled her hand away.

  For a moment, Logan was afraid the light would recede with her, but it didn’t.

  “Your face...” she moaned.

  He had forgotten. For one wonderful instant, he had forgotten the horrible X that had been burned into his skin. He raised a hand to his cheek as if to shield it from her view. He felt a moment of panic. Would she reject him now as Beth had prophesied? He fought the panic with the only weapon he had. Anger. He hardened his heart to her, lowering his hand obstinately. “Come to stare?” he asked.

  “Who did this?” she agonized, reaching toward his face.

  Logan pulled away from her touch, afraid it would burn him worse than the branding iron had.

  A wounded look crossed her face, saddening those large translucent eyes. Then the look disappeared, replaced by determination. She slowly stood, towering over him like an inquisitor. “Tell me who you are and what you’re doing here
.”

  “You know those answers already,” he said, tearing his eyes from her perfect face to look on the soiled ground near his feet.

  “Did you kill the dungeon guard?” she wondered.

  “Have you come to interrogate me or get me out of here?” he asked.

  She ignored him, continuing, “Were you looking for someone?”

  Logan’s entire body tensed. She knew. He was sure of it. She knew why he was here, who he was looking for. He knew for certain that he would never see the light of day again.

  “Is Logan your real name?”

  His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes rose to lock with hers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What are you doing here and who are you, really?” she demanded.

  Logan narrowed his eyes. Did she know the answers already, only wanting the truth from his lips? Or was she searching, probing him for the answers? How much of it did she know?

  “Did you come for Peter?” she wondered.

  A shiver of trepidation shot down his spine. Should he tell her? Dare he tell her? Would she call to the dungeon guards? Was this some elaborate trap set by Beth? “Where is he?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  Her eyes scanned his face, and he saw doubt there. “What do you want of him?” Solace questioned.

  She had to tell him! He had to know! “Where is he?”

  “Are you here to hurt him?” she asked.

  The question surprised him. Why would he hurt his own brother? “Is he a captive?”

  He saw the shock on her face, or was it surprise he had guessed the truth? He pushed himself to his feet. “Tell me. Tell me where I can find Peter.” Logan took a menacing step toward her. He grabbed her shoulders and was surprised to find his own hands were shaking. “Where is Peter?”

  “Right here.”

  Logan looked past Solace. A dark form stood in the doorway, outlined by a flickering torch from outside the cell.

  The man took a step into the darkness, seizing Solace’s arm and pulling her from Logan’s hold. “Are you all right?” he asked her.

  Solace nodded.

  Peter set Solace aside and stepped forward. The light washed over his face, and it was all Logan could do not to gasp. He knew that face! He had fought beside this man just days ago and had not even realized who he was. But as Logan looked closer, he could see the boy he once knew in Peter’s features, even through the lines of hardship around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes. His face had matured, and his features had become pronounced. He was a man now. “Peter?” Logan asked. He stood up straight, his heart stopping, for even though he stood face-to-face with his brother, he couldn’t quite believe it was him.

  “Yes,” Solace breathed. “Logan, I’d like you to meet Peter Grey. Peter, your brother, Logan.”

  Logan watched Peter’s face transform from frosty anger into anguished confusion.

  “Logan? Is it really you?” Peter asked in a thick voice.

  Logan saw Solace slip out the door, leaving them alone, and he was grateful to her. Tears came to Logan’s eyes as he nodded his head. He couldn’t believe his brother was standing before him after all these years, after all the dashed hopes, the years of planning for revenge. He wanted to embrace him; he wanted to touch him and make sure he was really there.

  But before he could move, Peter cocked his fist back and delivered a blow to his chin.

  Logan jerked back. Pain seared through his jaw and through his burned cheek.

  “I told you not to go!” Peter hollered.

  Another blow to his stomach doubled Logan over.

  “I cursed your name, Logan! I thought you were dead,” Peter snarled. “And I’m going to make you wish you were.”

  THE LADY AND THE FALCONER

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “I am dead,” Logan answered his brother, clutching his stomach against the pain Peter’s blow caused. “I’ve been in hell for thirteen years.”

  “Good!” Peter shouted. “You should have been. After what you did. It was your fault. Mother and Father...” He stopped, his voice cracking, and he turned away from Logan.

  Logan lifted his head, staring at his brother. He had thought this would be a joyous occasion, to find the last of his family. He’d imagined embracing, slapping Peter on the back. He had even imagined Peter helping to exact revenge. But he had never imagined this reunion, had never realized the extent to which his brother would hate and blame him. Almost as much as he himself did.

  “Damn it, Logan,” Peter said in a heavy voice. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

  Logan stood, head bowed, allowing his brother to vent his hatred, his anger. Everything Peter said was something he had already told himself over and over.

  “You were supposed to come back,” Peter told him. “You told me you would. And then you didn’t show up.”

  Would it matter if I told him it hadn’t been my fault? Logan wondered. That the damn horse threw me. That the damn rock smacked my head hard and knocked me out. He shook his head sadly. It would still be my fault. It would not bring our parents back.

  Peter grabbed him by the front of his tunic and shoved him back against the wall with enough force to make him gasp for a breath. “Father was worried sick. He blamed me! Because I was the responsible one. And I had let you go.”

  Logan saw the pain in his brother’s eyes, the grief. “I’m sorry, Peter. I was wrong,” Logan confessed.

  “Wrong?” Peter released him and stepped back. “Is that all you can say for yourself?”

  “What do you want me to say?” Logan asked. “Don’t you think I’ve gone through it over and over in my mind? How foolish I was, how naive! What I could have done differently!”

  “You should have stayed in the castle!”

  “Yes. I should have. But I didn’t.” Logan looked away from his brother toward the cell door. “I thought you were dead. I’d given up everything, all hope. I had only revenge to concentrate on.” He swiveled his gaze back to Peter. “Then I found out you were alive. I came as soon as I heard.”

  “It wasn’t soon enough,” Peter retorted.

  Logan ignored him. “I had visions of you in chains in the dungeon. But the dungeon was empty. I looked in the stocks, everywhere I could think a prisoner might be. But you weren’t there.” Logan’s brow furrowed with confusion. “Where have you been?”

  Peter turned his back on his brother. Logan saw the corded muscles of his neck tighten as he crossed his arms. “I work for Farindale now.”

  Outrage seared through Logan, hotter than the branding iron that had scorched his cheek. “Farindale?” he gritted out. “After what he did?”

  Peter whirled on him, shoving a finger into his chest. “No, after what you did.”

  Logan batted Peter’s arm away, furiously. “He invaded Fulton! Do you think I made him do it?”

  “It was your fault the gates were open. We would have had a fighting chance against him if it weren’t for you!”

  “That doesn’t explain why you’re working for him!” Logan shouted. He looked to the door, then lowered his voice to keep their conversation private. “That doesn’t explain why you’re working for our enemy!” he hissed.

  “It was a long time ago!” Peter answered hotly. “I was a prisoner at first. I refused to be cooperative.” He glanced about the dungeon. “So I was locked in here for months. Do you know what this place can do to a man? Do you know what this place can do to a boy?” Peter laughed harshly, more a bark of agony than a chortle of merriment. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. The darkness. The gloom. The silence. So I gave them my word I would not try to escape and Farindale let me have the run of the castle.”

  “And then you just decided to work for him?” Logan asked incredulously.

  “It wasn’t like that,” Peter answered, some of the fire leaving his voice. “It was a long time. Years passed. And it was still the home I had grown up in.”

  “Minus your family,” Logan answered bitterly.r />
  “Yes. But the Farindales were kind to me. Solace in particular. She was so gentle and smart and patient. And beautiful.”

  Logan froze, dreading his brother’s next words.

  Peter continued. “Even though I spurned her efforts at friendliness, she kept trying.” He laughed quietly, softly, remembering. “I said some mean things to her. But she has the patience and persistence of a saint. I found myself looking forward to her visits. We would take walks every day.”

  Logan’s body trembled. He didn’t want to hear any more. He didn’t want to know how friendly they had become. He could see himself in Peter. And for the first time, it became clear to Logan how Solace had manipulated him, working her way into his life just as she had Peter’s. He, too, looked for her every time he entered the courtyard, found his eyes following her when she walked.

  “And then they offered me a position as a guard.”

  “What better way to be near her,” Logan murmured, understanding.

  “And protect her. They gave me a sword, armor.” Peter looked into Logan’s eyes. “I love her, Logan.”

  Stunned, Logan could not move. Another man, his brother, loved Solace. A fierce, sudden anger consumed him and he grabbed Peter’s shirt, shoving his face at him. “How could you love her?” He shook him, hard. His fists knotted in the fabric of his tunic. “She’s our enemy!” Finally, Logan shoved his brother to the ground, snarling, “Traitor.” He stood over Peter, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white, his jaw clenched so tight his cheek flamed with pain. “You traitor!” Logan sneered, looking down at Peter’s ashen face. “Get away from me!” He whirled away, pacing the cell, keeping his back to his brother.

  He had fallen into the same trap Peter had! He had looked forward to seeing Solace every day, sought her out at any excuse. Kissed her and made love to her as tenderly as if she were his wife. Within months, would he be working for Farindale, too? The thought enraged him, and he slammed his fist into the wall with a fierce cry.

  Suddenly, he heard a lock being undone. He turned to find Peter standing near the dungeon wall, the padlock of his captivity swinging open. Logan raised startled eyes to his brother.