Knights of the Imperial Elite Complete Trilogy

by Beth Mikell

  Hannah, Ryrie’s handmaiden gasped in shock as Colin burst through the door, but he ignored her, moving to the bed, laying his sweetness gently upon the pillows. Nyle was immediately there, tearing Ryrie’s gown open, and removing the makeshift bandage he had applied earlier. Blood still flowed and his mouth drew into a flat line.

  “How is she?” Colin asked with barely suppressed control, watching Nyle’s hands move deftly over her wound.

  “Not good, she has lost too much blood,” the healer said.

  Anger rained all over his heart. “God above, Nyle, do not tell me that! You have to save her! No matter what! Save her!” Colin gritted out without control. He was beyond reasoning, his heart beating his blood fast through his body.

  Nyle caught his arms, looking deeply into Colin’s crazed eyes. “I will do everything I can, Colin. Please step back,” he told him, and he flashed Brenna a pleading look.

  ****

  She stepped forward and placed a hand on Colin’s arm, and he tensed. “Come over to the fireplace and allow Nyle to help Ryrie,” Brenna suggested, sensing he would not be inclined to leave the room. She could also sense that his feeling were more than only concern. She had witnessed such strength of emotion and worry in another person—Darrius. That could mean one thing: Colin loved Ryrie.

  He only gave a curt nod, moving away from the bed to the fireplace with Brenna, though his eyes remained fixed on Ryrie.

  “Maude, please take Lady Linnea to her room. She should not be here,” Brenna said in gentle tones, and when Linnea moved to protest, she continued, “Nay. This is a distressing situation, Linnea, and Dugan would not want you under any undue stress. Think of your child. Go with Maude and I will tell you how Ryrie fairs.”

  After the two women left, Brenna turned her sympathetic green eyes upon Colin then to Ryrie, her heart filling with insurmountable compassion. “What happened?”

  Colin cursed under his breath. “God, my lady… I just… I do not know.” He pushed a hand through his long, blond hair. “After the tournament, we received word that Lady Adara and Ryrie went riding together.” He related all the facts up to the current.

  Involuntarily, Colin took a step forward only to stop. “How could anyone do this? She is… she is…” he trailed off, turning away, placing both hands on the mantle, dragging long deep breaths into his lungs.

  Darrius came through the door, worry etched in every line of his face, and Brenna went to his side. “Nyle, how is she?” He stopped at Ryrie’s bedside.

  “It is not good, my lord,” Nyle said grimly.

  “May I be of assistance?”

  Everyone turned to the doorway to find Lady Adara at the threshold; she had not changed from her armor, though she had removed her weapons and metal gauntlets. She carried a large pouch in her hands. Without waiting for an answer, Adara entered the bedchamber, walking with purpose to Ryrie’s bedside.

  “Lady Adara, I’m not sure how much you may be able to do,” Darrius stated quietly.

  She inclined her head, her face pulled tight with solemnness. “Not only do I feel responsible, Lord Darrius, I am heartfelt sorry for what happened to Ryrie. I am known as a healer to my people. I’d like to offer the use of my abilities.”

  Darrius nodded and stepped aside, allowing the lady access to Ryrie’s bed. Adara placed her large pouch on the bedside, focusing her attention to the injured woman’s wound. Her hands moved swiftly, but gently in her assessment. Reaching for her pouch, Adara pulled out a needle, thread, herbs, a bottle of dark liquid, and salve.

  Adara looked at Nyle. “I will need a bucket of fresh water and clean material for bandages,” she said, and Nyle hurriedly left and Adara looked at Darrius and Brenna. “I will not lie to you, Ryrie’s wound is serious, but I have treated worse and found success. The real problem will be beating the infection that will assuredly come, but I have special medicine found within the borderlands.”

  “Thank you, Lady Adara, we are in your debt,” Brenna said gently, when Darrius failed to speak. She noticed that her husband only stood watching his sister with pain-filled eyes.

  Nyle returned with the items Lady Adara requested, and she set to the task, cleansing the wound thoroughly. She reached for a small pouch of herbs, and Lady Adara sprinkled a fair amount within the wound, before threading her needle. With deft hands, she stitched Ryrie’s wound closed.

  She reached for the salve, opening the lid, and Adara applied it to the site of the injury before bandaging. She pulled out a small spoon and carefully Adara poured a dose of liquid under Ryrie’s tongue before turning to Nyle with care instructions.

  Gathering up her belongings, Adara turned to Darrius and Brenna. “I have done everything I know to do, but you must watch her carefully.”

  Brenna stepped forward, touching Adara’s arm. “We thank you, my lady.”

  Nyle escorted Lady Adara out of the room, closing the door gently behind them.

  ****

  Darrius’s heart twisted for his sister until he thought his heart may burst with a surge of desperation. What could he do for her? God. Everything in his life he controlled, but love, hate, pain, and suffering were emotions that he had never mastered, especially in regards to those he loved.

  “Colin, you should go rest,” Brenna said.

  Darrius’s head came around to look at the man, as if only now realizing he was in the room. “Yes, you did everything you could do, thank you.”

  A surge of unnamed emotion crossed his face. “I am not leaving.”

  Darrius’ eyes narrowed at his tone, taking two steps in Colin’s direction before stopping. His already stressed nerves reacted to his tone. “What do you mean you are not leaving? You saved Ryrie, now it is up to God.”

  “I mean what I said—” Glaring hard, “—I am not leaving—ever.”

  Realization smacked Darrius in the gut at the implication of Colin’s words. “What have you done?” he hissed.

  Brenna came to her husband’s side. “Darrius, perhaps this isn’t the right time,” she pleaded.

  “I think it is a perfect time!” he exclaimed, furious.

  ****

  Anger vibrated through Colin. He was done with simplification. “Let me make it clearer: I will not leave Ryrie’s side until she tells me to go. And when she is better, I will marry her.”

  Darrius scoffed at Colin’s words. “And you think I would allow you? You must be insane.”

  A smirk resonated across his face, but he was far from amused. “So I have been told.” Colin stared his half-brother down, unflinching. “I love her and you really cannot stop me.”

  “You mean you used her,” Darrius said vehemently.

  Colin sneered, his patience gone. “No, Darrius. The woman fighting for her life saw beyond my worthless, degraded, meaningless life, and she gave me a reason to live. If that is ‘using’ according to you, then you are a damn fool,” he seethed, crossing the room until both men were nearly face-to-face.

  “Because you tricked her! Damn you, Colin! You sucked her in with your deceitful, lying tongue, and I will kill you for that.” Darrius reached for the hilt of his sword.

  Colin blew out a vicious breath. “I see you are still stubborn and blinded as ever. Ryrie is the only purity I have ever been gifted, and even you cannot take that away, as much as you dare try. She is worth everything to me,” he rasped darkly. “Damn you, Darrius, I would martyr my soul for her and never—ever regret it.”

  A red flush appeared under Darrius’s beard and he withdrew his sword. “Then prepare to die, because I am—” Darrius began, yet Colin sank to his knees before him.

  “Then for the love of God, make it quick. I am but your servant and a tired soldier. If she dies, then I have nothing to live for,” Colin said between clenched teeth with uncontrolled violence.

  “Darrius?”

  Ryrie’s weak voice called from the bed, and Darrius dropped his sword with a metallic ring. He ran to the bed, picking up her hand in his. “Ryrie? Small thist
le?”

  She focused on her brother. “Darrius… please... do not do this. Please.” Her violet eyes were condensed with bright pain as sweat beaded her brow.

  Darrius shook his head. “Shh, small thistle, please save your strength.”

  Ryrie moved slightly, and she cried out in pain. “Nay, listen to me. Forgive him, Darrius. I beg you, not only as your sister, but as a woman in love.” She drew and unsteady breath. “Colin has paid his debt to you, now let him be at peace. Let his atonement be… honorable. I need him. You need him,” she whispered, her strength ebbing. “I… love… him,” she whispered before succumbing to unconsciousness.

  Brenna padded softly up to her husband, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Darrius, we should go, please.” She glanced at Colin, who came to stand at the end of Ryrie’s bed, his expression guarded and remote.

  Without a word and once last glance toward his wounded sister, Darrius gathered his beloved wife around her waist and left.

  Colin moved to Ryrie’s bedside and tenderly picked up her cold hand in his, kissing her knuckles. “Ryrie? Ryrie, my love? Sweetness… please, do not leave me. God, I cannot… lose you.”

  Ryrie did not awaken.

  ****

  Scorching fever fed Ryrie’s body as she fought infection for the three days. Ravished and unresponsive, her body twisted and contorted. Colin took over her care, unable to allow anyone to touch her. He bathed her brow, reapplied the medicine to her wound and bandaged the injury. He fed her medicine and spoke gentle words to soothe her, but nothing reached her. She continued to labor in the exhausting throes of her mind—a prisoner without release.

  “Colin! Colin!” she cried out, her violet eyes glazed over in fever, her unease escalating with the thrashing of her shoulders, panic taking over her mind. “Where are you? Where are you?”

  He sat on the bed and held her shoulders down gently to still her movement. He had done this many times, so afraid she’d tear open her wound. “Shh, sweetness, I am here. I will not leave you.”

  “Nay!” Ryrie shook her head, her fever bright eyes clouding with unshed tears. “Nay, you left—you left me! You left with Darrius.”

  Gently, Colin lay down beside her, careful not to disturb her injury. He pulled her close. “No, sweetness, I am here.” He smoothed his chin over her forehead.

  Tears fell down her cheeks into her midnight hair. “No… no… you left me… all alone.” Her voice dropped down into a whisper—pain-filled and dark.

  He pulled back to look into her violet eyes, but they were glassy with fever and unfocused. “Ryrie, look at me sweetness, please. See that I am next to you. Feel me.” He pulled her hand up to lay upon his cheek, planting small kisses upon her wrist. “I am here.”

  Still she sobbed. “Oh god… why did… you kiss me? Why, Colin? What did Ellie have that I did not?”

  He realized Ryrie’s mind had tumbled through the past, seeing everything as a fourteen-year-old girl. He tried to soothe her. “She had nothing, sweetness—absolutely nothing. I was a fool then, please forgive me. Listen to my voice, Ryrie, come back to me. Come back to me,” he groaned as an agonizing surge of despair washed over him.

  She whimpered, tears still falling. “Gone… everything gone,” she rasped. “My hope, my heart, my love…”

  The pain of her words sliced Colin in half. The severe implication of her words stabbed his heart with self-loathing. The realization of how much his rejection had affected her, humbled him, and he cried out. He looked down at the beautiful woman who took him through the path of atonement and yet lay trapped inside the heartache of the past. Never in his life had he felt lonelier, unable to restore her back to health. His heart crashed against a stone wall of shame and grief ripped his soul to shreds.

  What the hell could he do?

  Helpless, Colin lowered his head, taking Ryrie’s lips with soothing pressure, tenderly partaking of her sweet lips. It was not a kiss of passion, but of restoration. Healing. A plea for her forgiveness. Even within her feverish haze, Ryrie responded and twisted a hand in his leather shirt. A deep moan tore through her throat. For long minutes, Colin sought her taste, her scent—her very essence—allowing the fever of her lips to burn out every nightmare. Every lost chance. He refilled himself with only her.

  With a strangled sigh, Ryrie’s head fell back. “Colin, I love you,” she whispered before succumbing to exhausting sleep.

  “Sweetness, I love you too.” He held her in his arms until he slept.

  ****

  Darrius had heard everything. He closed his sister’s bedchamber door, leaning up against the heavy wooden door. He closed his eyes. There was only one thing left to do.

  ****

  Colin sat in a chair at Ryrie’s bedside. Two more days went by as she slept without waking. With his head in his hands, he straightened when he heard the bedchamber door open, scrubbing his hands over his bearded face. He glanced over his shoulder and stiffened at Darrius’s approach. He failed to meet his eyes, staring at Ryrie’s unconscious body.

  Darrius treaded lightly, stopping at his sister’s bedside. “How is she, Colin?”

  “She only sleeps,” he replied wearily.

  Darrius nodded, turning away to walk to the end of the bed. He looked at Colin. “I need to say something and it is… hard for me, but I must.” He took a deep breath. “I was very angry with you. Especially in these last two years after endangering Brenna. I could have easily killed you and never thought twice. Yet, now I see…” he said, trailing off for a moment before he continued, “Now I see you were meant to fulfill a higher purpose.”

  Colin finally looked up at Darrius, his eyes narrowing, but his half-brother continued.

  “Ryrie. She would never love anyone unworthy or dishonorable. It is not in her nature,” he said softly. “I know what it is like to love and to suffer the pain of that love until it bleeds your insides to hell, and only the woman you love can restore that ache—restore you to a whole man. I see that now… between you and Ryrie.”

  “What are you saying, Darrius?” Colin asked gruffly, afraid to hope, needing Darrius to say it clearly.

  Darrius came around Colin’s chair, looking at the man who had once been his loyal knight, his friend… and his half-brother. “I am saying that you have my blessing to marry Ryrie and rejoin the Imperial Elite, if that is your wish. Stay here at Blackstone, or go wherever you both would like to go. Most of all, I ask you to forgive me and be my brother—and brother-in-law,” he said with a small twist to his mouth.

  Colin stood, his full height, bringing him eye level with Darrius. He looked into the eyes of the man whose respect and acceptance he needed—as much as he needed Ryrie’s love. “I accept with one condition.”

  Darrius’s face remained passive and he lifted a dark eyebrow. “And that would be?”

  “We bury the past.”

  Darrius, the emissary to the king… the Imperial Arm, half-brother to both Ryrie and Colin, husband of Brenna and father to Liam met the eyes of the man he pushed out of his life so caustically out of anger and pride. “Enough pain has slid through our lives. I now have my faithful knight restored to me, Colin the Loyal. But more importantly, I have my brother. Come back to your family,” he said, reaching up to clasp Colin’s forearm.

  The once devalued knight smiled with real happiness. “It is good to be back.”

  ****

  “If you two are finished making up, may I have my share of hugs?” Ryrie requested weakly from the bed, eyeing the two men who meant the whole world to her.

  Both Darrius and Colin whipped around to face her with shocked expressions. “How long have you been awake, small thistle?”

  Ryrie began to chuckle, but groaned from the pain. One hand came up to hold her side, “Long enough to be the happiest woman in the world.”

  Darrius moved to the bed and kissed his sister’s forehead. “I will leave you to your happiness,” he said, turning to leave.

  “Darrius?” Colin called ou
t as his brother was exiting.

  At the door, he turned back, looking over his shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for everything.”

  Darrius only inclined his head, but his eyes shone with affection.

  Colin turned to look at Ryrie. “Sweetness, do you have any idea how worried I have been?” He came to sit at her bedside, his blue eyes searching her gaze. He reached out to touch her forehead, caressing down her cheek.

  “Did I hear you are planning to be married?” she asked sweetly.

  A wide grin split his face. “Only if you will have me, sweetness.”

  Ryrie pouted slightly. “And have you told me you love me?”

  Colin laughed very softly. “Not in so many words. But, neither have you,” he said teasingly.

  Her lips twitched. “Then you should come closer on this bed. We have some making up of our own to do... and exchanges to share.” Her pout turned into a loaded suggestion.

  He lifted an eyebrow, doubt riding his expression. “Sweetness, your wound may impede our exchanges.” He obliged her request and climbed up on the bed, gathering her close. A deep sigh pulled form his chest.

  Ryrie released an equally sweet sigh of contentment as his arms settled around her. “I never said I doubted your skills, my love.”

  Colin’s breath caught. Running his hand over her cheek, he tipped her face up to look into her eyes. “I love you, Ryrie.”

  She smiled. “I know… and I am so thankful to have the chance to finally say this. I love you, Colin. Now if you do not mind, will you kiss me already?”

  He leaned close, brushing his lips over hers. “I am at your service, my lady. Forever.”

  Ryrie smiled with an impish, sensual intent up into the eyes of the man she loved. “And will you service include your delicious tongue?”

  Colin’s eyes widened in surprise, a half-smile pulling at his lips. “Is that a request for a repeat performance, my lady?”

  She countered with the same question she used previously. “Does that mean you are going to show me?”