by Amber Dane
CHAPTER THIRTY
A little while later, they were mounted and riding out past the gatehouse. As they were passing, a group of guards walked inside past them. One caught Rourke’s eye and the guard looked away from his intense gaze.
Rourke spoke with distaste in his mouth. ‘I never cared for that man. Why do you insist on keeping him with you?’
Darc nodded at his friend’s strong objection. ‘Aye, you have always made that clear.’
‘I do not trust him. He smells ripe and I do not refer to his odoriferous body.’
‘Aye, Rourke. I’ve had my eye on him since the war. He’s been faithful thus far. I live by what I preached to you. Keep your enemies and suspects close. Always.’
Rourke nodded, his eyes drilling into the nervous Gan when the thick-necked man looked back over his shoulder quickly. ‘Aye. For that man is indeed a king of snakes.’
Darc turned his horse around back toward the river. ‘You up for a long ride?’
‘Aye,’ Rourke said. ‘‘Twill give us time away from any unwanted ears for you to tell me the news of these murders that have reached my ears.’
A handful of Renald’s assembled knights rode a few feet ahead along the river trail scouting for unsavory characters that might be lurking about and for their chance to pounce.
Darc sensed the danger first.
Watching his men pass under a copse of trees drew his attention.
He made a distinct sound with his mouth and Rourke looked over. Darc gave him a look and Rourke glanced in the direction of the trees.
The trees lining the trail hung too low over the road. A telling sign to Darc that someone was in them.
Fools! Night had fallen and the darkness was closing in fast but they could easily see yet.
The first group attacked from his left flank. In preparation he had tightened his calves under Gray’s belly. Trained for combat, the warhorse would not rear from the sudden movements.
The brigands’ shouts shattered the night calm and Darc cut down two of the three. His sword met no mail and cut through shoulder and neck bone as easily as if he’d been slicing through ripe melons. Blood soaked the ground.
Two more emerged and rushed Rourke’s side. The Dark Axe’s sword cut down the men in like fashion.
The ones in the trees jumped down from their hidden perches. Five in all now stood in front of them. Over their heads Darc could see that his men had turned around and were charging back towards them, bearing down the small rise at a thundering pace.
Darc and Rourke dismounted. Rourke left his axe strapped on to the side of his horse.
‘You ready to die Norman pigs?’ One bandit shouted.
Darc studied the men. He’d been correct. None of them had on mail. They wore peasant garb and one man was barefoot. His white toes even more stark in the dimming light. As if he felt Darc’s eyes on him, he spoke.
‘Your money and jewels.’
‘I think not.’ Darc said.
‘You must be ready to die this night are you then? And right you should for killing my friends back there,’ barefoot raged on.
‘Methinks you will be joining them soon.’ Darc shrugged his long sword at his side in a non-threatening manner and struck a calm stance. The men backed up slightly from the look on his face and the tip of the Norman sword stuck in the ground.
Rourke stepped forward. ‘Do you poor fools not know on whose land you have trespassed?’
Silence.
Then one bandit off to the side loosed a wild cry that stunned even his fellow thieves. A second man soon joined him.
Not taking his eyes off the men, Darc spoke out of the corner of his mouth to Rourke. ‘A nice way to finish off this eventide. A bit of sport then. What say you?’
Rourke got his meaning. They would let the rest keep their lives.
The men were beggars.
The two who were huddled together stepped back further into the shadows. But the other three held their stance of attack, short swords at the ready.
Rourke replied, ‘I think not for these three have death wishes around their necks.’
In less than a minute all three lay dead.
Darc’s men had reached them and were dismounting. The clink of mail and swords being drawn filled the air.
As Darc approached the remaining two in the shadows Rourke’s voice stopped him.
‘Nay. Those two are free to go.’
Darc didn’t question him but would later. He pulled a swathe of cloth from inside his tunic and wiped his blade clean of blood. He gave a nod and let the two men go. ‘Get off my land,’ he ordered.
Their eyes shifted to Rourke for a scant pause as they backed away.
‘Mercy. Thank you, my lord. Come on, Johnny.’ The man said and disappeared quickly into the night through the trees with his friend at his side.
Halfway down the road later, Darc put his question to Rourke. ‘Those two meant something to you?’
Rourke’s green eyes glittered in the dark. ‘Aye. They were the ones to release the chains in Raven’s dungeon and returned my axe to my side.’
Darc said no more and gave a nod of understanding. He remembered all too well that day he’d found his friend on that cold winter afternoon barely clinging to life. Yet his near death grip had to be pried from the weapon of his namesake.
He’d healed so well from the dire wounds he’d receive. Were one to look at him now one would never know the trauma he had suffered. But Darc would never forget for it had been his brother that had done the deed.
Anger welling up inside him, Darc shoved it aside as he reached out and clasped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘Come. My bones are aching and some warm ale will bring it back some comfort. Let us be gone from here.’
The third and last night of Rourke’s visit Caroline made certain only the finest of fruits, breads and meats were served. Kelbie had surprised her in liking the man the moment he’d met him. And she found herself this eve blushing heavily over the compliments Rourke bestowed him.
‘You have been blessed with a fine son, my lady. He is most eager to learn I noted during his practice. Well done.’ Rourke continued on.
Caroline’s surprised gaze had gone to Darc. He’d not told his friend the truth of Kelbie’s birth. Something in her she could not name fluttered in her stomach. Rourke’s voice drew her attention away from Darc’s unreadable expression.
Over the past three days they had been nigh inseparable and she had been amazed at the differences in her husband. His attitude towards her had changed. A part of her liked it. The other part, she suspected was just a display for his friend. Or was it?
She knew not for certain. If it proved to be unreal, she knew it would hurt her. Of this she was sure, for the thought alone already had.
She could easily see that these two men were very close. The friendship they’d built as William’s men and on the battlefield was evident, but there was more to it than that. ‘Twas like they were brothers and it left her wondering about this Aric Claydon they spoke of with deep affection who had shared part of their childhood as well.
‘Twas much she did not know about her Norman husband and she was envious of the openness he shared with Rourke. Darc knew much about her, but she knew so little of him.
Rourke had eaten most of the sweetmeats and his hand bumped hers when she reached for the last one.
She drew back with a gasp. ‘‘Tis yours, my lord.’
‘Nay,’ Rourke said smiling wide at her. ‘It belongs to you.’
His nudge to her husband’s ribs did not go unnoticed by her and she did not know what to do next.
Darc’s searing gaze burned into hers as he reached for the sweetmeat and gently placed it at her lips.
Caroline’s eyes widened, knowing the few eyes in the hall watched for half the room had gone deathly quiet. When Darc licked his lips, she forgot all else and opened her mouth.
He slid it in slowly and her insides went wild, her leg jerked against his thi
gh and she heard him moan when her mouth closed on the treat. He watched her until she’d chewed it all. Swallowing it was entirely another matter seeing the passion flaring in his eyes. She reached for her goblet and in her haste, her shaky fingers almost spilled it.
He caught it, his hand wrapping around hers along the thick stem. His skin was hot. Caroline mumbled, ‘My lord?’ Her eyes going wide shifted in Rourke’s direction. Her mouth had gone desperately dry and it had naught to do with the sweetmeat.
Darc’s dark brows dipped as he leaned near her ear drawing the goblet closer. ‘It is his fault.’
Caroline swore she heard the Dark Axe chuckle beside her husband as she accepted the drink and finished it. ‘Twas not much, the glass was half full but the heady sensations she was feeling had her look down to make sure. Nay, it was Darc. She was drunk on him.
She was pulled from her musings when Rourke drew her back into the conversation to listen to some of the light-hearted memories of machinations they’d gotten into during their younger years.
She was surprised to see Darc actually flush under Rourke’s tales he told with much relish until her husband turned the tables on him and told of his not so light-hearted troublemaking days as a page and squire.
Rourke grunted and stood, affecting a serious tone though a grin played at his lips. ‘I fear we bore your wife with these petty stories and besides I’m feeling a bit parched.’
Darc burst out with laughter and rose to his feet to clasp Rourke on the shoulder. ‘And rightly so.’
Caroline knew he sought privacy with Rourke. ‘I think I need to see to Kelbie now.’ He surprised her when he helped her to rise and lifted her hand to press it against his warm lips. Rourke forgotten for a moment, her skin burned hot at the gesture and calmed her taut nerves. She met his powerful gaze.
‘Thank you for the lovely feast.’ His deep voice was like a caress. Then he turned back to Rourke. ‘Come. Join me for a walk around the mill to the wine storerooms. There you can choose from our fine selection.’
Her hand still tingling, Caroline stood staring after the two giants, her mind reeling over what Darc’s comforting gesture meant.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Darc gave the order to his reluctant men to go ahead without him on their return from riding nigh to York to see Rourke on his way.
The things he had discussed with his friend during his short visit ran through Darc’s mind. He watched his men ride off and turned Gray toward the south end of the river.
Much weighed heavily on his mind. The village murders. His brother. Cedric’s murder- on that one, as he’d told Rourke, he had his suspicions. Adjusting to his wife and the feelings she had stirred in him. And the nightmares, they had come non-stop up till three days ago.
He knew he had to face what the dreams were telling him. For if he did not, Darc knew they would only continue to haunt him.
The evening breeze caught his hair, deafening his ears and dulled his surroundings as Gray sped on.
The dogs ran ahead. Rourke’s words came back to him. His brother had left his mark of evil upon all their lives.
Adelay.
Gray stopped right at the edge of their destination. Darc dismounted and patted his tired horse, speaking into its ear. Then he turned and looked at what stood before him.
Only the framework of the old manor remained along with a few wooden worm-eaten slats, tall grass and straw grew out of and in between the holes. A partial stone edifice of where the hearth once stood remained, the stone blackened from the cooking fires and cauldrons that had once hung from it.
This was the place where Raven had killed her.
And where she had killed his son. Darc walked over to the hearth. His gaze dropped to the depression in the dirt which once had been the opening to the buried dungeons below. Long since filled in and covered over by his orders. Where his hell had begun…
Darc closed his eyes. The memory of that night long ago rushed back and slammed into him full force. He let it unfold, reliving it again.
The evil witch had poisoned him and left him in that pitch black cell. He could see nothing in front of him. He had felt alongside the wall in search of something familiar. He’d found nothing but gained more bruises to add to his already battered and beaten naked body. He’d known immediately he was in some type of dungeon. Growing angrier with each step, he cursed her. Cursed the traitorous beauty that she had painfully proven to him what she truly was. Heaviness weighed down his heart over her betrayal. Fool he’d been to have given her his love. Aye, a fool that had ignored the warnings, the hairs rising on the back of his neck, the unexplainable absences.
He stilled. They were coming.
All he’d seen the moment before he’d passed out was her lovely face grinning over him as she shook the vial in front of his eyes. As hades pulled him down into his depths, he swore to return and come back to take her with him to burn in hell.
His wife of Norman blood, Lady Adelay had not only handed him over on a platter into the hand of his most hated enemy, but she had taken their son from him.
He now heard their muffled curses echoing outside in the corridor over the unlit torches he’d blown out. Although he could not see them clearly, he could make out that there were five of them. In his search he’d found nothing to use as a weapon. But he worried not, for he had regained enough strength to do what needed to be done. When the first torch flared back to life, he brought the butt of his elbow crashing down on the head of the man nearest him and with his bare foot, kicked the man in his throat.
The man flew across the small room, air blast from his lungs as his head split open when it hit the wall. The other man went too late for his sword, one wild swing and Darc ended his life quickly with the same sword.
Chest heaving he turned at another sound and saw stars as something hit him hard in the side. He fell to one knee and a fist of stone slammed into his left eye. It swelled immediately.
He saw what looked like a giant in front of him. A blonde-haired ogre by the man’s enormous size. All he could think was the man was ugly as sin. Darc’s good eye fell upon the finely dressed nobleman behind the ogre and next to him stood Lady Adelay, his wife.
“Hold!” The nobleman came closer and removed one gauntlet to reveal his scarred hand. “My, how the mighty have fallen. Take that sword from him.” He ordered. The ogre obeyed and delivered another punishing kick to Darc’s side.
Darc heard and felt his bones crack as the pain set his teeth to chatter. He wheezed and tried to catch his breath. He drew blood from his bottom lip in his attempt to stop his cry of pain.
The sound of Adelay’s laughter formed a ball of black rage in his heart. Darc reached an arm up toward her neck to strangle her but was stopped by the ogre. After a struggle the ogre’s fist slammed into his other eye.
When he could breathe again, Darc asked, his words directed at the nobleman. “You rotten bastard. Why?”
He could barely make out the face so much like his own. “Because you have everything that should have been mine. Now I have it, along with the love of my life. She should have been my wife. My wife!”
Something glinted in front of his face. But with his good eye now swelling closed, Darc could not make out what it was.
The nobleman continued in a mocking tone, “I think our prisoner would like to have a word. Hmm, what does The Beast of Renald wish to say?”
“She chose me. A mistake I see now.” Darc’s words were slurred but all in the room heard the rage in them. His wife’s form appeared next to him. Her scent, that scent of hers which had driven him mad wafted over him now and made him want to gag. Her beautiful face twisted with disgust and the glint of the object now was held in her hands.
“You bastard! I never loved you.” She shrieked in his face. Darc fought against the darkness reaching up to consume him, but he was losing.
She reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He was losing strength by the second. He could not breathe from the p
ain and the damage the ogre had caused in his chest. He choked and blood gushed from his mouth.
“Before you die, know this. I loathed every time you touched me. ”
Darc knew she lied and he managed to choke out at the same time he spat his blood in her face. “You still lie bitch. Come time you will tell him the same.”
Her cry of rage came with her words, “Beastly Bastard! Your face should match the rest of you and the name that follows you far and wide.”
Then came, the agonizing pain of something cold slicing into his face and laying open his flesh from temple to chin. He felt air on his gums and teeth, and nearly bit off his tongue to not cry out. His strong will infuriated his tormentors and as darkness finally came, he welcomed it and heard Adelay’s last screaming words.
“Your son waits for you in the afterlife. It should have been Raven’s child that I birthed, not yours.”
Darc took her words with him into hell and with his heart vowing vengeance.
Caroline could not sleep and she was not sure why. Kelbie slept quietly as he’d done so for the past sennight and had not suffered from his night terrors since he’d started spending time with Darc. Caroline did not know a smile came to her lips as she looked over at his small frame in his bed. Mildred’s snores came through from the adjoining room. But that was not was keeping her up.
Caroline walked around the room. It did little to tire her. ‘Twas her mind, full of thoughts that kept her up. She went to the window, the black starless sky made it hard to see anything beyond the curtain wall save for the glowing torches below illuminating the inner ward. She saw a few soldiers moving about their posts.
Darc’s friend was gone and he had returned back to the castle late. She had seen him when she’d come to her chamber to ready Kelbie for bed. The memory of the kindness he had shown her during the Lord of Westlan’s visit Caroline wondered if it would continue.
When her pacing failed to tire her thoughts, she cursed and crawled into bed. Something woke her later. She climbed off the bed.