The Highland Knight's Revenge

by Lori Ann Bailey

  Pulses of pleasure burst in her core, and everything else disappeared as the swells of sensation hit her again, and then again, and then she gave into them as they came faster, harder, and stronger. She was vaguely aware that mewling sounds might be escaping her throat.

  As the last of the pulses hit her, Giric leaned up on his arms and gazed down at her. He pulled out, then thrust forward. He repeated the process, once, twice, three times, then he seemed to be falling into that same place where she’d just been. Out of reality, out of time, and in that space that belonged to only them.

  Moments later, he shifted to the side and pulled her into the crook between his arm and shoulder. As she lay nestled there, enjoying the peace and security, she said, “I’d like to do that again soon.”

  He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then whispered, “My lovely Jennet, ye have made me the happiest man in all of the word. And once we are wed, nothing is stopping us from doing it every day, or three times a day.” He laughed.

  “Will we go to Scotland straight away, or will we be able to retrieve my belongings? Oh, I need to say goodbye to my father, and I’d like for you to meet him.”

  “If that is what ye wish, we will visit yer family before I take ye to yer new home.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  Her thoughts turned to how pleased her father would have been about this match if he’d retained his senses, but she still had to let him know that she’d found a man who put her above all else. Perhaps that would give him some solace before he left this world. Peace claimed her as she lay in Giric’s arms.

  Jennet snuggled into him, and her soft weight went slack. It was a first for him, to let a woman fall asleep in his arms, and he had a feeling he’d never get enough of having her by his side.

  Tilting his head toward her, he inhaled her rose and sandalwood scent. It was heady, and he reveled in the realization that she was now totally and completely his. In her arms, he felt as if he had everything that he’d been missing all these years. He relaxed, visions of their life together playing in his head as a sweet slumber fell over him.

  He dreamed of the day his father died, the girl with the bow, the smoldering pile of the inn when his cousins had finally taken him in search of his father. Then the worst of the images assailed him, pulling the charred remains of two adults and a child from the destroyed building.

  He woke in a sweat, his lungs burning from the memory of inhaling the noxious fumes. Jennet was still nestled next to him, and he drew her near, welcoming the comfort of her presence.

  The sunlight had begun to fade. He’d forgotten his mission and spent the afternoon lost in her. Och, hell, how was he to take care of her when he couldn’t even fulfill the mission to avenge his father’s death? He had to find Edward Linton and make certain the man would be in the melee tomorrow. It was the only fair way to seek his retribution.

  Reluctantly, he pulled free of his woman, the lady that would be his wife. His chest soared at the thought. Once this business was over tomorrow, they could start their life together.

  But first, he had to bury the past and move on.

  He dressed, then leaned over the bed to wake her with a long sweet kiss. “Jennet, I have to see ye to yer room.”

  She blinked, then sat up with the covers pulled to her chest. “Are you so eager to meet my brother you must wake me?” She grinned, and it was a beautiful sight.

  As she rose to dress, he couldn’t help but gaze upon her lovely form. He wished he could change his mind and ask her to lay back down and never leave his room. And tomorrow night he could, but now he had to finish his quest.

  “I want to meet with him, but ’twill have to wait until after the melee. It’s late now, and I need to seek out the man who I’ll be challenging tomorrow.”

  She frowned. “Are you sure this is what your father would want? Perhaps he would wish for you to look to the future.”

  “I’m taking care of both at the same time. I’ll meet you in the great hall as soon as I have won tomorrow, and my demands have been agreed to. Then we can have yer brother escort us to the chapel.”

  “I will let you, but only because I need to check on Ada. You have to make me two promises.” She wrapped her arms around him.

  “And what are those, fair lady?”

  She drew back and held up a finger. “Number one. You will return to me uninjured.”

  “Aye. I’m good with a sword and think I can manage that one. What’s the other?”

  She reached into a hidden pocket on her gown and pulled out a small square of cloth. “You must take this with you.”

  It was a kerchief with gold and blue flowers and leaves embroidered around the edges. “Wear it boldly because ’tis the only public favor I have ever offered a knight.”

  He placed his palm on his chest. “I will wear it here, next to my heart.”

  “All right then, husband-to-be, you may escort me to my room, and I will find you on our bench when the melee is done.”

  He left her in the hall just outside her door with a kiss. He wanted to meet her brother but couldn’t spare the time. He had to find his enemy’s son.

  As he turned to go, excitement consumed him. Tomorrow, he would have the revenge he’d always wanted, and a wonderful lady for a wife. Fate had finally dealt him a winning hand.

  Chapter 13

  Jennet woke to a soft glow indicating that the sun was about to make its climb in the sky. Ada was already dressed and sitting up in a chair by the table, putting needle to a kerchief she was embroidering. The blue and gold thread she used matched the one Jennet had given to her knight. Ada had insisted she must make one with their house colors since she would soon be part of the family.

  A smile broke across Jennet’s face as she realized she’d be making one with Giric’s clan’s colors soon or perhaps even one with a lion for the king he served. The thought of going to Scotland should have been scary, but she found herself excited by the prospect.

  “You are up early.”

  “Aye. Edward and I have done nothing but rest for the past couple of days. I needed to move about.”

  “You look so much better today. How are you feeling?”

  “Almost normal.” Her friend smiled.

  Jennet stretched, climbed from beneath the covers, and began to dress. “Good. You and Eddie were sleeping when I came in last night. Where is he?”

  Ada’s improved health meant she could be left unobserved for a few moments, but Eddie had been reluctant to leave her side. He’d decided to stay in their room last eve, possibly so he could keep his guard up around his soon-to-be wife. Jennet also surmised he didn’t want Ada in here alone after all the excitement.

  “He went to get some food to break our fast.”

  “Sir Giric and I want to wed today. I need to talk to him so that I can introduce them. It’s taken too long for them to meet.”

  “When I asked the other day, Edward was eager to meet the man who’d captured his sister’s heart.”

  She blushed. “Has it been that obvious?”

  “Aye. It has.” Ada laughed.

  “I wonder what’s keeping Eddie.” She fidgeted. Her nerves were on end. Worry over what was going on with Giric plagued her. “What time does the melee start?”

  “Soon, I believe.”

  Something else had been bothering her. She needed to understand Sybil’s motivations. It was so unlike her. She still felt as if there was something to Sybil’s actions that she was missing.

  “Och, talking to him will have to wait until after then. Tell him I must see him and not to leave the room until I get back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the village. I won’t be long, but something is bothering me. I’ll tell you when I get back.” She opened the door and ran out before Ada could protest.

  Shortly into her talk with Sybil, she heard the trumpets sound, indicating the melee had started. She breathed in deeply and said a quick prayer for Giric’s safety.

&
nbsp; After escorting Jennet to her room, Giric had gone to bang on Edward Linton’s door. The man didn’t answer. He repeated the process several times during the night, at one point picking the lock to see if the man’s belongings were still in the chamber. He tried again in the morning after a fitful sleep. Frustrated, Giric had made his way to the great hall to wait for dawn, hoping the man would make an appearance before the melee could begin.

  Luck was with him.

  A little while later, Edward strolled into the hall, looking better than he had the day before. Color had returned to his cheeks, and his limp appeared to have the same quality as it had when Giric had seen the man upon his arrival. Good. He would have felt a twinge of guilt at challenging a man who was injured.

  The hall was crowded with knights and nobles seeking to break their fast before the fighting began. The audience was perfect for his purpose. Edward wouldn’t be able to refuse the challenge in front of so many.

  He marched toward his enemy’s son as the man talked to a servant. He appeared to be ordering food to be delivered somewhere. When the man turned to leave, Giric blocked his way.

  “Pardon me,” Edward said as he attempted to sidestep him.

  “Nae.” Giric cut off his path.

  Raising his voice so that anyone nearby could hear, he called, “Edward Linton, son of the Baron of Gillingham. I challenge you to hand-to-hand combat in the melee.”

  The hall hushed, and although he kept his stare rooted on Edward’s shocked brown eyes, he could sense almost every person in the room had stilled and waited for the reply.

  Edward blinked, then squinted at him as he tried to understand what Giric was saying. “Who are you?”

  “I am Giric de Beaumont MacDonald. And yer father killed mine. I demand that ye meet me on the field to answer for his crimes.”

  “My father has never slain anyone. You are mistaken.” Edward’s face shaded a vivid red.

  “Eleven years ago, was yer father no’ in Scotland? Did he cause a fire at a home of an innkeeper and his daughter?”

  Edward turned the color of paste. Then he leaned in and whispered, “Ye are mistaken. He was there, but that is not what happened.”

  Giric didn’t want to hear excuses. He wanted justice. He pulled the glove from his hand and threw it at Edward’s feet. Either the Englishman would be proved a coward, or Giric would have his vengeance before the sun set.

  “I expect to see ye on the field so that you may answer for yer father’s crimes.”

  The man’s gaze traveled the length of the room, skimming the myriad of faces as all of them watched Giric’s challenge unfold. Edward swallowed.

  His enemy’s son pulled his shoulders back and met Giric’s gaze straight on. Their eyes locked as Edward’s strong will clashed with his own. Edward would be a formidable opponent.

  Reaching down, Edward picked up the gauntlet, tacitly accepting the challenge.

  “I will wait for ye on the east end of the field. There we will meet and settle this score.”

  “I will line up with the tenans since you are Scottish.” Edward stood tall as he tossed the glove back to Giric and indicated that he would take the field on the side of the locals who held the land.

  Giric caught his gauntlet. “Aye. I’ll be with the venans.” It was the first time he’d used the French word for those who come from afar to challenge.

  Satisfied, Giric turned and strode from the room to fetch his squire and prepare, leaving the baron’s son to make his arrangements.

  Chapter 14

  An hour and a half after walking in to see Sybil, Jennet walked out with the answers she’d been after, and while she’d never be able to forgive Sybil, she was glad she’d made the journey to talk to her old friend.

  She paused in the great hall to break her fast because she’d missed the morning meal and her stomach was rumbling. When she finally strode back into the room, it was to find Ada’s face red from crying, an uneaten meal laying cold on the table, and Eddie nowhere to be seen.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as fear snaked its way into her breast.

  “Edward is fighting in the melee.”

  She froze. Chills spread over her, and her hands began to tremble.

  “Nae. Why would he do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “They don’t use blunted weapons in the melee.” Her voice shook, and even as she made the statement, she realized Ada was probably already aware of that fact.

  Dread pierced her heart as she thought about her brother putting himself in such danger. He was good with a sword. She didn’t doubt his skill, but he’d been sick for nearly two days and although he’d done a good job at hiding it, he had been injured the day before that.

  “What did he say?”

  “He only sent word that we shouldn’t leave the room and that he’d be back when the battle was done.”

  Now Jennet wished she’d skipped the food below. Her gut twisted.

  “I have to get down there. Perhaps there is a way to stop it.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to build her courage.

  But she knew the battle had started long ago. On her return from the village, she’d heard the clangs of swords, the screams of men, and the shouts of both victory and defeat. There would be nothing she could do, short of running onto the field to save her brother, and he’d never forgive her if she caused such a scene. She wouldn’t storm the melee, but she had to go see if he was safe.

  She bolted from the room before Ada could object.

  Minutes later, she entered the area roped off from the rest of the field where family and friends could wait for news of their loved ones. The space was called the refuge, but to her, it was hell. Lord Yves’s men had forced her in this direction, saying ladies weren’t allowed on the field. Her heart beat so fast she could feel it, and her nerves were shattered.

  Wounded men lay everywhere with others standing triumphantly over them and waiting for some price to be paid for their victory. Her belly roiled at the coppery smell that wafted through the air. She had to look but averted her gaze from each injured man as soon as she’d confirmed they weren’t her brother.

  The blood brought back terrifying images from the past, and her whole body began to tremble. She’d been there when her mother had died from a difficult childbirth. She’d been present when her older brother had lost his life at the hands of her uncle. She’d been helpless both times, and now that same despair was closing in around her.

  And just like before, there was nothing she could do but watch as the people she loved most died in front of her.

  Giric galloped across the field, the blare of the trumpet still resonating in his ears as he fixed his focus on the man charging from the other direction on his own steed. Edward Linton’s horse had the colors of his house, blue and gold, draped across its back. Giric had sent his squire as a scout earlier to make sure he knew what to look for and could make haste toward the correct man. He didn’t want to have to bother with the rest of the participants in the battle.

  He respected Edward. The man hadn’t flinched and had met Giric’s challenge with the honor of a true knight despite his position as a baron’s son.

  He was mere yards from his target when another man from the tenans riding a destrier changed direction and shot toward him. He recognized the attacker. He was the blond with the crooked nose who had listened to his conversation with Lord Yves. He wore red and black and as he rode near, he aimed a spear at Giric’s mount. Giric veered off course to protect his warhorse, but the sharp turn threw him off balance. He was nearly unseated from the unexpected attack.

  The attacker circled about and charged again. This time, his blow connected with Giric’s shield, the force so strong he was knocked sideways. The red and black knight was thrown from his horse at the impact. He rolled when he fell and stood almost immediately. The man drew his sword and started on foot toward Giric.

  Giric jumped from his warhorse to meet the brute head-on. He cou
ldn’t focus on Edward until this threat was gone. The man hurtled at him with sword drawn.

  “I dinnae wish to fight ye. I am here to battle another.” Giric blocked the blow as the familiar-looking man struck.

  “Aye, you may not wish to, but I think I could win a hefty purse for returning the queen consort’s nephew to the Scottish king.”

  He’d purposely been reserved this week and not participated in the jousts to avoid bringing notice upon himself. But now he recognized this man. He had ridden nearby as Giric and Lord Yves had talked on their short ride in the country. Giric hadn’t counted on others knowing who he was, nor that they may be seeking to make a profit on his head. And the man was right. His aunt and the king—not to mention his brother, the Lord of the Isles—would pay a handsome reward for his safe return.

  The knight swung again, aiming for Giric’s arm, a place that would wound him but surely not cause death. Giric deflected the blow with his own sword, and a clang rent the air. As he lifted his weapon to come back to a defensive pose, he caught a glimpse of Edward on the ground, occupied in his own battle with a man nearly twice his girth.

  “This is yer last chance to walk away. I dinnae wish to harm ye, and I have business to see to.”

  “Aye. It will be seeing to your wounds when I’m done with you.” The red-and-black knight cackled.

  “So be it.” Giric knew he would not make it to his goal until this man had been dealt with.

  He swung, and they were locked in battle, both alternating blows, then deflecting. He scored a solid hit to the man’s arm, but the knight’s chainmail prevented any damage except bruising.

  They circled each other, and Giric caught a glimpse of his enemy’s son. Edward stepped awkwardly, and his leg gave beneath him. He fell to the earth with a clang as his armor rattled at the impact.

  Giric had no idea who the man above Edward was, but the green-and-white attacker struck at the downed Edward’s face with his fist. Edward attempted to get to his feet.