A Dark and Stormy Knight (A Knight's Tale Book 3)

by Diane Darcy

  This was a woman to be proud of. One to have at his side.

  After the joust, after vengeance was satisfied, they could start their lives together back at Wolfsbane Castle.

  He could make her content, glad she’d thrown her lot in with him. He just needed the chance.

  Chapter 34

  After the king and his crowd went upstairs, laughing and joking all the way, Lady Helena gathered her girls to go and get ready for bed.

  They all looked as exhausted as Cara felt.

  As they passed the staircase, Cara glanced up. “What are they doing exactly?”

  “Teasing the newlyweds. The bride is too young for anything, and she’ll be sleeping with the ladies, but they still want to joke and have their fun. The queen won’t let it go too far.”

  Wallace looked exhausted. He gave Cara’s hand a squeeze and excused himself. He had to see about his equipment for the joust so he went to go and talk to his men and see if he could find some fresh clothes and a bath.

  They took turns using the facilities, and then Lady Helena went to order some warm water for them all, and Dori went with her.

  Amelia and Cara headed back to the tent.

  There was a guard outside that nodded to them as they walked by. As far as she was concerned, that was good thinking.

  They ducked inside and Amelia lit a candle, and they silently got ready for bed.

  Cara wasn’t sure how she was feeling. Sort of let down? Like she’d reached a goal, and now she didn’t know what to do. If she had the necklace, she would be going home now. Or she could anyway.

  That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

  She was starting to feel confused. Had she changed history?

  The entire thing felt sort of anti-climactic to her.

  Amelia sniffled. And Cara realized she was crying.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Her words seem to release the floodgates, and Amelia pressed her hands to her face and sank to her knees, sobbing.

  Cara sank down beside her, and placed her hands on her shoulders, rubbing them gently. “What is it?”

  “My family must hate me!” She cried harder. “Me, betrothed to Sir Rupert, spending time with him tonight.”

  “None of that is your fault.”

  “I want to hate him, I do! But he’s being so kind and sweet with me, sort of like Wallace is with you. We spoke of travel, and how he yearns to see new places and that perhaps we can do such things together! It’s turning my head, and so everyone must hate me!”

  Oh, Cara understood now. The young girl’s heart was softening toward the enemy, and so her feelings were tearing her up inside.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard the story of Romeo and Juliet?”

  Amelia lowered her hands and glanced at Cara, her face tragic, the perfect Juliet. Cara bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  “Who are they?”

  Cara suddenly realized that Shakespeare was born in the 1500s, though, Amelia would not divert the story yet. “It’s a story, a tragedy about two young lovers, who couldn’t be together because the families hated each other.”

  “What happened?”

  Cara stopped rubbing Amelia’s shoulders for a moment before continuing. She had no intention of telling her the young lovers died tragically, so why had she brought it up?

  She also wouldn’t tell her that Rupert might die tomorrow so it could be a non-issue.

  Cara took a breath. “It all worked out in the end for them. I think they had nine kids or something.”

  Amelia’s brows pulled together. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Don’t mind me, I’m just a sucker for a happy ending.”

  Amelia slowly stopped crying, wiping her eyes and nose with a handkerchief, before settling in the bed. “I better not let my mother catch me crying over this, or she would be sorely disappointed. Can you sleep next to Wallace tonight? I’m afraid he might be distressed by my disloyalty, and I could not bear his dismay.”

  “Of course. Not a problem.” Her heart leapt at the thought.

  Lady Helena and Dori were soon back with a servant carrying some water, and they all washed up the best they could, before getting in their nightclothes and laying down.

  Lady Helena threw Amelia’s still form several speculative glances, but she didn’t say anything, and soon they were all under the covers.

  She was still awake when Wallace came in about an hour later.

  “Where have you been?” she whispered.

  “Checking my equipment for tomorrow, eating in the kitchen, taking a bath.”

  “Jealous!” She teased. “I want a bath.”

  “I think I may have needed one more than you. When we get home, you can take one as often as you like.”

  He settled in, and there was about a foot between them.

  He blew out the candle, and then reached forward and took her hand.

  She grasped his, and as they lay there she could feel emotion building, burning in her chest, a combination of relief and exhilaration.

  Having him back, safe and sound, her hand clasped in his, was both soothing and wonderful at the same time.

  She remembered Amelia’s concern about Rupert, and for the first time thought to be concerned herself.

  Wallace would win, tomorrow, wouldn’t he?

  She squeezed his hand tighter.

  She felt like he would win if given an honest chance to do so, but it seemed as if they were continually cheated.

  Fate itself had intervened when she’d interrupted the joust.

  Her necklace had been stolen.

  Wallace in the dungeon.

  Her worry grew, until she couldn’t help but whisper, “Will it be fair, do you think? Will you get a legitimate shot tomorrow? I … it’s just, I’m a little bit scared.”

  He squeezed her hand, lacing their fingers together before he responded, “You’re not to fear,” his voice deepened. “I’ve men watching my horse, my gear, and my back. I will eat no food or drink that is brought to me. I will trust no one until the deed is done, not even you.”

  A sharp stab of hurt stilled her breath. “Me?” She squeaked out.

  She tried to draw her hand away, and he held it tight. “You, my mother, my sisters. None of you shall skirt the edge of the crowd, none will have a chance to be pushed, shoved, or otherwise find yourselves in a position to distract me.”

  She slowly relaxed her hand again, and couldn’t blame him for his thinking.

  “All right, just, you know, be careful tomorrow.”

  “Do not concern yourself. I will win, and when I do, I will be claiming you for my bride.”

  Her breath caught as conflicting emotions surfaced once more. Could she do it? Give up everything for this man? Her family, friends, her career, the life she’d made for herself, and stay here with him?

  She might not have a choice.

  But if she did? If she had the choice now that she’d made things right, would she stay?

  Exhausted by the day, her thoughts, and with her hand clasped firmly in his warm one, she fell asleep.

  Paul sat in his room within the keep, the door firmly bolted, as he held Lady Cara’s necklace in his hand.

  How had it all gone so wrong? How had his luck soured?

  He turned the jewels in his hand, watching the candlelight gleam off the pearls, diamonds, and rubies. He held it up so he could see the sapphire, a large one.

  Sapphires were supposed to attract heavenly blessings. He’d seen many a clergyman wearing the stone, hoping for just that. He could certainly use a few blessings at the moment.

  The Wolfsbane tent burning to the ground this eve, the occupants set ablaze, dying in agony.

  At the thought of it, unexpected pain stabbed through him.

  Even now, after all these years, Lady Helena could still cause an ache in his heart.

  He would never damage her personally, but if Wolfsbane’s children dropped dead, all of those children who should ne
ver have existed, he could not say he wouldn’t be glad.

  The daughters didn’t bother him so much as the son left to her.

  The Lady Amelia, marrying his son, also gave him a spurt of joy. For the moment. While it lasted.

  Because it hurt Lady Helena?

  Mayhap.

  He’d considered killing his own wife so he could petition the king to marry Lady Helena.

  If it would have worked, he’d have done it without thought.

  But she would have protested, as would her son, and the king would never have forced the issue, so it was not worth the trouble his wife’s strong family could create for him.

  Rupert and Amelia were the closest he would get to joining their families but, even that, he doubted would come to pass.

  He regretted his talk with Wallace, wished he hadn’t revealed his hand so clearly, because when it was all taken away, Wallace would be the one left gloating.

  A knock at the door had him stuffing the necklace in his pocket before unbarring the door and motioning Rupert inside.

  He looked over his progeny, and once again regretted his second choice of bride.

  Rupert was a little taller than himself, but Wallace topped him by a few more inches still. Rupert was bulky with muscle, but again, Wallace had him beat by at least two stone.

  Lady Helena’s family tended to breed tall, strong men.

  Rupert sported his mother’s blonde hair, his features too handsome, also his mother’s doing.

  Despite his training, he lacked the inner fire Wallace had in spades.

  As Wallace pointed out, Lady Helena had a backbone of steel, and the will to go with it.

  Though he knew other men would disagree, and that Rupert was considered a leader, Paul knew that underneath, the boy was soft, gentle, easily led.

  Rupert swallowed. “Father? You sent for me?”

  Paul sighed, and gestured his son further into the room. “Have a seat,” he said, and moved to look out the window for a moment, so he could gather his thoughts and emotions.

  If he wished his son to at least try and win on the morrow, he’d have to be gentle with him. The time for stern lectures and admonitions was passed.

  He well knew that Rupert could become wild, foolish, and destructive when Paul expressed his displeasure.

  His son watched him, gauging his mood, and Paul realized the boy, for even now it was hard to think of him as a man, could die upon the morrow.

  He could remember his young son, looking up to him, back when Paul had high hopes for him.

  He’d never developed the cut-throat disposition Paul hoped for, placing honor and integrity above gain as his standard.

  Paul held in another sigh. “Are you ready?”

  “Aye, Father. Everything is as it should be.”

  Paul could not help the snort that escaped. “When you win everything will be as it should be; lands, titles, and bloodline.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “What did you think of the lass?” Paul was genuinely curious. She didn’t look like her mother, but she didn’t look like her father either, which was a mark in her favor.

  “Lady Amelia?”

  “Aye, of course, Lady Amelia. What was she like?”

  He could see Rupert was at a loss, probably wondering what Paul wished to hear. Finally, he said, “She is comely, and has a winning way about her. I think we shall get along exceedingly well.”

  A dark feeling settled over Paul. He’d once felt that way about Lady Helena, and so much more. “Good, that is good,” he finally said. “She will make you a proper wife.”

  “Aye, Father, I expect so.”

  “Go on with you, get a good night’s rest and we’ll be done with this business in the morn.”

  “Thank you.”

  The pause and the emphasis Rupert placed on the last two words, had Paul turning back to his son.

  He wasn’t sure what he was thanking him for, and Rupert now seemed hesitant, as if expecting something more.

  What? A clap on the shoulder? A hug? Expressing tender feelings was never Paul’s way, and he could not change that now.

  Rupert’s expression hardened slightly, and he said, “Father, I intend to win upon the morrow.”

  “I know.” Paul appreciated Rupert putting a brave face on the upcoming joust. He didn’t want to remember his son as a sniveling coward, and was grateful he would not have to.

  Paul walked toward the window once more and looked down on the torches below.

  A moment later the door shut quietly.

  Unexpected grief welled within him and he drew in a shuddering breath.

  He stood for a long while, getting hold of himself, letting his grief harden to hate.

  He’d been content to let their feud die a natural death with the father dead, his name ruined, and Lady Helena tasting a small amount of the humility once forced upon him.

  But Wallace could not let it go. He kept pushing, never content to accept his fate.

  If Wallace killed his son, Paul would see every member of Wolfsbane’s family dead, no matter how long it took.

  When she woke, Wallace was gone, leaving her slightly panic-stricken.

  He’d left a bundle of wildflowers, purple, yellow, and blue, in the exact spot they’d held hands throughout the night.

  She picked up the cluster, heart melting at the romance of the gesture.

  With everything he had to do, he’d taken the time to gather flowers for her.

  She set them on his bedding, out of the way.

  Dread hadn’t quite deserted her when the four of them arrived in the great hall for breakfast.

  The place buzzed with excitement.

  As they were the main players in today’s drama, Cara had taken the time to carefully make up everyone’s faces, including her own. They’d mixed and matched clothing until they all looked their best.

  Cara was called to the queen’s side, and when it was discovered Cara wore no ribbons upon her arm, the queen immediately sent her servant for ribbons, before situating Cara at her side, calling for more breakfast.

  As if she could eat at a time like this!

  No one else in the hall seemed to have the same problem, at least that she could see, everyone stuffing their faces with bread, cheese, fish, and wine.

  Lady Helena and her daughters were at the far end of the room. Lady Helena and Amelia had been basket cases this morning, barely speaking, relying on Dori to keep up a constant stream of chatter.

  If they lost Wallace …

  “Is this not exciting?” The queen asked. “Why do you not eat?”

  Cara would like to sit in a quiet corner and keep a tight hold on her emotions but, the queen and everyone else wanted a spectacle.

  It was the price she had to pay for the concession. Just like in the movies, there had to be and emotional payout in the end.

  They wanted sheer emotion, and the more of it, the better.

  Cara, hands clenched in her lap, didn’t let herself hide anything. Not the agony in her face, nor the catch in her voice.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I just can’t breathe, let alone eat anything.”

  The queen tutted, but seemed pleased with the response. “There, there now. I’m sure it will work out.”

  The queen glanced around, as if to make sure no one was listening, but of course, everyone was, and though the queen lowered her tone, she didn’t lower her voice. “Will it not be satisfying to have the properties and titles under Wolfsbane control when you are married?”

  “Of course.” The confusing feelings she felt for Wallace rose to the fore. “If we are married,” she said, tears springing to her eyes.

  There were murmurs around the table as Cara clasped her hands in her lap and bent her head, the picture of dejection.

  So much for putting on a show. This was very real to her.

  “Oh, my dear, here come the ribbons.”

  A servant came forward with a basketful of ribbons, which she presented
to the queen.

  “Which would you like to wear? Red and black for Wolfsbane? Or would you prefer to represent your father’s house?”

  At the mention of her father, more tears welled in her eyes, this time spilling over.

  Between Wallace about to have the fight of his life, and thoughts of her father, which led to her mother, and perhaps never seeing either of them again, she just lost it, pressing her face to her hands, striving for control.

  “Now, now, what is this?” The king’s voice interrupted her breakdown, and she wiped under her eyes with a cloth napkin, hoping her makeup wasn’t running, which it probably was.

  The king looked amused. “Do you see?” He looked to the right, then left, his hands splayed as he played to the audience. “Did I not give her what she wished for? Did she not request that Wallace fight Dinsdale?”

  Those around them laughed.

  “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, my feelings simply overwhelmed me.”

  The king chuckled, and gave her a wry smile. “I should have expected no less. This is what you get,” the king said in a much louder voice. “When you allow a female into a man’s business.”

  Laughter and clapping rewarded his comment.

  “I can see you have no taste for food this day, and as the queen and I have already eaten, why not join us? I daresay we needs must keep an eye upon you, so you do not jump in front of the riders.”

  At that, even she laughed. “You know me well, Your Majesty.”

  The king extended his hand to the queen who was quick to say, “Wait! We are choosing her colors.”

  “Ah, women’s business. Red and black for Wolfsbane, of course,” the king said, and the queen quickly snatched the ribbons and grasped her husband’s hand, and he led them both out of the hall.

  Outside, a storm was rolling in, clouds backlit by the sun. Since she loved storms, maybe it was a good omen?

  A coach waited for the queen and a few of her ladies, and the king and his guards mounted up and led the way.

  As they lurched forward, one of the other ladies tied two ribbons to Cara’s arm, one red, one black, while another rubbed at her smudged makeup.

  “Where are we going?”