by Beth Mikell
Less than a minute later, Darrius appeared in the hallway, though he remained expressionless. At least this time he did not show any sign of irritation, which Colin thought, was a definite step forward.
“Let us adjourn to my solar to speak privately. Gather the men, Simon. We all need to hear what Colin has to say.”
****
Darrius stood in the middle of his solar, surrounded by his Imperial Elite. In some ways complete, even if Colin was still an outsider to the group, everyone knew him. There was a measure of raised eyebrows by the men, seeing Colin with Darrius and no swords drawn, but they did not question their lord. He was usually full of surprises. Of course, bloodshed could or would come later. Timing was everything.
Though Darrius was still uncertain of his own personal feelings toward Colin, he was inclined to trust him for the sake of the mission and for Brenna. She believed that he should put forth more effort toward forgiveness, but it was a long road in his opinion to forgive a man that endangered his wife so heartlessly.
Darrius pinned his cool eyes on Colin. “What have you learned?”
The devalued knight leaned up against the fireplace watching the group. He related all the facts regarding Silas, and his mention of an infamous “Sir” until his death. “It seems the borderlands are the coveted prize after all the years of barbaric behavior inflicted by the Gray Legion. It was to raise money to fund their endeavors,” Colin said, eyeing Darrius.
Finally, the Imperial Arm spoke, “Whoever this ‘Sir’ is certainly has an ambitious goal. The borderlands have been a thorn in the king’s side for some time now. The land is rich in natural resources and desired by John, King of Scots as well, but neither King Henry nor John feel inclined to go to war over it. Sure, they have picked small territorial battles, but the reality is, the people that live within these borderlands are the ultimate prize. Without the support of the people, neither king has control.”
“And there is at least a dozen ‘Sirs’ in attendance here at the keep for the tournament,” Dugan offered.
“That is not a sure thing either. The ‘Sir’ in question may not even be here,” Colin said.
Darrius nodded in agreement. “I have two suggestions,” he began. “First, I need to speak to Lady Adara to get a sense of her personal plight within the borderlands. Maybe she will offer up a suggestion or information that would aid in our investigation. Perhaps she has overlooked something vital.” He drew a deep breath. “Two, after the tournament, I believe the Imperial Elite would benefit immensely by traveling to the borderlands and perform our own inspection. Meanwhile, I want each of you to watch the nobles here with the title of ‘Sir,’” Darrius concluded, looking at each knight, including Colin.
“Even Sir Robert of Chevington?” Simon offered up, Dugan nudged the young knight in the arm, and the youngest warrior flashed a grin toward the Lord of Carthmore, once called the Bloodsword. “What? He is supposedly a trusted noble of the king.”
“Everyone, Simon,” Darrius said, looking at his playful knight with cool eyes. “No one is without suspicion.”
The door to the lord’s solar opened, and Lady Brenna walked into the room. The men of the Imperial Elite bowed at her entrance. Darrius moved to his wife’s side, his arm going around her swollen waist.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, please forgive the intrusion. I hope your business has concluded?” Her gaze fell on Colin, holding his gaze for a few seconds longer before meeting her husband’s urgent expression with a smile on her lips.
“Just finished, little dove,” Darrius whispered, sensing a strange determination lurking within the depths of her emerald green eyes. “Is everything all right?”
Brenna continued to smile. “Yes, warrior. I would like a private word with Colin,” she announced.
Darrius stilled.
The Imperial Elite looked at each other, knowing their liege was about ready to fume. They retreated quietly outside the hall, leaving for safety—though a front row seat would have been entertaining.
Darrius swallowed hard, beating down a burning load of anger. “Brenna, please… I cannot leave you here with…” he trailed off, flicking a cold glance toward the accused.
“You mean Colin, Darrius. It is all right to address him by his given name. And if you are worried, send Simon back,” she said firmly.
Darrius drew in a deep, ragged breath, fighting lost control with each heave of his chest. He moved to stand in front of his wife, blocking Colin from her view. “What is so urgent, Brenna? What do you have to say to him? It is highly unlikely that you will tell him anything I have not already heard,” he whispered, his heart nearly ready to explode. He was shaking.
“Despite his faults, Darrius, he kept Gunther from hurting me. His honor, for me, is still intact,” she said, continuing when Darrius moved to protest, “No, it must be done to finish everything. I must have a moment, warrior. Please.”
Darrius closed his eyes and a measure of pain crossed his face before he looked back into the face of the woman that held his heart within her sweet hands. “All right, but I will send Simon to the door,” he said turning to Colin. “If you so much as breathe wrong, I will finish everything—the mission be damned.”
Colin smirked, but remained quiet as he watched the couple quietly arguing.
The Lord of Blackstone leaned forward and kissed his wife’s forehead, giving one last look of warning to Colin before closing the door.
****
Once alone, Colin straightened. “My lady, how may I be of service?”
Brenna walked closer to the fireplace and sat in one of the chairs. She flashed him a warm smile at the one time trusted knight and the half-brother Darrius found hard to forgive. “I want you to come back… back in our life, our home—everything.”
Colin looked away from the fierce intensity of the Brenna’s gaze. “Thank you, my lady, but I think Darrius may not be so inclined to agree.”
She sighed, running a hand over her dark hair, and then clasping them in her lap. “The past is the past in my opinion, and none of us have the right to pass judgment on another so caustically, Colin. Darrius will come around, but he needs a little more time,” she said softly.
He grunted. “I am not convinced.”
She smiled. “He left you and I alone, did he not? There was a time when Darrius would never have done that. It is his way of testing you.”
No. Still not convinced. “Now, I feel honored, truly,” he said dryly.
She ignored his comment, and said, “There is one good thing that came out of taking me hostage years ago.” He gave her a doubtful look and she continued, “Yes there is. Your action helped Darrius move past his normal cool control and admit his love for me… sooner rather than later,” she said with a smile.
Colin shook his head. “He would have anyway, my lady. Anyone could see that.”
Brenna nodded. “Possibly, but the dire situation caused him to open his heart without fear and for that, I thank you.”
He blew out a hard breath. “Please do not thank me, my lady. I am hardly worth your gratitude.”
She stood up, took two steps toward him and fixed her green eyes hard to his. “Nay, you are wrong, Colin. I believe in you. I know there is still honor and value within you. And so do you. You have to allow yourself to be free of the pain of the past. Come back to us. We are your family.”
The devalued knight felt humbled in that moment and he did not know if he could find the words to speak, but Brenna made it easy for him.
“Now, I shall leave you, Colin. I’m sure Simon is worried about his head right about now.” She winked.
He allowed himself to relax, slowly. “You know about that?”
She laughed. “Of course, does not everyone?”
Colin watched Brenna leave and for the first time a strange peace settled over him. He could only liken it to hope.
****
Ryrie paced her bedchamber like a caged animal. Her thoughts ran rampant without ceasing. She
refused to attend the banquet earlier, even when Darrius sent Simon to inquire after her absence. She could not make herself go downstairs, not wanting to be in the same room as Colin, only to share secret smiles or telling looks with him across the room. Not when he was so uncertain of his decisions; not when he believed he was so undeserving.
She was tired of Colin’s hot and cold approach, and she wanted to end it. If it was one thing Ryrie had learned from her brother, Darrius, it was to face things straight ahead. She was fearless in doing that.
Though the hour grew late, Colin had not come to check on her. That irked her! What did he think? He could simply ignore her. That he could will her away to the four winds and dismiss her presence? Humph! Not if she had anything to say about it and she had plenty! With firm lips of determination, she gathered the dagger Darrius had given her. Securing her mantle, she pulled the hood up. She would not bide her time like a helpless woman. Peering out into the hall, she left.
The dark keep offered a few lit sconces along the way, but Ryrie made her way toward the back of the keep. Her destination was the new knight’s quarters recently built at the rear of Blackstone. Earlier, Ryrie had her handmaiden find out the location of Colin’s room and although Hannah had seemed surprised by her request, she did as Ryrie requested.
God give thanks for a discreet handmaiden.
She knew approximately, where she was going, yet she shifted the dagger in her hand with a measure of fear.
As she opened the door to exit into the night, it was raining. Lovely. And the cold wind sliced through her mantle in frosty greeting, but she still proceeded forward.
Strange sounds filled the air under the cover of raindrops. A horse whinnying. Distant voices and shuffled movement of the unknown. The rain magnified the eerie sounds with a haunting squeeze through her chest. She gripped her dagger tighter in her grasp, walking quickly. Ryrie took care to stay in the shadows, her eyes darting every direction for any sign of another person in the dark of night. The creak of a door made her jump, and she hid behind the darkened wall of the armory, holding her breath. Her heart pounded up in her throat, searching for the source, but no one appeared, and she exhaled.
Rain pelted her face and body, soaking her. With no visible threat, she stepped out from her hiding place, moving quickly until she came to the knight’s housing. Most of the Imperial knights retained a comfortable room within these walls and nervousness filled her at the thought of running into one of the Elite. Her mind could not even come up with a reasonable excuse to cover her intrigue. God, nothing came to mind, not even hello seemed appropriate.
Biting her lip to quell their trembling, Ryrie opened the door.
The main hall appeared empty as she made her way through. Thankfully, no one was there to greet her or solicit a raised eyebrow. Hannah had told her Colin’s room was upstairs, third door on the left.
She made her way up. A bawdy laugh boomed out and echoed down the stairwell, vibrating off the stonewalls.
Angus!
She inhaled sharply. “Oh, God,” she breathed and nausea threatened, but his laughter died away with the slamming of a door. She exhaled again and took another stabilizing breath. Her heart rammed hard as she continued up the stairs and peeked around the corner.
No one was there.
Quickly, she raced down the hall to Colin’s supposed door, praying Hannah’s information proved correct. She knocked softly, turning her head back and forth, searching the hall as she waited for him to answer. Her heart thumped into her mouth and she shook with a wild, untamed fear.
She heard a rustle from inside the room and finally the door opened.
Her eyes widened at his appearance. He wore only his leather pants and boots. The muscles of his hard chest were covered with a trail of blond hair, disappearing into the top of his waistband. His long hair hung down over his shoulders, making him look more than virile and luscious. Her mouth went dry and her brain ceased functioning. He looked good enough to devour.
Chapter 8
It took Colin all of two seconds to realize Ryrie stood cloaked on the threshold of his chamber. Shocked, he stepped forward, searching the hall, and then he pulled her inside his room. With a rough slam, he shut the door, locking it.
He spun around to look at Ryrie. “Are you—?”
“Insane?” She pushed back her hood, and raindrops ran down her flushed face. She smiled. “I think we have established, we both are.”
Colin’s lips drew into a flat line. “Ryrie, it was too dangerous for you to come here and alone no less.” Clear displeasure abounded in his voice, yet his blue eyes mocked him. A fine sheen of raindrops radiated beauty on her moist skin. He was… completely undone. “Why are you here, may I ask?” His eyes hooded, his expression hard and remote.
Ryrie drew up her chin. “I told you earlier that we would speak later, yet you did not come to see me tonight,” she explained with a nonchalant shrug. “I decided to come myself.”
Colin cursed under his breath. “For a very good reason, I can assure you. I am going to take you back right now.” He reached for his leather shirt, but Ryrie stopped him with her hand.
“No!” She snatched her hand away as if burned. “I mean… nay. I came here for a purpose, and I am not leaving until it is fulfilled.”
Colin closed his eyes briefly before looking back at her. “You should not be here, sweetness,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “You are totally at my mercy and…” The words he didn’t say were left hanging in the air.
Without a word, she stared back at him without flinching, and reached up to unfasten her mantle. Ryrie stepped back, draping it over the back of the only chair in the room and placed her dagger on the table. She went to the fire to warm her chilled body, her back was to him.
“Ryrie.”
“I need to tell you something.” She turned to face him, her violet eyes were filled with a small measure of something close to fear. “I spent many hours tonight trying to figure out the best way to share this, and I need you to listen carefully, Colin.” Ryrie lifted her chin. “I am not trying to coerce you into anything, but it is important. And I am not leaving here until I tell you.”
He waited without moving, staring her down.
She crossed her arms, rubbing her arms. “When I… when I was younger, I was infatuated with a knight,” she began.
Colin snorted ungraciously, shaking his head. “Do I want to hear this story? So far the beginning is not very endearing” he asked wryly, his mouth quirking up at the side and he pushed a hand through his hair.
Ryrie flashed a brief smile. “Just listen, if you please. I promise you will want to hear this,” she murmured. “He… was handsome, made me laugh and respected me. For the first time in my life…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I was not… was not dismissed or overlooked for being too young. But… he kissed me.”
Realization smacked Colin hard; she was referring to him and their moment seven years ago on the stairs of her father’s home in Scotland. “Ryrie,” he groaned and a grave sadness filled him.
She held up a hand. “No, let me finish. After you pulled into your arms, I realized it was you within seconds. I did not struggle because I wanted you—just like I do now. I was so angry when you mistook me for Ellie,” she rasped, her voice barely audible, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I never forgot how you changed my perception of men.” She moved slowly until she stood directly in front of him, holding his gaze. “I have turned down four marriage proposals because—” She shrugged, “—because none of them were you, Colin. You have always been the possibility that I wanted—for me. I can walk out of this room right now, but it isn’t what I want. And quite honestly, I do not believe you want me to leave either.”
Colin stepped closer, their bodies were a breath apart, but he did not move to touch her. He studied every part of her face. His nostrils flared as he inhaled a loaded dose of her scent, ready to take her offering, but still he held himself in check.
“What happens if you wake up one day regretting your decision, sweetness? Regret me.” His heart was near ready to explode from a rush of raw desire. The spicy cinnamon of her skin lured him, no, begged him nigh close to a fire he could barely contain.
Ryrie shook her head vehemently. “I am not a fool as to regret the only man that completes every part of me. I took the first step in faith, now it is your turn, Colin the Loyal.”
Anger clouded his face, flushing hard under his cheekbones, and his teeth gnashed together. “Do not call me that,” he hissed. “I am nothing if not disloyal and you deserve more than—”
She snorted. “Than what, pray? To marry some fat, old, hideous man to rut upon me for heirs?”
Colin seized her shoulders, giving her a small shake. “Ryrie! God, do not say that! I would never—”
“Never what? Tell me!” Ryrie cried.
He gripped her tighter. “You cannot imagine what I want!” he ground out, a hot fury threading his thunderous expression.
She brought her hands up to hold his forearms, squeezing hard. “I am not above begging, Colin. Tell me.”
He pulled her hard into his arms. “I will never let you go!”
Colin’s mouth smashed down over Ryrie’s with hot force, pushing his anger, desire, want, and need through the power of his lips, ravishing her spicy taste. He was starved and thirsted for her. He was hungry, and he drank with fleeting control of a man famished and eager for a sweet blessing. His hands roamed her body hard, pulling her closer, but still, she remained too far away. The thought of anyone else claiming her ended his sanity. Enraged him. In that moment, he knew he would happily enter hell to keep her for himself.
****
She moaned deep in her throat and sank her hands into his hair. Ryrie sought his potent essence until paralyzed inside sensual heaven. Her heart rammed against her chest, meeting the sweet sting of his lips with the same ferocity he gave her. The more Colin demanded the more Ryrie met each stroke of his tongue, existing on his warm taste and demanding caresses. Repeatedly their tongues rolled together and swirled with savage desire. Twisting, meshing, and writhing until their flavor melded and their substance blended.
