The Stolen Bride

by Susan Spencer Paul

  It took but moments for Kayne to realize and admire Domnal’s scheme. He followed the path from the broken door at the back of the chapel down the short hallway and into the priest’s quarters. From there it was a simple matter of making their way into the prayer chamber, and finding the broken window.

  “Clever lad,” he murmured as he leapt down to the garden below, landing amidst the glass and now trampled plants. He looked about, wondering which direction the boy would go.

  There was blood on the ground, evidence that fighting had taken place. It was unlikely that Domnal would take Sofia out into the battle.

  Kayne turned and saw the outer stairway, and knew at once that this had been their course. He began to run up the winding steps, one hand on his sword, intent upon reaching the rooftop as quickly as he could. The last thing he expected was to turn a corner and find himself running headlong into a soft, slender body encased in a cloud of white cloth with long golden hair falling all about her.

  “Oh!” Sofia cried, striking Kayne full length and falling back against his greater height and bulk.

  “Sofia!” His hands flew out to grasp her before she might fall upon the stairs, only just managing to take hold of her fingers and pull her up to him. “Sofia! My God! What do you do here?”

  He gave her no chance to answer, but crushed her hard against himself. Her arms lashed tightly about his armor and she pressed even nearer.

  “Kayne, thank God I’ve found you!”

  “I’ve searched everywhere…. Are you well? Let me look at you.” He took her face in his hands and tilted it upward, gazing at her searchingly. “He gave you no harm?”

  “Nay.” She shook her head. “He was too afraid of Sir Alexander’s threats to touch me.”

  “Thank God,” he murmured fervently. “Thank a merciful God. I saw the pit he kept you in, Sofia, but hoped he had visited no greater harm upon you. I vow, I can hardly think, holding you now.” He felt as if he might laugh and weep all at the same moment. “I prayed only for this moment, to have you safe again. I’ve lived in torment knowing you were here and beneath his hand.”

  He lowered his mouth and kissed her, long and fully, uncaring of where they were or what was taking place around them. Then he pulled away and smiled and stroked the hair from her face, and then kissed her again and again. They laughed like two children, touching each other’s faces with gentle fingertips, kissing, smiling and weeping with joy and relief. It was the strangest and most wonderful happiness Kayne had ever known.

  “I knew you would come for me,” she told him, giddy and light headed. “I never doubted it.”

  “You’re my wife,” he said, touching her nose with his own, “my love, my joy. I would not have left you, not even for the sake of my own life. I will no longer wait until we reach Vellaux to be fully wed. On the morrow, we will be married at the chapel door, for one and all to see, and after that, I care not where we go or how we live, whether it be in a smithy in Wirth or the estate of Vellaux. So long as you are with me, Sofia, all sorrows are put away.”

  “We will live in whatever place will make you happy, Kayne,” she said, “just as I told you before.”

  “Then it does not matter to either of us,” he said, and laughed and hugged her. “I hold all that I care for in my arms, and will not let her go again.”

  “Kayne, are there many wounded?” she asked, looking up at him, her eyes filling with the seriousness of all that had occurred. “I must go and tend all those who may benefit from my small skills. I do not have my medicines, but mayhap someone could ride to Ahlgren Manor and fetch them?”

  He nodded. “It will be done. But first, I must deal with Sir Griel. Where is he?” He glanced at the rooftop from where she had come. “And where is Domnal? He hid you above?”

  “Aye, and very well,” she assured him. “But as to Sir Griel, he is dead.”

  Kayne stared at her. “Dead?”

  She nodded.

  “But how can you know? Is he…” His gaze lifted to the rooftop, and he took Sofia’s arm with the intention of leading her back upstairs.

  But she resisted his gentle pulling, and put herself in front of him to stop him.

  “Nay, Kayne, do not. He is dead. You must believe what I say.”

  “How so?” he demanded, suspicion filling his thoughts. “I must see it for myself.”

  “You do not trust your lady wife, then?” came Senet’s voice. He was descending the stairs, but not yet visible to them. “That is not a good manner in which to begin a marriage. I advise you by my own experience, Kayne, to believe every word she says and never argue.”

  He stepped around the corner, looking weary and hot. His sword, which he held in his hand, was covered with blood.

  “Where’s Griel?” Kayne demanded.

  Senet looked at him levelly. “On the rooftop. He’s dead.”

  “You killed him?”

  John came into view, stopping just in back of Senet. His sword, too, was red with blood.

  “It matters not, Kayne,” John said. “Griel is dead, and Mistress Sofia has been fully avenged, as is right and just.”

  “But his death was to be mine,” Kayne told them angrily. “Such vengeance was my right to claim.”

  Sofia set a hand on his arm and said, softly, “Nay, Kayne.”

  “He is dead,” Senet said, “and we cannot truly say by whose hand, for the three of us had our share. If you must have a part in more death, then go above and destroy what is left of him. For now, we must move quickly. Aric is bringing Domnal, who is bleeding grievously.”

  At those words, they did move quickly. Kayne led the way into the great hall, shouting orders for a pallet to be made ready, and Sofia rushed to find whatever she could to clean and bind the boy’s wound with. Sir Aric, looking very grim, carried Domnal across the hall to the place Kayne had prepared for him, and laid him gently upon the waiting pallet.

  He was very pale, Sofia saw as she knelt beside him, and his mouth set in a grim, stubborn line.

  “I’m no babe to be coddled!” he said angrily as she cut his garments away with the dagger Kayne had given her.

  “I am very glad to know this,” Sofia told him as she inspected the gash in his arm. It was deep and bleeding copiously. She pressed hard upon it to slow the bleeding, knowing full well it could not be stopped in this manner. “Then you will not mind my sewing your flesh together to stop this blood flow.”

  He grew even paler, and the fingers of his well arm curled more tightly about Sir Aric’s hand, which held him. But he licked his lips and said, as if daring her to do it, “Nay, I’ll not!”

  She had already threaded the needle for the work, and began to wash the wound as thoroughly as she could to better see what needed to be sewn.

  “You are braver than many men, Domnal,” she told him as she took the needle up. “I have known many to faint dead away at the very thought. You may weep, if you like, without shame. I have seen famed knights do so. I have no doubt Sir Aric has shed tears o’er such pain.”

  “That I have,” he admitted, gazing down at the boy. “Hold tight to me now, Domnal, and cry out if you must, but lie still. I will make you insensible, if you wish it.”

  Domnal shut his eyes and squeezed his master’s hand so tightly that both their fingers turned white.

  “Nay,” he said. “I will be still.”

  He did as he promised, though Sofia knew the boy suffered great pain at her hands. When it was done, she wrapped his arm in clean linen, wiped his sweat-soaked face with a cool, damp cloth and gave him a drink of water.

  “Now, sleep,” she told him, and gathered her things to move on to the next wounded man.

  Kayne took her place. Domnal looked up at him through weary eyes, half closed. He yet clutched Aric’s hand for comfort.

  “You have done well,” he told the boy, “and I owe you a debt of gratitude. When you have finished your training at Havencourt, come to me and I will make you captain over my armies at Vellaux.” />
  Domnal’s eyes began to drift shut. “I will come,” he murmured, then added, yawning, “Will you have a daughter? With Mistress Sofia?”

  Kayne exchanged amused glances with Aric. The boy had become foolish with pain and exhaustion.

  “Many, I pray.”

  “Will she look like Mistress Sofia?”

  “Most likely.”

  Domnal let out a long, sleepy, sighing breath.

  “Then I will come, my lord, and serve you well.”

  The next moment, he was fast asleep, and did not hear the laughter that his master and Kayne shared.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sofia rose early, much refreshed from the long sleep she’d had, and quietly slipped from bed. The smooth wooden boards beneath her bare feet were cool, but pleasantly so. The room itself was warm from the fire in the hearth, much at odds with the chilly rain that fell outside. Sofia moved to stand beside one of the thickly plated windows, watching as the steady droplets streamed down the glass, making the view even more indistinguishable than before.

  Soon it would be winter, and these would be snowflakes rather than raindrops. The journey to Vellaux would be a miserable one, most likely, but it would be undertaken, nonetheless. Lord Renfrow was eager to see his son again, and Kayne desired the return, as well. He had lost his dislike of becoming a nobleman in the past many days. Now, he wanted only to spend what time his father had remaining in learning all that he must in order to be a good and competent lord. Sofia had no doubt that he would be both, but it would mean a great deal to both Lord Renfrow and Kayne to have that time together, to know each other and learn from each other. And if Sofia had her way, she would seek Lady Katharine Gaillard’s advice on Lord Renfrow’s state of health and discover a way of prolonging his life. She wanted her children to know their grandfather, but more, she wanted Kayne and Lord Renfrow to reclaim the years that had been lost to them.

  So much had changed in the past few days. Sofia had changed. She was twenty years of age now, and had received her mother’s inheritance, including a small estate of her own in the northern part of England. She did not know if she would ever even set sight upon the place, but it was good to have something of her own—her very own, which no one could take from her and which she could give to her children.

  More than that had changed. She was now a married woman, truly married, blessed in union before a priest and many onlookers, with her father standing beside her. Sir Justin Baldwin had stood with Kayne, and behind him all of Kayne’s dear friends, Sir Senet, Sir Aric and Lord John. There had been a fine and merry feast at Ahlgren Manor afterward, greatly honored by the attendance of Sir Alexander and his brother, Sir Hugh, who had not only grabbed Sofia up and kissed her full on the lips, but also claimed her for several dances.

  Sofia had tried to tender her thanks to her rescuers, but they had all refused to hear them, most especially Sir Alexander, whose face took on such a look of affront as she’d bumbled through her speech that Sofia had finally stopped speaking and given up. He’d relented, as well, and kindly patted her shoulder and reassured her that gratitude was not necessary. Then he invited her to dance, and proved to be much less wild and carefree in that undertaking than Sir Hugh had been.

  Sound coming from the bed caused Sofia to glance back and see Kayne sitting up, yawning and stretching. The covers fell down to reveal his scarred, muscular body, and she gazed at him with appreciation. His physical scars he would carry forever; Sofia had traced each one with her fingertips over the past few days, time and again, and knew where each one lay. How strange that she should find such evidence of war so enticing, but perhaps that was because he had received those wounds and yet come away alive. They were proof of his courage and skill, and of his will to survive. None of them had held the power to take him from her.

  Kayne saw her standing by the window and, naked, slid out of bed to join her. His warm arms enfolded her from behind, cradling her in his embrace. Sofia leaned back against the heat of his chest and felt his cheek nestle against the top of her hair.

  “I have become slothful since wedding you, Sofia,” he said. “I should have been up this past hour and more, I vow. The cattle will need caring for, and there is yet work to do in the smithy. I must have everything done before we leave.”

  They had come, after the wedding, to Kayne’s house in the village, and here they had lived. The two men whom Sir Aric had sent to care for the dwelling and for Kayne’s animals had done well, but they had possessed no smithing skills, and the work which Kayne had left unfinished yet remained. Now, after so long an absence, he was striving to finish the custom he had so unhappily abandoned, and to make the smithy ready for a new blacksmith to take his place. Sir Justin had promised to send a young man from among his fostered lads who had proven to be far more skilled at smithing than in the ways of war, and Kayne had agreed to not only give him the smithy and dwelling and all his cattle—save Tristan—but also enough funds to make a start.

  The young man was to arrive within a week’s time, and Kayne and Sofia spent much of their days in preparation of this. It would be, most likely, the only time during their married lives when they would live so simply and peacefully. Once they were at Vellaux, Sofia would take up again the many tasks of managing a large household and many servants, also of overseeing the well-being of all of Kayne’s people, and Kayne would find himself immersed in first learning all that he required, and then in being master of Vellaux. Sofia was not dismayed at what must be, but she knew that these few short days spent with Kayne in this simple dwelling would be among the most precious she would ever know.

  “I used to imagine being here with you,” she told him, sliding one hand gently across the arms about her waist. “I used to wonder what it would be like to share that bed with you, to lie next to you and awake beside you each morn.”

  She felt him smile against the top of her head. “Did you? What lustful, wicked thoughts, Mistress Sofia. The priest would lecture you most heartily should he ever know you entertained such imaginings. But, I confess, I was far more wicked. I thought of you lying with me—and of all else that we would do in that bed.”

  Sofia chuckled. “I pray that reality has not disappointed you, Master Kayne.”

  “Nay,” he said, bending to kiss her ear, “far from it. It has been much better than anything I ever dreamt or imagined.”

  “For me, as well,” she murmured, closing her eyes as his lips caressed her ear, her cheek, and moved lower to her neck. “I have never known such happiness. I wish we might remain here forever.”

  Kayne lifted his head. “We will, if you desire it.”

  “Nay, we will go to Vellaux, as we have planned. ’Tis what we both wish. And ’tis what is right.”

  With a sigh, he settled his cheek against the top of her head again. “You speak truly. Sir Justin said a great deal to me about duty and honor while we waited to make our attack on Maltane. If I had not already known how foolish I had been, he would have made me understand it.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “Much that he had taught me before, when I was fostered with him. To my shame, I had forgotten it—or pushed it from my memory. But ’tis all true. He said that a man may do as he likes for his own sake, but that when the lives of others are involved, he must act only according to what is right and just. I had taken a vow never to kill again, and so long as my own life was concerned, that was well and fine. But to stand aside and let evil men bring harm to others, when I might stop it—that is equally evil.” He sighed. “I do not desire to kill again. It grieves my soul even to think of it, but there are times when it is right and just to do so.”

  “Then you must vow only to act when ’tis right and just,” she said, “and for no other cause, not even at the king’s command.”

  “That is what Sir Justin bade me do, and advised me to write the king’s regents and explain how it will be. If it is not acceptable, then I must pay dearly for the privilege of retaining my vow
of fealty to the crown.” He shrugged. “It is but gold, and worth the payment, if need be.”

  “Indeed, it is.” Sofia’s fingers ran up the sides of his arms, caressing, stroking. “I am glad that you had naught to do with Sir Griel’s death.”

  “As am I. I admit that I was full angered with my friends for taking the duty from me, but now I am but grateful. They did not let me kill any man that day. Did I tell you of that?”

  Sofia tilted her head to the side to look at him. “Nay, you did not.”

  He smiled. “They had decided upon it between themselves long before the siege even began. I vow they must have found the task burdensome indeed, for I was intent upon battle. But each man whom I approached with my sword was either taken from me by one of my friends, or I was pushed aside before the killing stroke was delivered. My sword was not bloodied once during the fight. ’Twas most foolish of them—for I had long since left aside my determinations—but it proved the manner of friendship we bear. When I think of it now, that they strove so mightily to keep me from knowing grief, I am near overcome. I have been greatly blessed to claim such friends. Indeed, Sofia, though I cannot know why, God has richly blessed me in many ways—by my friends, by my father and, most of all, by you. I do not deserve any of it, but I am thankful beyond measure.”

  Sofia turned in his arms and reached up on her toes to kiss him.

  “I do not know whether any of us deserve so many good things,” she murmured, “for I have done nothing in my life to receive so great a boon as becoming your wife. It was my greatest wish almost from the moment I knew you, Kayne. I loved you beyond all reason, but never believed God would heed my prayers. But he has, and I vow I will not let a day go by without being thankful.”

  “Nor I,” he said, his hands warm on her waist, drawing her closer. “My beautiful bride, who was stolen from me and then by God’s mercy and the love of my friends returned to me. Nay, I will never cease being thankful. I will spend what remains of my life cherishing you, Sofia, no matter where we may be.” He lowered his head to kiss her. “Starting now.”