A VOW TO KEEP (The Vengeance Trilogy)

by Lana Williams

  Royce’s breath halted when her finger aimed directly at him. How could she have spotted him?

  He released the breath in a whoosh when she kissed the boy’s cheek and left him standing guard with the men-at-arms, his stick raised and ready. She hastened down the path that skirted the forest and led to the small village nearby, taking her directly past him.

  Royce remained concealed behind the thick trees as she hurried by. The brief description he’d been given left him little doubt that she was indeed the one he’d come for but had not prepared him for her loveliness. Her white veil framed an elegant face blessed with alabaster skin. Her full lips were a deep red that drew a man’s eye and his thoughts toward more pleasurable pursuits. High cheekbones and dark brows emphasized large, amber-colored eyes, a color familiar to him.

  He stilled as she glanced at the trees where he hid. Her brow creased and her steps slowed as if she could feel his gaze. She perused the area more closely then continued on her way.

  Royce could see why his uncle, Lord Tegmont, was said to covet this woman. By the look of her father’s holding, her dowry would be small, but the lady herself was a prize for certain. It would give him great pleasure to snatch her from his uncle’s grasp and prevent their marriage. The thought of his uncle’s rage made Royce smile. If halting the wedding disappointed the lady, so be it. Her feelings were not his concern.

  He needed to move farther from the guards before he took action so followed her at a distance, curious to see where she went in such a rush. Surely, she’d return home before nightfall, and that meant he wouldn’t need to find a way into the manor to fetch his quarry after all, though he’d come prepared for a fight. This would be much easier than he’d hoped.

  ***

  Alyna glanced over her shoulder as she hurried toward Sarah’s cottage, unsure what caused her unease. She’d walked this path many times before and never had a worry. Nicholas was safely occupied on guard duty and out of Enid’s way. The maid had enough to do with the packing.

  Most likely her nervousness of what lay ahead this evening caused her concern. She needed to complete this one last errand and then all would be ready for their escape.

  “Lady Alyna,” called Sarah, the miller’s wife, from the distant door of her cottage, waving madly as though Alyna might not see her. “Good evening to you.”

  Rather than holler across half the meadow, Alyna merely returned the wave until she drew closer. “And to you, Sarah. Beatrice told me your stomach is ailing you.”

  The sturdy woman sighed as she laid a hand on her middle. “Indeed, my lady. I hated to bother you, but I’ve been miserable all the day.”

  “I’m pleased to help.” A sliver of guilt shot through Alyna. Who would help Sarah and the other villagers the next time they felt unwell?

  “We’re blessed to have you,” Sarah insisted as she led the way into her small cottage. “Why, you’re as skilled with those herbs as your sainted mother.”

  Alyna smiled, pleased by the compliment. She’d spent many pleasurable hours studying her mother’s herbal journal in the past four years, preparing remedies, and experimenting with poultices. She was proud of how many people she’d helped. There was much wisdom in the journal, and not all of it pertained to herbs.

  Myranda had added entries on the best use of various remedies as well, making the book all the more precious. Someday, Alyna would add comments of her own to pass on to another healer.

  She looked around the sparsely furnished miller’s home, realizing she might never again see Sarah or this cottage. A narrow trestle table and two benches were near the door. A bed with a small wooden trunk at the end of it stood against the back wall. Small, narrow slits in the walls allowed in the remaining daylight.

  A pang of regret shot through her. She would miss many of the people here, including Sarah. The past few days, she’d caught herself looking at the oddest things–the bench in her room, the cook, the herb garden–all with the realization that she’d never see that person or thing again. That both excited and frightened her. But the people most important to her would be with her.

  “We will miss you sorely.”

  Alarmed, Alyna looked up from the basket she’d set on the table. How could Sarah have possibly found out they were leaving?

  The woman frowned, obviously confused by Alyna’s expression. “When you marry Lord Tegmont.”

  Relief made her knees weak. “Oh, aye, of course.”

  With luck, Charles, Enid, Nicholas, and she would be gone come morning and not so that she could become Lord Tegmont’s fourth wife. Certainly not when the third one was freshly buried. She shivered at the thought.

  Though she feared her grandfather remained out of the country as he hadn’t responded to her message, she’d determined to set out for his holding anyway. She had nowhere else to go and time was slipping away, stealing her options. “It will be a new experience to be away from home.”

  Alyna mixed the dried peppermint with hot water. “Let this steep then sip it slowly. I’ll leave you with some in case your stomach pains you again.”

  She bid Sarah goodbye, anxious to get back to the manor before darkness fell completely. Nicholas hadn’t wanted her to leave and the sooner she got back, the sooner she could calm his restlessness and help Enid finish packing.

  She stepped out of the cottage and realized dusk had arrived quicker than she’d expected. She pulled her cloak tighter to guard against the cool, spring air and walked briskly up the path in the fading light.

  The thought of leaving home and all that was familiar frightened her, but her father left her no choice. The betrothal he’d arranged to Lord Tegmont was unacceptable. Surely the marriage was the plan of which Myranda had warned her. That aside, her father had told her she’d have to leave Nicholas behind when she married Tegmont.

  Nothing on this earth would part her from her son. Each day, she gave thanks for the love and joy he brought her.

  Her relationship with Nicholas was the one area she defied her father though she did her best to hide it for fear he’d send Nicholas away. The times he’d noticed her attachment to the boy had resulted in heated arguments, but Alyna refused to change how she treated Nicholas. Her father had been livid when he’d first heard Nicholas call her mama, but Alyna had held her ground. Still the awful possibilities of what her father might do to Nicholas if she wasn’t constantly on guard made her desperate with fear. Myranda had given her a precious gift and Alyna would do anything to keep her son safe.

  Marriage and a family of her own had always been a dream of hers, but she knew few men would marry a woman such as she. She had only a small dowry and was nothing much to look upon, as her father often told her. Her long, dark hair held no curl. Her eyes were a strange amber color that might’ve looked better upon a cat. Her figure was too slim.

  And she’d come to realize no man would want to raise another man’s child as his own.

  Some time ago, Alyna had reconciled herself to the idea of never marrying. After all, she had her own family in Nicholas, Charles, and Enid. What more did she need?

  She’d been convinced her father wouldn’t allow her to leave as he relied on her to manage Montvue. She was an only child, and her father treated her more as servant than daughter. Never before had he brought up the subject of marriage. Not until Tegmont. The thought of the lord made her shudder with unease.

  The last time she’d seen Lord Tegmont had been at a banquet held at Montvue over a year ago when his third wife had still been alive.

  He was a distinguished looking man, tall with a long, narrow face framed by black hair with eyes that matched. Eyes that unsettled her with their unwavering regard despite sitting beside his wife. She’d seemed a timid thing and had remained at his side most of the evening. Alyna had been uncomfortable in his presence and done her best to avoid him, but had often felt the weight of his gaze on her.

  Much to her dismay, he’d cornered her on her way to the kitchen. She could still feel him leani
ng over her, his hands caressing her shoulders through the thinness of her gown.

  “Lady Alyna,” he’d whispered. “What a beautiful woman you’ve become.” He’d stood so close to her that his breath brushed her neck as he spoke. Something in his dark eyes had seemed unbalanced, evil even.

  She eased back, but he followed. “Thank you, my lord. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve an errand in the kitchen I must see to.”

  “A lady as lovely as you has no place in the kitchen. You should be waited upon hand and foot.” He drew a finger slowly along her collarbone just above the neck of her gown.

  Stunned by his forwardness, Alyna backed up again only to be blocked by the wall. “My lord, I believe your wife needs you.” She’d slipped away when he’d looked back into the hall where he’d left his wife.

  She’d come away from the brief encounter aware she’d had a narrow escape. Now she would make her escape for good, and her father would have to pay someone to run the manor in her place.

  While prepared to do her duty as a lady and marry, she couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of her life with someone who made the hair on the back of her neck rise.

  Rumors told of Tegmont’s involvement with a group of barons unhappy with King Henry III. What they plotted and planned was anyone’s guess, but now her father had become embroiled with them. Alyna knew his involvement had been a catalyst for him arranging her marriage to Tegmont.

  Tegmont’s timid third wife had died not long ago, God rest her soul. Some whispered that her death had not been an accident, nor had the deaths of the wives before her. None of them had given him an heir. The thought of him touching her made Alyna shudder with horror.

  She neared the place where the path edged the forest. The budding trees looked quite cheerful in the day, but now, their dark branches loomed over her. The dense undergrowth and dim light made the path difficult to see.

  Her heart pounded and her breath quickened. What was there about this spot today that caused her such disquiet? Shaking her head at her overactive senses, she walked faster but kept a careful eye on her surroundings as she hurried along.

  A shadow moved on her right and fear tore through her. The shape shifted again until it took the form of broad shoulders. Before she could scream, a hand covered her mouth and an arm caught her around the waist.

  “I wish you no harm, my lady,” a deep voice whispered in her ear.

  Alyna responded by driving her elbow into the man’s stomach. Her elbow struck chain mail and vibrated with pain. She stomped on his foot, but received only a grunt in response. She slammed her basket into the man’s face. Her captor loosened his grip, and she ran.

  Hope of escape filled her as she raced toward the manor gate. She made it two steps, then five. The edge of the clearing was just ahead, where the guards would be able to see her.

  The man’s body slammed into hers. She hit the ground with a force that left her breathless. Immobile and disoriented, she lay on her side, trying to make sense of what had happened. Her attacker’s hard form lay partly under her, as if he’d twisted to take the brunt of the fall.

  He eased to the side and leaned over her, his hand again covering her mouth. She could make out the slash of his brows, the strength of his jaw, and the scrape left by her basket on his cheek. He was a handsome man and wore a knight’s attire. What could he possibly want with her?

  “I need you to come with me, my lady.” The deep timbre of his voice echoed through her.

  Her stomach knotted with panic. She struggled against his firm grip and tried to pry his hand off her mouth. Her basket was gone, so she groped for a rock or stick to strike him with.

  “Hold,” he demanded.

  But Alyna had no intention of complying. She continued her search for something to aid her when he grabbed her hands with his and held tight. “Your grandfather sent me.”

  Alyna stilled, trying to determine if she’d heard him right. She tugged at his hand on her mouth and this time, he allowed her to ease it off. “What?”

  “Lord Blackwell sent me.” The knight watched her closely, his distrust of her obvious.

  “I don’t believe you.” Alyna’s maternal grandfather had been out of England for years. To her knowledge, he’d left soon after her mother’s death and hadn’t returned since. He spent his time in Brittany and Poitou on the king’s business. She’d sent an urgent message to her grandfather’s holding regarding her betrothal with the dim hope that he’d returned to England, but had received no answer.

  Alyna refused to allow her hopes to build from a few words spoken by the knight. “I don’t believe you.” She repeated her words with more force.

  “I realize you’re anxious to marry Lord Tegmont, but your grandfather would like to speak with you first.”

  His sarcastic tone confused her, as did his words. Had her grandfather received her message after all? “Why did he not come himself?”

  “That was not possible.”

  Alyna studied the knight closely. “Who are you that you do my grandfather’s bidding? Why did you not announce your presence at Montvue if you represent Blackwell?”

  The knight smiled but no humor was evident. Alyna’s stomach tightened in response. “Surely you realize your father would not welcome a delay of your wedding while you disappear to discuss the matter with your grandfather.”

  Alyna had to admit the knight had the truth of the matter. “Who are you?”

  “Sir Royce de Bremont.”

  His name was not familiar to her. “Why should I believe any of what you’ve told me?”

  The knight leaned closer. Alyna caught his scent, a clean, earthy fragrance combined with the tang of sweat. His eyes were the same color of slate blue reflected in the darkening sky above him. A nasty scar marked the corner of his eye. “I give you my word as a knight that I speak the truth.”

  Something about him made her want to believe him, but she wasn’t so naïve as to think she could trust a stranger.

  “You have your grandfather’s eyes.”

  Alyna stared at the knight, her doubts melting away. Few people knew that. Apparently, he spoke the truth.

  He continued to gaze at her, as though he could convince her by his stare alone. Never before had she been the sole focus of a man such as he. And never had she felt a man’s weight upon her. Warmth spread along the length of her body at every point they touched. Heat suffused her face. She was grateful for the dusk to hide her blush.

  Uncomfortable with these strange, new feelings as well as the knight’s stare, she berated him. “You could think of no better way to tell me this than to frighten me half to death?”

  A flash of movement caught Alyna’s attention out of the corner of her eye. To her amazement, Nicholas rammed the knight’s shoulder with his stick.

  “What the hell?” The knight rolled off of her and jumped to his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  “Nicholas!” Alyna cried out.

  Nicholas looked at Alyna as though to make certain she was all right before he looked back at the knight. His little face held a fierce expression, and he kept the stick pointed at the knight. “Don’t hurt Mama!”

  Alyna scrambled to her feet and put herself in front of Nicholas. “Don’t you dare draw that sword!”

  The knight dropped his hand, shaking his head. His confused gaze took in the pair of them before lighting on Alyna. “You have a son?”

  Alyna reached for Nicholas. The little boy needed no urging and jumped into her arms to bury his face in her neck, holding her tight. “Aye.”

  The man shook his head as he paced before them. “I was not told you had a child.”

  Alyna ignored him as she kissed Nicholas’s head, her arms trembling as she held him tight. “What a brave boy you are, Nicholas. How did you get here?”

  The boy shrugged in response and cuddled closer. “You needed me.”

  The knight shook his head once again. “Who else should I be on guard against?” He glanced warily
at the bushes and trees nearby.

  The expression on his face nearly made Alyna smile. She could hardly believe that Nicholas had managed to escape the guards and find her, let alone strike the knight with the stick. He might only be just past four years, but he was an amazing little boy.

  The knight offered her his hand. “Let us go.”

  “I need to fetch my servants and our things.” Alyna took his hand and rose with Nicholas on her hip. Her grandfather had obviously returned home and gotten her message even though he’d chosen an unorthodox way of responding. The accompaniment of a knight would make their journey far easier. This was more than she’d hoped for. “We’ll be ready shortly.”

  The knight kept her hand in his. “Nay, my lady. We leave now.”

  Alyna pulled her hand away. “Nay. We do not. It will only take a few minutes to gather everything.”

  “I have enough for all of us. A little one such as he can’t eat much.” The knight bent over until he was eye to eye with Nicholas. “I mean your mother no harm, so no more sticks. Understood?”

  Nicholas stared at the man for a long moment. He lifted his hand and touched the knight’s cheek, his expression solemn. “You won’t hurt Mama?”

  The knight startled at Nicholas’s touch. “Nay. But both of you must come with me. Now.”

  Nicholas dropped his hand and looked at Alyna. He nodded, as though giving his permission.

  “After I fetch my servants and our things,” Alyna repeated.

  “You can send for them later if you wish.”

  Scared, Alyna pulled Nicholas closer, unsure what to do. Unsure she had any choice in the matter. “Where is my grandfather?”

  “He awaits you at his holding, Northe Castle. I will take you to him.” Sir Royce grasped her elbow. “We must leave now, my lady. After you’ve spoken with Blackwell, you can send for the others.”

  Fear pulsed through Alyna. Just when she thought her problems were solved, he refused to cooperate. “I will not accompany you unless my servants come with me. I must have some sort of escort. Surely my grandfather would agree with that.”