The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides)

by Greiman, Lois

  Time passed unnoticed until the last note soaked into the night.

  David took a deep breath as if drawing himself from another world.

  The silence seemed almost unbearable now.

  "How will you give her back?" David asked, his tone low. "And to HaldaneV'

  Boden turned abruptly from the window. "What do you mean, to HaldaneT'

  "He's a noble ass. You've never cared much for the nobility."

  Boden let out his breath and forced his muscles to relax. Twas clear enough he was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to avoid his mission, but he must be realistic, honest. "An ass he may be," he said. "But he's also the babe's sire."

  "But not the lady's husband."

  Boden turned away again. "She'll not abandon the babe. Even discounting her feelings for the duke, she wouldn't leave the child."

  "Have you asked?"

  "I know her well."

  "In a biblical sense?''

  Boden swung back, fists clenched, anger sparking through him. "She's a lady! Lest you forget!"

  David raised a brow. "Nay, I don't forget. But neither do I forget a man I once knew. Little use did he have for courtly love, or any other noble foolishness. Neither was he above being a confidante to the jaded second son of a penniless baron."

  "I am still your confidante," Boden said, relaxing a bit. "Or I wouldn't have told you half of what I have."

  "And because I am your friend I tell you to think," David said, slamming down his tankard. "If the babe is in danger, the lady is too. Would you trust her to Haldane?"

  "Who better than a duke to protect her?" Boden asked, frustration spurring through him.

  "Who better than the champion who cherishes her?" David asked.

  Boden clenched his fists. "Look at me! What have I? Not even a sword," he said. "Certainly not a home or holdings or wealth. Haldane has all those things. And power to protect her from every evil force that clamors to harm her."

  "And what if the evil comes from within?" David asked.

  Silence smothered the room.

  "What do you mean?"

  David paused, his expression strained. "Not all evil seems evil. Some looks sweet and fair, even melancholy at times."

  "The confidante I once knew didn't mince words," Boden said, feeling dread build in him like water behind a dam.

  David turned, clasped his hands behind his back and paced to the far wall. There he stopped to finger a faded tapestry. "How well do you know Haldane?"

  "I knew him when he was still in his full health, before he started weakening. He is a duke."

  Boden shrugged, letting those words imply what they would. ' 'I fought for him for most of a decade,"

  said Boden, "as did you."

  "Aye. His best knights we were. Loyal, though mayhap those other preening peacocks would seem more so."

  "Until you left him." Boden said the words as an accusation, but knew it was childish. There was no reason a knight shouldn't take the opportunity to serve another.

  "Have you never wondered why I left so abruptly?" he asked.

  Boden scowled. "I assumed it was because Lord Bevier offered more—"

  "I was betrayed!"

  "What?"

  David turned abruptly away, but even from behind, Boden could see his tension.

  "What are you saying?" Boden asked again.

  "By the saints," David groaned. "I don't know what I am saying."

  "Who betrayed you?''

  "What do you know of Lady Haldane?"

  "My lord's wife?"

  "Of course your lord's wife!" stormed David, swinging about. "Do you know her?"

  "In a biblical sense?" Boden asked.

  The corner of David's mouth twitched. "So I was not the only one."

  It was Boden's turn to tense now. Perhaps he would be not only a cad, but a foolish cad to share the truth with this man he'd not seen for half a year. "What are you speaking of?"

  "She offered herself to you, didn't she?"

  "This is my lord's wife we are speaking of," Boden said, keeping his tone careful.

  "Aye. Elizabeth, your lord's wife—still beautiful, and noble, with hair like shining sable and skin so soft it all but melts your soul." He paused and drew a deep breath. "She knows."

  "Knows what?"

  "She knows about Haldane's... indiscretions. And it hurts her. Or so I thought."

  "Holy saints, man!" growled Boden. "You're making me daft with your hooded suggestions.

  What are you saying?"

  "I bedded her!" David stormed. "Dear God I knew it was foolish. But she was so sad, so alone, and so..." He blew out his breath and cocked the corner of a smile. "Damn, I will never forget how her skin felt against mine."

  Boden's jaw dropped. "You slept with the duke's wife?"

  "We didn't actually sleep."

  "David, you're daft!"

  The other snorted. "Don't bother to tell me you weren't tempted."

  "I may have been tempted. But I have no wish to die with my wick hacked off and my head on a pike!"

  "And what do you think will happen if Haldane learns you humped his favorite concubine?"

  Boden lunged across the floor and grabbed David's tunic like a dog gone mad. "If you wish to live out the day you'll not use such language when speaking of her."

  David's jaw dropped. His eyes went wide, and then he laughed, throwing back his head in glee and finally managing to brush off Boden's grip. "So I was right."

  "If you tell a soul, I swear I'll feed your heart to the crows."

  "Smitten was hardly the word for you, Blackblade. Whipped like a cur might be more apt."

  Boden reached for him again, but David snorted. "Think on it, Blackblade. I've just admitted to bedding Haldane's wife. Are we not in the same vessel?"

  "Nay, we are not," Boden said softly. "You did not love her."

  David was silent for a moment, then, "Mayhap I did. She was sweet and soft and kind. Or so she seemed. In fact, twas not just once we loved, but many, until finally, in tears, she met me and said that she could not bear the guilt. She was going to her husband to tell him the truth."

  "About your indiscretions?" Boden stared in absolute amazement. "But she surely would have lost everything, possibly her very life."

  David smiled, but the expression was cynical. "Did I not tell you she was noble? Twas the right thing to do, she said."

  "And so you fled!"

  He shrugged. "I had grown rather found of my balls by then. Mind you I have no regrets about my exodus; my service to Lord Bevier gave me Avian. But did it not weaken Haldane's power with me gone? The other knights..." He shrugged. "Who were they faithful to? I've had much time to think.

  Mayhap too much time."

  "And you think Lady Haldane seduced you for her own purposes?"

  "That much is obvious," David said. "Tis said I am an exceptional lover."

  "Tis also said the moon is made of green cheese. I am not wont to believe it."

  David laughed and paced again before becoming serious. "Do you know how many times Lady Elizabeth has given birth?"

  Boden shrugged. "Four times, maybe five."

  "And each babe has died."

  "Surely you cannot blame the woman for her loss."

  "And Haldane's mistresses—how many babes did they bear?"

  "I'm not privy to the intimate details of my lord's life."

  "He was not a faithful man, regardless of his affection for his wife. And despite his age, neither was he impotent. There were many babes—and each of them dead."

  Boden watched him, dread a full-blown hurricane in his chest. "You're suggesting terrible things, Sir David."

  "I'm suggesting you watch your back, Sir Boden."

  Chapter 25

  Knolltop was set high on a verdant slope where the wind blew fresh and clean.

  And there, just down from the hill—Sara, sitting with a babe on her lap and children running round about her.

  Sara! Boden's heart ach
ed at the sight of her, at the memories of her touch, her nearness. For a while, for a short bit of heaven, she had been his. No more. Never again. But she was safe now. She was safe.

  Boden lifted his gaze, and there at the top of the next hill, stood Haldane, watching her.

  Rage and bitterness welled up. But she was safe, Boden told himself again. Safe.

  And then, like a storm that bursts over the sea, a woman sprang from the woods.

  Sara rose and spun toward her, but in slow motion, as if every moment was pulled along by the ancient strings of time.

  The woman's ebony hair streamed behind her, and in her hand was a knife.

  "No!"

  Boden heard his own scream of terror like a distant death knell. He thumped his heels against Mettle's sides. The great horse lunged forward, but too slow. Far too slow, as if swimming against a violent tide.

  The woman struck!

  Blood, sprayed from Sara's throat. Her eyes—so blue and stark with terror, turned to him. To him!

  "Sara!"

  He awoke with a start, clawing at the bedclothes as he sprang to his feet. But one glance about the room told him there was no one there. There were no anguished screams, only the harsh, raspy sound of his own breath, and the haunting memories of his dreams.

  "Sara," he whispered, and reaching for the door handle, leapt into the hall.

  "Boden!"

  She was there—like magic, collapsing against him, shaking and cold and terrified.

  He swept her into his arms and without a moment's thought, bore her into his room and shut the door behind them.

  "Boden! Ye are well! Ye are whole!" Her fingers were like velvet against his face, her voice like music to his soul.

  "Aye." He couldn't hold her close enough. Couldn't kiss her fast enough. "I am well, sweet Sara."

  "I dreamt... I dreamt..." She pushed away enough to look into his face. Through the thin fabric of her nightrail, he felt her fine body tremble. "I dreamt that she killed ye," she whispered and shivered.

  "Nay. Nay, lady. It was you that I saw wounded."

  "So again we share our dreams," she murmured. "But what are they trying to tell us?'' She shivered again. The room fell silent as she glanced toward the narrow window.

  "All I know is that I must protect you, lady, that I would die to see you safe and happy."

  Her face was pale as she turned her heavenly eyes to his, and in them he saw her terror at his words.

  "How far are we from Knolltop?" she whispered.

  "Perhaps two days journey to the north and east," he said. "But why?"

  "Then Haldane could be here soon," she whispered.

  "Aye." The word hurt his throat, and his fingers where they touched her, burned.

  "Boden," she whispered, her lips inches from his, her breath soft and rapid against his face.

  "Love me. Please. Afore tis too late."

  Sara had no choice but to leave, for she knew Boden had spoken the truth. He would die to keep her safe, and she could not bear to be the cause. Better to die herself. But she must try to survive. She would travel as fast as she could. Alasdair, her half brother, lived far up in the northern reaches of Scotland. He would keep her safe at Hartmore Castle for as long as she needed to hide.

  Thomas was silent when Sara strapped him to her back. And there, only a few feet away, Margaret lay, her small body curled up in sleep, her golden plait still looped about her tiny head.

  Sara closed her eyes against the pain of abandoning her. She must leave before the child awoke, she thought and turned away.

  But she could not abandon the child without even an explanation to soften the blow. Returning to the bed, she touched the girl's face.

  She awoke with a start.

  "Margaret." Sara whispered her name and felt her throat tighten with emotion. "I have to leave, tonight, while it is still dark, for I have promised a friend I would protect her babe. I have no choice but to go."

  Margaret sat up quickly, but Sara touched her shoulder to keep her in bed.

  "Ye must stay, wee one, for I cannot care for ye as I long to. But Sir Boden will." Her voice cracked. "He cherishes ye so. And someday mayhap we shall meet again. But for now I must escape to the Highlands."

  "Nay," Margaret whimpered.

  "Aye, I must, but I will be safe at Hartmore, and ye will be safe here. Ye must keep our secret between us."

  Margaret tried to rise again, but Sara pressed her gently down.

  "Please, lass, for me, dunna make this more difficult. Ye are all that is good, and I couldna bear to see ye hurt I shall pray for ye every day that I live," she whispered, and turning stiffly away, Sara slipped from the room.

  "What do you mean she's not in her chambers?" Boden kept his voice low. She could not be gone, for she had left his room only a few hours before. She could not be gone. He knew it in his mind, and yet his heart said otherwise, making his stomach roil with panic.

  "I knocked at her door. No one answered. Hence, I took the liberty of going in." The maid caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Only the girl was there "

  "The babe?"

  "Gone also. But surely there is no need to worry, sir. We are safe here at Avian. Mayhap she but went for a walk."

  "Aye," he said. "A walk it is." But even as he said it his heart was racing like a panicked charger and he was flying down the steps to the courtyard.

  She wasn't there. Nor was she in the stable, or the chapel, or the hall.

  The door to the master chamber banged hard against the wall as Boden strode in. Margaret jumped as she turned from the window.

  Boden skimmed his gaze about the room. It was empty but for the child and the weasel.

  "Maggie." His tone sounded strangled and hoarse. "Where is she?"

  She didn't answer, but her eyes were wide.

  "Maggie." He strode forward, his steps loud on the bare floor until he dropped to his knees to stare into her face. "Where is Sara?"

  Her eyes gleamed like pools of amber, not quite able to cry.

  "Where?" he shouted.

  She cowered away. "Gone." The single word was barely audible.

  "Nay! She cannot be gone! She cannot be!" he raved, and rising, slammed his fist against the wall. He swung about, fists clenched. Twas then he noticed the tear that had crept down her cheek.

  "Maggie." His voice broke as he swept the tiny body into his arms. Her arms entwined about his neck, soft as a butterfly's kiss, with a lifetime of loneliness in the embrace. "She could not have left you," he murmured. "She could not have left me."

  But she had. Margaret's tears felt hot against his neck.

  "I will find her for you," he promised, squeezing the child. "I will find her, and I will bring her back." But where had she gone? And why? Did she trust him so little that she would flee to Haldane?

  But no! No! A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, a thousand memories as bright as tomorrow. "She would not go there," he whispered. "She goes home—to the Highlands."

  He unwound his arms from about the child and set her aside. His course was set. Drawing a deep breath, he pivoted on his heel and hurried toward the door.

  Behind him, alone and small, Maggie squeezed the marten to her chest and whispered, "Don't leave me," but Boden was already gone.

  Twas still morning when Boden found the spot where Sara had climbed the wall and disappeared into the forest. Only moments later he lost her trail, circled back, searched, and galloped on.

  The day wore away. David had sent nearly fifty men out to look for her. But now they had spread into the distance, and Boden no longer saw them. Frustration gnawed at him. She was heading north, returning to the Highlands. He was certain of that. So why couldn't he find her? He must!

  Before it was too late. Before... But his mind refused to finish that thought.

  Terror gripped him. Darkness swept in. But he couldn't stop! The night skimmed past in dark waves.

  Surely they would find her. There were fifty of them, comb
ing the woods, heading north.

  But the others didn't know what they searched for. Perhaps they thought Sara was but a woman.

  Perhaps they didn't know she was an angel. The others hadn't been healed by her touch, soothed by her beauty. They hadn't held her in their arms, in their hearts, forming a bond that would forever draw him to her, regardless of time and distance.

  Mettle turned to the west. Boden stopped him. The horse tossed his heavy neck, yanking at the bit and walking on. Boden tightened the reins and pulled the animal about, but in that instant he knew the truth.

  Sara wasn't north of him. She was to the west. He felt it in his heart. And he would follow his heart.

  On the third day Boden found a faint trail made by three horses and heading north. He was now more than five leagues west of Avian, and so his theory made no sense, and yet, somehow, he knew he was right; twas Sara's trail he followed.

  She was close. He was certain of that, though he didn't know why. Perhaps it was the dragon that had somehow bound their thoughts. Perhaps it was truly magical. But it mattered little. All that mattered was Sara. She rode a horse. Where she'd obtained it or who she rode with, he couldn't say.

  All he knew was that he would find her, or he would die trying.

  Danger followed her, just as he did, and he was determined to reach her first.

  Night came again, surrounding him with its dark curtain. Slipping off Mettle's bridle and armor, Boden wrapped himself in his cloak and slept.

  Dreams enveloped him, swirling, tantalizing, showing glimpses of Sara, her smile, her eyes. He chased her, breathing hard, needing to hold her, to learn the answers. But he lost her in the fog, and then he awoke! Cold sweat chilled him. She needed him! She needed him now!

  Minutes later he was astride again, pushing Mettle relentlessly through the darkness. Miles flashed beneath his churning hooves, until finally Boden pulled the steed to a halt.

  "Sara." He whispered her name, for she was near. He could feel her presence, just as he could feel her need. But he could also feel the approaching evil. Sweat slipped down Boden's back, but he pushed Mettle on.

  Suddenly from up ahead, came the sound of galloping horses. Fear froze the blood in his veins.

  Their hoofbeats thundered in his heart. She was riding into danger, into evil.