Daring Damsels

by Domning, Denise

  She could only pray Mary would remain safe until then.

  Garret emerged from the stables, adjusting his stockings. He glanced back over his shoulder at the wench sitting on a pile of hay, pulling her dress up over her ample bosom. He paused at the door to admire those luscious curves. She glanced up and caught him staring at her. She grinned and purposely dropped her top, leaning back so her breasts jutted out at him in invitation.

  Garret chuckled low in his throat. “Wanton wench,” he murmured. But he resisted the stirrings in his loins. He needed a few hours sleep if he was to meet Bria come dawn. He shook his head, laughing pleasantly. The women at Castle Delaney had always been very accommodating.

  He headed toward the keep, passing through the empty courtyard, whistling softly. As he approached the keep, the simple song died on his lips. A horse stood unattended in the middle of the inner ward. A scowl crossed his brow.

  He approached the horse, patting its neck lightly. The horse whinnied and tossed its head. The reins jerked up with the movement before settling back to dangle over the animal’ s neck. Something on the end of the reins caught Garret’s attention, something heavy enough to weigh down the leather straps.

  Garret grabbed the bridle and patted the horse’s neck again before picking up the reins. A branch was tangled in the leather straps. He worked the straps free and inspected the branch for a moment before tossing it aside.

  The courtyard was empty. How strange, he thought. Whose horse was this?

  Garret stepped up the first stair to the keep when suddenly the door flew open. Bria emerged from the double doors and their gazes locked immediately. A smile began to form on Garret’s lips at seeing her, but ceased when he read the distress in her eyes. Her usually bright blue eyes were wide with fear. Her complexion was pale. Something was terribly wrong.

  Garret bounded up the two steps to her side and took her hands in his. “Bria, what is it? What’s happened?”

  “Mary.” Bria glanced over his shoulder toward the gatehouse. “We were in the east woods and Kenric...” She turned those wide, blue eyes to him. “Kenric killed an old woman. And... I’m afraid for Mary.”

  “Where?” Garret demanded, straightening. “Where in the east woods? Where is Mary?”

  Bria struggled to pull free of his grip. “I need to find Jason. I need to call out the guards and go look for Mary.”

  “Tell me where she is,” Garret demanded.

  “I won’t risk your life, too!” She shook her head frantically. “It’s Kenric!”

  “And it’s Mary!” Garret fumed. “Why won’t you tell me –” Suddenly, understanding filled him, followed instantly by indignation. His jaw clenched in anger. “You think I can’t defeat Kenric.”

  “That’s not it,” Bria proclaimed.

  But Garret knew the truth. He turned away. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll find her myself.”

  “No! Garret!” Bria raced after him and attempted to grab his arm, but Garret tore loose, whirling on her.

  “I’m insulted you think so little of me,” Garret said. Hurt twisted his heart. She was one of his best friends, yet had such little faith in his abilities.

  “He killed an old woman.”

  “I’ve killed many men. Young men,” Garret retorted hotly.

  “She was weaponless! Kenric has no honor, Garret!” Bria argued vehemently. “This isn’t a contest. He’d strike at you from behind, kill you by trickery, and I don’t want a friend of mine killed.”

  “I can defend myself,” Garret insisted. His pride had been wounded, and it was not so easily mended. “Are you going to tell me where she is or not?”

  Bria hesitated for only a moment, carefully, thoughtfully, angrily perusing his face. Finally, she turned away.

  Garret fumed. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t going to tell him, couldn’t believe she’d leave Mary out in the woods in such great peril.

  But then, much to his surprise, Bria swung herself up onto the lone horse in the middle of the courtyard and held out a hand to him.

  “No,” Garret insisted, something akin to panic building inside him. “I’ll go alone. There’s no need for you to risk your life. I’m a trained knight.”

  Bria glanced at him and Garret saw the resolution in her eyes. “She’s my friend, too.”

  Garret cursed silently and grabbed her hand, pulling himself up behind her. He snatched the reins from her hands and demanded, “Where is she?”

  They searched the woods for hours beneath the light of the moon, but there was no sign of Mary or Kenric or the old woman. It was as if Bria had imagined the entire thing. She knew that was exactly what Garret was beginning to believe. At dawn they went to Mary’s home. Bria hoped beyond hope she had imagined the whole thing, that Kenric hadn’t killed some old woman and Mary was safe at home in her bed.

  Bria glanced back at Garret, who was still sitting on the horse, before turning back to Mary’s door. She lifted her hand to knock, but the door opened before her knuckles could hit the wood. Mary’s mother, a thin woman with large blue eyes, stood in the doorway.

  “Bria,” she gasped. “Is Mary with you?”

  Dread surged in Bria’s breast. It hadn’t been her imagination. “No,” Bria said. “She didn’t return home last night?”

  “No,” Mary’s mother whimpered. She burst into tears. “Oh, Bria, I don’t know what to do. You know Mary. You know she wouldn’t stay out all night.”

  Bria looked in the direction of the pond. Dread filled her entire being. They had to go back and search again. They had to find Mary.

  “George is out looking for her now,” Mary’s mother said.

  “I’ll look for her,” Bria promised and returned to Garret. She couldn’t lift her eyes to him; she couldn’t look at him. This was her fault. She never should have left Mary.

  Garret reached down and encircled her hand, pulling her up before him. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered.

  Mary’s mother stood in the doorway. “I’ll stay here in case she comes home.”

  But Bria wasn’t listening to either of them. She directed Garret to return to the pond. I should have stayed with her. I shouldn’t have left her alone. She pictured her friend lying dead in the road, run through by Kenric.

  They reached the pond and scanned the shore, but Mary wasn’t there.

  “Mary!” Bria called desperately.

  Pictures of Mary buried in the bushes, raped, beaten, stabbed, played out in ugly images in Bria’s mind. “Mary!” Bria repeated, her voice cracking with despair. Tears rose in her eyes. I shouldn’t have left her.

  Garret’s arm tightened around her waist.

  But Bria leaned away from him, resisting his attempt at comfort.

  Garret nudged the horse forward slowly.

  Bria searched the sides of the road as they rode by, hoping something would appear, something they’d missed before, some clue that Mary was still alive, a sign her friend was all right.

  But there was nothing, no blood, no bodies, not even a sign of a scuffle. Of course, Kenric wouldn’t have left any evidence of what he had done.

  She’d never know what he did with Mary.

  Deep down, Bria knew if Mary hadn’t returned by now, she wasn’t going to. Even acknowledging this to herself was admitting defeat. If she just kept looking, if she didn’t give up, everything would be all right.

  And then something caught her eye. “Wait!”

  Garret pulled the horse to a halt and Bria dismounted, swinging her leg over the horse’s back, never taking her gaze from what looked like a piece of red cloth stuck to the bark of a tree. She hurried over to it.

  Bria stopped before the tree, looking at the cloth for a long moment. Finally, she touched it then quickly pulled her hand back. Her fingertips were stained red. Sickened, Bria lifted her eyes to the piece of cloth again. It wasn’t red. It was saturated with blood. The edges were still brown, the same brown as the dress Mary had been wearing. Bria crushed the material in her tremb
ling hand. “Mary,” she whispered, staring down at the red-stained fabric in her palm.

  Garret moved up behind her. “It might not be hers,” he said softly.

  Bria turned to look at him, her vision blurred with tears. Garret reached out to her, pulling her close.

  They both knew it was Mary’s.

  Terran stared out the window of his bedroom in Castle Knowles. Garret, he thought again. Garret Dysen. Even though Odella’s father believed Terran to be a better match for his daughter, Odella’s heart had already been taken.

  The door squeaked open behind him. He didn’t turn from the rising sun. What could he do for her? Would he release her to make her happy? Could he let her go to another man to give her life?

  The footsteps of an invader entered the deathly quiet chambers.

  “M’lord,” Kenric whispered. His voice sounded like a scream in the soundless room.

  Terran didn’t answer him, didn’t move.

  Kenric lowered his voice even further. “The herbalist is missing.”

  Terran whirled. “What do you mean, missing?”

  “She’s gone, Terran. We’ve searched everywhere.”

  “Then get another!” Terran demanded. “It’s Odella’s only hope. Bring me some concoction that will make her well!”

  “I brought a physician instead,” Kenric said softly.

  “I told you I don’t want a physician,” Terran growled.

  “Terran, be reasonable!” Kenric urged. “He’s better than nothing.”

  Terran turned his gaze to Odella as soft footsteps echoed through the room. Her angelic face was so at peace, so soft and delicate.

  A tall, thin old man stepped into his view. The old man bent immediately over Odella and a fierce protectiveness surged in Terran’s chest. He forced the feeling aside and pressed his back against the cold stone wall. His eyes never left the physician.

  “Terran, you should get some rest,” Kenric advised.

  Terran snorted his disagreement and crossed his arms over his chest. He was going nowhere. His cold black eyes remained locked on the physician. So help this man if he made one mistake, just one. He’d kill him with his bare hands.

  The physician touched Odella’s throat, her wrist, her forehead, then put his hand about an inch away from her lips. He held it there for a long moment, then slowly lowered it.

  The physician lifted his gaze to Kenric, nervousness in his eyes.

  Terran uncrossed his arms, ready for explosive action. “What is it?” Terran demanded. His gaze dropped to Odella. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s dead, m’lord,” the physician announced.

  Terran lifted dark eyes to pin the physician to the spot. Rage and fear churned in his heart. The old man recoiled from his deathly glare.

  “I’m sorry,” the physician said meekly.

  In one swift movement Terran grabbed the physician by his tunic front and slammed him against the wall. “Liar,” he snarled.

  The old man quivered beneath Terran’s twisted grimace. “I -- I’m sorry, m’lord,” he stuttered. Terran tossed the old man aside, and the physician quickly fled the room.

  Terran’s gaze slid to the woman in the bed. Her soft features were still, her eyes closed as if in sleep, her lips pale, but still pink.

  Terran sat beside her on the bed, taking her hand in his trembling fingers, grief closing his throat. “Open your eyes, darling,” he whispered. “Show that old goat how wrong he is.”

  But her eyes didn’t flutter. They didn’t open.

  “Come, Odella. Don’t be stubborn. Open your eyes.” His voice cracked slightly.

  Terran shifted his gaze from her cold fingers to her still face. She did not move. “Open your eyes, damn it!” he ordered through clenched teeth.

  Her eyes remained closed.

  Suddenly, grief consumed him and he swept her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her long golden locks. “Oh, no, no,” he whispered into her hair. Anguish shattered the last shards of his self-control. His utter misery rolled from his eyes, from his very soul, in a torrent of torment. “Odella, Odella,” he repeated, over and over again.

  Exhausted both mentally and physically, Bria and Garret rode home slowly. They’d searched together and with Mary’s father all day, but Bria knew it was useless. She knew Mary’s fate had been the same as the Widow Anderson’s. But there was no proof. The bloodied cloth they’d found didn’t prove much of anything. There were no bodies. How could she bring forth any accusations against Kenric when she had no solid proof?

  It’s my fault. If I’d stayed with Mary, she’d still be alive.

  Or you would have been killed, a voice inside her reminded.

  She looked over at the setting sun. Her stomach rumbled, but she didn’t care. Grief and fatigue warred within her. The red sky wavered before her watery eyes.

  “What should I do, Garret?” she whispered, staring at the castle as they approached it.

  “Do?” Garret asked. “There’s nothing to do. Mary could return to her house at any moment.”

  Bria closed her eyes. “You know she won’t. Kenric killed her.”

  “You don’t know that,” Garret said. “She could be hiding in the forest or at someone’s house. You didn’t see Kenric kill her. Maybe she got away.”

  Bria opened her hand and stared down at the bloodied cloth. She knew Mary hadn’t escaped. She would have gone home, or come to Castle Delaney. Grief welled within her. Her best friend. And it was her fault.

  “Bria!”

  Bria lifted her head to see her grandfather running across the drawbridge toward her. “I’ve been looking for you the entire day,” he said in a worried voice. He came up short before her, reaching up for her, his old lungs fighting for a breath. Bria took his hand and dismounted.

  “I’ll stable your horse.” Garret moved the animal off toward the castle.

  Harry studied Bria’s downcast face. “I’m so sorry.” He engulfed her in a tight hold and rocked her slightly. “I heard about your friend.”

  “Oh, Grandfather.” She pressed her face into his chest. All her grief and desperation and guilt came out in a torrent of sobs. Her grandfather’s embrace tightened, and she knew she wasn’t worthy of his comfort.

  Her best friend was gone, and she’d abandoned her, had all but killed her. “It was Kenric,” she wept. The entire story spilled out, ending with, “I know he killed her.” Her grandfather stroked her back, comforting her as she spoke. “I thought of going to Knowles and telling him what Kenric did...”

  “No!” her grandfather snapped.

  Startled, Bria pulled back and lifted her reddened eyes to her grandfather. The terror in his gaze took her aback.

  He shook his head as if clearing it. “I mean, it would do no good,” he explained. “You’re a woman. Knowles would never believe your word against his cousin’s. Kenric is his trusted sheriff. Besides, then your father would find out you’ve been on Knowles’ lands, and he strictly forbade that years ago.”

  “I don’t care if Father finds out. We’re talking about Mary’s murderer. Knowles should know.”

  “Knowles won’t give a damn.” Harry held Bria at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes. There was a bitterness in his voice he couldn’t disguise.

  “But I’m noble,” Bria protested. “That has to count for something in Knowles’ eyes.”

  “Even nobles lie, my dear.”

  “But what can I do? I left Mary there, Grandfather. I can’t just... just leave her death unpunished.”

  Harry stroked her hair soothingly. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Mary wasn’t one of your father’s people. She’s not your responsibility.”

  “She was my friend, Grandfather,” Bria whimpered. “She was my best friend.”

  “I know, Bria. I know.” Her grandfather wrapped his arm around her shoulder and began to escort her back into the safety of Castle Delaney. “But she lived on the wrong lands. She lived under the rule of a tyrant who h
as no sense of justice.”

  The fire in the hearth crackled and hissed angrily, the flames sparking and snapping. Bria watched the tendrils. They were yelling at her for leaving Mary. She pulled her knees to her chest. Even the fire didn’t warm her cold, despondent spirit. She couldn’t forgive herself for leaving Mary with Kenric. She couldn’t forgive herself for thinking of her own life before the life of her friend.

  “Little Lady?”

  Bria would have smiled had she not felt so utterly miserable. It was her father’s pet name for her. She turned to look at him over her shoulder. He was tall and handsome, with a commanding presence few others could claim. His dark brown hair was speckled with gray and his face was lined with wrinkles from the sun, from worry, and from laughter, but his blue eyes held wisdom beyond his years.

  Bria adored her father. She hardly noticed his left arm, which hung limp and lifeless at his side. It was a dead weight, rendered useless in the war against France. When he had returned home three years ago, Bria had nursed him back to health, but he’d never recovered from the crippling wound.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “A friend of mine died today,” she answered evasively. If he knew she’d spent the day on Knowles’ lands, he’d have her head.

  “Yes,” he replied, taking the seat beside her. “I heard. And I’m sorry. But that’s part of life.”

  “It doesn’t ease the pain,” Bria snapped.

  “No, it doesn’t,” he answered.

  “Especially when she was murdered.”

  Her father was silent for a long time as he stared into the fire. “I know you’re sad, Bria, so I won’t punish you for crossing over onto Knowles’ lands.”

  Bria grimaced. She didn’t care whether he punished her or not. She deserved to be punished for her cowardice. She deserved a whipping. She deserved a hundred lashes, nay a thousand!

  “But I will not have my order disobeyed again. Is that understood?”

  Bria nodded.

  “Stay off of Knowles’ lands,” he ordered. “Let this go, Bria. I don’t want my only child hurt. Besides, you should be concentrating on choosing a suitor.”