Slane held Corydon off, his muscles aching and straining against Corydon's pushing. Suddenly, Corydon slammed his foot down on Slane's bare toes. Slane grimaced and shoved off Corydon's arm, backing quickly away from him, doing his best to ignore the flaring pain in his foot.
He glared at Corydon's dark face. His toes pounded with agony, but Slane pushed the pain from his mind. That had hardly been honorable.
And then an idea formed in his mind. An idea that bordered on dishonor. He remembered the move that had won Taylor victory over him in their battle.
Slane managed to avoid Corydon's swings until just the right moment, until Corydon thrust at his chest. Slane pretended to stumble as he backed away from the blow, falling to the ground on his bottom.
Corydon lifted his sword high over his head for the finishing blow. Slane pivoted on the ball of his foot, lashing out with his opposite leg. But instead of swiping Corydon's leg cleanly and neatly from beneath him, as Taylor had done to him, his foot slammed into Corydon's knees, toppling him like a tree... straight for him!
As he fell, Corydon managed to point the tip of his sword downward toward Slane, but his aim was slightly off, and the tip dug into the earth a mere inch from Slane's face. Corydon's weight pushed the weapon deep into the ground.
Slane raised his fist and punched Corydon in the face, and then the stomach. When Corydon rolled off of him, Slane shot to his feet, pulling at the sword to free it. But it was firmly lodged in the earth.
Corydon caught him from behind, wrapping his arms around Slane's shoulders, pulling him from the sword. He spun Slane around and delivered two blows to his stomach. Pain exploded through his gut and Slane doubled over. When Corydon followed with a stunning blow to his face, Slane fell like a rock.
But he recovered quickly, pushing himself from the ground, shaking his head, trying to clear his vision. When his eyes focused, he saw Corydon trying to pull the sword from the ground. He was moving it back and forth like a saw in his attempt to free it from the earth's clutches.
Slane struggled to his feet and dove at Corydon, shoving him from the weapon. When Corydon turned, Slane plowed two blows into his face, followed by an upper cut to his chin, which sent the noble sprawling.
Slane turned and pulled hard at the sword. It slid reluctantly from its sheath in the earth. Slane whirled just in time to find Corydon throwing himself at him. The outstretched blade greeted Corydon, impaling him through the stomach.
Slane stood for a long moment, staring at his enemy. He gripped the sword tightly, watching as disbelief spread across Corydon's face. After a moment, Slane stepped back, releasing the handle of the sword.
Corydon's hands convulsed around the handle of the blade lodged deep in his abdomen. He glanced down at the sword once and then back at Slane. He fell forward to his knees, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
Slane looked up, over Corydon's head, to see relief in Taylor's eyes. He lifted a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his own mouth as he stepped around Corydon to join her.
"Kill them," Corydon ordered in a ragged voice. "Kill them both." Corydon pitched forward to the ground and then was still.
The archers lifted their bows and pointed their deadly arrows at Slane and Taylor.
The archers pulled the strings taut, taking aim. Slane grabbed Taylor's arm and pulled her behind him, preparing to take the first barrage of arrows.
Suddenly, shouts echoed from the forest behind the archers! The bowmen turned in time to see a garrison of riders erupt from the depths of the forest, brandishing swords. The riders swept through the archers, cutting them down like weeds.
Slane quickly scanned the field to see more than one of the archers still taking aim, still intent on fulfilling their master's last order. He pulled Taylor down, dragging her to the ground, covering her with his body. Several arrows whooshed overhead.
Beneath him, he could feel the ground tremble with the pounding of hooves and booted feet. All around them, Slane heard the thunderous roar of horses, shouts of dying men, the clang of an arrow striking chain mail. A smattering of dirt splashed into his face and he glanced up to see the shaft of an arrow embedded in the ground not five inches from his cheek.
Taylor squirmed beneath him, but he refused to let her rise until he knew what was happening. He lifted his head, his gaze scanning the riders in the distance. A few had broken off from the main group to chase the remaining archers, who were fleeing toward the cover of the forest. The rest of the riders were engaging several black-clad fighters.
Slane pushed himself up, allowing Taylor to rise. She climbed to her feet, brushing long strands of hair from her eyes. "Who is it?" she wondered.
Slane didn't answer. He knew their colors well. He actually knew some of the men, recognizing them as they came closer. He stood as one of the riders moved forward and approached him.
The large warhorse pawed the ground before Slane, clumps of dirt spraying Slane's bare feet. Slane gazed up into the rider's black eyes. But the rider's gaze was not on Slane; it was on Taylor. "Is this her?" the rider asked.
Slane's gaze remained on the rider, narrowing at the way the rider's gaze swept Taylor with unbridled lust. "Yes, Richard. This is Taylor," he said, an obvious distaste twisting his lips.
Finally, the rider's stare shifted to Slane. "Well done, brother," Richard acknowledged. "With this deed, you are released from service to me."
Slane felt Taylor's look snap to him. But he didn't dare acknowledge her right now. He would explain things to her later. He would make everything right again. "How did you find us?" Slane asked Richard.
"Elizabeth had the forethought to tell me you might be in danger," Richard explained, stilling the prancing horse beneath him. "As soon as I knew where you were coming from, I rode out to greet you."
Slane grunted. More likely rode out to lay claim to Taylor, he thought.
"And it seems lucky that I did," Richard said, gazing around at the carnage in the clearing.
"Yes," Slane acquiesced. "It was, indeed, lucky." He shifted his stare to his brother. "Corydon is dead."
"Dead?" Richard asked, shocked.
"Yes," Slane said without any emotion. He felt dead inside now that Richard was here. Now that his brother would take Taylor from him. "I defeated him in battle."
"This is turning out to be a most wondrous day," Richard said happily. "Well done, brother. We shall have a feast upon returning to Castle Donovan. To celebrate your triumph." His gaze shifted to Taylor, his eyes small and dark, like a snake's. "And mine." He held out a hand to Taylor.
Something close to panic swept through Slane.
Taylor stepped away from the outstretched hand, and Richard's jovial expression immediately turned dark.
Slane knew his brother was used to women obeying him without question. He stepped forward. "She has her own horse to ride," Slane defended.
"Oh?" Richard wondered, his gaze searching the clearing. "Where? Where is her horse?"
Slane cast a glance at Taylor. She was staring at him with such complete desolation that he felt it in his soul. He wanted to take her into his arms and whisk her away. Instead, he pointed to his steed in the distance. "There," he said.
Richard looked at him with disappointment and Slane felt a feeling of victory surge inside him. "Very well," Richard said. "She may ride her own steed."
Slane turned his back on his brother, hiding Taylor from his view. "Go with him," he whispered, hoping that this once she wouldn't object.
She lifted her lids to reveal those luminescent gems shimmering with uncertainty.
"I'll speak with you later at the castle," Slane promised, brushing her chin with his forefinger. He was rewarded with a transformation. Her eyes lit with tenderness and a grin splashed across her full lips. She nodded and stepped around Slane, moving toward the horse in the distance. Slane watched her with growing anxiety as she took the reins of the horse and pulled herself up.
When Slane turned around
, his gaze met the suspicious eyes of his brother. Slane raised himself up to his full height, meeting his brother's stare. He knew he could no longer fight the feelings he had for Taylor. They were stronger than he was. And quite frankly, he didn't want to fight them. Now he simply had to set things right. He had lost no honor yet.
Castle Donovan rose before Taylor like a mountain of stone erupting from the earth. A strange, unsettling feeling wavered through her as she shifted her gaze to Richard. He was staring at her, as he had been the entire ride to Castle Donovan. A feeling of entrapment strangled her like a rope every time she looked at him. She didn't like him. She didn't like his dark, shifty eyes or his abrupt manner and curtness with those around him. No, she did not like him. Not one bit. Why, he didn't even look like Slane!
She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to see Slane, but there was no sign of him. She still felt a flush of excitement when she thought of his kisses, his touches, the tender way he had made love to her. She looked forward to feeling his skin pressed to hers again, feeling his lips against hers. And that was the one opportunity Castle Donovan offered to her. To be with Slane. She refused to think of what the future might hold. She refused to think beyond Castle Donovan... for now.
The horse's hooves clattered over the drawbridge, jarring her. She was entering the castle. The dolt beside her was still staring at her as if she were some sort of prize. Now that her father and Corydon were dead, why was she so important to him? Why was he staring at her with such triumph?
She glanced sideways at him. His small black eyes glared at her. She couldn't quite shake the feeling that at any moment he would strike. Angry at her uncertainty, and the trepidation she was feeling about this Richard, she turned her head to face him, gazing directly into his eyes. "Do you have a problem?" she wondered.
The smile disappeared from his face. His eyes widened with fury, his teeth clenching. Obviously, he wasn't used to being spoken to in such a way. But now that Slane had killed Corydon, now that Jared had been avenged, she didn't need Richard's help any longer, so she didn't much care what he thought.
He leaned toward her. "Obviously, you have a few things to learn," he murmured, "like respect." He straightened in his saddle. "I will teach you."
Taylor snorted her disgust and disbelief as they entered the gatehouse to the inner ward. What a pompous ass, she thought, turning her head to study the castle. It was a large fortress, housing many small merchant buildings. They rode until they came to the apartments. Taylor moved to dismount but Richard caught her arm in a painful grip, stilling her movement. "You follow your lord," he instructed.
Taylor nodded, and when Richard released her arm, she couldn't help adding, "If I see him, I'll do that." She swung her leg over the side of the horse.
She didn't need to look at Richard to feel his fury. He dismounted quickly, his eyes burning into her.
"M'lord!" a child shouted.
Richard turned his glare on the small boy, and the child skidded to a halt, bowing before turning and racing back into the keep.
Taylor stared at Richard, her eyes slanted in dismay. What kind of lord frightens the children so much they back away from him with wide, fearful eyes? she wondered. How can terrified peasants possibly be productive?
Richard stormed into the keep, leaving Taylor standing alone in the ward. Taylor watched as people scurried from Richard's path. One woman carrying dirty clothing bumped into a plump man in her hurry to move out of Richard's way. Her basket went flying through the air and landed on the ground, spilling over onto its side. The clothing tumbled out onto the ground.
Taylor's eyes shifted from the scattered laundry to the path Richard had taken. The bowels of the castle were dark. A feeling of impending doom settled around her as she approached the door. She had to go in. She couldn't very well wait for Slane in the middle of the ward.
She had no sooner stepped into the grim darkness than she was grabbed by the neck and slammed hard against the wall. Richard shoved his face near hers, snarling, "You will show me the respect I am due as your lord and your future husband, is that understood?" His fingers tightened around her neck until she gasped for breath.
She tried to pry his fingers from her throat, but he squeezed his grip until she couldn't breathe. She fought wildly, trying to kick and fight her way free.
"Is that understood?" he demanded.
One conscious thought formed in her mind. Free, she had to get free. She clenched her fist, ready to smash him in the nose. But her vision waned as darkness edged in. She lifted her fist with the last ounce of her strength.
She heard his voice from far off. "Is that understood?"
Richard finally released her and Taylor fell to one knee, clutching at her neck, gasping for every painful breath she could take.
A satisfied grin curved Richard's lips as he towered darkly over her. "Anna," he called.
Taylor turned her head to see that at least five peasants and servants lurked in the shadows, trying to escape their lord's attention.
"See lady Taylor to her room," he commanded.
Husband, Taylor thought numbly, finally hearing his declaration.
One of the women stepped from her place, bobbing a curtsy to Richard.
Richard turned to leave, but paused and added, "And make sure she wears some suitable clothing."
Taylor's breathing slowly calmed, and her heartbeat regained its regular pace. Husband, she thought again. What the hell?
"Lady?"
Taylor shifted her gaze to Anna. She was a young woman, fifteen summers perhaps, with brown hair and eyes.
"This way," she said, moving toward a stairway.
Tears entered Taylor's eyes. There must be some mistake! she thought. How could Richard think he was to be her husband? Why would he want to marry her? What did she have to offer him? It came to her suddenly in a moment of clarity. A dowry. If Richard was so desperate for gold, would he agree to marry her in exchange for a wealthy dowry? But why hadn't Slane told her? Didn't he know? And with her father dead, who would pay it? Unless... Taylor slowly stood, using the wall as support. Now that her father was dead, she was the sole and rightful heir to Sullivan Castle and Sullivan lands. Is that what Richard was after?
Taylor whirled to glance desperately at the large double doors behind her. Two guards stood lounging just inside the doors.
Anna gently took her arm. "This way, lady," she coaxed.
Taylor took one step, then another, allowing Anna to lead her. Slane would come. He would tell her it had all been some sort of mistake. That he knew nothing of Richard being her husband.
But even as she thought this, she couldn't stop the feeling of betrayal snaking around her.
"You don't have to marry her," Slane told Richard. As soon as he had returned to the castle, Slane immediately sought out his brother and found him in his solar, pondering over his ledgers. Slane was amazed at how long Richard could look at the pitiful numbers he found there, as if he were expecting them to double before his very eyes.
Richard glanced up from the calculations before him to lock eyes with Slane. "What in heaven's name are you talking about?"
"You don't need her dowry. You can let her go."
"Let her go?" Richard exclaimed, throwing himself back in his chair in exasperation. "Have you lost hold of your senses, brother?"
Slane scowled and stepped forward. "Richard." He planted his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Corydon is dead. The threat of invasion is gone."
"There is always a threat of invasion. Corydon was just one fool in a sea of many. I still need knights to guard my castle."
A prickling feeling started at the nape of Slane's neck, crawling along his skin like a poisonous spider seeking a choice spot to sink its fangs. "You don't want her any more than she wants to be your wife."
Richard shrugged. "I imagine a wife will be something of an inconvenience."
"She doesn't want to marry. Let her go," Slane encouraged.
Richard scowle
d. "Who cares what she wants or doesn't want. What is important here is what I need."
Slane felt his blood simmer. "Richard, you don't need her."
Richard waved his hand impatiently at Slane. "I need her dowry just as much as before."
"If the dowry is all that you're after, take the lands and be done with it. She wants no part of them."
"She is heir to those lands. I want no question of legality. Those lands will be mine rightfully and by marriage. With much thanks to you. Did I tell you how proud I am of you? I knew you of all people wouldn't fail me. All those other worthless mercenaries." Richard curled his lip in a grimace of disappointment. "But you! Ahh, brother. I knew I could depend on you!"
Slane crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at his brother. "I bumped into a few of those worthless mercenaries," Slane said stiffly. "And one of them almost killed Taylor."
"A pity. But as fate would have it, you came along. Well done, brother. Well done," Richard said. He stretched his arms high above his head, groaning, then rose to his feet.
Slane watched him for a long moment, hating his brother in that instant for his coldness and viciousness. "Where is she now?"
"We're going to celebrate your successful mission. You'll join me, won't you?" He brushed past Slane.
Slane grabbed Richard's sleeve and spun him around to face him. "Answer me. Where is she? Where are you keeping her?" Slane demanded.
"For now, she is in Mother's old room." Richard leaned toward him, pulling his shirt from Slane's grasp. "In your travels with her, you must have learned much. Tell me, how did you keep from gagging and binding her?"
Slane felt rage pulse through his veins. "She is a very opinionated creature," Slane agreed. "But that is not the way to treat a woman."
Richard snorted. "She is impudent and needs the strong arm of a man." His eyes gleamed with expectation.
Knights of Valor Page 76