As the bald mercenary swung back to face her, she dashed past him, keeping her blade aimed at his gut. He muttered, then advanced on her.
Another backward step, and she bumped into Edouard. The touch of their bodies sent bittersweet longing racing through her, but she didn’t dare meet his gaze. Not when the battle against Veronique had yet to be won.
Edouard’s fingers brushed hers as he exchanged the dagger for her sword.
“What now?” Holding the knife at the ready, she fixed her gaze on the mercenary, who obviously waited for a favorable moment to attack.
“Juliana, head for the doorway into the stairwell.”
He spoke calmly, as though he’d asked her to fetch a couple of pints of ale.
“Why—?”
“Find a safe place to hide. Stay there until the fighting is done.”
An awful tightness filled her breast; he was sending her away. “I am not leaving—”
“You are an important witness to what happened at Waddesford in the past days. I want you out of danger.” As though sensing her rising protest, he sighed, a sound of impatience. “Please, do not argue. ’Tis my duty, as my father’s son, to protect you and to fight for his cause. For this castle.”
“Moments ago, I almost died.” Juliana glared at Veronique, edging in alongside the mercenary. “To think I might never”—look upon your handsome face again—“draw another breath . . .” She shook her head. “Thanks to your father’s crossbowman, I have been given another chance to live. I will not waste it.”
“Juliana—”
“I shall fight. For my dearest friend who was murdered. For Rosemary, who lost her mother. For all the folk who have suffered or died at this keep because of Veronique.”
A chuckle interrupted her last words. “What lovely sentiments,” Veronique said, so close that Juliana caught her rosewater scent. “However, you should have done as Edouard asked.”
Over the gusting wind, Juliana caught sounds of a commotion, emanating from the stairwell. Shouts. Clashing swords. Pounding footfalls.
“Too late, Juliana.” Veronique’s words dissolved into a wicked cackle. “Too late!”
The mercenary lunged. Edouard stepped forward, his sword glinting in a well-executed strike. As the weapons collided, Juliana risked glancing at the stairwell.
Moving backward, his sword slicing the air with a deadly fwhoop, Tye emerged from the stairwell. Lord de Lanceau followed, with three of his men-at-arms a few steps behind. Sweat streamed down his lordship’s face. His sword was poised to attack, his expression stony as he pursued Tye.
More clanging rang out behind Juliana, reminders of Edouard’s ongoing fight, while Tye growled and swung his sword down, aiming for de Lanceau’s chest. With a metallic crash, their weapons met. The two men glared at each other, their swords locked.
Tye spun away.
At the same moment, Dominic hurried out of the stairwell.
“Go, Juliana!” Edouard shouted. “Now!”
“I am not leaving you!” She whirled to face the mercenary and Veronique, to see that Edouard had driven the bald fighter several yards back down the wall walk.
And Veronique?
Again, Juliana caught the sweetish tang of rosewater. Fear crawled up Juliana’s nape into her scalp. Just as she whirled around, Veronique grabbed her forearm in a crushing grip.
“Too late,” the older woman taunted. “Now, tell me where to find the jewels, or—”
Gasping, Juliana twisted her trapped arm which held the knife. She tried to slash with the dagger. Veronique’s bruising hold curtailed her movements. As the older woman dug the nails of her free hand into Juliana’s flesh, forcing her to let go of the weapon, Juliana kicked out at Veronique. The older woman twisted aside, avoiding the brunt of the blow.
With a triumphant grunt, Veronique snatched the dagger. Her painted lips formed a grin, and she released her grasp.
Juliana heard footfalls thundering toward her.
“Juliana!” Edouard bellowed. “Look—”
Someone slammed into her. A cry broke from her, as she pitched toward a stone merlon. She threw up a hand, desperate to thwart the imminent contact, when a muscled arm locked around her waist. She was hauled back against a broad man who smelled of sweat and hatred.
Tye.
His breaths seared her temple. The sharp blade of a sword came into her sight.
“Do not come any closer, Father,” Tye growled, his voice rumbling next to her ear, “or I will slice her from ribs to belly.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
At the sight of Juliana pinned in Tye’s arms, Edouard’s fury heightened to a dangerous pitch. She’d endured so much already; more than a lady of her grace and loveliness should ever have to face. This . . . this was the last. It ended here. Now.
Rage scorched through his body, firing renewed strength into his tired arms. The bald mercenary lunged again, and Edouard thrust up his sword. The blades met, tension jarred through Edouard’s torso, and then he pushed with all his strength against the joined swords.
When the mercenary staggered back a step, Edouard lunged forward and swung the blade in a wide arc. The steel sliced the mercenary’s upper arm. Blood shot in a crimson streak across the man’s leather hauberk.
The mercenary screamed.
“Yield,” Edouard said between his teeth, “or I will kill you.”
The man’s anguished gaze shifted from Edouard to a point near Tye before he pressed his free hand over the wound, spun on his heel, and hurried away.
“—I will not ask again. Release her,” Edouard’s sire was saying, as Edouard dried his sweaty brow with his sleeve and faced the others.
“Why should Tye heed you, when you do not even respect his birthright?” Veronique’s tone darkened. “Do you have the parchment, Tye?”
“I do.”
“Geoffrey, you will sign it. Or Juliana dies.”
Edouard marched forward. His boots thundered on the stone. As Juliana’s sorrowful gaze met his, her eyes widened. Did she sense the lethal edge to his fury? By God, he’d cut Tye to bleeding pieces and—
“Edouard,” his sire said.
Blinking through the haze of rage, Edouard glanced at his sire, flanked by three men-at-arms. His father’s face was turned to Edouard in profile. Not looking at Edouard, he said, “I have this matter in hand. Free Kaine. Secure this section of wall walk.”
His father’s tone was brusque, yet Edouard was glad of the harshness. It reminded him of what he’d learned from his sire: he must keep firm control of his emotions. In this deadly battle, which his father must win, he couldn’t make one mistake. Not when Juliana’s life was in peril, and the lives of many others.
“Aye, Father.”
Before Edouard could turn to locate Kaine, Veronique clucked her tongue. “How very obedient. Is that how you prefer your sons, Geoffrey? Raised to do your bidding, without question? Like loyal hounds?”
Veronique likened him to a trained dog? Edouard’s hand tightened on his sword to the point of pain. How he longed to run her through!
“Edouard does as I ask,” his sire replied, “because he has been raised with honor and respect. Values that define all that is noble and just.”
“Listen to you,” Veronique sneered. “Rambling like—”
“A lord who is proud of his legacy? Of his respected family? I am.”
“Those values you prize so highly have brought you here, to this grim moment. You have no choice left but to yield to my demands—or be responsible for Juliana’s death.”
“As I told you before, I will never yield to you.”
Veronique smiled. “A shame. Did you know Edouard cares for Juliana? They even lay in each others’ arms.”
“Stop!” Juliana choked.
A muscle leapt in Edouard’s father’s cheek. “Is this true, Edouard?”
Veronique, you malicious bitch! Hatred for her seethed inside Edouard. After all she had done to him, she’d try and dishonor
him and Juliana in front of his father. Veronique knew his sire would be furious if he believed Edouard had forsaken his commitment to Nara.
Yet as Edouard stood aware of the many expectant gazes upon him, he welcomed the conviction in his soul, the emotion that had settled there, he realized, the first time he’d seen Juliana. No longer would he ignore it. He’d be speaking with his sire as soon as this battle was over.
“Father,” he said, his voice strong and determined, “since Juliana and I were forced to share a cold cell, we had no choice but to sleep together for warmth. However, we were never intimate, as Veronique cruelly implied. I never once acted with dishonor.”
“He speaks the truth,” Juliana cried. “I swear it, upon my mother’s grave.”
Edouard’s gaze met hers. “’Tis also true that I care for Juliana.”
Her eyes glistening with tears, she braved a smile.
What he would give to be able to sweep her into his arms now and kiss her, to make her his.
“What a shame, Edouard, that you were promised to Juliana’s sister,” Veronique went on, sounding on the verge of laughter. “Denied your true feelings for Juliana, right till your death.”
“Enough,” he growled.
Veronique chuckled, then reached out and smoothed her fingers through Juliana’s hair. As Juliana jerked her head away, her cheek pressing against Tye’s tunic, Veronique murmured, “You must hate your father, Edouard, for not caring to spare her life. A kind of abandonment, is it not? ’Tis a small taste of the anguish Tye has endured all these years.”
Squaring his shoulders, Edouard turned his back on Veronique and Tye. He had to shut her out, to deny her the sordid pleasure of squeezing his emotions until they bled.
He’d promised to obey his sire; he’d do his duty.
As he forced himself to stride away, he sensed Juliana’s gaze upon him. His heart ached. Walking away, after all he’d admitted, and when her expression held such gut-wrenching fear, felt akin to betrayal. Yet if his father insisted the matter was under control, then Edouard must trust ’twas so.
He looked to where he’d last seen Kaine, flanked by his guards. They’d moved a short distance down the wall walk. When Edouard drew near, he realized only one mercenary remained with his sword pointed at Kaine, who stood favoring his hurt leg. The other guard, head lolling, collapsed against a merlon. Shaking out his right fist, Dominic stepped away from him.
Switching his sword to his right hand, Dominic eyed the mercenary beside Kaine. “Now, ’tis your turn.”
Sneering, the man adjusted his grip on his weapon, readying to attack.
Edouard strode to Dominic’s side. “Allow me.” As the mercenary lunged, Edouard swung his blade in a brutal arc. With a clash of metal, his sword met the mercenary’s, whose weapon tilted close to Kaine’s stomach.
“Oy! Careful!” Kaine hobbled backward. “I hoped you were rescuing me.”
Before Veronique’s thug could recover his hold on his weapon, Edouard set the tip of his blade against the man’s neck.
“Drop the sword,” he growled.
Dominic whistled. “Best do as he says. He looks more than ready to slaughter you.”
The mercenary’s eyes narrowed. Then, with a loud clank, the sword landed by his boots.
“A wise decision.” Dominic flexed his fingers. “I do apologize for what I must do now.” Drawing his arm back, he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. The oaf fell to his knees, then to his side on the stones.
“A bit dishonorable, that,” Dominic said with a wry shrug. “We cannot have these louts sneaking up on us, though, while we tend to other matters.” Sympathy crept into his gaze. “Not when we have a fair damsel to rescue.”
A flush warmed Edouard’s face, and he looked at Kaine. “Are you all right?”
“Apart from my leg.” He grimaced. “It hurts like hellfire. I am not certain how much use I will be in the battle.”
“You can guard these mercenaries,” Dominic said, bending down to pick up the fallen sword and handing it to Kaine.
“If they wake,” Edouard added, “wallop them again.”
Kaine grinned. “That, I will be more than pleased to do.”
Edouard glanced back at Juliana, his pulse lurching to see her still trapped against Tye. He’d pulled her closer to the battlement’s edge, nearer to Veronique.
Juliana’s frantic stare locked with Edouard’s, and concern, heightened by anger, blazed within him. Stay brave, Juliana. We will rescue you. This I vow, upon my very soul.
“Good luck,” Edouard said to Kaine, before he pivoted on his heel and headed back to his father, aware of Dominic striding close behind.
When Edouard reached his father’s side, he could barely control the rage crackling inside him. Tye had his arm pressed up under Juliana’s bosom, a far too intimate hold for Edouard’s liking. Moreover, Tye stood with a merlon at his back, and far enough away from the battlement’s edge that he couldn’t be hit by the archers below—a sign that Tye had noted Aldwin’s abilities.
“At last, you have rejoined us.” Veronique adjusted her grip on the knife. “We waited for you, before killing her.”
A sigh shivered from Juliana.
Edouard clenched his teeth. “Father?”
“She wanted you to see Juliana perish,” his sire said, “although I assured her that would not happen.”
Edouard barely choked down a shocked roar. Had his father not promised he had this situation under control? Why, then, was Juliana’s life still endangered? Why had his sire not ordered his men-at-arms, standing motionless behind him, to attack Tye and save her?
“Poor Edouard. I see your disappointment.” Veronique sneered. “Your beloved father has failed you.”
“Nay, Veronique. Look below,” Edouard’s sire said. “My men-at-arms are winning the battle.”
She snorted a laugh. “Geoffrey—”
“My loyal knights and men-at-arms were ordered to take control of this keep, level by level. They will. They are loyal to me, because I earned their respect. Your mercenaries do not care about loyalty. They swore allegiance to you only for the coins you paid them.”
“Enough. Tye—”
“They have realized your cause is lost,” Edouard’s sire continued, “and are escaping while they still can.” He waved to the space between the merlons. “See for yourself. The drawbridge is crowded with people fleeing.”
Tye’s expression darkened. “Mother?”
Veronique glared at her son. “Your father lies. How like him, to try and undermine us.”
“Release Juliana,” Edouard’s sire commanded. “There is no advantage to killing her.”
Tye’s gaze narrowed. His fingers tightened on his sword.
“Your lives are all you have left,” Edouard’s sire said. His gaze slid for the briefest moment to Dominic, standing at his left side. “If you wish to leave this wall walk alive . . .”
Realization hummed through Edouard. Left. A secret command.
“He is right. Do you not agree, Edouard?” Dominic added.
Tye scowled. For the barest moment, his gaze flicked toward the gap in the stones.
“Go!” his lordship roared.
Raising his sword, Edouard lunged for Tye’s right side. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dominic racing for Tye’s left.
Veronique shrieked and slashed with her dagger, even as Edouard heard brisk footfalls. His sire and the men-at-arms were closing in on her.
Cursing, Tye tried to position his sword, but Dominic shoved his blade’s tip against Tye’s shoulder blade. “Do not be a fool.”
His weapon at the ready, Edouard halted before Tye, near enough to reach out and touch Juliana. The sword Tye still held hovered, a physical barrier separating them. Tears streamed from her eyes. He caught her sweet fragrance, blended with the essence of fear, and his gut twisted. “Let her go,” he said quietly.
Tye glowered. “You will kill me, if I refuse?”
“If I mus
t.”
“Attack me, and she and I will both die.”
“Not necessarily,” Edouard said with a growl.
Juliana’s mouth quivered.
“She means so much to you, Brother?”
“Aye.” The acknowledgment came easily. From his heart.
“Edouard,” she whispered.
Tye’s face contorted. The bastard was beaten, but still he meant to hurt her? Edouard should have expected no less. Tye had been raised by Veronique.
Edouard loosed a furious cry and brought his sword up.
Tye’s arm fell from Juliana’s waist.
She raced to Edouard, her soft warmth pressing against him. He kept a firm grip on his sword, while his other arm wrapped around her.
Through a giddy rush of relief, he caught Dominic’s grunt of pain.
Heard the arcing swish of a sword.
Sensed Tye’s attack.
***
Juliana clung to Edouard. Her body shook with terror and exhaustion, but joy sang like a bright melody within her. Tye had let her go; there was some sense of honor in his treacherous soul, after all.
“Juliana,” Edouard gasped.
Then she sensed it: movement, behind her.
She whirled, at the same instant Edouard shoved her away. Tye, his face twisted with bitterness, slashed his sword down toward Edouard’s chest.
Clang. Clang.
Steel sparked, marking the fury of their blows. Her hand pressed to her throat, Juliana didn’t dare look away. The two brothers struck at each other. Again. And again.
“Bastard!” Edouard snarled.
“Kill me now,” Tye mocked. “Do it.”
They were only five paces from Veronique. She stood at the edge of the wall walk between two merlons, silk gown flapping in the wind, her knife lost. Her fingers were raised like claws against de Lanceau and the men-at-arms who’d trapped her.
“Surrender, Veronique,” de Lanceau shouted.
“Surrender?” She arched her brows. “I would rather die than be your prisoner.”
“You have nowhere left to go,” his lordship said. “You cannot defeat us. You cannot run.”
Veronique’s crimson lips parted on raucous laughter.
“Veronique!” de Lanceau bellowed. “Surrender! If you refuse, I will—”
A Knight's Persuasion (Knight's Series Book 4) Page 28