"I want nothing from you. I want her," Richard said dismissively. He turned from Slane and began moving over Anna.
Slane's hand shot out and grabbed Richard's arm. "I'll give you my servitude. I'll give you my gold. Just let her go."
"Good Lord, Slane. Get a hold of yourself," Richard said, attempting to ease his arm free.
But for a long moment, Slane wouldn't release Richard's arm. He held it in a tight grip as their gazes locked and clashed. Finally, Slane released his hold.
"This isn't like you, Slane," Richard baited him. "Don't tell me you sullied my bride's honor while you were supposed to be guarding her for me."
Slane turned away from his brother.
"She'll be a dutiful wife, I'm sure," Richard went on. "She'll make a fine after-dinner morsel. I'll train her in the most vigorous of ways. She'll part those creamy thighs for me. I'll train her to open her mouth wide —"
Slane whirled on Richard, fury burning in his orbs. He recognized the trap too late.
But Richard simply smiled. "Guard well your lust, dear brother. Willing or not, she is my betrothed."
Slane's anger refused to abate. He tightened his fists until his nails bit into his palms.
Anna reached up to pull Richard against her. Richard obliged willingly.
Slane turned and left the room, his fury irrational, his anger fierce. He paced before Richard's closed door for a long moment, trying to bring this tidal wave of anger under control. Richard had no respect for the unique woman Taylor was. He wanted a dutiful wife, a wife he could cheat on with every woman he could get his hands on while she waited patiently for him in his bedchamber. Well, Taylor would wait for him all right, but it would be with a dagger.
Slane's jaw clenched. All for his damned dolphin and petty trinkets!
He wanted to cry out at the injustice of it all. He wanted to beat Richard until he freed Taylor. But mostly he wanted to return to Taylor and tell her of his success in talking Richard into freeing her. But he couldn't.
He leaned against the wall, agony spearing his body like a knife wound. He couldn't let Richard marry Taylor. But how was he going to stop his brother?
Taylor sat forlornly in the dark room. She hadn't moved from the bed since Slane had left, her hands still clenched in her lap. What a fool I've been, she thought for the hundredth time. How could I have trusted him so completely? All he wanted was to get me to Castle Donovan to marry his brother.
And he did anything and everything he could in order to do it. Including making love to me.
Suddenly, the door opened.
Taylor lifted her head in time to see Elizabeth quietly close the door behind her. She was holding a candelabra in her hand. A fierce anger filled Taylor's body at the sight of Slane's betrothed.
"Get out," Taylor snarled.
Elizabeth raised startled eyes to her.
Taylor's back straightened. "I said get out," she repeated.
"I'm here to help you," Elizabeth said, taking a tentative step into the dark room.
"To help me prepare for my marriage to Richard?" Taylor demanded, rising to her feet. "I don't want your help."
"I can help you escape."
Shock rocked Taylor. Escape? She tried to read Elizabeth's eyes, but they were shadowed in flickering darkness. A choked laugh escaped Taylor's throat. Another noble to trust. Another noble to deceive her. To lead her to her death. "No, I don't think so. But thanks anyway."
"You're refusing my help to leave this castle?" Elizabeth wondered, aghast.
"I knew you were quick," Taylor retorted.
Elizabeth raised the candelabra higher, illuminating the surprise on her face. "Then you're a bigger fool than I thought." She turned toward the door.
Taylor turned her back on Elizabeth to face the shuttered windows. "You must love him very much." She was horrified she had spoken the thought aloud. She didn't want to hear the answer. She prayed Elizabeth hadn't heard her.
But Elizabeth had. "Yes, I do. I love him very much."
"How do you know?" Taylor couldn't stop herself from asking.
There was a long moment of silence before Elizabeth spoke. "He's the first person I look for when I walk into a room."
Taylor's chest squeezed tight until she could barely breathe.
"His laughter brightens my day," Elizabeth continued.
Taylor's eyes stung with tears.
"A mere touch of his hand is heaven."
Taylor stood rock still as her insides crumbled. She heard the door open and close and knew Elizabeth had left. But not before her words had destroyed her.
Slane sat in the Great Hall for the remainder of the day, trying to figure out how to help Taylor. But everything he thought of led to a dead end. He thought of petitioning the king on her behalf. But her father had willingly betrothed her, had signed and sealed the official document with his own hand. Slane would stand no chance of winning that battle. He thought of bringing Taylor a weapon and fighting their way out of the castle. But the thought was ludicrous. Innocent men would be killed.
Taylor's tormented visage continued to materialize before his mind's eye. Her sagging shoulders, her dull green eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and his own shoulders hung in defeat. He had done it to her. If only he had told her the truth! If only he had given her the option of deciding for herself. But he hadn't. He had imprisoned her just as surely as Richard was doing now.
"Slane?"
He lifted his head to find Elizabeth standing at his side.
"You look dreadful," she whispered, bending to kneel at his side. She touched his arm. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Slane eased his arm from her grip. He began to shake his head, but then lifted his gaze to her thoughtfully. Could she free Taylor? he wondered.
But then he thought of the guards Richard would have posted around Taylor. And he knew there was even less chance of Elizabeth helping Taylor. And he didn't want her to. He didn't want to be indebted to her. Slane shook his head. "No. There's nothing you can do," he admitted.
Slowly, Elizabeth rose before him. "Very well," she said. "Will you join me for dinner?"
Slane lifted incredulous eyes to her. Didn't she hear him when he said he could not marry her?
Elizabeth shifted and glanced down at her folded hands. "We can still be friends," she said softly.
Slane wanted to kick himself. She was a woman of incredible heart. How could she forgive him after everything he had done to her, everything he had put her through? He stood and took her hands in his. "Of course we can be friends. I would enjoy having dinner with you." He smiled at her. "Thank you for understanding."
Halfway through the meal, Richard joined them. Every muscle in Slane's body tensed as his brother took the seat beside him.
"It's good to see the two of you talking again," Richard murmured to Slane. "Perhaps there is hope yet"
"Elizabeth and I have come to an understanding," Slane admitted.
But Richard didn't hear him. His eyes scanned the back of the room. "Now where could my betrothed be?"
"Perhaps she finds your company... not to her liking," Slane suggested.
Richard turned dark eyes to his brother. "And pray tell, what do you mean?"
But before Slane could reply, a low murmur reached his ears. It began in the back of the Great Hall and spread like fire. Then the talking and laughter ceased abruptly as all eyes turned to the double doors.
Slane raised his gaze... and found himself breathless.
Taylor approached the head table, flanked by two guards. But Slane didn't even see the two guards. He was entranced by the vision Taylor presented in a shimmering deep green velvet dress that conformed to her breasts and hips like a second skin. The dress flared out just below her hips to conceal the long, shapely legs Slane knew were hidden beneath. Her luxurious black hair was combed into soft curls, which hung about her shoulders like dark clouds.
This woman wasn't the Taylor he knew. She had somehow been transform
ed into a lady. A lady who would fit into Elizabeth's world. Doom settled in the deep recesses of Slane's heart. Had Richard extinguished her fire already?
Slane felt a pushing on his shoulder and realized a second later it was Richard pushing him back into his seat. Without his realizing it, he had somehow risen from his chair at the sight of Taylor.
"She's stunning," Richard murmured as Slane sat. "I never could have imagined it."
Slane turned burning eyes to Richard. He didn't like the tone in Richard's voice. Then he sank deeper into his seat, a hopeless feeling overwhelming him. Richard was to be Taylor's husband. He had every right to desire her.
Still, Slane could not stop from clenching his fists.
Taylor approached the head table and moved around it to her seat beside Richard.
Slane couldn't take his eyes from her. She was gorgeous. He had known she was beautiful, but now, dressed in a gown that accented her feminine attributes, Slane realized the word didn't do her justice. His mood darkened and he slouched lower in his chair.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Elizabeth gazing at him sympathetically.
"My dearest," Richard cooed, and Slane turned his gaze back to Taylor.
She took the seat beside Richard. Richard's hand brushed her cheek and she didn't even flinch. Slane closed his eyes as his jaw clenched. Had Richard beaten her indomitable spirit already? Had he forced her to become what she loathed?
"Slane," Elizabeth whispered, "care to escort me back to my room?"
Slane heard her words, but couldn't reply. He opened his eyes and they focused instinctively on Taylor. She sat only two seats away from him, with Richard a formidable barrier between them. His brother carved a piece of meat from the bone on his plate and held it up in his fingers to Taylor's lips.
Every muscle in Slane's body tensed. She would never accept his brother's meat. She would never open her mouth for him. Richard would be outraged. He would raise his fist and Slane knew he would be forced to intercede...
But when Taylor delicately bit the meat in half, Slane's eyes widened in disbelief. He shot to his feet, prepared to... prepared to do what? he asked himself. His clenched fists fell slack at his sides. He felt defeated. He felt powerless. But mostly he felt lost. He felt a wretchedness of mind he'd never known before. He turned away from Taylor and found Elizabeth standing before him.
She placed her hand on his arm and he let himself be escorted from the Great Hall.
Slane returned to the Great Hall much later that evening. He sat alone before the hearth, the flickering fire doing nothing to warm his cold spirit. A mug of ale dripped from his fingertips as he slouched forward in the chair, his head hanging over his knees.
Why? his mind kept asking. Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he told her the truth about bringing her to Castle Donovan?
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Because he would have lost her. And now? he demanded silently of himself. You've lost her now, too.
Desolation consumed him. He would give anything to right this situation, to have Taylor at his side again. Instead, it seemed she had accepted her fate. Taylor was a master at survival, he knew. Had she come to the realization she was to be Richard's wife forever? Was she simply surviving the only way she knew how? Slane knew he should be grateful. Many, many people would prosper from the union. The castle and lands would continue to be protected. The people would be safe.
But he didn't give a damn about the people. Not when he couldn't have Taylor.
Hopelessness threatened to sweep him into an abyss of despair, but Slane fought the swirl of dread tugging at his heart and his mind. He knew there was some way to make this right. He knew there was an answer somewhere. All he had to do was find it.
He glanced down at the mug of ale. And sitting here drinking himself into a pitiful stupor wasn't going to give him the answer he was seeking. He stood, tossing the mug aside, and turned.
That was when he saw it. The glimmer of steel in the darkness just outside the large double doors. A scowl creased Slane's brow. Armor? he wondered. No. I know that flash.
He drew his sword and headed toward the double doors.
Taylor stared out at the night sky. The darkness was sprinkled with small twinkling diamonds, but none of their shine touched her soul. When Slane had left the Great Hall with Elizabeth, Taylor felt a loss so complete and so devastating she had almost been unable to control the tears burning her eyes. Rejected. Betrayed. But she vowed that even her pain would not stop her from her plan. Not even if Slane came to her proclaiming his love. Love, she thought, and images of Slane holding her in his arms, touching her, kissing her began to form in her mind, but she quickly pushed the word aside and the images vanished.
She turned from the window and approached the door, stopping only long enough to retrieve the candelabra from the table. She opened the door and peered outside. The guard standing sentry outside her room spotted her immediately and straightened.
Only one guard, she mused. Richard fell for my ploy. He must think of me as a willing lamb.
Taylor stepped out into the hallway. She had purposely donned the sheerest nightdress she could find. It conformed to her curves, just barely veiling the dark nipples of her breasts. "Excuse me," she called to the guard in a soft voice.
He took two steps toward her, eyeing her with suspicion. And an obvious aroused curiosity.
Taylor leaned back against the wall. "I... I'm not really used to this sort of luxury," she said quietly. When the guard didn't reply, she continued. "I'm quite lonely." She shifted her position, straightening her shoulders so that her breasts jutted. The guard's gaze instantly dropped to her offered charms. "I'm not used to being alone at night." His gaze rose to hers and Taylor knew she had won by the simmering look in his eyes. "I was wondering if perhaps you would join me?" She eased the door open with her foot, holding the candelabra higher to illuminate the doorway.
"Well," the guard hesitated. "I don't think I should. Lord Richard said to stand guard —"
"Oh, you'll be guarding all right, but you won't be standing."
He stared at her with incredulity in his eyes. "You're my lord's betrothed!"
"He enjoys an occasional tryst with other women, does he not? He knows I have a desire to do the same with men I find attractive. Lord Richard and I have an... understanding." Taylor stepped closer to him, being sure her breasts brushed his arm. "Besides, I won't tell if you don't."
With a quick look down the hall, the guard stepped past her and moved toward the room.
Taylor struck swiftly, bringing the candelabra down hard on the back of his head. The flames flickered as the hard metal struck the guard. Molten wax splashed across the ground. The man staggered, and when Taylor hit him again, the candles wavered and went out. He fell to his knees and toppled forward. Taylor glanced left and right down the hallway, the torches burning on the wall revealing nothing but an empty stone corridor. She grabbed the guard's arm and pulled him into the room.
She quickly seized a small bundle of clothing and boots she had hidden beneath the bed earlier in the day. Then she knelt at the guard's side and her hands searched over his torso until they reached his waist and his sheathed weapon. She eased it from his scabbard and rose to her feet, moving out the door and down the hall. She reached the stairway undetected and quickly descended the spiral steps. The stones felt icy cold against her bare feet. Her blood pounded through her veins with every beat of her heart, but she continued on through the darkness until she reached the bottom of the stairs.
She glanced left and then right toward the large double doors leading to the inner ward. A step closer to freedom. Here, too, the hallway was empty and every muscle in Taylor's body tensed. It was a trap. It had to be! It was too easy.
She moved cautiously out into the hallway, her ears alert to every noise, her eyes seeing everything. She snuck toward the door, toward freedom, creeping past the open door to the Great Hall, pausing to glance in, dreading the p
ossible sight of servants scurrying about. But it was as quiet as the rest of the castle. She saw only a group of peasants huddled together not far from the hearth against a wall, nestled together in sleep for warmth.
As she reached the large double doors leading out to the inner ward, her hand gripped the pommel of the sword tightly. Suddenly she heard a noise and froze. She recovered quickly and whirled, bringing her sword up. Another sword met her swing. But it wasn't the shiny silver blade that captivated her.
It was his eyes. The bluest eyes she had ever seen.
Slane stood before her, holding his weapon crossed against hers. Shock filled her for a long moment and she could do nothing. She knew she should run him through. She knew she should cut his traitorous head from his neck.
But she couldn't. She could only stare at his blue eyes and remember his kisses, his caresses.
"Taylor," he whispered and straightened, drawing his sword from hers.
His voice sent tremors racing down her spine. And still she couldn't move.
"Lord Slane!"
The voice jarred her and she turned her head to see five soldiers racing down the hall. She recognized the guard she had hit over the head. He was holding a bloodied towel across his crown. Her eyes returned to Slane, beseeching.
But Slane glanced from her to the men.
"Well done," one of them said, nearing.
Slane glanced at his sword and then back at Taylor.
Taylor clutched her weapon so tightly that her hand shook. Her eyes watered, blurring her vision.
"She hit Anderson over the head," one of the soldiers said, "and tried to escape."
The soldiers quickly moved to surround her. Taylor's eyes narrowed. She would never give up without a fight. Never. Her knees bent.
"Don't," Slane called.
And again, her body responded to his call. She glanced at him, taking her mind off the guards for the moment.
Knights of Valor Page 79