Castles, Knights, and Chivalry: 4 Medieval Romance Novels

by Ruth Kaufman

  Solace nodded. “I'll give it all to you if you let me go.”

  “You'll give it all to me anyway. Where is it?” the soldier demanded, his eyes narrowing.

  The moment of reprieve set her mind working furiously. Over his shoulder, she spotted a pile of wood. “Over there.” Solace pointed a trembling finger to the stack of logs. “I hid it beneath the wood.”

  “Show me,” he commanded.

  Solace knew he probably didn't believe her. But he didn't have to. All he had to do was look for it. The moment he was distracted, she would break free of him and run to the keep. She led him to the pile, pointing at the bottom.

  His dark gaze narrowed, and he seemed to sum her up with one glance. Then he turned his back to her, bending toward the bottom of the pile of wood. “Where?”

  Run! her mind screamed. She moved to obey, but her gaze alighted on a loose piece of wood on the ground at her feet. A piece of wood just like the one Logan had used to defend himself against Graham. Slowly, Solace bent to retrieve it. “Right there at the bottom.”

  As the soldier ducked his head to peer between the logs, Solace raised the wood above her and brought it down over the soldier's head. She quickly retreated, shocked at what she had just done. The soldier staggered back against the pile of wood, sending the logs tumbling to the ground with a loud clatter. He shook his head clear and turned to face her, snarling.

  Desperate, Solace swung again. The soldier caught the wood in his palm, yanking it from her grip. He threw the wood to the ground and raised his blade over her head.

  Solace instinctively raised her hands to shield herself and squeezed her eyes closed against the impending blow. She felt something hit her shoulder and wondered why there was no pain. Then a loud thump jarred her eyes open.

  Solace lowered her arms to see the soldier lying prone at her feet.

  “Nice try,” a familiar voice said.

  Solace snapped her head up to see Logan standing before her, a staff held easily in his palm. Relief crested the tidal wave of joy surging through her body.

  “You're too small. You have to hit him with all your strength or else –”

  She threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Logan,” she whispered. She pressed her cheek against his chest, felt his free hand encircle her waist, his cheek brush the top of her head.

  “I thought...” It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that Logan was there.

  And that Barclay had entered her home. Her head snapped up to look him in the eyes. “We have to get out of here. Barclay's gotten into the castle. We need to –”

  “It's all right,” Logan said, smoothing her hair away from her face.

  Something in the way he said it made her believe him. Everything would be all right. He took her hand in his and led her out of the mews, past the burning blacksmith shop and back into the keep.

  Solace went without a fight. Maybe he was going to get them food before leaving. Or maybe the only escape left open was the secret rear exit. But how would he know about that?

  He led her back through the double doors of the keep. He was a Grey. Maybe he knew about the secret escape passage from living at Castle Fulton before.

  He led her through the empty corridor toward the Great Hall. One of Barclay's men stood guard at the entrance. Solace squeezed Logan's hand tight, anticipating another battle. But Logan did not even pause in his stride as he marched past the man.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong. She could feel it. She tightened her grip on his hand. “Logan...” she said as they entered the double doors of the Great Hall.

  Her words died on her lips. Barclay's men were all over the hall! They encircled the room, lining the walls like statues. Solace's heart pounded madly in her chest, and she pulled at Logan's hand, trying to get him to leave.

  But Logan continued on, tugging her along with him. He stopped a few yards before the flaming hearth. His hand bound hers like a manacle. She looked up into his face, to find it devoid of emotion. She followed his cool gaze to see Beth and Alissa standing near the hearth, its gentle light flickering over them, casting them alternately in shadows and in light. Beth's face was tear-streaked, her blue eyes red and swollen. Alissa held her hand, her face pale against the darkness around them.

  A man stood before the dancing flames with one arm resting on the mantel. He was nudging a log with his plate-mail boots, sending sparks shooting up as a larger log smashed a smaller one. He wore a black cape and his blond hair billowed over it in sharp contrast. He stiffened, raising his head as if sniffing the air, and spun to face them. His stark blue eyes narrowed like a fox's when sighting a rabbit. Solace knew instinctively she faced her enemy, Baron Barclay.

  She glanced desperately at Logan. Surely he had a plan. Had he come to kill Barclay?

  “Could this be Solace?” Barclay asked, drawing her gaze back to him.

  Solace raised her chin slightly as his gaze ran slowly over her body, a grin curving his thin lips. What was Logan's plan? Why had he brought her here?

  “I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I'm sorry it must be under such unpleasant circumstances,” Barclay said in a sly voice.

  Solace's jaw clenched. Barclay surveyed her and Logan with a cool stare that made her shiver. She still clutched Logan's hand with fear and desperation. A low rumble of amusement issued from Barclay's throat.

  “Well done, Logan,” he said. “Very well done, indeed.”

  Solace wavered, trying to comprehend what she was hearing, but not wanting to understand it, refusing to believe it. She looked to Logan for answers, but he refused to meet her gaze.

  “It was you!” Alissa accused, stabbing a finger at the falconer.

  Solace's bright eyes shimmered with the tortured dullness of disbelief. She was frozen in some bizarre limbo where all actions and decisions were impossible. She could only stare at Logan, waiting for him to deny Barclay.

  But he never did.

  “Logan and I have been friends for years,” Barclay explained.

  His words didn't register on her dazed senses.

  “He gave us detailed plans for all the secret passageways leading into Castle Fulton,” Barclay was saying.

  Solace's heart refused to believe what her mind was telling her, what her ears were hearing.

  “He opened the gates for us,” Barclay gleefully explained.

  The screams of frustration remained at the back of Solace's throat as she snatched her hand from Logan's grip.

  “Secret passageways?” Alissa echoed, casting a confused glance at Barclay.

  “Oh, yes. They were elemental to the overtaking of Castle Fulton. We were able to infiltrate from inside, as well as outside.”

  Solace backed away from Logan. She felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest, cast to the ground at his feet and trampled. Her vision blurred beneath the onset of tears as she stared at him. But he would not meet her gaze.

  “Without his help, we never would have taken Fulton this quickly,” Barclay said, drawing his sword and glancing at himself in the flat edge of the blade.

  Solace drew herself up proudly, but her spirit was dead.

  “A pity about your face,” Barclay commented. “What were you punished for? Striking a noble?”

  Logan shook his head, his dark hair swaying over his shoulders. “Killing one.”

  Barclay's chuckle rumbled through the room.

  Solace's throat closed around unshed tears. She tried desperately to cover her agony and wrenched her gaze from Logan back to Barclay, only to find his gaze locked on her.

  “Did you find your brother?” Barclay asked Logan.

  “Yes,” Logan said, a bit stiffly. “Your efforts are greatly appreciated, but your work here is done. I can handle the situation now.”

  “Of course,” Barclay murmured, shifting his gaze back to Logan. He turned the blade over in his palm. “You know, it would have been so much easier to kill Farindale.”

  Solace felt numb. The pain of betray
al engulfed her. She tried not to think of it. She tried to ignore it. She had to focus, to shake herself out of her tortured selfishness by concentrating on her family, but she could not. It had all been a lie. The way he'd looked at her, the way he had loved her. He had used her.

  “The time will come,” Logan replied.

  Solace shivered at the coldness in his voice.

  “What should we do with them?” Barclay jerked his head at Alissa and Beth.

  Logan turned and Solace saw his profile. His gaze was icy, his jaw clenched.

  “You know how I hate loose ends,” Barclay said.

  “They're my problem, Edwin,” Logan said, stepping forward. He placed his staff on a table as he approached the hearth.

  “This is your fault!” Alissa snarled at Solace. “He should be in the dungeon!”

  Guilt overrode Solace's feelings of betrayal, but she raised her chin slightly in the face of her stepmother's accusation.

  Logan rebuffed Alissa. “It's not her fault.”

  “Is that any way to speak to your daughter?” Barclay reprimanded Alissa.

  “She's not my daughter,” Alissa snarled. “And you. You are a barbarian, and I demand you leave my home this instant!”

  Barclay's eyes narrowed. “You, my dear, are a bigger thorn in my side than either of your two lovely daughters.” Suddenly he whirled, his sword raised, and, with one mighty blow, cut Alissa's head off. “The thorn has been removed.”

  Beth's anguished cry rent the air.

  Solace covered her mouth in sheer terror, her eyes wide with disbelief. She raced forward and reached her stepmother's side just as the body fell before her. Blood splattered her dress, gushing from her mother's fatal wound like water spouting from a fountain.

  Solace screamed in horror, clenching her fists at the sides of her head.

  She turned tearful, hate-filled eyes on Barclay. “You monster!” she cried. “You bastard!” She launched herself at him, her fingers curved into claws. She never saw him aim his bloody sword at her abdomen.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Logan lurched forward, catching Solace around the stomach, and pulled her away from Barclay's sword. Beth's hysterical cries resounded all around them, echoing off the stone walls.

  Logan saw the evil enjoyment glittering in Barclay's eyes and stepped in front of Solace, trying to protect her from the sight of her slain stepmother. The blood from the dead woman spilled over the rushes on the floor, soaking them. “What the hell are you doing, Edwin?” he demanded. “There's no reason for this! The castle is taken.”

  Logan felt Solace try to twist free of his hold, but he tightened it. She was trembling with grief and anger. His own heart twisted. He couldn't look at her face, couldn't look into her eyes for the anguish he would see there. He steeled himself against the attack she was waging on his emotions, emotions he never knew he had.

  Barclay removed a bloody rag from his belt and slowly wiped the sword's blade free of blood. His eyes followed the red cloth with obvious enjoyment as it trailed over the stained sword. “These people must be taught their place. It will be a difficult job.”

  “I'm fully aware of the difficulties I face,” Logan said. “We've discussed this. There was nothing said about murdering women.”

  Barclay resheathed his sword and bowed. “A slight change of plans, old friend.”

  Something was wrong and every instinct Logan had was telling him to run.

  “You know, Logan.” Barclay strolled over to the fire again. “When you didn't open the gate at our appointed time, I feared you had died or had been captured.”

  “I needed more time to find my brother,” Logan explained.

  “Well, I must say that I had time to think. To consider our arrangement.”

  Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Barclay turned to him, his gloved hands calmly clasped before him. “The heir to Fulton is a beautiful girl, one I wouldn't mind taming.”

  Logan tensed immediately. He didn't like where this was headed. “I opened the gates as soon as I could.” His hand tightened convulsively around Solace's wrist.

  “And there are the lands. You did neglect to tell me how rich they are.”

  “They were not your concern. They are mine.”

  A cold smile spread over Barclay's lips. “Castle Fulton is a mighty fortress. A powerful addition to any lord's lands. I really do thank you for all your help. You've saved me weeks, perhaps months of siege.”

  Logan quickly scanned the room to see row after row of Barclay's men.

  “Did you really think I would just hand the castle over to you? I'm not a fool,” Barclay said calmly.

  Four knights came up behind Logan. “You treacherous bastard,” Logan growled. He cast a quick glance at his staff. It was lying on the table, where he had tossed it just before he'd grabbed Solace. He needed to get to it. But he also knew the odds of getting out of this alive if he attacked the Baron were very slim.

  “But rest assured I do have other plans for you. We can't leave a member of the Grey family alive with some silly notion of revenge. You see, I tie up loose ends, unlike Farindale. Sloppy job, there.”

  “What do you want from me, Barclay?” Logan gritted out.

  Barclay inclined his head and the four soldiers put their sword tips to Logan's spine. “The dungeon,” Barclay said. “Until we find your brother.”

  Logan glanced at Solace. “What are you going to do with her?”

  Barclay's eyes shifted to her. “She will make a fine bride. After I wed her, I will be legal heir to Fulton. When Farindale is dead, no one will argue my claim.”

  Logan cast a glance over his shoulder at Solace. Her dress was splattered with blood. Her face was pale, her cheeks wet with tears. She refused to look at Logan, and he was momentarily thankful for that. He didn't want to see the pain and betrayal he was sure would be mirrored in her bright eyes. Where before there was joy and happiness, now there would be hatred and anguish. He had seen the look before. He had seen the same look when he'd glanced into a mirror. He couldn't let Barclay have Solace. But first I have to find some way to save my own neck, he thought as four guards escorted him to the dungeon.

  Solace stood stoically in the Great Hall, surrounded by the victorious faces of her enemy. She tried to push aside her swirling emotions to draw forth anger. But it wouldn't come. All she could think of was Logan's betrayal. She had been a fool to trust him, a fool to give herself to him. An even bigger fool to let him take her heart.

  Sobs filled the air and Solace turned her head to see a hysterical Beth, her large blue eyes focused on Alissa's body. She instinctively moved toward her half sister, gently taking Beth's arm to pull her away from the grisly sight.

  But Beth yanked free of her hold.

  “Give me your word you won't try to escape,” Barclay said. “Otherwise I'll have to keep you under lock and key.”

  Solace's gaze swiveled to Barclay. He elegantly removed his black cape, draping it across one of the chairs near the table. “I'll give you nothing but my contempt,” Solace sneered.

  “Tsk, tsk,” Barclay admonished. “I won't tolerate disrespect from my betrothed.”

  Solace swallowed down her bruising retort at seeing the strange gleam in his eyes. It sent a shiver of loathing through her.

  “It's a shame about Logan, wouldn't you say?” Barclay wondered. “He's such a treacherous bastard.”

  There was a sly grin on his lips. Solace looked away from him, afraid he'd read the anguish on her face.

  “Don't tell me the cur charmed you, too?” Barclay shook his head. “You mustn't feel bad, Solace. I've seen him work his talents on many women. Some much more experienced than you. You mustn't blame yourself.”

  She remained silent.

  “Tell me where his brother is,” Barclay crooned.

  Solace froze in horror. She would never tell Barclay where Peter was. “I don't know the exact location of every one of my guards!”

  “A guard?” Barclay smiled
. “It's somewhere to start.”

  Solace winced. She had fallen into his trap and, in doing so, endangered Peter.

  Barclay walked up to her, a smile lingering at the corners of his lips. “Thank you. You've been most helpful.” He placed a finger at her jaw line, but she pulled her head away from his touch. “I hope your accommodations won't be too... confining.” He raised a hand and two guards moved forward to flank her. “To her chambers.”

  Solace stared at the shuttered window of her room. The weather had suddenly turned cold. There was a brutal bite to the air that hadn't been there before. She had changed her clothing immediately, donning a black dress of velvet. She had cleansed her arms and face of Alissa's blood, replacing the horrible red smears with patches of skin scrubbed raw.

  What does Barclay have planned for me? she wondered. Is he truly going to wed me as he told Logan?

  Logan. She clenched her teeth against the fresh onslaught of tears threatening to break through her resolve. Everything was suddenly making sense. He had been the killer searching for Peter in the dungeons. He had opened the gates for her, not out of honor as she had thought, but because he had wanted her to tell him where Peter was.

  Traitor! her mind kept repeating. But her heart did not repeat the bitter rhythm of her mind; it lay shattered in thousands of pieces inside her chest.

  She had trusted him. Hadn't it been her father who had said she was too trusting, too naive? Fool! She had actually thought she loved Logan.

  She pushed Logan's image to the back of her mind. She didn't have time to dwell on her pain. She had to concentrate. What was she to do? She couldn't just wait for Barclay to force her into marriage. She had to leave Fulton. She needed to find her father.

  Images of Barclay's brutality plagued her. The blood haunted her. Who was to say when Barclay would behead her, too, having decided he didn't need her.

  One thing stopped her from taking action. Beth. She couldn't leave Beth to Barclay. She had to free her somehow.

  Solace moved to her window, shoving open the shutters. A cold breeze lifted the ends of her hair and touched the nape of her neck, making her tremble. The rising sun stretched over the sky, blanketing it in a pink glow. She didn't see the beauty of the sun; her eyes were locked on Barclay's guards walking the battlements.