Daring Damsels

by Domning, Denise

  “Tell Lord Knowles his tyranny will no longer be tolerated,” the masked man whispered against his ear. “Tell him the Midnight Shadow will see to it.”

  The Midnight Shadow shoved the tax collector into the dirt.

  The tax collector lay still for a long moment, terror keeping him pinned to the ground. He slowly lifted his head and looked about him for any signs of his assailant. But the field was empty and still.

  The Midnight Shadow was gone.

  “I’ve been waiting for you. You awaken late.”

  Bria whirled to see Knowles moving toward her. The red light of the hallway torch flickered over his black hair, casting his face in shadows. Does he know? she immediately wondered. Has he come to confront me?

  She lifted her chin slightly. “Do you always hide in the dark waiting to accost ladies as they emerge from their rooms?” she demanded. Her heart pounded in her chest. He startled you, she told herself, that’s all.

  He straightened at her barb, but feigned disinterest. “I was waiting to accompany you to break your fast.”

  A rush of relief spread through her. He doesn’t know. The relief was followed quickly by a moment of excitement -- to sit next to him, to speak with him of his castle and lands. What am I thinking? Bria wondered. I have to keep in mind who he is. “I don’t think my father would care to have you in his hall.”

  Terran drew up slightly, his demeanor becoming cooler. “I don’t think he’d object to having his son-in-law dine in his hall.”

  Bria turned away from him, shaking her head. “Surely you see it is futile. My father will not betroth me to you.”

  Terran stepped up close behind her, and a shiver raced up her spine. She held her breath, waiting.

  “If you speak to him, perhaps he will change his mind,” Terran murmured.

  Bria felt that rush again, that anticipatory anxiousness. “Why would I speak with him?” she asked.

  “Because you want to be my wife,” he whispered against the nape of her neck. His hot breath sent shivers shooting down to her toes. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling. She opened her mouth to deny it, but no denial came forth.

  He chuckled low in his throat and brushed a kiss against the soft skin of her neck. “You are mine. You have always been mine.”

  Bria half turned to him and something caught in her throat as she saw just how close he was. He was going to kiss her.

  When he spoke again, his lips caressed her hair. “I will not give you up, my lady.”

  The sound of approaching footsteps caused Terran to step back from her. Without the warmth of his body radiating over her, the spell was broken. Bria stumbled forward, quickly moving away from him. She trembled as she hurried down the hallway, feeling his gaze upon her. The pace of her steps increased until she rounded a corner to a spiral stairway. She stopped and leaned against the stone wall, almost as if she were hiding from his view.

  What is happening to me? Every time Terran is near, I lose my senses. It must be because I am so tired. I barely slept at all last night. She had lain in bed, excitedly replaying her daring exploit with the tax collector over and over in her mind.

  Yes, she thought. I’m just tired.

  And in danger, another voice reminded her. He may have just been your suitor before last night, but now the real war has begun. You‘ve made him your enemy now.

  With that certainty, Bria moved toward the Great Hall to break her fast.

  Kenric sat in Terran’s judgment chair in Castle Knowles, staring down at the tax collector who had returned empty-handed. “The Midnight Shadow?”

  “Yes,” the man replied. “I swear he just disappeared with the bag, or I would have chased him down.”

  Kenric’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a good story,” he commended. “Now give up the bag.”

  The tax collector’s eyes widened. “I don’t have it, I swear!”

  Kenric nodded at one of his men standing near the door. The man approached the tax collector. “Make this easy on yourself. Give it up.”

  “I don’t have it! This man just appeared out of the night and stole the bag from me at sword point!”

  “Yet you have no proof.”

  “What was I to do?”

  “Die.” Kenric nodded at the soldier behind the man.

  The soldier pulled his sword from its scabbard and plunged it into the tax collector’s back.

  The man stared at Kenric with large eyes before slumping lifeless to the floor.

  “The Midnight Shadow,” Kenric muttered. “Such nonsense.”

  Terran sat in the back of the Great Hall watching the head table. Bria, her father, and grandfather all sat there, looking righteous and proud.

  Terran ripped off a chunk of venison. He watched Bria as he slowly, thoughtfully, chewed his food. Her long brown hair was wound tightly in a braid running down her back along her spine. He only glimpsed it when she turned to exchange a word with her father or grandfather, who sat at her side like sentinels.

  Terran tore his gaze from her. She was no Odella. She was bold, headstrong and determined. But those qualities only made her more appealing, more of a challenge.

  Terran didn’t mind that there was no chair at the head table for him. The Delaneys had chosen to ignore the betrothal, to ignore him, by denying him a place at their table. Their action intrigued him. It showed their anger and their hostility toward him, yet Delaney had not challenged him outright, nor even banished him from Castle Delaney. As if this slight will make me leave, Terran mused.

  He wasn’t leaving until he got what he came for, a wife and a dowry. Still, it had made him furious to see his betrothed sobbing at her lover’s side, the way she clung to him, held onto his arm, touched his shoulder. He shook his head. At least he knew she loved another man. Yet she had responded to his kiss, had actually kissed him in return. Could he be wrong about her relationship with Dysen? Or did Dysen simply not satisfy her?

  Terran threw back a drink of his ale. When he set it down again, his gaze came to rest on Bria. She can’t be trusted, he told himself for the hundredth time. She thinks the worst of me. She‘ll betray me at the first opportunity that arises.

  His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the little nymph at the head table delicately bite a piece of bread. I will enjoy changing her mind about me, he thought, night after night.

  “He’s watching you again.”

  Bria already knew it. She could feel his dark gaze upon her, and her body responded instantly, a delightful shiver coursing through her. He’d been following and watching her since the afternoon meal.

  She glanced back over her chair to see Terran Knowles standing at the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his feet planted firmly shoulder width apart. He just stared at her, making no pretense that he wasn’t watching her.

  A tingle raced up her spine at being the object of his intense stare. Bria turned back to the fire, her anger at her immediate response to him mounting. He was, after all, her enemy. He wouldn’t listen to her about Mary or Kenric, and yet he affected her in an instantaneous way. It was frustrating and confusing. “I don’t understand why Father won’t throw him out of Castle Delaney.”

  “He doesn’t want to start a fight,” Harry answered.

  Bria shook her head. “Ever since he came back from the war, he wants nothing to do with battle. He’s already angry over the joust that took Garret’s life.” Bria shifted in her seat.

  Harry laid a hand on her shoulder. “It was an accident, Bria,” Harry explained patiently. “It could have happened to anyone. Garret fell from his horse and twisted his neck.”

  “I know,” Bria whispered. She knew the words Terran had spoken were the truth. He hadn’t meant to kill Garret. “But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “He’ll become tired of the pursuit and return to his lands,” Harry whispered.

  Bria turned to cast a glance at Terran over her shoulder. He was still leaning against the wall, watching
her with an unwavering gaze. Again her insides turned to liquid. She felt everything in her melt beneath his stare. She just hoped she could keep her distance from him until he left.

  “You must be careful meeting me at the clearing. Don’t let him see you.”

  “I won’t let him see me. But you’ll have to bring my sword.”

  Harry nodded and Bria rose from her chair. She bent over to kiss his cheek and felt the tension in his corded muscles as she rested her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “It will all turn out fine.”

  “Bria, don’t underestimate him,” Harry warned. “He’s no fool.”

  Bria smiled warmly at her grandfather and headed toward her room.

  “Lady Bria,” someone whispered as she neared the kitchens.

  Bria looked up to see Deb, her personal servant, motioning for her to come closer. Deb’s gaze darted left, then right, scanning the surroundings of the dark hallway. Bria moved to her and Deb quickly ushered her into the kitchen.

  “What is it, Deb?” Bria asked. “What’s wrong?”

  Deb grabbed her hand, leading her past a young boy fanning the cauldron flames with a bellows. They moved deeper into the kitchen until they were alone near the stacks of bagged vegetables piled shoulder high. Deb turned to Bria, her eyes filled with concern. “Is it true, m’lady?”

  “Is what true?”

  “Are you really going to marry Lord Knowles?”

  For a moment, Bria wondered how Deb could have known, but then quickly remembered she’d scolded Deb countless times for spreading gossip through the castle. “No, it’s not true. I will not marry him,” she told Deb.

  Deb breathed a sigh of relief. “The Lord be praised. You will be saved.”

  “Saved? From what?”

  Deb glanced around the kitchen, making certain no one else was within earshot. She turned back to Bria. “They say he killed his betrothed.”

  “What?” Bria gasped. Now it was her turn to glance around the kitchen. Knowles had been watching her all day, but it seemed for the moment she’d eluded him.

  “The poor girl loved him so much,” Deb said, more than bubbling at the prospect of repeating gossip. “But he didn’t care about lady Odella. Why, he didn’t even attempt to keep his mistress a secret, either. He was only marrying her because of her dowry.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Bria said. Mistress, she thought. That doesn’t surprise me, either. “Go on. How did he kill her?”

  “Well, the poor girl was brokenhearted. She wanted to end their betrothal, and he just poisoned her. Killed her in his own bed. They buried her but a month ago, and here he is tryin’ to get your hand in marriage.” Deb shook her head.

  A scowl marred Bria’s forehead. She couldn’t picture Terran Knowles poisoning someone. He was a fighter, and poison had always been the coward’s way to kill someone. Bria looked at the servant girl for a long moment. She was a wealth of knowledge, knowledge she needed. “Are you still seeing that innkeeper?” she wondered.

  “Yes,” Deb replied, bowing her head somewhat shyly.

  Bria nodded. “He must hear all the gossip about Knowles.”

  Deb nodded. “Oh, yes, Scott does. Being that he works near the village just beyond Castle Knowles, he hears plenty, m’lady. Why, little Ben Johnson was nearly killed the other day when–” Deb stopped herself short. She curtsied to Bria. “My apologies, m’lady. I know how you don’t like me to gossip.”

  “It’s all right, Deb. I need to know as much as I can about my suitors and how they rule their lands, don’t I?”

  Deb burst into a wide smile. “Of course, m’lady. Of course you do.”

  “Now tell me about little Ben Johnson.”

  Deb nodded. “Two of Knowles’ tax collectors were riding through town when little Ben, he’s the alemaker’s son, ran out into the street after a toy. One of the horses spooked and reared, nearly throwing one of the tax collectors from his saddle. Little Ben went to apologize to the man and those ruffians beat the poor child! Just for scaring a horse!”

  Bria’s jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Is he all right?” she asked after a moment of controlling her anger.

  “Yes,” Deb answered. “Scared to death of the tax collectors now, if he wasn’t already. He’ll steer clear of them.”

  “Tell me what else you’ve heard,” Bria urged.

  Deb’s face all but glowed. There was nothing she liked more. But before she began, a boy raced through the kitchens, brushing past her skirt. He carried a handful of carrots. Bria recognized the dark hair and wiry body instantly. Her eyes widened, following the boy’s path through the kitchen. “Wasn’t that Garret’s squire?”

  Deb nodded her head.

  “Bradley!” Bria hollered.

  The boy skidded to a halt and returned to Bria’s side, an apologetic look on his face. “I didn’t step on your toes, did I, lady?”

  Bria shook her head. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you return to Castle Dysen?”

  “Lord Knowles took me on as his squire, lady,” Bradley replied, looking shyly away, shifting from foot to foot.

  “You’re Knowles’ squire now?” Bria asked, amazed.

  “Aye, m’lady,” Bradley answered. “Please don’t be mad at me. When Sir Garret died, I just didn’t know what ta do. My father is poor an’ we have no coin ta –”

  “Did you approach Knowles?”

  “Oh no, lady!” Bradley exclaimed. “I was too afraid of ‘im. Lord Knowles came ta me.”

  Bria was dumbfounded. It didn’t make sense. When Bradley was lost and alone and unsure, Knowles had taken him under his wing -- but Knowles wasn’t that kind of man.

  Bradley took a step back toward the doors. “If’n you’ll excuse me.” He held up the handful of carrots. “I’m tryin’ ta make friends with Lord Knowles’ horse.”

  Bria could only stare at the boy as he turned and raced out of the kitchens.

  “Lord Knowles must have put some kind of spell over the boy,” Deb said.

  Bria scowled. It just didn’t make sense.

  Bria rubbed her eyes as she mounted the spiral stairway to her room. She feigned fatigue, but inside a renewed vigor bubbled for the events to come. After Bradley had left, Deb had given her very valuable information she could use for weeks to come. She felt vibrant and anxious and even a little frightened at what the future held. She had a lot of work to do.

  She paused immediately at hearing footsteps behind her. She turned to see Terran stalking after her. Her heart began to race as he approached. “Good eve, Lord Knowles,” she called.

  “Good eve, Lady Bria,” he said with an ingratiating smile, a brilliant smile, a perfect smile.

  She shook her head mentally. What am I thinking? She looked again and saw a different smile as he moved toward her beneath the flickering light of the torches. The smile was wolfish, predatory. But something in it caused her pulse to quicken. “Why have you been following me all day?” she wondered.

  “I enjoy watching you,” he said.

  A thrill raced up her spine. “Thank you,” she replied, embarrassed at her self-consciousness. It wasn’t a compliment she had ever received.

  His smile grew wider and more genuine.

  It left her breathless. He was so handsome, more handsome than she’d ever known a man could be. Frightened by this newfound sensation, she backed to her bedroom door. “Well good night, Lord Knowles.”

  “Good night, Lady Bria,” he whispered.

  His voice sent waves of warmth through her body. Bria quickly entered her room and shut the door, hoping to seal out her feelings as well, but that was not to be.

  In the darkness of her room, giddiness and breathlessness swirled inside her. What was happening to her? What was this feeling? She had to remember that he was a cruel lord and treated his people badly. But why had he helped Bradley? And why was she feeling this warmth for Terran? She begged for it to stop, chastised herself for feeling anything for him.


  The strange, unwanted feelings remained to torment her, and she knew of only one way to rid herself of them.

  Terran had expected to be lectured about hounding her in her own castle. He hadn’t expected her large blue eyes to stare at him with such... surprise.

  Her silence had given him a chance to study her face -- her perfect little nose, her high cheekbones and full lips. Had she lingered a moment longer, he would have kissed her again, he was sure of it. As it was, his blood boiled in his veins at the mere memory of their kiss.

  Terran shook his head. Lust. He’d felt it before. Not this strongly, and certainly not for someone who wanted nothing to do with him. Could that be part of her intrigue? Or was it simply her womanly body that called so strongly to him?

  He realized suddenly he was staring at her wooden door and turned away. He would begin his pursuit again in the morning. Perhaps he’d find her alone in the garden, or in a hallway.

  Terran entered his room and shut the door. He sat at his window in the dark for a long time thinking about his betrothal to Bria. What would have happened had he not initially rejected his betrothal to her for Odella? Would she still despise him?

  The sound of horses’ hooves echoed in the courtyard. He glanced down and saw a lone figure riding through the inner ward toward the outer ward of the castle. Familiar long brown hair waved behind her, uninhibited. Terran’s eyes narrowed as he leaned a little further out the window to watch her path.

  Where could she possibly be going this late at night?

  The next morning, little Ben Johnson’s mother stretched and yawned. Her first thought was for her son, Ben. The tax collectors had beaten him soundly for spooking their horses, leaving him with a bleeding nose, a fat lip, and bruises on his face. That had been two days ago, but she worried they’d return to exact more vengeance on her family.

  She hurried to the main room to check on him.

  Ben was already awake, sitting up in his straw bed, playing with something. His black hair bobbed and fell over his bright eyes.