My Once & Future Love (Unsung Knights of the Round Table #1)

by Ruth Kaufman

  “What’ve I done wrong, Sir Roger?” the boy wailed. “I’m a hard worker, I am.”

  After unsheathing his sword, Sir Roger raised it high. “I’ll grant one last chance for the true culprit to come forward. If he confesses, all will enjoy my mercy.” Still holding the boy’s wrist, Roger looked around the hall. No one met his gaze. “Well? Please let me spare the boy. If harm comes to him, the guilty party and whoever protects him are to blame. Not I.”

  He waited. No one moved.

  The boy’s soft whimpers were the only sound.

  She couldn’t. Her son had to come first.

  “Very well, then,” he said with a sigh. “All of you have to live with knowing this is your fault. I insist that everyone watches. And learn what it means to disobey me.”

  Tears filled Emma’s eyes. Only she could save the poor boy. She held her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out. How could she let another woman’s son be mutilated to save her own? Would God forgive her?

  Roger sliced off the boy’s hand with a loud whack, embedding the edge of his sword in the table. Clutching his bleeding stump, the boy ran screaming from the room. Emma looked away, the small, bloody hand beside the sword making her sick.

  The rest of the servants swallowed their cries.

  “Know this. Should anyone, for any reason come to Annora’s aid again, worse will befall him,” Roger declared. “I’ve told you she’s mad and will do whatever it takes to persuade you to her cause. I endeavor only to protect you from her wiles. I alone care for her, as I’m duty bound as her guardian.” He tugged his sword free and held up the blood-streaked weapon, a grim reminder of his power. “Don’t think to leave Amberton, or I’ll track you down and hunt you as you’d deserve for deserting your post.”

  Emma quailed as Roger stormed from the hall, wine bottle in hand. Roger, not Annora, was mad, with his fits of rage and his violent ways, but no one seemed to be able to stop him. No one dared. Especially not since ap Lewis’s men had arrived.

  She sobbed into her apron. How could she tell Annora what had happened? Her mistress would insist Emma and Albert stop trying to free her. Annora would be desolate to know any of her people had suffered so in defense of her honor. She’d hate being reminded of how helpless she was to aid or compensate the boy and his family for his suffering and loss.

  Emma wouldn’t desert her lady. She’d offer aid any chance she got.

  But if she and Albert weren’t careful, one of them would be punished next.

  She flexed her hands.

  * * *

  God had surely forsaken her this time.

  How many days had she been locked away? How many times had Roger beaten her because she wouldn’t sign Amberton over to him? Annora had lost count.

  At least he hadn’t raped her since she’d returned. How very sad not being raped was all she had left to be thankful for. She had no tears left to cry.

  Wearing only her chemise, Annora stood before her round mirror. No worse than she expected. Her face and eyes were swollen. She could barely see out of her right eye. Much of her body had turned black and blue and green from Roger’s beatings.

  Not that she really cared how she looked. But the pain accompanying the bruises, the hopelessness driving her to the edge…. The slightest movement hurt, from breathing to walking to turning a page in a book. Even thinking hurt, for it reminded her how she’d failed to take control of her life, failed her people. Thinking prompted her to accept she was no longer of any use to anyone. All she’d lost. All she yet stood to lose if she acted upon her final plan. Her very soul.

  There’d be no going back. Because she’d reached the end of her rope.

  Emma had told her Roger intercepted her neighbor’s reply to her plea for help. And written back of her lunacy. Her neighbor had been her last chance.

  She had three choices left. Continue to subject herself to Roger’s cruelty. Sign everything over to him and pray he’d follow through on his promise to set her free, but her people would still suffer.

  Or die.

  Amberton and its residents were all that mattered now. She’d do this, commit this sin, for them. Maybe God would forgive her heinous act because of her motive and the results. Upon her death, everything she owned reverted to the king. Surely King Edward would seek prosperity from her lands and find a lord who would cultivate wealth rather than drink the profits away and be cruel to her people.

  Carefully, Annora climbed into her high bed. She didn’t seek sleep. She wanted to spend her last hours thinking of Morgan and the joy they’d shared so briefly. Lying peacefully, eyes closed, she reminisced about each day they’d spent together.

  As night greeted morning, she eased her stiffened muscles and calmly dressed in a simple gown. No sense wasting one of her best. She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of Ninian saying similar words to Morgan in her apothecary shop before they played their tricks on her.

  Waiting for Emma set her nerves on edge. Would her faithful maid come to her aid one last time? Had she found a way to steal the key? If Annora hadn’t been so desperate to end her circle of suffering, she never would’ve allowed Emma to take such a risk on her behalf.

  The key turned in the lock, but much later than she and Emma had planned. She tensed, then grimaced at the pain. Who stood on the other side?

  “Emma. Thank God.”

  “No easy task. Sir Roger sleeps with his keys. He drank enough to sink a ship, but fell asleep on his stomach. When I tried to get him to roll over, he almost rolled onto me. We must hurry, he could wake at any moment.”

  “What took so long?”

  “He had some wench in his bed. I had to wait until she left.”

  “Oh, Emma. There’s no way I can repay you for all you’ve done.” She’d written a letter bequeathing a large sum to Emma, if the king would allow it. Roger had stolen her seal, and she had no way of knowing if her wishes would be complied with.

  “Are you sure, Annora? Are you absolutely sure there’s no other way?’

  “I am.”

  She left her chamber for the first time in days. Weeks? She couldn’t relish her momentary freedom because of the stunned looks and gasps as she passed servants, who she acknowledged with nods and brief greetings.

  Annora ascended the many steps to the highest watchtower, then walked to the battlements. Catching her breath, she climbed up to stand in a crenel, bending a bit to grasp the merlons on either side for support. Such a beautiful view from atop her castle, blue skies above rolling hills as far as the eye could see, with a dusting of red-gold from the last autumn leaves. As always, the vast countryside brought her a sense of peace. For the final time.

  Icy winds bit through her gown. Her hair swirled around her face. She was cold, hungry, bruised, missing Morgan…no matter. Soon she’d feel no more.

  No one could survive a fall from such a height. At last she would be free. At peace. And her people should thrive.

  Emma stood nearby, weeping.

  Annora twisted, pain spreading up her side. “Emma, what else can I do?”

  “Wait, just a bit longer. Albert sent your other letters to Ninian and the sheriff. One of them should send help soon. At any moment. Maybe Morgan’s already on his way.”

  Morgan. How Annora wished she could see him, feel his arms around her again. Just the joy of another moment to look at him, see his smile, would suffice.

  “Those messages were smuggled out ages ago.” Many beatings ago. “Ninian and I didn’t part on the best of terms. Maybe she chose not to help this time. If the sheriff shows up, Roger will find a way to convince him all is well. I’m alone but for you, and can’t endanger you or Albert any longer. Roger’s beatings grow worse and more frequent. His anger mounts. I fear he might injure someone else.”

  “Killing yourself is a sin,” Emma whispered, barely audible over the wind.

  Annora should’ve feared for her immortal soul, but the misery of her existence wiped away such concerns. “My dear friend,
I can’t thank you enough for your devotion. Whatever you can take of my belongings is yours. My final request is for you to notify the king of my death as fast as you can so he’ll remove Roger from Amberton. Please, go inside. There’s no need for you to stay.”

  “Fare thee well, then, mistress. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more.” Tears streamed down Emma’s rounded cheeks. Annora couldn’t bear the pity in her maid’s eyes as she turned to leave.

  Annora felt strangely serene, strangely warmed as winds whipped her gown. So her last thoughts would be of him, she held onto his necklace, closed her eyes and imagined making love with Morgan.

  Suddenly the door flew open, wind slamming it against the wall with a loud bang. Roger ran through, sleeping attire revealing his jiggling flesh. Several of ap Lewis’s borrowed men marched after him, swords at the ready.

  This one thing she would control. Bending her knees, she prepared to jump. A hand grabbed her gown and jerked her backward. She clasped the merlons, stone grating under her nails as Roger tugged at her, trying to drag her off the crenel.

  “Damn you, bitch. Get down.”

  “No!” she cried. “Let me go.”

  He squeezed the back of her arms, knowing where bruises made her most vulnerable.

  She bit back a scream of pain. All was lost. Roger had caught her again.

  “Do you see how ill she is?” Roger asked the men. “Jumping to certain death? Help me save her this instant.”

  Annora struggled, but he was stronger. He pulled her to safety.

  “This is the only way to be rid of you,” she called out. “The only way to get you out of Amberton and save my people from your tyranny. Keeping me alive was your only hope of possessing Amberton. There’ll be no lies you can tell that are convincing enough to make my lands yours when I’m dead.”

  His face turned an alarming shade of red. “I won’t lose Amberton. I’ll say I found a new will leaving everything to me,” Roger sputtered, gesticulating wildly, releasing her. “I’ll write it myself. I’ll—”

  Had he forgotten the soldiers, potential witnesses atop the watchtower? Likely they’d lie for him.

  She had to jump before Roger grabbed her again. She scrambled back onto the stone wall.

  “Annora, no!”

  Morgan ran through the open door, sword drawn.

  Shock made her lose her balance. As she teetered, she reached for the merlons. Winds buffeted her. Her slippered feet lost purchase.

  She fell.

  Her hands slammed against the stone as she plummeted, agony rushing up her arms. She grabbed hold of the ledge. Grit and sharp edges bit into her fingertips as she clung with all her might. Winds tore at her. She fought the urge to look down.

  Above her, swords clanged, men shouted. Emma appeared in the crenel. She pulled on Annora’s arms to no avail. The maid was too short to reach far enough over the wall.

  “I can’t hold on much longer!” Annora cried.

  Her arms burned, her fingers were about to snap. But she had to last so she could see Morgan. She had everything to live for now. Morgan is here. He came for me. Her prayers had been answered.

  She swung a leg up, but couldn’t kick high enough.

  Emma gripped her forearms, relieving some of the pressure.

  “Get him, damn you,” Roger shouted.

  Suddenly streaks bright as lightning ripped across the cloudy sky and zoomed down to the battlements. Something sizzled. A man screamed. Then another. She heard several thumps.

  What was going on up there? Her arms trembled from the strain of supporting her weight. Pain seared her shoulders and fingers. Fear sliced colder than the wind. She was losing her grip.

  Then Morgan took Emma’s place. His silver hair tossed in the gusts, his muscles bulged as he lifted her to safety.

  Unable to speak over her pounding heart, Annora closed her eyes and clung to him. His fingers dug into her arms, but she relished this pain. It meant he cared for her. It meant she was alive and safe.

  Morgan slid his arms around her and held her close. His heart thudded against her chest.

  “Annora, Annora. When I saw you fall, I couldn’t bear it,” Morgan said. “I thought I’d lost you.” His hand cupped her cheek. When she opened her eyes, he asked in a low tone, “What were you thinking?”

  Surely tears gathered in his eyes because of the harsh winds.

  “I was a prisoner. Again. Roger’s beatings wore me down. I had no hope of freedom, and my death would’ve saved my home from Roger. But now….” She smiled. “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone. Though it’s hard to believe you’re really here. You’re a dream come true. You saved me.”

  Annora peered around Morgan. Bodies littered the ground. Somehow he’d single-handedly defeated all these men, just like the day ap Lewis’s men tied him to the oak tree and she fled to the woods.

  “How did you do this?” Her voice was filled with awe. “Are they dead?”

  “They’re alive, but should remain unconscious for a while.”

  He’d ignored her first question. “Why did you come? Did Ninian send for you?”

  “No. Ap Lewis told me he’d sent some of his men to Roger. Before I killed him.”

  “You vanquished ap Lewis?” Still holding onto Morgan as if she’d never let him go, Annora looked up at him. He was even more handsome than she remembered, with his long, wind-tousled silver hair and sculpted features, and his wonderful, changeable eyes, now a stormy blue-green. He was here, in her arms.

  “It was either him or me. He wanted me to force my father to do as he bid. When I refused, he vowed to entrap me, too.” He pushed her tangled hair from her face. “We’ll talk more of that later. Let me get you safely inside so I can clean this mess up. How many more men are there?”

  “I’m not sure. Roger kept me locked in my room until this morning when Emma stole his key,” she said. “He arrived with more than I see here. Though he might’ve sent some away to save their wages and meals.”

  “I only saw servants as I ran through Amberton seeking you.”

  Morgan guided her around the fallen men, his arm around her waist. It felt so good to be close to him again. How long would he stay?

  And where was her uncle?

  “Roger’s gone,” he said.

  * * *

  Morgan swore in several languages. How the hell had Roger escaped his wrath? He’d been too worried about Annora to notice. Instead of focusing on dropping each man, those pink fingertips clinging to the stone ledge snared his attention.

  His heart had skipped a few beats when he reached the wall walk and saw her swaying in the crenel. He’d thought it might stop altogether when she toppled off the ledge. The jolt of pain at the thought of losing her almost brought him to his knees.

  He’d fought like a berserker, knowing Annora could let go at any moment.

  Almost as shocking was his first good look at her. She was so bruised he barely recognized her. Anger exploded, reined in with great effort to prevent a tempest from erupting. The storming forces of his fury might well have knocked her from his grasp.

  What she must’ve suffered while confined, injured and alone. He wouldn’t have left her had he known the horrors she’d face. Not even to save his father. That realization shocked him to the core, revealing how much she meant to him. His love for her hadn’t faded as he hoped. It had grown stronger.

  “Stay behind me,” he said.

  She complied. So far she hadn’t asked him about the lightning, which was a relief, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

  With Roger on the loose, they had to be very careful. Who knew how many more men he could muster? He had to be desperate. Desperate men were the most dangerous kind.

  Morgan unsheathed his sword. He poked his head through the door. No one on the narrow staircase. Down the uneven stone stairs they went.

  When they reached the hall, all hell broke loose.

  “There they be!”

  “Get ’em quick!”


  Sneering armed men surrounded them from all sides.

  Roger stood near the hearth. “You came just in time, Morgan ap Myrddin. After what happened at court, I’m more than happy to welcome you into my custody. I’ll look after the both of you now.”

  While Roger spouted his gloating nonsense, Morgan searched the hall for a means of escape. Every exit was blocked. Annora stayed behind him, clutching his waist as if she’d never let go.

  “Men, ’tis time for you to restrain these poor, sick people,” Roger said. “You already know the lady Annora is a lunatic. You’ve seen how she needs my protection more and more each day.” He paused until he had everyone’s complete attention. “I have scandalous news, though it pains me to share it. Lady Annora just tried to throw herself off the top of the castle.”

  Many gasped with shock. Some made the sign of the cross.

  “Sacrilege, I agree. She was about to commit suicide before I rescued her in the nick of time. My poor niece adds sinner to her list of disorders,” he continued. “The man with her is just as bad off, for he knows only violence. He’ll attack at the slightest provocation, so be on your guard. But we must be good Christians and help him, too. Again I remind you: their madness makes them think they don’t want or need our help. We must show them the error of their ways. And care for those who cannot care for themselves.”

  Morgan couldn’t believe all of the men seemed to side with Roger.

  He and Annora were trapped. Unless he called upon the heavens again. He’d never used the Mysteries inside. Dare he risk injuring Annora and her people?

  “Take them,” Roger ordered. “Now.”

  Chapter 19

  “This time, you’re mine,” Roger swore.

  “Don’t let ’em get away,” a man cried.

  “They be lunatics, the pair of them,” another added.

  A swarm of filthy, malodorous men encircled Annora and Morgan, brandishing daggers, kitchen knives and the like. Had her uncle recruited the kitchen staff? Their positions might be far beneath hers, but the venom in their gazes bespoke authority and power.