The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  "Sara. Tis me."

  She cried out as she stopped the sword in mid arc.

  "Boden?" she gasped, and suddenly the monster bent to drop Tilly from his shoulders and straighten to his usual height.

  "You're safe." She slipped off the horse and into his arms. "I was so afraid."

  "Shh." She was the essence of heaven, and for a fractured moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes and let the emotions seep into his soul. She was alive. She was well, and for this moment in time, she was his. "All is well." He breathed the words into her hair. "All is well."

  "I was a coward."

  "Nay, not you, lady," he whispered and drawing her closer still, he kissed her hair. "You are all bravery."

  "I feared you were dead and it was my fault."

  "Nay, lady, I will not die." Reaching out, he smoothed his thumb over her hps and his hand over her cheek. "I will not leave you unprotected." Her eyes were as wide as forever, as bright as hope, and he could not help but kiss her. Needs as sharp as a blade slashed through him, but he fought them back. "The brigands are gone," he said. "But they may yet return. We must go.

  She opened her eyes slowly and nodded as she focused on reality. "What of Liam?"

  "There's no time for questions," he said brusquely and turned away.

  Tilly allowed herself to be tethered to Mettle while Sara settled the babe against her chest. Her body felt stiff as Boden hoisted her onto the charger's back. In a moment he was seated behind her.

  Mettle stepped off, his forelegs lifting high. The rhythm rocked them together. Darkness slipped by, carrying them from the evil. Minutes ran along.

  Unable to resist, Boden wrapped an arm about Sara's waist. Peace settled slowly into his soul.

  But it did not last long. A warm drop slashed against Boden's hand. He glanced upward, but the sky was clear. Another drop. The truth dawned on him. Sara was crying.

  "Sara?" he whispered, trying to see her face. "Are you hurt?"

  She shook her head, but refused to speak.

  Desperation ripped at his soul. "What's wrong?" he crooned.

  "Tis Liam," she whispered. "He is dead, isn't he?"

  Emotion smote Boden like a mace to his heart.

  "He is dead," she surmised, barely forcing out the words. "And tis mine own fault. I should not have left him. He risked his life to save mine."

  "Is that how you see it, lady? That your life was at risk while you were with me? Am I such an ogre that he must save you from me? Is that why you left me?"

  "There are things you dunna understand."

  "But the juggler does?"

  "Long we have been friends."

  "A friend would not have abandoned you."

  "Abandoned me!" She turned quickly toward him. "He risked his life when he knew I was troubled." She closed her eyes and faced forward again. "Liam is not a warrior. Yet he stayed to fight so that I might escape."

  "Then where is he?" The words seemed to rumble up from Boden's chest.

  "Ye didna find him?" She twisted quickly back to face him, and he saw that her eyes were alight with hope. "He was not dead?"

  Boden was not a stranger to his own faults, but jealousy was not generally amongst them. And yet, when he watched her eyes, so hopeful, so soulful, he could not help but wish she felt such emotion for him.

  "I could find no trace of him," he said, keeping his tone even.

  "He was gone?"

  "Aye."

  "And the others? The brigands? The old man?"

  "Nothing," he said, but that was not quite true. In the darkness, he thought he had seen a black ring on the earth. As if the area had somehow been scorched. The juggler had scrambled north from that point, and every brigand had followed him.

  So why had Sara thought they had followed her?

  The night wore on. Morning dawned. They found a place deep in the woods where the world could not find them. Fatigue weighed like a sack of meal on Sara's shoulders, and yet, even after Thomas was fed and settled onto a soft bed of pine needles, she couldn't sleep. Thoughts raced through her head like hounds chasing their tails, faster and faster, circling, never ending.

  Leaving Mettle to forage on his own, Boden approached. She felt his eyes bore into her, and when she turned, his face was impassive, chiseled, solemn. "I have never harmed you," he said, his voice low. "You were safe with me. Why did you leave?"

  For a moment she wondered if there was hurt in his tone, but that couldn't be. He was angry, frustrated maybe. After all, he had vowed to return her to Haldane, and he would not take kindly to her interference with that promise. "I had no wish to make your task more difficult."

  "Difficult!" he growled and strode toward her.

  She stumbled to her feet, but suddenly she was wrapped in his arms.

  Sara closed her eyes against the crush of feelings. Her mind told her that she should have tried harder to escape him. But her traitorous heart was glad she had not.

  She pressed her face against his chest and felt the granite strength of his arms tremble. But why?

  "Were ye scared for me, sir?" she asked, and though she knew she was a fool, she hoped he might care for her as she did for him.

  "Scared?" The word was muffled against her hair. "I am a knight!"

  She smiled just a little against his chest. "Were ye scared?"

  "I thought I. had lost you for all time." He whispered the words.

  "That will never happen," she murmured, for in that moment, she knew that none other would ever win her heart.

  "What?" He eased her out to arm's length and stared into her eyes. "What did you say?"

  She shouldn't have spoken, shouldn't have even hinted at her feelings for him. "I said, we must not let this happen." His loyalties lay with Lord Haldane. Twas his duty to take her and Thomas to the duke. Twas hers to make certain that did not happen. And how could she do that if she allowed herself to love this man?

  "We must think of Lord Haldane."

  The reminder seemed to pull his arms from her. He stood back. "Do you love him, Sara?"

  There was pain in his eyes. More than anything in the world, she wanted to erase that pain, to tell him the truth. But what would happen then? His future, his fortune, lay with the duke. She would not rob him of that.

  "I am but his knight, pledged to him," Boden said. "But you... You are a lady, nobly born, gently reared. What hold has he on you?"

  She searched for an answer. "I owe him much."

  ' 'For what? What favor would be worthy of the prize of your body?" he murmured. "Did he save you from Stephen? Did he buy your loyalty by killing your husband?"

  "Nay! Lord Haldane did not kill Stephen. He was killed by a deer."

  "Are you certain?"

  Could Haldane have planned Stephen's death? The duke had made no pretense about his feelings for her. But he was a kind man, far above murder. Wasn't he? But if he was kind, why did she hope to keep his son from him?

  "If the truth be known, I would think no less of Haldane if I knew he had killed your husband. I but regret I did not do the deed—"

  "He didn't kill Stephen."

  "Then why are you loyal to him?" Boden asked. "Do you love him?"

  Nay, she did not love the duke. But would it not be far safer if Boden believed otherwise? If he knew she did not plan to return to Knolltop, surely he would watch her more closely and she would have no chance to escape into the safe folds of the Highlands. But if he thought her devoted to Haldane, wouldn't the feelings that sparked between them be easier to douse?

  "I love him," she lied.

  The muscles clenched in Boden's jaw. "Then why did you leave me? Surely I am your quickest means of reaching Knolltop. Is my company so heinous?"

  "Nay," she murmured. "Your company is so tempting." Dear God, she should never have admitted the truth.

  "Tempting?" he asked, his tone cautious.

  She could not admit her feelings for him. She could not!

  "Well!" She laughed. The sound was
harsh. "The duke may be rich and powerful, but he will never match your physical allure. Thus far I have been true to my lord. Indeed, I tried to leave you rather than betray his trust."

  "So you see me as a stud to be mounted and nothing more."

  "Nay," she said, and though her face flushed, she forced herself to go on. "Not nothing more.

  But I fear once I've ridden, I may never be content to walk again."

  Boden stared at her in silence, then, turning on his heel, he strode into the woods.

  Chapter 12

  It seemed as if they rode forever. Rarely did Boden speak. Sara could do nothing but go along, and try to pretend she didn't care. But always it seemed that she could feel Boden's gaze on her, watching, assessing.

  Twas on the third evening when he finally spoke.

  "When I found-you in the woods, you were terrified," he said. "Why?"

  She rose to her feet, feeling terrified now, afraid that for as long as she lived she would never find another that would make her heart pound like he did, never long to look into a man's face as she did his. She pushed the thoughts aside, needing to think of something else—anything.

  "I canna explain it," she said. "I was there with Liam and Thomas. Just the three of us, and suddenly it came." She shuddered with the memory, for even now terror struck her heart.

  "What came?" he urged.

  "I canna explain it."

  "Try."

  Since she had told him she loved Haldane, his tone had never changed from that which he used right now. Cool, remote, as though he spoke to a complete stranger. As if their lives had not been entwined, as if she had no reason to love him. She shut the thought from her mind.

  "Evil came. Ye canna understand the fear," she murmured.

  "Tis true," he said, his tone caustic. "I cannot understand fear. After all, I am a—''

  "A knight!" she finished for him, anger exploding within her. She clenched her fists at her sides.

  "Aye. You are a knight, trained, nay, born for battle."

  "Or born to tan hides."

  "What?"

  "Tis nothing," he said, turning away.

  "What did ye say?"

  He swung back, his body rigid, his eyes ablaze. "I was born to a drunken tanner and a mother who would sooner run off with a peddler than be near me."

  "But ye are a knight," she said, breathless with surprise. "Surely, ye must be of noble birth."

  He shrugged. The anger dulled a bit in his eyes. "Tis sorry I am you could not have been rescued by someone more prominent."

  She stared at him in amazement. Sir Boden Blackblade was the epitome of knighthood.

  "Part of what I told you was true regarding Lord Haldane's scalp. Although the duke has no birthmark there. I only said that to force you to admit that the child was his. Tis what the common man does," he said, and shrugged. "He lies. But twas the truth about the head wound. Haldane was injured in battle. In fact I was there - when it happened."

  "Ye saved his life," she said, certain somehow that she was right.

  "Twas not intentional, I assure you."

  Silence dwelled between them for a moment.

  "I myself have a tendency to accidentally save the lives of dukes," she said.

  "You think I lie?"

  "Aye."

  He cocked a dark brow at her. "Nearly five and ten I was when I became a soldier for the duke.

  They give you

  very little training you know, but it didn't matter. I had a spear. Surely that was enough, I thought. I had reached nearly my full height, and it made me feel like a man.

  "The duke was a powerful presence. Few people thought it wise to anger him. But when they did, the problems could generally be resolved with nothing more than a skirmish. When you have a host of mounted knights behind you, you gain a good deal of respect.

  "I had been in Haldane's employ for over a year when the trouble started. Twas at harvest time when rents are due. The Welsh are not ones to give up their goods without a grumble. Haldane owns a fair-sized estate near the coast. It seems the villeins took offense to paying an Englishman's taxes.

  Normally, a lord would simply send his army to take care of the problem, but Haldane was healthier in those days and very lordly; twas not uncommon that his mere presence would settle a dispute.

  "The Welsh though..." He shook his head, remembering. "We were a small garrison of men.

  Haldane was safely surrounded by a handful of knights. The villains..." He chuckled without humor.

  "They were farmers, really, armed with nothing but their harvesting tools. But still I thought myself a fine soldier when they were on the run. We followed them between the bundles of hay they had stacked together, running, yelling our battle cries, blood lust pumping through our veins. The mounted knights followed, too. They had just passed me when, from behind each stack of hay, a host of Welshmen sprung from hiding. The farmers turned to fight. Our men were well mounted and well armed, but the Welshmen had rage on their side and now our knights fell like ripe apples in a storm. I saw them go down. God's mercy!" he whispered. "Blood was everywhere. The screams of the dying!

  I could barely breathe for the smell of death. Never had I seen ought like that. My stomach curdled. I couldn't think. Fear turned my muscles to pudding and my mind to straw. I wanted nothing but to be gone from the killing or to die trying. I think for a time

  I was insane. I didn't realize the duke had been thrown from his horse and cut his head, nor that his retinue of guards was gone. Neither did I care. In my haste I stumbled over Haldane. By the time I'd righted myself, the Welsh had surrounded me. Twas nothing to do but kill or be killed." He drew a deep breath. "Tis a strange thing what muscles of pudding and a mind of straw can do when one is cornered." He shrugged. "When the haze cleared from my eyes we were surrounded by dead Welshmen and Lord Haldane was dubbing me a knight."

  "Bravery comes sometimes when one least expects it," she said quietly.

  "Aye, bravery," he scoffed. "I lost my breakfast moments later."

  She took a single step forward. "Ye were but a lad," she said. "Surely ye dunna blame yourself for your fear."

  She watched him tighten one hand into a fist. "Nay. Certainly not. I am a knight now. We are without fear, you know. Tis not allowed to hurl before a battle."

  This was a side of him she had not seen—had not been allowed to see. Was this the real Boden? she wondered, the man who abhorred killing and feared death. Or was the invincible knight the true man?

  "Would a tanner's life have been so bad?" she asked, trying to place him.

  "Tis a strange thing about me," Boden said. "I like to eat, and Father and I did not see eye to eye. Twas not me who was his apprentice."

  Again she saw the boy with the dark moppet of unruly hair. How could a father disregard such a gentle, lovable lad, leaving him with no options but to kill for a living? "Not every gentle man is gently borne," she murmured.

  He laughed at her implication. ' 'And not every gentle woman wishes to see the truth," he said.

  "And what is the truth, Sir Knight?"

  For a moment, she thought he might speak, might tell

  her who he truly was, might open up like an eagle on the wind.

  But suddenly the curtain to his thoughts closed. "I have been sent by Lord Haldane to bring you safely to his side," he said. "I cannot do that if I do not know what I am up against. Who is after you?"

  "Evil!" She breathed the word.

  "What does that mean?"

  "I dunna know," she said, frustration and fear spurring her emotions, fatigue weighing her mind.

  "I am not a knight, trained to battle. I but know what I felt. And I felt evil. Tis sorry I am if that seems strange."

  "This juggler of yours, who is he?"

  She raised her brows at his choice of words. ' 'A friend. From Ireland, he is."

  "A witch?"

  "Nay! Hardly that! Why would ye slander him?"

  "And why would you defend him?" he
shot back. "Why did he take you? How did he take you?"

  "He is clever and he is quick," she said, then lowered her gaze and steadied her breathing.

  Boden's closeness did dangerous things to her equilibrium. "And he thought I needed saving."

  "Why? From what?"

  "I canna say what was in Liam's mind," she said.

  "If you did not know what was in his mind, why did you go with him?"

  "I told ye, he is a friend."

  "And what am I?"

  What indeed? "He must have thought you meant to harm me. Perhaps, seeing Thomas in my arms, Liam reasoned that Caroline was dead and that I was, therefore, in danger."

  "And you think him better able to protect you than I?"

  Certainly. For how could Boden protect her heart when he was the very man who threatened to steal it. When he was the man who made her heart run wild and her mind turn to oatmeal. When his smile made her melt and the touch of his hand made her giddy. Dear Lord, what was wrong with her?

  Twas not like her to swoon at the sight of a brawny muscle, not at the best of times, and certainly not now, when her very life demanded that she keep her wits.

  "I had best get some sleep," she said, and though she took a step backward, she found she could not wrest her gaze from his face.

  He stepped forward with her. "The evil you felt, mayhap it was from the Irishman?"

  "Liam? Nay. Twas from the old man." She shuddered, though she wasn't cold. "Warwick."

  "Warwick?" Sir Boden shook his head. "Who is he? You've not mentioned him before."

  "I dunna know." Confusion set her mind atremble. "I must have heard Liam say his name. Tis all l ean remember."

  "Why would the old man wish you harm if you don't even know him? You thought he followed you, but all the tracks followed the juggler."

  "Ye think I am insane," she murmured.

  "I but need the answers if I am to keep you safe."

  "Well, I have no answers." She turned away, but he caught her arm.

  "The juggler," he said, his tone low. "Did he take you by force?"

  "Take me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and canting her head at the possible double meaning.

  She watched his face darken. A muscle tightened in his jaw, flexing the scar that lifted his hps into the parody of a smile.