by Beth Mikell
His tongue flicked out to trace the seam of her lips. “We must be careful, sweetness. You have hardly recovered,” he whispered.
“Being next to you is all I need.”
He smiled, hugging her closer. The only answer was hearts beating inside the atonement of sweet love.
Epilogue
Sir Robert of Chevington slammed his fist down on the table, throwing his large knight a vicious stare. “How could you fail me?” His blue eyes were livid against his garish complexion. “First by killing Silas—he was a good lackey. Second by neglecting to kill my niece. What is next, pray?”
James returned Sir Robert tyrannical look with an abrasive one of his own, and he shrugged. “Silas overstepped himself. When I found out Colin was Lord Darrius’ half-brother, I handled things before he spilled all our plans. Killing him was the only option,” he heaved. “How was I supposed to know the whole band of Imperial Elite would show up and save the red-haired witch? Lady Adara was a lucky wench today. I lost all my men, and for what?”
Sir Robert sniffed rudely. “Spare me your whining—it was a simple mission. You out numbered Darrius and his men by at least a dozen—and my niece is still only a woman! God’s teeth!”
The first knight of the Gray Legion leaned forward, seemingly unaffected by Sir Robert’s harsh words. “You may run everything from the comfort of your little keep, but I am the strength you have used these last few years to build our forces. If it was not for me, you would have nothing. I suggest you remember that.” He stood up. “And furthermore, the next time you have a mission, make sure it does not include the Imperial Elite. They are trouble we do not need. From now on, I will recruit knights and increase our numbers—not some lackey. I do not trust anyone, and frankly, neither should you. Let me know when you are ready to move on HieLach Keep. I want to remove the stench of Blackstone lands as soon as possible!”
Sir Robert flipped James a murderous glance as the knight left, his black heart thundering. Every plan he pursued had been terminated by Darrius and the Imperial Elite. The most taxing play was sucking up to the Imperial Arm—all the while Sir Robert despised Darrius. God, the sooner they accomplished taking over HieLach Keep within the borderlands the sooner he could have everything he wanted
Ultimate power and control—and no one to stop him.
The End of Book 2
Armed Judgement
Knights of the Imperial Elite - III
Beth Mikell
“No one can love unless he is impelled by the persuasion of love.”
~ 12th Century Frenchman, Andreas Capellanus
Prologue
Borderlands.
Danger whispered through the air, foreshadowing death and blood.
Decimus knew he was outnumbered, judging by the retinue of knights circling him. By a glance, he assumed they were Gray Legion. They were not Scots from a quick observation of their mismatched armor.
As a seasoned warrior, he knew nothing could have prepared him for the trap so carefully laid out for him. The advancing group totaled forty to his five, a death wish should he chose to engage them. From their hostile expressions, they were not here to invite him for a round of ale, boisterous laughter, and tales of wenching.
A wave of sudden regret washed over him, his life a crushing blow. For the last twenty-five years, Decimus had served Lord Samuel of HieLach, a wealthy merchant.
During one of Lord Samuel’s travels, Decimus met the lord under attack. A group of renegades was out to steal the lord’s convoy, and the outlaws most likely would have killed the lord’s group had Decimus not intervened. Lord Samuel had been highly impressed with the warrior’s abilities, offering a position at HieLach. Decimus had been uncertain if such a post was what he wanted, enjoying the comfort of nomadic knighthood, but he went to HieLach to see what prospect the lord so generously proposed.
Time could not erase the joys, the rewards, or the love he gained at HieLach these many years—a proud vocation full of honor and valor. His heart was forever changed the day Lady Adara had been born and with her, a sentimental calling—a heart’s daughter to his warrior’s soul. She was not his daughter by birth or blood, but she echoed a wish for a family. A desire Decimus had held so dear within himself, yet never gave a priority.
Lord Samuel had entrusted his only daughter to Decimus for guidance and training, unlike any other woman in all of England. The knight would do anything for the safety of his lady, even give his own life for the woman who held justice in the palm of her hand and kindness in her heart without fail. He needed the purpose HieLach gave to him as much as he needed the family that he had been given through his position. To his lost soul, he found life within the uncertain lands and with it—undying devotion.
Decimus sat upon his warhorse in full armor, clenching the reins of his horse between his fists. His coppery brown hair, streaked with gray, hung to his shoulders in messy waves. His eyes calculated the despairing odds stacked against him—he may die. But he knew in his heart of hearts he would be forevermore a knight of HieLach—even to death.
He drew his broadsword, eyeing the knight that came forward, stopping a few feet from him. “I will not give in easily,” Decimus said without a trace of fear.
The man smiled, but not with amusement, touching his sword to his helm in acknowledgement. “Indeed, that would defeat the purpose of an attack, would it not? But you are outnumbered, Decimus. Should you like to concede, I would happily take you prisoner.”
He snorted, shaking his head. “Not likely.”
The knight laughed. “Then, let the games begin!” he exclaimed, swinging his broadsword with a hard ring.
“With pleasure,” he returned, battling with fierce pride. The ratio by which he wagered was but a failed attempt at success.
Within minutes, the mighty warrior of HieLach Keep was overpowered and made a prisoner to the captain of the Gray Legion army.
Only God could save him now.
Chapter 1
Near the Borderlands.
The knights of the Imperial Elite broke for camp and sat around their fire, shaking away the weary effects of travel with a little refreshment. Their friendship could be described as that of brothers, serving together nearly ten years beside the Imperial Arm, Darrius of Blackstone. No other men in all of England could boast a finer lord than that of Lord Darrius, and no other vocation would they choose to serve.
The day had been fraught with strenuous duties befitting their Elite status. After their lord’s orders, preparing for travel, and training, they left Blackstone Castle in search of answers to Lord Darrius’ unanswered questions regarding the Gray Legion situation. According to Lady Adara of HieLach, the band of criminals had a penchant for terrorizing the borderlands. Darrius sent his knights to investigate the threat and perhaps see an end to the years of torture and bloodshed.
“It is too bad Darrius and Dugan are not here. It is not the same,” Simon complained with his mouth full of food, reaching for more.
He was the youngest of the knights and by far the craftiest in wit and charm that tended to be overlooked, and even the arse end of everyone’s jests. He accepted the banter with his usual good humor, shrugging off any negativity.
“Lady Brenna’s child is due to arrive in another month,” Nyle explained, the healer of their Elite group. “And Lady Linnea is too fragile. Neither lord wanted to leave their wives at such a delicate time.”
“You still have me.” Colin walked up to the group, sitting down next to the young knight. Flashing a smile, he nudged Simon in the ribs before reaching for his share of food. He wore his leather armor, instead of the traditional Imperial Elite colors. His blond hair flowed down to his shoulders over the two swords crisscrossed at his back.
The once devalued knight grunted. “Besides, Nyle and I are the ones with new brides. Instead, we are out here with you louts. I say we received a deal not in our favor,” Colin said with a grin, receiving a boom of laughter from the men around him. He had marrie
d Lord Darrius’ half-sister and Nyle had married Lady Brenna’s companion, Maude.
“Rub it in, will you?” Simon said, stuffing more food in his mouth. “I am happy everything turned out for good without your head staked over the keep.” He eyed his longtime friend with ease. He was probably the happiest of the group to have Colin back within the fold of knights. It was common knowledge that Colin was like a father to him—though he would be loath to admit it.
Colin nudged Simon in the ribs again, causing the younger man to spew his food and he laughed heartily. “You are just saying that because you feared to lose your head, but the empty shell is still there,” he said with a solid smile.
Nyle chuckled. “But it's uncertain for how long!”
Angus carried the rambunctious laughter over the men as Simon bent over, picking up a small stone and chucked it at Nyle. The healer ducked, flashing a smile at his victory.
Rowan sat stiffly, not sharing in the banter. He stared into the fire with unusual silence. His mood was obviously gone. He did not attempt to offer up any quips or remarks, as he gazed into the flames, ignoring the men.
Colin flicked his gaze toward him. “Rowan, you are quiet. Is something troubling you?”
Lord Darrius’ cousin and second in command cut a look over to Colin. “‘Tis nothing.” He stood up, walking away from the group into the woods.
Colin pulled a face, looking bemused. “Did I miss something?” He eyed each of the men, his eyes landing on Simon with a raised eyebrow, and he waited expectantly.
Simon’s eyes widened. “Why look to me? How should I know?” He tossed back a big gulp of ale.
“Because… you seem to have an uncanny way of knowing other people’s business—with or without their permission. Of course, I speak from experience,” Colin said dryly, referring to how Simon had interfered in his relationship with his wife before they were married.
The young knight blew out a puff of air. “Unbelievable. This is the thank you I am to receive after covering for you and saving your arse?” He rolled his eyes.
“Simon,” Colin demanded, pinning the knight with a glare.
“All right, all right,” Simon groused, his voice dropping low. “I know he has… some ‘particular’ feeling for Lady Adara,” he whispered and all the men’s eyes widened in shock.
“Simon!” Rowan fumed from a distance. “Close yer mouth before I ram my fist down yer throat, stupid arse!”
The young knight blew out a forcible exhale. “He heard me.”
Colin threw a questioning glance toward Nyle, who only shrugged. “Well, this should be an interesting journey.” He smiled and the other Imperial Elite nodded their heads in agreement, but wisely let the topic drop.
*.*.*.*
Rowan stood off from the group, twisting his fist into his palm, ignoring his brothers in arms. Calming peace remained truly unattainable. All he could think about these last few months was indeed the lady of the borderlands. Thoughts of Lady Adara gutted him and ran rampant through his head. Only thinking about her made his blood burn through his veins until he thought he might burst into flames.
Since the day he had seen her, he could not even contemplate visiting the castle lemans or eager widows around Blackstone Castle. That meant he had been hard for three months and three days with no relief. However, it was more than physical release, more than a matter of relieving his sexual tension. He was drawn to her.
Adara had abided as a complete mystery until he had stood tongue-tied. He had stared in amazement when she had been at Blackstone Castle. How she walked elegantly through the keep, how she rode her massive beast of a horse, or how she dressed like sin. Every curve of her luscious body had been outlined from her unusual dresses to her feminine armor with her weapons.
The day the Imperial Elite had ridden out to save Lady Adara and Ryrie from a Gray Legion attack three months ago, Rowan had held his breath. He had watched the woman of fiery hair battle like an experienced man, yet as fluid as a cat. She had flipped through her assailants, so sleek and graceful, yet as masterful as a warrior. She had even saved Ryrie with her healing skills, which had left Rowan puzzled as to the rest of her abilities. She had made him an unsuspecting fool for everything he had ever known about women. Enthralled was the only word he found to explain the feeling. Who was she that mystified his eyes and bewitched his heart so torturously? Hell’s embrace would have been preferable.
God’s teeth!
All his life, Rowan prided himself with the talent of sexual prowess with the female population. He did not even have to try. Most of the time women fell over him like sweet honey. Yet Adara had seemed not to notice him. That truly baffled him. She had not acknowledged his presence when he had stood next to her, ignoring him with her cool brown-black eyes and detached expression.
Rowan had everything going right in life. He was deemed Darrius’s most faithful knight in the Imperial Elite. As the eldest son of Angus and Moria McLeod from the Highlands of Scotland, his family was not thrilled with his decision to serve the English king. However, they respected him. He boasted two brothers, Nyle and Kale and two sisters, Meggie and Abigail.
As a knight of the Imperial Elite, he triumphed exceedingly, and he was not a pauper, but paid handsomely over the years of service. He wanted for nothing. Why did Adara drive his sanity beyond control? Sometimes he wondered if he had dreamed her up. Maybe she was a wraith conjured up to confound his mind, mixing every feeling within his heart.
So many times Rowan wanted to leave Blackstone Castle and ride out to HieLach and see the mystifying woman that held his insides taunt with unknown feelings, but he could not make himself go. She embodied the one thing he promised himself he would never succumb to—love and marriage. Love was not an emotion or feeling Rowan had ever felt for a woman outside of his family.
He knew this journey would end with knowing Adara—or forever be tortured. He did not plan for the torment lasting long.
Chapter 2
The shadowy night hummed through the trees, taunting her. The stagnant air blistered her lungs as she fought to breathe, yet chills netted over her skin. Uncontrollable shivers made her shake. She felt trapped. Panicked. Her heart pounded so hard her chest hurt.
Someone stood in the shadows. She felt their presence, using intimidation like an evil promise.
She shot forward into a dead run, and deafening footsteps bounded after her. She was all but naked, wrapped in a thin muslin cloth. The sparse gown offered little protection against the terror that encompassed her as the fabric whipped around her body.
Something stabbed like hot daggers into her skin. The flesh on the soles of her feet shredded with every slip upon the uneven terrain, shooting pain up her legs.
She stumbled over a fallen log, her knees embedded into the squishy earth and her hair tangled with branches and leaves. The footsteps thundered closer until a hand snaked out and grabbed her...
Lady Adara of HieLach bolted upright on the bed, screaming. Panting for breath, her heart hammered against her chest. She brought a hand to her throat, trying to still the shaking of her body as she trembled in ready fear. She pulled her knees close to her body, rocking back and forth. The haze of her recent nightmare remained, making her shiver as if a thousand insects crawled her flesh. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind, but to no avail. Nothing could take away the exhausting stress of the last few months.
*.*.*.*
HieLach Keep - Six months ago
Lord Samuel of HieLach lay in death’s embrace. His once stout body was now skin over bones, wheezing against the pain of his devastating disease. The dark brown of his eyes reflected his weariness, his breath exhaling in shallow gasps. Where his life had once flourished abundantly, he now resided in desolate regret.
He peered up into the eyes of his daughter. Adara sat at his bedside, tears running down her face. He moved a cold, feeble hand toward her, which she took up eagerly into hers. She pressed her lips to the back of his hand.
; “Papa.”
“Adara, please… do not cry,” He croaked. “You must listen… I have not long…”
She shook her head ruefully. “Nay, please do not say that, papa. I can make more medicine—anything!” she pleaded.
Lord Samuel squeezed her hand, yet his touch was only gentle pressure. “You have to be… strong and take care of HieLach.”
Fear and apprehension filled her, shaking her once sturdy foundation into a deep cavity of pain, threating to entrap and destroy her. “Without you, I am but a woman. The borderlands are unprotected by King Henry and King John. Please do not leave me, papa.” Adara cried, fresh tears rolling down her face, but somehow she knew that God had already decided her fate, no matter how painful the outcome.
Lord Samuel drew in a breath, releasing it slowly. “Adara you… must promise me… do not tell… anyone of my death. Keep the secret for… as long as possible. Danger… too dangerous.”
Leaning closer to her father, Adara pressed his hand as if to the contact would somehow keep him tethered to her, a lifeline she so desperately needed. “Papa, someone will find out and my uncle… will do something to me,” she whispered, knowing Sir Robert of Chevington, her mother’s brother, was like a vulture lying in wait to take control of her life and marry her to his son Erik.
Adara’s mother, Eleanor, had died seven years prior, so there was no one to help her carry the burden of HieLach.
“‘Tis why you must… not tell. Keep… the secret, Adara. I love you…” he breathed, his voice barely audible.
“Papa, no!” Adara exclaimed as her father took his last breath and died. She threw herself over his body, and sobs of grief ravaged her until there were no tears left to cry.
Gentle hands grasped her shoulders, pulling her up. “My lady,” Decimus said tenderly. “Please, you must let me take care of him for you.”
