Distant voices caught her attention. Her head was so wrapped with wool that it was difficult to tell just how far off they were, or how long she had actually been hearing them but had been unaware. She tried to leap off the road and into the snowdrifts, but it was too late; rounding a narrow corner in the road, she ran headlong into an armed party of soldiers. Lyla screamed with surprise and fear, her hands around her throat. The first thing she saw was a pair of brilliant blue eyes gazing back at her.
“Lyla!” Riston gasped.
His features registered slowly. Lyla burst into tears as Riston scrambled off his charger and pulled her into his arms.
“Lyla, what in the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded softly.
Lyla wept loudly, from relief and fear and, in truth, happiness. She could hardly believe he was here, holding her, protecting her from all that would harm her, and she clung to him fiercely. Suddenly, she did not want to be so strong anymore. It was good to be weak within his strong arms. Now, he would find Ryan for her.
“Ry… Ry…” she sobbed.
She was too overcome to speak. Behind them, the army of King Henry came to an unsteady halt, over five hundred men grinding to a slow crawl. Riston had been leading the group, plowing his way through the snow and elements on his way to Launceston. He had bullied St. Maur into coming and wasn’t about to ease his show of determination. But now, his determination was halted for a pair of familiar eyes and a familiar pretty face. He realized that nothing at that moment was more important than the woman in his arms.
“Lyla,” he held her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me why you are here in Wales, wandering in the middle of nowhere. What’s happened, honey?”
She swallowed, struggling to calm herself. “I… I came to find Ryan,” she hiccupped.
His brow furrowed. “Ryan?” he repeated. “Where is she?”
Lyla wiped her running nose. “At Usk Castle. Uncle Richard said Miguel is holding her there.”
Riston understood a great deal in a very short amount of time. “Usk Castle,” he repeated with surprise. “She has been here the entire time?”
Lyla nodded. “Aye.”
“So you came to rescue her?’
Lyla nodded again. “I came to help her escape from the pirate.”
By this time, Payn had made his way to the front of the column. He eyed Lyla with impatient curiosity. “De Titouan?” he demanded.
Riston did not look at him, though he spoke to his implied question. “This is Lady Lyla de Bretagne, m’lord,” he said, still holding her face in his hands. His blue eyes twinkled. “She is soon to be my wife. Lady d’Vant is her cousin.”
Lyla’s red-pinched face washed with astonishment, then the most wonderful smile spread across her features. She gazed at Riston with all of the emotions she was feeling and he responded in kind, thrilled at her positive reaction. Meanwhile, Payn dismounted his charger irritably.
“Christ, de Titouan,” he said gruffly. “Do you let your woman go wandering about the countryside alone? What is the matter with you, man?”
Riston winked at Lyla before turning to his commander. “She is searching for her cousin, m’lord. She says that Lady d’Vant is being held captive at Usk Castle.”
“So you let your intended rescue her cousin by herself?”
Riston laughed softly. “I had no choice in the matter, believe me. Lyla does as Lyla wishes, foolish or not. But that will change after we are married, I assure you.”
Lyla made a face at him and they lost themselves again to a world of joy and affection. Payn watched them, scratching beneath his helm in a confused gesture. “What do we do, then?” he asked. “If the lady is in Wales and d’Vant is heading to Cornwall, then…?”
Riston tapped Lyla on the tip of her nose before replying. “Half of the army could lay siege to Usk and recover the lady while the other half proceeds on to Launceston to aid Dennis.”
St. Maur shook his head. “I am not laying siege to Usk. It’s a crown holding.”
Riston shot him an intense glare. “I am not leaving Lady d’Vant behind. If she is at Usk, I will reclaim her if I have to tear the place down brick by brick myself. She is the whole point of this entire foray, Payn. Dennis would never forgive me if I knew where she was being held and did nothing about it.”
St. Maur sighed heavily. He could refuse to help until he was blue in the face but, as he had learned, Riston de Titouan could be quite persuasive. It was in his best interest, therefore, to immediately concede and save the hassle. He turned back to the group of men behind him. “Where is Usk Castle?” he bellowed, to no one in particular.
One man spoke up. “We have passed the road for it, m’lord. ’Tis north of us, about four or five miles, I think.”
St. Maur shook his head ironically. “Four or five miles to the north,” he snorted. “We damn near stepped on the place as we marched past.” He eyed Riston and Lyla. “Well, I suppose we have our work cut out for us. Do you want to take charge of the siege on Usk or do you prefer I do it?”
Riston pulled Lyla close; the wind was picking up again and she was chilled to the bone. He felt a tremendous sense of satisfaction, as if everything was working out for the better. Now that he knew where Ryan was, his sense of helplessness evaporated. He would be able to help Dennis in the very best way possible.
“I shall lay siege to Usk,” he said. “You may proceed to Launceston. Tell Dennis where I am.”
“Unnecessary, Rist,” came a booming voice from behind them. Dennis moved his way through the men; he was a full head taller than most of them. His gray eyes focused fondly on his friend, on Lyla, and finally on St. Maur. “I have already been to Usk. Everything it contained of value is with me right now.”
Lyla was the first one to shriek. “Ryan!”
Dennis tilted his head in the direction he had come. “At the rear of the column, riding in a wagon.” As Lyla dodged past him in a flurry, he eyed Riston. “It seems that my party has run right into the back of yours on our way to Launceston. Correct me if I am wrong, however; but the last I recall, Henry’s army was going to Cydwilly. Isn’t it in the other direction?”
Riston passed a glance at St. Maur, who rolled his eyes in defeat. Riston fought off a grin. “It is. But we thought you would need us more at Launceston.”
“Using Henry’s troops to help me put a bit of pressure on his brother?”
“Something like that.”
Dennis nodded, very pleased and not the least bit surprised St. Maur had folded to Riston’s persuasion. “My thanks for your belligerence and your foresight, Rist.”
Riston nodded modestly. “My foresight is nothing compared to yours, apparently. How did you know your wife was at Usk? I only found out this very moment.”
Dennis sighed, propping his helm up on his forehead and giving his cheek a good scratch. His relaxed manner was completely different from the distressed husband they had seen a day earlier. “It’s a long story, but suffice it to say that I have my wife, and that is all that matters.”
Riston was hesitant. “Is she… is she all right?”
Dennis nodded. “Aye, she is more than all right.”
Payn and Riston looked at each other, confused and somewhat surprised. “Not a scratch?” Riston pushed.
“Nothing that won’t mend.”
“But what about Miguel?” Riston demanded; Dennis was so happy that it was irritating him. The man should have been damn well breathing fire with everything that had happened. “What did you do to the bastard who abducted her and injured Patrizia?”
Dennis jabbed his thumb in the direction of the wagon. “He is no longer a concern. In fact, he’s back driving the wagon. It seems he wants to confront the earl, too.”
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I lied to Miguel. Told him the earl had betrayed us both. I reckoned that it was better to have the man as an ally for the moment and not an enemy, as I thought
I would need his might supporting me when I confronted the earl. Of course, I had no idea that you would force, I mean, convince Payn to join me at Launceston. In fact, I… oh, hell, I shall explain everything on the way.”
St. Maur threw his hands up in the air. “D’Vant, if you do not clarify this nonsense for me immediately, I shall surely go mad.”
Dennis laughed softly at their frustration. In an extremely rare gesture, he put his arms around each man’s shoulder. “As I said, I shall be happy to explain on the way to Launceston. It’s a long and happy story.”
Riston eyed him; it seemed to him that Dennis was overlooking one minor detail. “But we are going to confront the earl. Is that really necessary now that you have Ryan back?”
“Now, more than ever.”
“Then how is this story going to end, Dennis?”
Dennis’ glorious glow flickered somewhat. His gray orbs gazed into the distance as if to see his very reason for living, sleeping peacefully in the bed of an old wagon.
“With my satisfaction,” he said quietly.
“It could end with your death.”
He looked at Riston, all of the happiness and elation suddenly out of his expression. There was nothing more to say between them. They both knew Riston was right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Dennis, please do not go to Launceston,” Ryan pleaded softly. “You shall never come back!”
They were a couple of miles north of the Earl of Cornwall’s formidable keep. Riston and Payn had sent out scouts to determine the activities of the castle, but the men had yet to return. Meanwhile, the army was preparing itself for battle, and that included Dennis.
Dressed to the hilt in armor and weapons, he was a massive imposing figure against his wife’s petite size. She had been following him around like a puppy and would not return to rest in the wagon, even when he begged her. He had therefore resorted to carrying her in his arms so she would not exert herself. Ryan clung to him like a stubborn leech, her arms around his neck, refusing to let go.
Dennis was trying to be sympathetic to her feelings, even though he had a thousand things on his mind. He moved around the supply and armor wagons, listening to her plead and feeling the old familiar dread sweep him. The last time she had pleaded like this, he had fled like a weakling so he would not have to listen. And they all knew what had happened as a result of that. So he patiently repeated his reasons for doing what he must, hoping against hope she would understand him.
“Love, I shall explain this to you one last time,” he said with forced gentleness. He sat her on the edge of the armor wagon as he went in search of a long strip of leather to secure a piece of armor that had broken loose. “I cannot run from Richard the rest of my life. If our son is to have any legacy at all, I must confront the man and demand he cease his hostilities.”
“But you have given St. Austell to the king,” she persisted, watching him hunt about. “That was the entire purpose of you going to Wales, was it not? He will protect St. Austell; you do not need to go running into the den of the lion!”
“But I want St. Austell back, eventually, for our son,” he reiterated with strained patience. “What will happen when I get it back and Richard and I still have not established an understanding between us? We shall be back where we started, with constant attacks and harassment.” He put his hand on her arm. “Ryan, when I went to Henry and offered my services, it was only a tiny bandage to a gushing wound. I realize that now. If we are to know any peace at all, I must confront the earl once and for all. It is the only choice.”
He was right. But she was still sick with dread. Watching him tie off the armor with a found piece of leather, she turned away, feeling a lump in her throat. She knew, no matter what she said, that he was going to do as he felt necessary.
“He will kill you,” she muttered. “He killed my father, and now he shall kill you.”
Dennis secured the armor. “He’s not going to kill me.”
She did not say anymore. In truth, there was nothing more to say. Dennis picked her up again and headed back to the wagon where Miguel was waiting impatiently. Ryan, exhausted and terrified, simply buried her face in his neck.
“You are more important to me than any legacy, Dennis,” she whispered against his flesh. “I do not care if we do not have a roof over our head or a pence to our name, so long as we are together. Why must you act as if St. Austell is more important than our life together?”
He was silent a moment. “It’s not, and well you know it,” he said. “But I started out in this marriage trying to establish something. I would rather peacefully rule my fiefdom than battle my neighbors at every turn as my ancestors did. It is time for the d’Vants to know peace. I want my wife and son to know it. What I do, I do for you, Ryan. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Her head came up from the safe haven of his neck. Her golden-brown eyes were brimming with tears. “I love you, Dennis d’Vant. I love you more than life itself. If anything happens to you, I shall die, I swear it.”
They had reached the wagon, but Dennis did not put her down. Instead, he kissed her with painful sweetness, clutching her to him as if to never let her go.
“And do you think I would want to live without you?” he murmured against her lips. “You, too, will be facing perhaps the greatest battle of your life in eight months. You will be bringing our son into the world and I am more terrified of that than you could possibly imagine. I would rather have no children at all than risk losing you to something as horrifying as childbirth.” He set her down in the wagon, his great hands on her face as he gazed intensely into her eyes. “I will swear to you, on the love that I hold for you, that I will come out of this confrontation with the earl unscathed. But you must promise me, too, that you will emerge from your bout with childbirth whole and sound. Can you do that?”
She wanted so desperately to. Her lips worked and her eyes grazed every inch of his handsome face. Finally, her hand came up to touch his stubble. “I will swear to you that I will do my best,” she said softly. “I cannot promise you without a doubt that I will emerge unscathed. Life is so uncertain, Dennis. I cannot make an unreasonable promise.”
His gray eyes flickered, with terror, she thought. “Then why do you bear this child?”
“Because I must. I do it because I love you.”
He kissed her, gently. “And this, what I do today; I do for you. I cannot make an unreasonable promise that I will undoubtedly survive, but I swear I will do my best. Do you understand now why I must do this? It is because I love you.”
She sighed heavily, collapsing forward against him. “Aye, I understand,” she muttered. “Damn you, I do.”
He held her tightly. “Then we shall have no more talk of it.”
She nodded faintly.
Riston and St. Maur marched up then, their boots crunching across the dead winter earth. They did not want to intrude on the private little scene, but pressing matters were at hand.
“Dennis,” Riston said. “The scouts have returned. I have convened a war council with only the top officers and men.”
Dennis nodded. “Did you send word to St. Austell?”
“Aye,” St. Maur replied. “They are sending at least three hundred men and both siege engines. We shall be well in place by nightfall.”
“Good,” Dennis replied. “What of Miguel’s men?”
“They have moved up the coast and should be disembarking southeast of us in an hour or so,” Payn said. “They’ll arrive after dark, but the reinforcements will be welcome.”
Dennis was satisfied. He unwound Ryan from his body, touching her cheek gently. “I must go, love. But I shall be back before we mobilize.”
She nodded weakly, turning her cheek to him for a kiss. Patting her cheek again, Dennis left with his men. Miguel, not to be left out, leapt off the front of the wagon and followed. Ryan turned to watch them go, with a thousand thoughts swirling through her mind. Dennis had no chance of ending this peacefully, she knew
; not even with the added help of the king’s troops and the ships and men Miguel had sent for. All of them were converging on Launceston, but it was of no use. The burden was hers and hers alone. She was the only one who could make Uncle Richard listen, or hundreds of lives would be lost. The man had never been able to refuse her, ever. To save her husband, Ryan knew without a doubt what she had to do.
Leaping off the wagon bed, she made a dash for the trees.
*
Richard, Earl of Cornwall, was relaxing in his crescent-shaped solar with perhaps the best Cornish pasty he had ever tasted. It was full of cheese and meat and a rich brown sauce; and he was pleased that his new cook was so skilled. He was enjoying the last of it before the warm fire in the hearth when a shadow caught his attention. It wasn’t much of a shadow, but it moved in his periphery and he turned to see what it was.
The pasty ended up on the floor.
“Good eve, Uncle Richard,” Ryan said softly, moving into the light.
Richard did not move; his eyes were large and his face pale. “Ryan,” he breathed. “What are you doing here?”
She moved closer, carefully seating herself near the hearth and in clear range of the poker should she require it. Richard did not see her defensive movement; he was more focused on her as a whole, his mind wild with astonishment. Ryan was silent a long time before answering.
“I came to talk to you,” she said.
Richard swallowed the bite he still held in his mouth, nearly choking on it. “Where did you come from?”
She smiled, without humor. “The secret passage in the wall. Do you remember how Lyla and I were always slipping in and out, forever making the servants crazy? I know this place like I know my own face, and every nook and crevice. I can be in and out without anyone noticing me.”
Richard eyed her uncertainly; she was much too calm and pleasant for his taste. After everything that had happened, he was immediately suspicious and apprehensive of not only her motives, but of her mere presence. “Where… where is…?”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 157