Chapter Ten
Rule was eager to be on the road again. Gavin was not.
In fact, he was in a most foul mood, and his men had given him a wide berth since leaving Mal Verne that morning.
The solitude-at the least, as much isolation as one could have when traveling in a group of men-at-arms-suited him fine. He'd begun the journey riding at the rear of the party, keeping Rule to a handy trot as they left Mal Verne and started on the road to Whitehall. It would take four days to reach the king, even traveling as quickly as he planned, since the roads were mired with mud from the heavy rains that had fallen in the last sevennight.
The carts carrying the bulk of their luggage would have a slower time of it, but there was no help for it. Nor could he have allowed the women to ride in a cart because of its slower pace. The king's message had made it clear Gavin was to make all haste to bring Madelyne de Belgrume to his presence.
He remembered the fear that turned her face ashen when she learned de Belgrume knew of her presence, and of his desire to see her. It had not been an insignificant expression-it had been true horror and panic. Gavin brooded, wondering what it was that she feared and if it was anything he could protect her from. Then, frustrated he shoved a hank of hair out of his eyes.
He was not the permanent protector of Madelyne de Belgrume-he was merely her escort to the king's side, after which he would be free to never see her again.
His attention wandered over the backs of his men until it found the mount carrying Jube and Lady Madelyne. Gavin tightened his hands on Rule's reins and forced himself to look away from the slim figure cloaked in a midnight blue wrap. She rode behind Jube, and he could see the wrist-thick braid that disappeared into the neckline of the cape where her hood had fallen back.
He clearly remembered the feel of her settling on the saddle in front of him, his thighs locking around her and her head jouncing just in front of his chin as they rode along. That memory was precisely the reason he'd refused to share a mount with her again, and was just as strongly the reason he'd made certain she sat behind Jube, rather than in front of him.
And, verily, it was also the reason for his nasty mood.
Annoyed at the distraction, he jabbed his mail-covered heels into Rule's side, and the steed surged forward with a sudden leap. They clipped quickly along, weaving expertly among the others in the party, to the head of the group where Gavin's three scouts cantered along. Glad to put Madelyne de Belgrume behind him, he manipulated the stallion so that he could talk with Leo, the leader of his scouts.
Fantin gripped the reins of his dancing mount and jammed a heel into its side. The bloody horse was causing the bush to shake and would alert Mal Verne and his men to their presence long before the ambush he planned.
After praying and fasting with Rufus for two days, Fantin understood: God wished him to return Madelyne to Tricourten immediately.
It had become clear there was some purpose she must play in his quest-for her reappearance was the sign he'd been awaiting. Not only must she return to his fold because she was his daughter, his flesh and blood, and he owned her. . . but because she must play a part in this purpose with which God had burdened him so generously.
Whatever Madelyne's task, it would be revealed to him in God's Time.
With a hiss, for he did not know how much longer 'twould be before Mal Verne's party approached this curve in the road, he captured the attention of his thirteen men-at-arms who stood ready to swarm into their path. He cocked his head, catching the eye of Tavis, and ordered, "Go you back on the road and look for signs of their approach. "
He had no need to wait for the king to make his decision regarding the fate of the girl-or even to grant him an audience. The wench was his daughter, and he would have her if he pleased.
The message he'd sent to Henry served only to cause him to appear complacent-to allay any suspicions the king might harbor against him and his Work. And thus when he appeared in the royal court, demanding to see his daughter, Henry would only be able to tell him that she'd disappeared again. And no one would fault Fantin for his anger against the king for allowing Mal Verne to lose his daughter again so soon after she'd been found. He licked his lips, feeling their pleasing plumpness-due to the herb-scented goose fat he smeared on them each night-and smiled.
The king was no better friend to him than Mal Verne was-and his whore of a wife as well. They would be among the first to feel his wrath when he completed his work and had the Stone in his grasp.
Eagerness rising within, he swallowed the smile and manipulated his stallion away from the group of men, taking a post further up the road. Mal Verne would die today, and Madelyne would be back in the care of her loving father. . . as she should have been for the last ten years.
He grinned there, silent in his glee, and thought of the destiny that awaited him once his daughter was in his custody.
And he gave a solemn prayer of thanks.
'Twas a capriciousness very unlike him, Gavin thought as he bent toward Rule's head, just missing being slapped in the face by a heavy branch. He patted the smoothness of the steed's neck, digging his fingers into the thick mane. An exhilaration filled him as the stallion leapt over a small creek, galloping at full speed through the thick forest.
They'd left the traveling party in favor of chasing a stag in hopes of having venison for supper-and to give Rule a few moments to exert his stunted energy. Gavin grinned, enjoying the feel of the wind buffeting his face. It had been overlong since he'd enjoyed himself so, and for a few moments, he felt young again-as if he'd shed the weight of his past, his mistakes, and that of those he'd loved.
The white tail of the deer was just visible as it bounded over a fallen tree, and Gavin leaned forward, urging Rule to go faster as they drew closer. He reached back for the spear he carried, readying it for the fatal thrust, crouching low as Rule sprang over the fallen trunk.
Suddenly, a scream rent the air, far distant but chilling to his ears. Gavin jerked his head toward the sound, hearing its echo even over the thrashing of Rule's hooves through the brush. Madelyne.
Gavin yanked back on the reins, kicking his mount frantically, and the destrier spun on its rear legs with the practiced grace of a warhorse. They reversed direction instantly, and he pressed forward, hugging Rule with his powerful thighs and urging him on with commands in the stallion's ears.
They burst from the forest onto the road moments later and swerved in an easterly direction, following the path of the travel party. Hooves thudding, Rule did not hesitate as he galloped furiously toward the sound of swords clashing in the distance.
Gavin swallowed back the dryness of fear at the unmistakable sound of battle, and froze all thoughts of self-rebuke from his mind. He would curse himself later. Now he must keep his wits clear in order to subdue their attackers.
Bellowing a clear battle cry, Gavin drew his sword as they rushed into the midst of the skirmish. He engaged one of the attackers, who wore a helm to cover his face and had been about to strike Clem and Tricky. A quick glance away from his opponent revealed no sign of Madelyne, and Gavin summoned all of his strength and rage to plow his sword through the chest of his adversary. He wheeled Rule about and cantered around the perimeter of the melee, which seemed to be dying down now that he'd reached it. In fact, those that remained were men from Mal Verne, with the exception of three bloody bodies that lay unmoving on the ground.
"Madelyne!" he shouted, rising on his heels in the saddle.
"She is taken!" cried Clem between gasps of air. He clutched his side even as he held Tricky in place on his lap. Gavin took in the sight of red staining his friend's arm and fury escalated within. "They came upon us from nowhere, and took my lady right from behind Jube!"
Gavin fought the urge to rush pell-mell in the direction Clem pointed, and halted for a moment, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. "Jube!" he shouted, then looked where another man pointed.
The tall blond ma
n stood to the side of the road, his sword hanging at his side, violence darkening his features. The destrier that Gavin recognized as Jube's was on its side, its gut slit open and spilling entrails onto the dirt road.
"They made certain I could not save her!" he shouted furiously, rage roughing his voice. "By the rood, I'll murder the man who took my Blazon!"
"To me!" Gavin roared, calling his men to cluster about him. "You who cannot fight, do you ride ahead to Prentiss Keep and relate this stealing of the lady to Lord Markhand's captain of the guard-ask for reinforcements. We go east and will see them as they come to join us. Those who can, follow me!"
Rule leapt forward and the others fell in behind. Fortunately, the ground was soft from the rains and left a clear pattern of tracks along the easterly road. Gavin and Rule kept a generous lead from the remainder of the party-approximately eight of the fifteen men with which they'd left Mal Verne.
As they thundered down the road, Gavin forced himself to focus on reaching the kidnappers and saving Madelyne. The man he'd killed had worn no standard or livery that could identify him. It was likely he was part of a band of thieves that preyed on travelers. Mayhaps Madelyne been targeted and taken to be held for ransom. If that were the case, then she would not be harmed.
The tightening of his chest-the fear that he was wrong, that there was some other reason for her kidnapping-grew and he urged Rule on further.
Madelyne swallowed the fear that bubbled in her middle, nauseating her. Mayhaps 'twas the stench of the man who carried her on his mount in front of him that caused her stomach to turn, but most likely it was the horror that she was no longer in the safe hands of Gavin Mal Verne, and had been catapulted into a worse fate than that of being taken to the king.
Her hands were bound tightly in front of her with a rough rope, and she clutched the mane of the horse in hopes that she would not lose her balance and be trampled under its hooves. The man behind her-she'd heard his name given as Arneth-breathed heavily, leaning forward and billowing stale breath into her face.
Lord Gavin.
She thought his name, praying that he would have heard her scream and was even now racing to save her. She did not know who had taken her, nor had the four men who accompanied her captor said anything to disclose the reason for her kidnapping. She had seen through the whirlwind of fear and fighting that some of the men who'd ambushed them had been left for dead, and the others had been separated, retreating in a different direction.
Suddenly, they changed course, wheeling off the road and into the underbrush. She heard a grunt from Arneth, and the reek of his breath buffeted more strongly as he shouted, "We are followed! Break away!"
A leap of hope lunged in her chest, and she wrenched her head to look back. Arneth's face, drawn together in ugly intensity, loomed inches behind her, his gray teeth bared in concentration. Madelyne jerked away from the ugly proximity and felt her seat slip. Bracing her aching legs against the side of the horse, she struggled to regain her balance even as she heard the man chuckle in her ear.
Dear God, please let that be Gavin. Please let him find me. Madelyne prayed with more vehemence than she'd ever thought possible on those nights at the prie dieu in Lock Rose Abbey. I will cease these errant thoughts of him if You will grant me this.
She felt Arneth shift behind her, and then heard his exclamation of surprise. Loud thrashing, heavy breathing, shouts and the unmistakable sound of steel being slid from within steel filled her environment. . . and then suddenly, it was over.
A howl reverberated in her ears as she felt a jerk behind her, then the loss of Arneth's weight in the saddle as he tumbled to the ground. She clutched at the horse, a cry escaping her lips as she began to slip, and then suddenly, she was lifted-plucked easily from her seat-and slammed onto the front of another saddle.
She did not even need to look behind her to know that it was Gavin whose powerful arm held her steady in the seat in front of him, and whose brawny thighs enclosed her. Her heart still thundered in her chest even as they slowed to a canter, and then a trot, and finally to a standstill in the middle of the forest.
If there had been others in the chase, they had left them far behind, and the stillness of the wood caught up with them as they stopped in a small clearing. The only sound was his rough breathing mingling with her own.
Gavin said naught, and she, too, had remained silent, trying to catch her breath and slow her heart. He slid from the saddle, his feet landing on the ground in two rhythmic thumps. When he turned his face to look up at her, raising his arms to lift her from the saddle, Madelyne nearly recoiled in shock.
It was Gavin Mal Verne, and yet it was not.
If she had thought him to have a mask of stone for a face before, she had not a clear idea of how that truly should look-for now his countenance was still, angry, and hard, and his gray eyes blazed with intensity and ferocity as his chest heaved with exertion. His wide brown hands slipped under her bound arms and lifted her down with a gentleness she had not expected.
"I cannot plead your forgiveness enough, my lady," he said stiffly, his flat gaze inscrutable. "My foolish actions and lack of attention to your person were disgraceful and inexcusable. " He looked down at her hands, which were beginning to gray due to the tightness of her bonds. His mouth pinched and she saw his face darken. In a trice, he had sliced the hemp at her wrists and began to chafe them gently.
The pinpricks of circulation returning to her fingers caused her to pull away and shake her hands. "Lord Gavin, I am in your debt for your protection of me-"
"Do not be a fool, my lady," he snapped, spinning away to stalk toward Rule. "'Tis I who am indebted to you, and 'twas my folly that caused you to be in this state. "
He gathered up the trailing reins of the well-trained destrier and, with a quick pat on his nose, led the horse toward Madelyne. Mal Verne's thick dark hair sprung wildly about his face, brushing the heavy black brows that drew together in angry points while curling softly about his ears and throat. The cord of his neck throbbed and thrummed with his furious pulse, and his sensual mouth leveled into a thin, hard line. "Come now, I will get you back to the others where you will be safe. "
He stepped toward her, and the energy that surrounded him engulfed Madelyne even as he reached to touch her. Pushing aside her earlier bargain with God to cease her deviant thoughts of Gavin Mal Verne, she looked up at him and replied, "I cannot be any safer than when I am with you, my lord. "
Her heart swelled in her throat and her stomach turned a little flip when he paused, his hands resting on her shoulders. The harshness in his features eased into derision and weariness clouded his eyes. "If you imagine that, Lady Madelyne, then you are even more of a fool than I believed. " He made ready to lift her, but she stopped him, reaching out to place a light hand on his chest. It felt solid and warm beneath the shifting, chinking of his mail.
"I am no fool, my lord," she replied, suddenly annoyed at his persistence on that track. "An' if that is all you think of me, then-"
"Nay, Madelyne, that is not all that I think of you," he whispered, and suddenly he pulled her to him, his mouth slamming down onto hers.
Those lips that had moments before been hard and unyielding became soft and coaxing as they closed over her mouth that parted in surprise. They molded to hers, hot and smooth and slick, tasting of mint and sweat and man. . . Gavin. Gathered up against his solid chest, Madelyne felt the bumps of the mail and the bands of his arms holding her close, his hands cupping her head from behind. She fitted against his tall length, thigh to thigh, belly to belly, mouth to mouth. Her hand moved up to touch his thick, damp hair, and her fingers brushed the heat and moistness of his neck.
Her world spinning, Madelyne kissed him back, tasting him, tentatively caressing his mouth while his lips devoured hers-demanding from them, from her-leaving her breathless and her eyelids weighted closed. A fiery heat built within her, surging into her middle and down, lower, to pool ther
e where they fitted, hip to hip.
One of his arms slid to the base of her back, crushing her close, lifting her up against him as his mouth continued to coax and caress hers. She felt a thrill of surprise when his tongue slipped inside her, bringing all the heat and sleekness of his desire. He sighed into her, giving a short shudder, and dragged his lips away with a soft, deep-throated moan.
Gavin stared down at her, breathing heavily, his fingers sliding from the back of her neck to rest on her upper arms. He gazed at her for a long moment with hazy eyes, a myriad of emotions playing across his face before the harshness settled there again.
"As I said, Lady Madelyne, a fool is not all that I think of you. " His words were rough and hard. He continued to look at her with eyes that had cleared and flattened to match his tone as he gathered up Rule's reins. "I'll not apologize for that-nay-but I'll see that it does not happen again. Now, you will put your misguided self into my passable care until we reach Prentiss Keep, and then we shall start off for the king's court with a rested band of men and no more of my transgressions. "
Sanctuary of Roses Page 11
