Daring Damsels

by Domning, Denise

  “Thomas?” Fane and Rudd said together, sounding stunned.

  “Garmonn shot him like an animal and left him in the snow to die. You will answer to Sheriff Linford for your barbaric crime. You will be punished by law.”

  “I warned you, Rexana, what would happen if you told.” Garmonn’s pitiless gaze slid to Rudd. “I keep my promises.”

  “And I will see you pun—” Before Fane finished speaking, he tripped on a fallen bow.

  Garmonn roared. His blade arced down, straight for Fane’s ribs.

  Rudd darted forward.

  Rexana screamed and plunged down the dagger. The blade buried deep in Garmonn’s forearm.

  With a blood-curling howl, he dropped the sword.

  She froze. Her shaking hand flew to her lips. She stared at the knife’s hilt, protruding at a grisly angle. “I—”

  “Well done, love.” The flat of Fane’s sword crashed down on Garmonn’s head. The howling stopped. Garmonn’s eyes closed and he slumped to the grass.

  Blinking back tears, Rexana stared at Garmonn’s limp body. Bile flooded her mouth. At last, ’twas over.

  She raised her head and looked at Fane.

  Shock wrenched through her.

  His expression grim, Fane pointed his sword at Rudd’s chest. “I have waited long for this moment.”

  Fane ignored Rexana’s desperate wail. His blood pumped with resolve. Need. Fury. Her brother would no longer stand in the way of their marital happiness, or elude justice.

  To Fane’s surprise, no foolish arrogance shone in the lad’s eyes. Only resignation. Mayhap he realized this would be a hard and bitter fight.

  As he adjusted his sweaty grip on his sword, Fane drew a breath. He steeled his concentration and waited for Villeaux to make the first strike. He would not underestimate the lad’s murderous intent.

  Rudd dropped his blade. It thumped on the ground near Garmonn’s unconscious body. “I will not fight you.”

  Rage slammed through Fane. “You will dishonor me? Do you dare me to attack when you are unarmed?”

  Rexana clutched Fane’s arm. “He is innocent. Rudd, tell him.”

  Scowling, Fane shook off her hold. He shut out her plea and the painful war of emotions it roused. He lunged forward, so his sword’s tip pressed against Rudd’s tunic. “Aye, tell us. Tell how you plotted to undermine the king and rule Warringham with the traitors.”

  “Wait. I—”

  The glade blurred around Fane in a haze of angry red. “Your sister deserves answers. Tell her how you deluded her with lies and deception. Tell her how you betrayed her pure, unselfish love. Speak! She will hear it from you.”

  Rudd swallowed, then looked at Rexana. “I am not a traitor.”

  “You lie!” Fane bellowed.

  Rudd shook his head. He stepped backward, stumbled, and fell to the ground. Crying out, he clutched at his bloody arm. Fane followed him down. Straddled him. Tossed aside his sword, drew his jeweled dagger, and held it to Rudd’s throat.

  Choking a breath, Rudd said, “I surrender!”

  “Tell her the wretched truth,” Fane snarled. “Now.”

  The lad’s green eyes, so like Rexana’s, blazed. “I did. I am not guilty of treason.”

  Fane heard the rustle of footfalls. His heightened senses buzzed a warning, an instant before steel pressed against his neck. Rexana had found another knife.

  “Let him up,” she rasped.

  “I do not wish to hurt you, love, but God help me—”

  Her hand did not waver. “Let him up, and let him speak.” Her tone softened. “If you look, you will see the traitors are defeated. Kester and his men surround the glade. They are tying the prisoners. Rudd cannot escape.”

  Fane’s face stung. His wife had outwitted him. He doubted she would use the knife, yet her feelings for her brother ran deep.

  Muttering an oath, Fane rose. She eased away. As he straightened, he glared at her, but she quirked an eyebrow. Saucy wench. Later, he would deal with her willfulness.

  Rudd shoved to his feet, rubbing his neck, and smiled at Rexana. “Thanks.”

  “Rudd, please. I want the truth.”

  “I swear I did not lie.” As though he sensed the rebuttal burning on Fane’s tongue, Rudd raised a hand. “There will be eye witness accounts that imply my guilt. Those could not be avoided. I could only collect evidence against the traitors by pretending to be one of them.”

  A disgusted laugh shot from Fane. “What trickery do you speak?”

  Rudd looked sheepish. “I admit, I went along with Garmonn’s ideas at first. I, like many others, did not want a crusader barbarian as sheriff of our lands.”

  “Rudd!” Rexana gasped.

  “When I realized that Garmonn planned to overthrow the king . . . ” He dragged his fingers through his tangled hair. “I could not withdraw from the plans. I knew too much. Also, I could not risk Rexana being threatened or harmed.” His face reddened. “I knew Garmonn had wounded Thomas, and that he would hurt or kill others to get his way.”

  Her eyes widening, Rexana said, “How did you know? Thomas told me he did not see who wounded him. Snow was falling.”

  “Garmonn told me one night, when he was very drunk. He laughed and thought it great sport. He told me he had shot a peasant to impress you. I had helped you save Thomas a month earlier, and guessed he was the man Garmonn wounded.”

  Loathing blazed through Fane. He vowed to see Garmonn punished for his ruthlessness and manipulations.

  Rexana crossed her arms. She looked worn, as though the day’s turmoil had overwhelmed her. As Fane drew her against his side, she shuddered. “Oh, Rudd. He said he would kill you if I told anyone of that day.”

  Rudd’s gaze hardened before he stared down at Garmonn’s motionless body. “The night he told me, I knew I had to stay with the traitors until I could prove their deceit.”

  “This is a fascinating tale,” Fane muttered, “but you plotted to kill me.”

  “I devised a plan, aye, but did not intend to follow through. Garmonn began to suspect me, so I had to defray his distrust.” Rudd shrugged. “I joined the fight earlier not to kill you, but to ensure Garmonn did not win.”

  Irritation thinned Fane’s temper. He could have defeated Garmonn on his own. “Naught you have told me proves your innocence, Villeaux.”

  “I have documents. I planned to send them to the king, but I will give them to you.”

  “Where are they?”

  Rudd’s gaze flicked to Rexana. “I will need your brooch.”

  She fingered the gold arrow, clearly reluctant to part with it. “Why?”

  “You, dear sister, hold the key to the truth. I did not trust anyone else.”

  A puzzled frown furrowed her bow, yet she unpinned the brooch and handed it to her brother. Fane followed them to the fallen tree. Cradling his hurt arm, Rudd eased over the log. Fane assisted Rexana over. Rudd walked down to the end of the tree, which drooped into the pool, then reached into a hollow in the rotting wood.

  Warning pricked at the base of Fane’s skull. Pulling Rexana aside, he raised his dagger. “If you try to trick me—”

  Rudd sighed. “No trickery, I promise.”

  Leaves rustled. Bark dropped from the hollow. A moment later, he brought out a small box. The metal lock was an odd shape. He set the box atop the log and pushed the fletching end of the brooch into the lock. With a click, it opened.

  As Rudd raised the box’s lid, Fane strode closer. Rolled parchments lay inside, many bearing wax seals.

  Rudd wiped his sweat-beaded brow. “There are records of meetings, signed promises of military support, as well as letters I said I would deliver but never did. I also have a statement of the traitors’ purpose, penned by Garmonn. Enough evidence to imprison him and the other traitors for years.”

  Rexana’s face glowed with pride.

  Tearing his gaze from her, Fane smothered an oath. If the box did indeed hold this trove of documents, Rudd had fulfilled an extraordin
ary duty for the king. He had risked his life to work amongst men who would have killed him if they knew his true purpose. With honor and discretion, he had shielded Rexana from the danger, and fooled even a crown appointed High Sheriff.

  Yet, ’twas also possible the lad had made up his account to save his neck, and the documents were forged.

  Fane closed the box with a snap. “I will consider what you have told me, and review these parchments.”

  “I expected as much.” Rudd slumped against the fallen tree. In the stark sunlight, he looked wan.

  Sliding her arms around her brother’s waist, Rexana hugged him. His eyes closed, and he hugged her back.

  Fane ignored a jealous pang. He looked at his men, herding the traitors to the glade’s center. “We will return to Tangston Keep. There, Rudd, I will decide your innocence. Or guilt.”

  Some time later, Rexana stepped into the passage outside the solar, closing the doors behind her. As she nodded to the guards, smoke from the wall torches wafted to her like veiled secrets. Anticipation swirled up inside her.

  Fane had promised to summon her once he had studied the box’s contents and questioned Rudd. She had bathed, dressed in an embroidered pink gown, and dried her hair by the fire. Fane had not come. Was he still mulling her brother’s fate? Or, had Fane deemed Rudd guilty and was reluctant to tell her?

  They had arrived back at Tangston just before dusk. Fane had been quick to get her away from Rudd and the prisoners. As soon as Fane had dismounted, he shouted for Tansy. “Refresh yourself, love,” he had said, pushing her toward the beaming servant. “I will fetch you when I have made my decision.”

  “I want to stay with you.”

  Fane touched her cheek. “I will fetch you.” After silencing her protests with a kiss, he had ordered the traitors taken to cells and begun discussing dungeon security with Kester.

  Pausing at the end of the shadowed passage, Rexana braced a hand against the wall. Fane’s rumbled voice carried from the hall below. He did not sound angry. A woman murmured before an object clunked on a table. A chair scraped on the floorboards.

  Rudd spoke, his tone strained. What had he said? Rexana moved closer.

  Her brother gasped, then groaned. He sounded in agony.

  The hair at Rexana’s nape prickled. Her imagination filled with grim images. Fane did not approve of torture, but if Rudd refused to talk, mayhap he had found another means to—

  Her brother yelled. “Zoundchs, that shurts.”

  His words were slurred. Drugged? Shock and outrage slammed through her. She grabbed her skirts. Her feet pounded on the wooden landing, and she stared down over the rail.

  Fane glanced up from where he sat at the lord’s table. The brooch and box sat near him, the documents scattered within his reach. “Ah, Rexana. I planned to come get you soon.”

  Her gaze flew to her brother, seated at a table below the dais. His tunic and shirt lay rumpled on the floor. Celeste stood beside him, peering down at his bare, bloody shoulder. She held something between her fingers. What?

  Rexana thundered down the stairs. A biting herbal scent assailed her, and she wrinkled her nose. “What goes on here?”

  “Rexshana.” Rudd stretched a hand out to her, then winced. Shaking her head, Celeste bent over his wound. He flushed. “Ousssccchhh.”

  Rexana ran to his side. He reeked of ale. A full pitcher and mug sat next to his good arm. “He is besotted!”

  Fane pushed up from his chair. “No man would have his arm stitched without downing a few stiff drinks first.”

  “Stitched?” she repeated in a weak voice. Celeste held a bone needle. Near her on the table was a bowl of pungent, greenish-colored herbal water, no doubt used to cleanse the needle as well as Rudd’s mangled flesh.

  Rexana’s stomach churned and she looked away.

  Fane crossed to her, his expression somber. “His wound is deep. Yet, with stitches, it should heal well enough.” A faint grin touched his lips, igniting warmth within her. “I had not summoned you yet, because I hoped to spare you having to watch.”

  She stared up into his dark, mesmerizing eyes. “I thought you had forgotten me.”

  “You were impatient, wife.”

  His acute assessment rubbed her frayed nerves. She sighed. “Well? Have you reached your decision? Are you convinced of my brother’s innocence?”

  Fane’s gaze lowered. Frowning as though struggling with difficult words, he said, “It seems I may have been mistaken.”

  “Indeed?” She smiled.

  “Rudd’s collection of documents is impressive.” Fane shook his head. “I can think of no reason for him to have gathered them, but that he planned to send them to the king.”

  “Riyghto, Linford.” Rudd’s fist thumped on the table. He slurped more ale, then loosed a loud belch.

  Rexana drew a shaky breath. “Do you believe, beyond doubt, he is not guilty of treachery?”

  Fane nodded.

  “Oh!” Joy filled her, along with love so intense, she thought her heart would soar free from her body. Throwing herself into Fane’s arms, she snuggled against him to hug him tight. At last, they could be together without any hindrances to their happiness.

  He returned her embrace, yet his hold seemed loose and reluctant, his posture tense. Doubt nibbled at her elation.

  Before she could ask what was wrong, Fane said, “There is another, Rudd says, who will vouch for his innocence.”

  She raised her head from Fane’s tunic. “Who?”

  “Thomas.”

  She gasped and glanced at Rudd. “Why did you not tell me?”

  He did not answer. His mouth drooped and his eyes were closed. A snort rattled in his throat as his chin slumped to his chest. Celeste continued her stitches.

  “He is oblivious,” Fane muttered.

  “Is he all right?” Breaking free of his embrace, Rexana ran to the table. When she nudged her brother’s good shoulder, he did not stir or awaken.

  “Your brother will be fine in the morn, apart from a sore head. He is old enough to look after himself now.” Wry laughter warmed Fane’s words. “He is a man, Rexana, not a boy.”

  As she looked down at her brother, her cheeks warmed. “You are right.”

  “Of course I am.”

  She rolled her eyes toward the shadowed trusses overhead, then straightened. Fane had crossed to the lord’s table. His gaze held residual mirth, yet also wariness.

  He kept something from her.

  Resisting a rush of uncertainty, she said, “Please advise me what he told you. I cannot wait until the morrow to ask him myself.”

  Fane rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Very well. If you remember, Rudd paid Thomas for the use of his barn. Rudd planned to schedule an important meeting there and invite all known traitors to attend. He also intended to send a missive to the king’s ministers. If the crown forces attacked during the meeting, they would snare most of the traitors. The rebellion would be all but snuffed.”

  “But before that meeting could be set, your men captured Rudd at the tavern.”

  “Correct.”

  Frowning, she said, “I do not understand. When you came to Thomas’s house, the day I rode off to visit him, Thomas claimed Rudd was a traitor.”

  “Rudd made Thomas swear not to reveal the truth, not even to you. Rudd feared being discovered and what Garmonn, the traitors’ leader, might do. Your brother worried not only for himself, but for you. Brave Thomas even hid some documents for Rudd for a time.”

  “Until Rudd had the box and brooch made,” she guessed.

  Fane nodded. “Yet, Thomas is a loyal subject. When Kester arrived at his home and began asking questions, Thomas would not lie before his lord’s men. He admitted he loaned the barn to Rudd and had heard of Rudd’s involvement with the traitors. After all, this is what Rudd wanted him to say. Your brother wanted to appear guilty.”

  “I see.” She blinked. “I think.”

  Fane’s expression shadowed. “’Tis a
convoluted tale, I agree. No doubt Thomas’s account will flesh out Rudd’s. I plan to visit Thomas in the morn.”

  Rexana glanced at her brother, whose chest rose and fell in sound slumber. Just days ago, he was chained to the dungeon wall, condemned as a criminal. If the events of the past few days had unfolded in a different pattern, he might not have had the opportunity to prove his innocence and clear his name. Shutting out the dark thoughts, she said, “If Rudd was working in secret for the king, why did he not tell you during his imprisonment?”

  “He feared the traitors in the other cell would hear, and that word might somehow leak to Garmonn.” Fane’s shoulders moved in a stiff shrug. “He also knew I had coerced you into marriage. Your brother did not trust me, for he thought me a ruthless barbarian, just like the rest of his peers.”

  Bitterness underscored Fane’s words, yet as she stared at him across the distance separating them, fierce pride surged inside her. With his capture of the traitors, he had proven the king’s wisdom in appointing him High Sheriff. Fane’s triumph would soon be lauded throughout all of Warringham. He had fought with chivalry and honor, and proven himself worthy of the greatest respect. She could not wait to prove to him, in the solar, how much she admired him.

  How she loved him.

  With slow, loose-hipped strides, she crossed to him. “What will happen to Garmonn?”

  As she neared, Fane’s gaze narrowed. “He will answer for his crimes in the King’s Courts, along with the other traitors.”

  Caution hummed in his tone, but she dismissed it. Fane might think she disagreed with his harsh intentions for Garmonn, but she did not. “As you know, milord, Lord Darwell is a powerful man. He may use his influence to free Garmonn.”

  She reached Fane’s side. He stared down at her, determination gleaming in his eyes.

  “Darwell will not succeed, Rexana. Trust me.”

  “I do, husband.” Arching against him in sensual invitation, she slid both arms around his waist.

  He tensed, as though her caress brought physical discomfort. He did not return her embrace. “Do you, Rexana?”

  Disquiet whipped through her. “Aye, husband, I do.” She drew back. Their hips and bellies touched, yet he seemed distant. Remote. Tipping her head up, she looked into his eyes. They gleamed with misery. A violent chill tore through her, like she had plummeted into the midst of a winter storm.