“Prepare to die, you bastard,” he boomed, his sword lifted high. “No one threatens those I love and lives.”
As expected, Barric made a break down the corridor. Cullen knew he would never catch him in time. He made it up the stairs and turned down the hall, startled when Barric suddenly leapt from an alcove, broadsword aimed directly at his heart. Cullen met his blow and countered with a powerful blow of his own, sending sparks flying into the air. One ember landed on a tapestry near the alcove and a small flame erupted, soon bursting into a glowing blaze.
As the corridor filled with smoke, Barric and Cullen engaged in a fearsome battle.
The strikes were swift and heavy. Barric wasn’t particularly strong due to his own healing injury, and Cullen was particularly weak, rendering the fight nearly equal. The sound of sword against sword echoed against the wall and Barric took the offensive, striking an unethical blow that would have severed Cullen’s foot had he not been quick enough to dodge it.
After that, Cullen went on the attack, summoning the strength to chop heavily at Barric and, at one point, narrowly missing the Lord Justice’s head. Barric dodged about, ducking and rolling and evading Cullen’s blows any way he could. He tried to pull the rug out from under Cullen, but the champion jumped aside and Barric lost his balance with the force of his pull. Before Cullen could jump on him, Barric regained his feet.
Teodora stumbled up the stairs, watching with awe and terror as Barric and Cullen battled. She wanted so much to help Cullen, for she could see in his movements how terribly weak he was. He wasn’t nearly the warrior she knew him to be, but it was still an amazing spectacle to see him in battle. She followed them as they moved down the hall, toward her chamber, and she wished fervently that she could get around them so she could get to her daughter. But Barric still stood between her and Holly.
She couldn’t get to her child.
Panic filled her, then anger, and then suddenly she was aware of feeling very, very weak. Sometimes, she forgot she gave birth only a few days ago and she thought most certainly that she had overexerted herself. Then, oddly enough, she began to feel a warm trickle down her leg and she looked down, noticing that her gown was stained red. It took her a moment to realize that the blood was coming from her as-of-yet-healed womb. The weakness overwhelmed her and a strange buzzing filled her ears. Stars danced before her eyes and she suddenly fell to her knees.
The world was fading, and she was fading with it.
Oh God, I am bleeding to death! Too much strain, too much movement! Oh… God!
Cullen never heard her go down, never saw her sprawl on the floor in a heap. He was far too involved in his battle with Barric, but he could feel his own strength dwindling and knew he had to end it soon. All he had to do was wait for Barric to make a mistake, but the Lord Justice seemed to be in rare form. And the more they fought, the more exhausted Cullen became.
Soon, it was apparent enough that Barric was waiting to make the final blow as Cullen continued to stagger after him, his strikes becoming misdirected and sloppy. Barric smiled, knowing the end was near, and when Cullen stumbled after failing to land a blow against him, Barric drove his sword into the champion’s shoulder. Cullen stumbled back, falling against a wall, and Barric smiled triumphantly.
“So it comes to this, de Nerra,” he said with satisfaction. “You are defeated, your lady is dying, and now I am about to deliver the death blow. But not against you, not yet. I intend that you should hear the last cries of your baby before I kill Lady Barklestone, and then finally you. But I want you to live to see all of these things and know who it was who has defeated you.”
Cullen gazed up at him, his injured shoulder bleeding as well as the wound to his lower abdomen. He had ripped Chadwick’s careful stitches, for blood was seeping through the mail and tunic, the stain running down his left leg. His sword was still leveled, however, making it difficult for Barric to land the deathblow.
God… is this really how it’s going to end?
He hated feeling so weak, and that this heroic venture to save Teodora’s life and the life of their child would most likely end with his failure. He abhorred failure. In fact, he realized that in his lifetime, he had never had a measurable defeat. He had always found a way to turn the tides in his favor. But as Barric stood over him, gloating, Cullen realized that this might be his one true downfall. Now, when it counted the most. He dared to cast a glance down the hall and was horrified to see Teodora lying on the cold stone several feet away, her dress stained with a bright red blossom. The sight of her was enough to jolt him off the wall.
“My God,” he gasped. “Teodora!”
She lay as still as death. Barric, in an evil move, thrust his sword in Cullen’s direction, but the champion clumsily deflected it. It had been nothing more than a taunt. With a devilish snicker, Barric turned to the door behind him. When he lifted the latch, Cullen knew what was about to happen.
“Fitz Hammond… don’t,” he muttered, pale and weak and bleeding. “What good would killing a helpless babe do?”
“A great deal, I should think.”
“Have you no decency, man?”
Barric pretended to think. He was enjoying this game more than he could say. Of all the people to gain superiority over, Cullen De Nerra was the ultimate conquest. Sloan, Teodora, and even the king paled by comparison. Cullen hadn’t had a weak moment in his entire life.
Until now.
“Where you are concerned, de Nerra, that question has no meaning,” he said calmly. “Would you show me any measure of mercy if the situation was reversed? I doubt it.”
Cullen was shaking. He was so very sickened, so sorry that it had come down to this. “I wouldn’t kill a helpless child.”
Barric crossed his arms. “Very well, Cullen,” he said. “I shall give you a choice. You can either protect the countess, or save the child. Which is it?”
Cullen swallowed hard. It was the only show of emotion he would allow Barric to see. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, quite plainly, that if you go to the countess, I shall leave her be,” he said. “And if you enter this room and go to the child, I shall not harm it. But if you go to one, be aware that the other will be vulnerable. And to punish you for all of the hell you’ve caused me, know that I will take advantage of that vulnerability. You have my oath.”
“You cannot mean that.”
“Of course I do,” Barric said as if he were an idiot. “You must make a choice, that of the countess or of the child. I would like to see if you can live with that choice.”
Cullen’s heart sank to his knees. He knew what the choice would be, and he prayed Teodora would forgive him. He hadn’t the strength to defend them both from Barric. Were he to fall, Teodora and the babe would both be defenseless.
Cullen had to make a decision that would haunt him the rest of his days.
“It does not have to be like this, Fitz Hammond,” he struggled not to plead. “We are warriors. We do not prey on women and children. Surely there is some agreement in all of this.”
“There is no agreement to be reached.” Barric’s smug expression faded. “I intend to win this battle, de Nerra. I do not participate only to compromise. I intend to bring you down, piece by piece, until there is nothing left.”
“All for revenge for my wounding you?”
“Does it truly matter? Believe me when I say that I will kill you. Or at least make you wish that I had.”
On the floor, Teodora stirred. Cullen’s attention was diverted to her and he issued a silent prayer for her forgiveness for what he must do. In the chamber beyond, an infant’s wail pierced the air. Cullen stiffened as if he had been struck, hearing his child cry a plea for mercy and suddenly knowing, without a doubt, that he couldn’t let this man murder his own flesh and blood. He was about to choose Teodora over their babe, but he realized as he heard the wail that he could never live with himself for allowing their infant to be murdered.
He had to fight.
His victory was assured.
But what he didn’t anticipate was a blade waiting for him on the other side of the open doorway, and the Lord Justice’s expression turned from glee to confusion as he realized a sword had been driven cleanly through his belly the moment he stepped through the door. He took a step back, and then another, before finally collapsing on the ground.
Blood spread out around him and under him, and Barric knew, this time, that there would be no physic skilled enough to save him. Looking up into the face of his killer, his pale lips quivered with the pain of betrayal.
“No,” he breathed. “Not… you!”
Those were the last words he uttered. A man with big black boots and a tunic bearing the colors of the king stepped over the supine form of the Lord Justice. Cullen, on his feet but barely standing, stared at the killer in disbelief.
“I believe you’ve come for this, Cullen.”
Sean de Lara indicated the squirming infant on the bed behind him. Cullen gazed at the man in shock, as if he could hardly believe what he was seeing. Barric was dead and Sean had killed him. The Lord of the Shadows, the man that everyone in England believed had turned to the dark side, had just saved everything that Cullen loved.
At that moment, Cullen didn’t even know what to say.
Sean saw the man’s anguish. The battle had been so fierce that it had yet to sink in that it was finally over. Right now, Cullen was still in the fight for his life and Sean tried to be gentle with him. Deep down, Sean was still on the side of right and justice, no matter what his reputation was.
He hoped Cullen realized that.
“The conflict is ended, Cullen,” Sean said. “Go to your lady now. The babe can wait.”
Cullen eyed him, bleeding and pale. “Sean… you killed Barric.”
Sean shook his head faintly. “Nay,” he said. “You did. No one will know I was here. This is your victory, Cullen. You deserve it.”
If Cullen had the energy to hug the man, he would have. But he was barely able to do anything more than what he was already doing. Staggering to where Teodora lay, he fell down beside her and pulled her into his arms. For the second time in his life, Cullen wept unashamedly. Hearing his soft sobs, Teodora came to her senses.
Her weak hands touched his face, his bloodied shoulder. “Are you well?” she whispered. “Did he hurt you?”
Cullen’s tears dripped down onto her face as he looked at her. “I shall live, I swear it.” His voice was shaking. “Promise me that you will live, as well.”
She smiled weakly. “I promise.”
He refused to look at the deep red stain on her gown. “But you… you are bleeding, love. We must find Chad.”
“I know precisely where he is and I shall retrieve him.” Sean moved forward as if to help the wounded pair, but Cullen was holding Teodora so tightly against him that he didn’t want to interfere. “Get her to bed, Cullen. In fact, you should join her.”
Cullen took his eyes from Teodora long enough to study the big knight who he had only really known by association with William Marshal, but now a man who had ended up saving his life, not once but twice. To Cullen, that bonded them more than blood bonded brothers and always would. No matter how bad Sean’s reputation was, no matter how terrifying the Lord of the Shadows persona, he would always be a hero to Cullen.
He couldn’t look at it any other way.
“My thanks, Sean,” he muttered. “I am in your debt, forever.”
Sean smiled faintly. “Your lady has spoken of nothing but you during her captivity,” he said. “Though she never spoke your name, she even schooled the soldiers at Rockingham on your tactics, which I recognized as Marshal tactics. Given the clues, I should have known it was you.”
Cullen was forced to smile at the irony. “No matter what anyone else thinks of your loyalties for the king, I will always speak most highly of you. I owe you everything.”
Sean gave him a rather ironic smile “We are allies, Cullen, and ever shall be, no matter what has happened.” He gazed at Teodora, so very pale and bloodied, and he smiled weakly. “In fact, Lady Barklestone has taught me something of a lesson since I have known her. Her devotion to you is admirable. I should like to find the same devotion someday. It would seem to me that the love of a good woman makes life complete, and I should like to be worthy enough to accept it.”
With that, Sean turned and walked down the hall, heading down to the vault to release three particular prisoners. Cullen’s gaze lingered on the empty corridor even after the man was gone, wondering what mighty stroke of fate had led Sean de Lara to save his entire world. It didn’t make any sense to him at the moment, but maybe it wasn’t supposed to. Cullen considered Sean’s heroic act to be a miracle and was properly, and utterly, grateful.
Staggering to his feet, he pulled Teodora up and half-dragged her and half-carried her into the chamber. It was dark and cold, quiet but for the fussing child on the bed. The moment they gazed down at the babe their love had created, it was as if all their weakness suddenly drained away until nothing remained but a wondrous warmth. For a long, magical moment, they simply stood there, awed. Cullen, injured and exhausted and overwhelmed, could hardly speak.
“She’s so beautiful,” he finally whispered. “Thank God she looks like you.”
Teodora leaned against him, inhaling his musk and sweat as if it were the sweetest perfume. “She looks a bit like you, I think.” The child continued to scream. “She certainly acts like you.”
He had strength enough to give her a disapproving look. “Hold your tongue, wench, or else.”
She grinned at him. “Or else what?”
His expression softened into kisses and chuckles. “Give me time to regain my strength and I shall show you.”
“Promise?”
“Indeed.” He was silent a moment. “Teddy?”
“Aye?”
“Did you ever doubt I would come for you and the child?”
She answered without hesitation. “Never,” she whispered. “You made me a promise, once. I knew you would never go back on your word. Semper fidelis.”
His hold on her tightened. “Not just always faithful, love,” he murmured. “We are forever faithful, you and I.”
Teodora kissed him tenderly and he returned her kisses. He then helped her into bed and fell down beside her. When Teodora took the hungry babe to her breast, he pulled them both into his powerful embrace and held them tightly as if to never let them go.
When Chadwick finally found them, all three were sleeping peacefully.
He didn’t have the heart to wake them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Farringdon House
Two Months Later
“My men were already at Quellargate Castle,” William said. “By agreement with de Lacy, I now station a few hundred of my men there and that is how I received de Lara’s missive so quickly. Quellargate is nearly directly south of Rockingham and the messenger was stopped by one of my patrols. Had the messenger gone all the way to London looking for me, I probably would not have come when I did. Truly, it was pure chance that we were able to reach you when we did.”
That explained a question Cullen had on his mind since that fateful day when The Marshal’s and de Lacy’s armies engaged the king’s mercenary force at Rockingham Castle. Cullen’s only focus at that time had been on saving Teodora and their baby but, two months later, there was now time for all of those unanswered questions.
And there were many.
The situation, for the most part, had normalized as much as such a thing was possible. The king was north in Nottingham now, having moved on from the loss of Lady Barklestone, and Rocking
ham Castle had been given over to William Marshal for the time being even though the man had clearly opposed the king by siding with de Lacy when they’d come to claim Lady Barklestone. Better still, Geddington Castle had been returned to its rightful owner, Owen de Mora, at the request of William Marshal.
It really wasn’t a request, but more of a demand.
Given everything that had happened, and the horrible wrongs committed, John knew the stakes and he knew it would have been foolish to resist William Marshal any more than he already had. He needed William, so he easily relinquished Geddington Castle, Rockingham Castle, and Lady Barklestone on demand and simply moved on. He didn’t much care about the castles, and the woman had only been a toy to him, a fantasy to feed his lust and a pawn by which to punish Preston. But with William Marshal siding with de Lacy in the matter, the king realized very quickly that it wasn’t worth it to stand his ground. In fact, the woman had already caused enough problems.
Lady Barklestone and her child went free.
Free to return to London, where they remained at Farringdon House with Cullen while the man recovered from wounds sustained in the Weekley ambush. They’d been bloody punctures that had missed anything terribly vital, so he’d healed quickly. But they also remained at Farringdon House for another very good reason – Cullen was in love with the woman that Preston clearly didn’t want. He’d shown no real enthusiasm for her return, only obligation. When Cullen had risked his life for the woman, not once but twice, William could see that he had to do something or they would only be facing a disaster again at some point. There was no way Cullen was going to allow the woman he loved, the one he’d risked all for, to return to her husband.
And that put William in an awkward position.
He’d spent one night, all night, speaking to Sean de Lara about it. Sean had been in London on an errand for John, but he’d stopped by to report to William on the king’s activities and the two of them spoke on several subjects, including the situation with Cullen and Teodora.
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