by Wood, Lynn
Luke’s innocence was stolen from him at a young age, but even so, he could rejoice in the beauty of an early summer morning, especially knowing his brother had ridden out in the company of his men earlier that day. Mason was off to inspect another of the Michaels’ family estates and was not expected to return to the family seat for long weeks. Perhaps even months, Luke added the hopeful possibility with a wide grin framing his boyish face.
In his hurry to catch up with a wispy cloud overhead, alone seemingly, in the clear blue sky, his feet got tangled up in a stray root and he laughed as he tumbled head over heels across the forest floor. He lay there staring up through the bow of tree limbs above him with the sun peeking through while his breath caught up with his feet, thinking how happy he was to be free of his brother’s overbearing presence. He couldn’t wait to tell his best friend, Rafe, the ogre was gone and they once again had the run of the keep and Margaret’s kitchens all to themselves.
The fleeting cry of what sounded like a wounded animal reached him where he lay. He rolled over on his side and peered through the undergrowth trying to determine where the sound originated from. When he was just about ready to give up, it came again, a whisper of agony, so out of place in the stillness of the perfect morning. He gained his knees and crawled stealthily towards the source, not wanting to come unawares upon a wounded boar.
The next cry dispelled his fears. It was accompanied by the echo of human sobs. Luke quickened his pace and he was suddenly on top of her even as her weeping fell quiet. Shock and repulsion at the vision confronting him emptied his stomach and had Luke retreating instinctively from the blood and torn flesh of the young girl. She lay at an odd angle, her gown torn and bloodied. Her skirts were pushed up above her waist and there was more blood between her thighs. She moaned in her sleep and gathering his courage, Luke approached hesitantly, looking around for the wild animal that surely must be responsible for the girl’s condition.
Flushed and embarrassed, he lowered the girl’s skirts back into place and brushed her tangled hair away from her bruised face. It was a pretty face, or had been, that of a girl not so very much younger than he was. Even her pretty blonde hair had blood caked in it. She shivered as if with cold and Luke removed his shirt and wrapped it close around her. He didn’t know what to do. He was afraid if he left her to go for help the animal would return and finish the meal he only just started. Something must have startled it away from its prey.
At the disturbing thought, Luke looked around again, more cautiously this time, his eyes piercing the shadows of the encircling trees. The silence lay strangely heavy on the air. There was no sound of birds chirping or the small animals that lived on the forest floor scurrying about. Whatever it was that attacked the girl apparently frightened the other animals away too. He was still speculating as to the type of beast that could have so ravaged the girl’s tender flesh, and then yet inexplicably leave her alive when she could offer no further defense on her own behalf.
It was then he saw the marks on her arms and around her wrists. Bruises that looked exactly like a man’s large hands, burning like metal manacles into the young girl’s tender flesh. Dazed at the implications of the raw marks and the growing suspicion in his mind, Luke sat back on his heels, unaware his head was moving back and forth in staggered denial. The tears he swore his brother would never bring him to again filled his eyes. Tears for the girl, tears for himself, and most especially for the loss of his family’s precious honor.
As if sensing a sympathetic presence, the injured girl’s lids lifted over glazed, pain-filled eyes. Hers were like crushed violets in her white face. At the sight of him she recoiled in fear and Luke shook his head, aghast at the terror of him he read in her reaction. “No, no. I won’t hurt you. I’ll get help. I’ll be quick. I know someone who can help you. He’ll know what to do. He’ll find your mother, your sisters.” Luke promised, sensing it would not be a man’s comfort the girl needed at a time like this. Her eyes closed again, and uncertain whether or not it was safe to leave her alone, and only now understanding the reason behind his brother’s unexpected departure earlier in the day, he rose and took off at a sprint, not in the direction of the majestic keep, but towards the one man Luke knew he could count on for assistance.
Chapter One
Saxony, 1066
He watched from the shadows of the secret passageway in the old keep as lovely Lady Melissa set off on her reckless quest down the damp stone stairs, with just a small torch to guide her in the near total darkness engulfing the ancient tunnel. The egress itself was carved from solid rock by the strong arms of the servants of the keep’s first lord, who understood enemies were always at hand and he and his descendants might have need of an exit from the vast castle, one that did not involve passing through the large wooden doors and strong gates guarded by the knights and vassals of the current lord. But even the first lord, who now slept in the family graveyard above the ridge near the old chapel, might lift his dark eyes to heaven at his young progeny’s latest escapade.
Though he remained in the shadows he was close enough for her to feel his presence, but the lady was too intent on her foolish plan of escape to heed him. For all her reckless courage, Lady Melissa could not suppress an instinctive shudder and near silent squeak of surprise as a rat scurried across the toe of her fine leather boot. Still, the unpleasant company did not deter her from her objective and she pressed deeper into the darkness, hurrying now as if she feared her courage might fail her before she traversed the entire shadowed distance. It was not a short one even in daylight in the confined space. At night, when creatures that slept by day and hunted by night awakened and prowled the depths beneath the fortress, the near black passage would give even a seasoned knight a qualm or two.
He supposed that was what attracted him to her. The maid did not lack for courage, even as a young girl. She had always been so determined to keep up with that wild twin of hers; she believed she was the equal of any man. She was too young to have yet learned she could do more damage to a masculine adversary through the use of her feminine charms rather than contest against him with the slender but still deadly blade she wore strapped to her soft, womanly thigh.
Her soft sigh of relief brought him out of his own musings and he smiled with reluctant admiration as she used all of her woman’s strength to push open the warped wooden door that led back to the surface. The moonlight and brisk fresh air were welcome to even one accustomed to the night and the evils that lurked within it. The salty tang that whispered along the predawn air gave evidence of the nearby sea and he knew then in what manner Lady Melissa had chosen to make good her getaway. He knew her to be a skilled sailor, but surely the lady did not intend to set off alone to brave the sea in search of her beloved twin who was rumored lost in the war along the northern front.
His astonished laughter was carried off by the brisk wind as the young maid set about to do just that. Sighing with amused resignation, he moved to follow her. This crazy plan of hers could only lead to fresh disaster. One way or another, his services would be required before this night was through.
Melissa rolled up her skirts and pushed the small craft off the river bank and into the icy water before climbing into it and drying herself with a cloth she carried with her from the keep. She was grateful for the light cast by the full moon to guide her as she wove her way down the deep tributary that would take her to open water. She would hug the beaches as she had been taught and not risk getting pulled out into the coastal waters where her small craft would soon be overcome. She thought she had a fair idea where she would find her grandmother and her people. They would be moving east, skirting around and north of the worst of the fighting between the invading Norman armies and the Saxon defenders. Melissa hoped to catch up with them where they would cross the lands north of Stoney Point; the small cove where she would leave her boat behind, and set off on foot for what she hoped would be only a few days trek across the wilderness.
She packed enough f
ood and supplies for a week’s journey. If she failed to find the Salusian camp by then, she would be forced to make do with whatever meat she could catch in the open lands and forests. With the approach of winter vegetation would be scarce. She pushed the unpleasant thought aside and forced herself to look on the bright side. So far her plan had gone off without a hitch. No one suspected she would put her plan of escape into action that night. In the end, she decided against confiding in her younger sister, Rhiann, who she feared would not be able to suppress the urge to inform their father’s guard, whose sworn duty it would then be to prevent Melissa from leaving the keep.
The wind picked up and the task of keeping her boat along the beach and prevent it from being pulled out into the open waters of the sea took all of her strength. It was at times like these when she found her slender arms and meager womanly might the most inconvenient. She might be the equal of her twin in a warrior’s skills, but there was no disputing his broad chest and the thick rope of muscles in his masculine arms would prove far more useful in her current endeavor than her own feminine endowments. Michel would have little trouble bending the course of the craft to his will. She was beginning to doubt her own strength was up to the task, and for the first time since she put her bold plan into action she was aware of the trace of fear that steeled beneath her iron will. Whether she was willing to dwell on the matter or not, the truth would not be changed by her reluctance to acknowledge it. The fact was her little vessel would not stand a chance against the tidal waters whipped up by the approaching winter storm.
She felt control of the boat’s direction slipping from her grasp and for a moment her grip faltered. Stupid tears stung her eyes when she admitted she did not possess the necessary might to contest against the rising wind and unassailable tide, any more than she was able to halt the flow of the Norman invasion that robbed her of her father and brothers, and would soon deprive her of the only home she ever knew.
As soon as her grip slackened the little boat careened towards the open sea as if on a gleeful chase towards its own end. The boat rocked and bucked beneath the swell of the water and the battering of the rising waves from the approaching storm. Melissa’s memories carried her back to another time when she faced a similar death. She was just a little girl then, but it seemed as if it must be her destiny to die beneath the fury of raging waters. So it was with a strange sense of Deja vu she gripped the sides of her craft as her little boat rode all the way to up the top of the next steep wave challenging its course. For a brief moment Melissa hoped she and her craft would make it over the crest, then the vessel tipped and she felt herself being thrown from its uncertain refuge and into the icy waters of the sea, right before her boat emptied itself of the supplies she brought along to sustain her through her journey, and then came crashing down on top of her. The impact left her dazed even as she was drawn under the surface and tossed about like the splintered wood of her vessel.
She didn’t see him this time, but she would swear she heard an echo of a once familiar voice sighing impatiently in her ear, rebuking her in a voice laced with sarcasm that there were easier ways to depart this life than the violent death she seemed intent on inflicting upon herself. Melissa thought his accusation grossly unfair, and she meant to tell him so just as soon as she could draw fresh breath into her straining chest. In the meantime she was so relieved to hear the evidence she was not alone in her watery tomb, she decided to wait to chastise him until after he rescued her from her current dilemma. Peeved at his delay in doing so she spun around to demand his assistance only to discover no evidence of his remembered tall, dark form behind her.
Her last hope faltering, Melissa reluctantly concluded she must have imagined her brief friendship with the stranger on the bank after all, just as Amele tried to convince her was the case when she was a little girl. The cold seeped into her thoughts and into her straining arms and legs at her dejected admission. Tangled up in her heavy skirts, her limbs took on a lethargy that proved of little use against the seething tide.
“Please God…” she whispered in the silence of her heart, uncertain if she was praying for her life or a mercifully quick death.
Chapter Two
Luke never looked back as he and his men passed through the gates of London and set off in the last direction he wished to go, in search of a quarry he had no desire to find. The weather provided a fitting setting for such a dismal pursuit. The wind whipped up overnight, and the dark threatening sky began spitting icy drops that stung his skin, as if attempting to persuade him to turn back from his unwanted quest. Luke would gladly do so, but his promise to his father demanded he face both the weather and whatever other threats lurked in the Saxon wilderness while he searched for his missing half-brother. So Luke wrapped his fur-lined cloak more closely around his muscular form, dipped his head against the stinging sleet, and urged his mount forward. He consoled himself with the notion that while he had not the slightest interest in locating his father’s heir, he could at least bring some comfort to Lady Rhiann, his friend Nathan’s young wife, by uncovering some word of her own missing siblings.
Lady Rhiann’s sister, Melissa, and Melissa’s twin brother, Michel, were lost in the course of the invasion. Michel apparently went missing in the war on the northern front and was presumed dead. Lady Melissa’s disappearance was somewhat more mysterious. Apparently the lady slipped away from the safety of her father’s keep by way of a secret passageway and set off alone across a country ravaged by war in search of her twin. Luke could admire the lady’s reckless spirit even as he bemoaned her foolishness. Considering how long it had been since her family had any word of her, it was presumed she too died in her irresponsible, if heroic flight.
Still the lady’s clandestine mission to save her twin brother kindled what remained from the ruins of Luke’s own romantic soul. Had his father asked him to locate word of the lady’s fate he would have gladly undertaken such a mission. Such a noble spirit was worth whatever discomfort he might face along the road in pursuit of her. He admitted Lady Melissa’s story had intrigued him from the moment he heard it. What young, nobly born and bred maid left the safety of her father’s ancestral home and the guard of his highly trained men to wander the wilderness in search of her lost brother? What deep, unfathomable bond existed between the two that would propel her to take such a risk, even knowing her perilous journey would very likely end in her own death? Whatever their connection Luke could regret he had no experience of it in his own life.
So he consoled his affronted sense of honor at the unworthiness of his own quarry, with that of the aim of finding Lady Melissa and restoring her to her sister’s loving arms. Certainly discovering the whereabouts of his worthless brother and restoring him to his father’s deluded embrace could not provide him the dignity of the former motivation.
Riding along at his side, Rafe’s mocking comment broke the silence that had fallen between them and brought Luke uncomfortably back to the dreary present.
“This journey would have been far more pleasant if Duke William had launched his invasion during the spring months. Then we would not be faced with the unpleasant prospect of searching for your father’s heir in the depths of the Saxon winter.”
Luke’s dark eyes flashed with amusement as he turned to meet his friend’s indignant glance. He noticed how Rafe failed to give the object of their search a name other than that of ‘your father’s heir’. Rafe always referred to Luke’s half-brother in such terms, or when they were alone, in more derogatory ones. “Perhaps we will find my brother’s cold dead body at the base of some bottomless ravine.”
“From your lips to the Almighty’s ears,” Rafe replied, then added, “More likely, we will find him entertaining himself on the spoils of some hapless and surely dead Saxon lord using the latter’s even more-unfortunate daughters to warm his bed.”
Chapter Three
The sound of someone moaning in pain brought Melissa out of her semi-conscious state. It didn’t take her long to re
alize the whimpering was coming from her own lips. She ran her tongue over them and tasted the tangy salt of the sea. Her memories flooded back along with the rising tide on the beach where she lay sprawled amidst the wreckage of her small craft. She struggled gingerly into a seated position and took stock of her limbs and her surroundings. She recognized the secluded cove. Stoney Point was its name and hers wasn’t the first craft driven to its doom by the deadly current surrounding the seemingly tranquil waters. She was angry and embarrassed by her feminine weakness that could not prevent her from falling victim to it, believing her familiarity with the treacherous currents should have spared her the consequences of her present predicament. She and Michel sailed these waters ever since they were children playing at pirates hiding smuggled booty in its narrow caves and the old forest surrounding it.
The broken remnants of her vessel lay scattered around her, not unlike the wreckage of the life she once knew before the war. Surveying the damage to her scratched and bleeding limbs, the torn, damp gown that lay upon her like a wet blanket and the pieces of her broken craft, Melissa heaved a defeated sigh and acknowledged her bold venture was a fool’s errand from the start. Her only regret at its predictable ending was that death wasn’t the price exacted from her for its failure. At least not yet, anyway.
She shivered with cold and thought to wrap her cloak more closely around her before realizing the damp garment was doing more to contribute to her discomfort rather than easing it. Since from the looks of the wreckage scattered on the beach she was unlikely to find anything drier to wrap around her shivering form, she huddled closer within the covering’s damp folds and took what comfort she could from its weight enfolding her.
