A VOW TO KEEP (The Vengeance Trilogy)

by Lana Williams

  “What happened to your cheek?” Hugh stood beside Royce as his horse drank its fill from the small stream. He peered closer yet. “That’s a nasty scratch.”

  Royce looked at him to determine if he was being deliberately obtuse. “The lady is more resourceful than she looks.”

  “Really?” From Hugh’s tone, he apparently found the idea fascinating and continued to examine the mark with great interest.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Humph.” Hugh pursed his lips. “Didn’t she want to accompany you? Do you think she desires the match with Tegmont? Surely she wants to know what her grandfather has to say.”

  “Aye, she seems eager to meet with him, but she wanted to return to the manor to fetch her servants. Apparently she fears for their safety as her father might take his anger out on them when he realizes she’s disappeared. I had a difficult time convincing her to come with me.” Royce tethered his horse nearby. “As for whether or not she wants the match, I cannot say. She has not advised me of that. She did tell me she sent a message to Northe Castle.”

  “There was no message.”

  “She insists there was. One more mystery for us to solve.” Royce sniffed the air in appreciation. Whatever Kenneth had cooking in that pot smelled marvelous. “Have there been any more raids?”

  “Nay. It has been quiet since you left. Too quiet. ’Tis why I took some of the men and came looking for you.”

  Royce smiled. “Your concern for me is touching.”

  “It wasn’t your ugly face I worried about, although now I can see I should’ve worried.” He eyed Royce’s face yet again then sobered. “It wouldn’t do for us to allow harm to come to the lady.”

  “Nay.” Against his will and certainly against his better judgment, Royce’s gaze found Lady Alyna.

  She walked with more ease than before, her stiffness only slightly evident now. Nicholas trotted by her side, then stopped to pick up a stick. The pair made their way over to where Kenneth stood by the fire. Alyna spoke to him, and the cook beamed with pride. He wasted no time dishing up what looked like stew into a wooden bowl. He placed a chunk of bread on top of it and handed it to her with a smile bright enough to light the darkest cave. Then he gave a smaller portion to Nicholas, squatting down to look the boy in the eye.

  Royce knew if he wasn’t more careful, the lady would have him grinning like an idiot and jumping to do her bidding as well. He shook his head at his fanciful thoughts.

  “We’d best get our meal afore Kenneth forgets to save some for us,” Hugh said. He scowled at Kenneth as though the man had already committed the sin.

  ***

  Royce had to admit he did feel much better with a full stomach. But he didn’t say it aloud. Of late, he’d found it more and more difficult to endure time spent away from the comforts of a warm bed and a good meal. Truth be told, he was weary of fighting, weary of traveling, and weary of waiting. He was more than ready to lay claim to what was his by right and would soon be by might.

  Before long, they were back on the horses. Uneasiness filled him, but he was uncertain as to why. The sooner they arrived at Northe Castle, and he placed Lady Alyna safely into Lord Blackwell’s hands, the happier he’d be. The lady was a distraction he did not need.

  He pushed the group as hard as he dared. Guilt shot through him as Alyna sighed and shifted restlessly yet again. The boy had ridden with them a short while, then had agreed to ride with Hugh. It hadn’t taken long for the child to fall asleep in Hugh’s arms.

  Royce knew Alyna was tired and sore. And he also knew that if he slowed the pace or better yet, stopped for the night, it would be much easier on her, but something drove him on.

  Hugh looked at him more than once with a question in his eyes, but had refrained from voicing his opinion.

  Just before dusk, Royce called a halt at the edge of a clearing underneath a gnarled oak, pleased with their progress. They would easily arrive at Northe Castle by midday on the morrow. Hugh, with the help of Nicholas, directed the men to set up camp, leaving Royce to assist Alyna.

  He slid off his horse, aware of how he must smell, a combination of sweat and horse. He brushed aside his sudden self-consciousness and reached for Alyna.

  She shook her head.

  Royce paused, puzzled. “You don’t wish to dismount, my lady?”

  “I don’t think I can,” she said, her expression doubtful. “I’ve tried to shift my legs, but they won’t budge.”

  Angry with himself for pushing her so hard, he put his hands upon her waist. “I’ll move slowly and won’t let you go until you tell me to.”

  “Promise?”

  A surge of possessiveness shot through Royce, taking him by surprise. He’d never thought he desired to hear such a request from a woman’s lips. It was unfortunate she didn’t mean it the way he wished. He held her gaze, those familiar amber eyes reminding him of his duty to her grandfather. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

  Embarrassed, Alyna lowered her gaze. Why had she asked such a thing? He must think her an idiot. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he eased her off the horse. Sharp pains shot through her legs and hips. She gritted her teeth until the hurt eased. Royce watched her expression closely, so she tried to hide her anguish as best she could.

  “Better?”

  She nodded, not certain she could yet speak. Unfortunately, he took her agreement as permission to set her on her feet. She sucked in her breath at the pain, certain someone jabbed red-hot pokers into her thighs.

  Royce immediately lifted her so she didn’t bear all of her weight. Then slowly, he released her. “How is that?”

  “Good. My thanks, sir.” Now, if she could just get him to go away until she had a chance to try to actually move her legs, she’d be much happier. No need to embarrass herself any further. “I’ll walk around a bit to ease the stiffness.”

  His gray eyes still intent on her face, he moved to her side and kept one hand about her waist, prepared to accompany her.

  “I’ll be fine if you’ve other things that require your attention.” She gave him a smile and a wave of her hand to encourage him to be on his way. To prove her steadiness, she took a small step and found the pain had already eased. A few more steps and his arm no longer supported her. That was both a relief and a disappointment.

  She closed her eyes, annoyed with herself. This handsome knight had caused her such fright and worry, yet somehow she admired him, liked him even. In truth, she was starting to depend on him. While he’d shown her nothing but kindness since they’d left Montvue, she needed to remember what he was capable of–he’d pushed aside her wishes and put his own first when he’d taken her from home. He was a stranger and his kindness to her and Nicholas was no reason to trust him.

  Anger bubbled forth and she looked over her shoulder at him to find him watching her, an odd expression on his face.

  Unable to stop herself, she said, “You may think you know what’s best for others, but the day will come when someone will insist their way is right and you’ll be powerless to stop them.”

  She turned away to look for Nicholas, pleased that for once she’d spoken her mind.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “A draught made of mullein can aid ox suffering

  from coughs. The difficulty lies in getting

  the stubborn creatures to take it.”

  Lady Catherine’s Herbal Journal

  Lord Tegmont drank deeply of the cool amber ale, the finest he’d ever tasted and far different than the rot served at his own table.

  His arse was cradled by a chair, the cushion embroidered with gold thread, nothing like the hard pine bench at his keep.

  Ornate tapestries draped the walls of the great hall along with a fine display of weaponry that told all who entered of Lord Stanwick’s wealth. Even the servants’ clothing was nicer than the ragged ones his wore.

  Wealth changed everything for a man–every moment of a lord’s day and night. If this meeting went well, soon he’d exper
ience that for himself.

  “Henry’s got to go and soon,” Lord Stanwick demanded as he slammed his cup to the table, splashing the ale.

  Tegmont hid a smile as he set his cup down with care, not wanting to waste it. Already it seemed the lords here were in agreement and willing to do more than simply talk about it.

  “He wastes the taxes we pay on his damned Poitevin relatives,” Lord Cummins said.

  “England needs his attention and his money,” Tegmont added. “If he’d award some of the barons on his own shores who deserve it, our country would be all the stronger.”

  “But how do we get rid of Henry?” Cummings asked, always the practical one. “A war is the last thing England needs.”

  “True,” Lord Markett agreed, the most cautious of the group. “The last revolt was far from successful.”

  The momentum of the conversation died. Silence reigned as the four men at the table eyed each other warily.

  Tegmont waited, his nerves stretched taut, but no one stepped forward with a plan. He didn’t want to be the instigator in case things went awry yet it seemed he had no choice.

  “Mayhap those barons loyal to Henry could be convinced to change their mind,” Tegmont suggested, as though the idea had just come to him.

  “How?” Cummins asked, his bushy brows drawn together.

  “If trouble should befall them, they’d see things differently,” Tegmont said, hoping his comment would provide one of the other lords with an idea.

  “Speak plainly, Tegmont,” Stanwick insisted. “What do you mean?”

  Realizing subtly was getting him nowhere, Tegmont leaned forward and lowered his voice. “We eliminate them, one by one, starting with Pimbroke.”

  Markett shifted in his chair, obviously uncomfortable at the idea.

  Stanwick slammed his fist on the table. “Brilliant. When they realize Henry cannot protect them, they’ll see things our way.”

  “Are you volunteering for this task?” Cummins asked.

  “Nay.” Tegmont paused as though considering the question further. “I know of some mercenaries who have aided me in the past. They might be willing to help us, for the right price of course.” He drew a slow breath to savor this moment. Years of plotting for power and wealth were at last coming to fruition.

  Soon the details were confirmed and the lords prepared to depart.

  “Tegmont, I offer you both my condolences and my congratulations,” Stanwick said.

  “Aye,” Cummins added. “You’ve lost a wife but quickly found a replacement for her and a young one at that.”

  Lust speared through Tegmont at the mention of Alyna. He could hardly remember what his other wives looked like. “Hopefully my new bride will ease my grief.”

  Markett slapped him on the back. “You run through wives quicker than most men run through horses.”

  Tegmont gritted his teeth. Was it his fault that none of his wives had given him a son? Obviously not. They’d left him no choice but to replace them. He’d taken Larkspur with the intent to build a strong family with many sons. At times he worried his actions had cursed him for he had yet to sire even one heir. But he knew marriage to Alyna would be different.

  Everything in his life was changing for the better.

  ***

  Lady Alyna’s words haunted Royce as they settled the camp for the night. She had the truth of it. He’d manipulated her to suit his plans. Though he realized he’d frightened her and caused her worry over her servants, he did think he knew best. He couldn’t risk the possibility of her father discovering her departure. Nor could he risk taking it slow on the journey. Speed was of the essence.

  Alyna would be much surprised to find that he’d already been subjected to one more powerful than he. His uncle. In one horrible night many years ago, everything he’d held dear had been taken away. He promised himself it would never happen again. But he soon learned the desires of a young boy counted for nothing. He’d been at the mercy of those who thought they knew best what his path in life should be.

  Now, he was master of his own destiny. Mayhap he’d forgotten the frustration and resentment that being powerless could generate. He’d need Lady Alyna’s assistance in the days ahead, and she was unlikely to provide that if she was angry with him.

  Again he wondered at the depth of Alyna’s affection for Tegmont. Was part of her frustration and anger due to worry over her marriage being delayed? Though tempted to simply ask if she cared for his uncle, she had no reason to trust him with an honest answer. Besides, it was none of his affair. That subject was for her grandfather to broach with her.

  Getting it off his mind was another matter. An image of Alyna in his uncle’s embrace filled his head.

  He had little stomach for the evening meal.

  Annoyed with himself, he focused on his duties and posted two guards to keep watch and set two more to relieve them halfway through the night. Then he looked for Alyna. Hugh had made a bed of sorts for her, and she sat upon it near the fire. Nicholas lay asleep tucked beside her. The fire highlighted her cheekbones and revealed the shadows under her eyes. She was obviously exhausted. But what struck him more than anything else was the sadness that etched her features.

  She glanced up at him as he sat beside her, but said nothing. He was almost disappointed. His respect for her had increased another notch when she’d spoken her mind to him earlier.

  “We should reach Northe Castle by midday on the morrow,” he told her.

  She nodded, but remained quiet.

  Uncomfortable with her silence, he searched his mind for something to say. “How old is the boy?”

  She turned her head and studied him, as though trying to determine if he asked the question out of genuine interest or if he was making conversation. “Just past four years.”

  Royce pondered her answer. He’d been around few children, but he would’ve thought Nicholas much older than that. How old had she been when she’d become a mother? And who was the child’s father?

  Before he could satisfy his curiosity, she lay down snuggled next to her son and pulled the fur covers over both of them, clearly finished with their brief conversation.

  ***

  Alyna awoke to a strange tremor shaking her body. She rolled over to find Royce quivering, obviously gripped in the throes of a nightmare.

  “Royce?” She rose on an elbow and put her hand on his shoulder. “Royce?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her. Or rather, through her. His large body shuddered. He gripped the hilt of his sword and for a hair’s breadth, she thought he meant to use it on her. Darkness hid his expression, but she knew it took him a few moments to orient himself.

  “Are you well?” Though he hadn’t moved, she felt as though he’d stepped back from her and gone to a place she couldn’t follow. She withdrew her hand, uncomfortable with the contact. “Is all well?”

  He sat up and looked around the camp. “I’m fine. ’Twas nothing but a dream.”

  A dream? She’d wager her last coin that it was more like a nightmare, and a terrible one at that. “Aye. A dream.”

  She patted his shoulder, unsure what caused her to want to comfort him. A quick glance at Nicholas ensured that he still slept. The dim glow from the coals of the campfire revealed the forms of the other men and none stirred.

  “Rest, my lady,” Royce said as he rose. “I’m going to check on the guards.”

  Alyna watched him walk away, concern for him heavy on her mind. She could only imagine what type of nightmare would have the power to disturb a man like Royce. The thought of such a vision caused her to shudder, and she burrowed under her covers to keep watch for his return.

  ***

  Royce moved away from Alyna, grateful for the darkness and the cool night air. One hid the emotions he could not cover and the other helped calm them.

  He could just make out Hugh in the dim light. His friend rose up on an elbow, but Royce motioned for him to remain where he was. Royce walked the perimeter of the c
amp, noting all was in order even as his mind processed the nightmare.

  It had been some time since he’d last had it. Visions of his parents’ deaths had filled his nights for a long time after they’d died. They eased as time passed. Of late, he only dreamed of it when he was upset or extremely fatigued.

  The question was, what had brought it on this night? To his knowledge, he was neither upset nor especially tired.

  Mayhap it was a reminder. A reminder for him to concentrate on what was truly important.

  Vengeance.

  He fingered the amulet held by a leather thong around his neck tucked in his tunic. The coolness of the blue stone helped to calm him and keep him focused on his goal. His uncle would pay for his greed and jealousy. The people who lived under Tegmont’s rule would soon be free from his tyranny.

  It had taken Royce many years to understand what would make a man turn against his own brother, his own flesh and blood. Royce had seen traces of that trait in other men, men who thought they were entitled to take what didn’t belong to them. Somehow, earning it for themselves never entered their minds.

  Honor was nothing but an empty term Tegmont used at his convenience. Not something he felt in his soul. Not something that guided every decision he made. Not something he lived every day.

  For Royce, it gave his life purpose. And he would use honor when he fulfilled his vow and at last made his uncle pay.

  ***

  Alyna next awoke to the sound of Nicholas crying. She bolted upright, heart pounding, scanning the camp to locate him.

  Royce sat on the ground and held her son gently in his arms. Even as she watched, Nicholas’s tears subsided. The two of them examined Nicholas’s skinned knee with great interest. Something Royce said made Nicholas giggle in response.

  Warmth pooled in the region of Alyna’s heart. The strong knight had a gentle side.