Juliette spun about in Devon’s arms as he pulled her to his chest. Both feet in the air, Juliette kicked out viciously and connected solidly with Rory’s behind. Rory went sailing through the passageway on a large expressed amount of rushed air, finding himself suddenly airborne, flying down the steep steps, his arms flailing as they desperately sought a firm grip. He grabbed wildly for a protruding stone and crashed against the wall, ceasing his rapid descent abruptly.
“Damnation, Devon. I said a good shove not a pummeling,” Rory complained and rubbed at his sore ass.
Grunting with exertion, Devon followed Rory down the steps as Juliette continued to struggle and kick at him. Her small foot again connected with his shin as she tried to bite at his arms. Once outside Devon took in a deep breath of cool air and with resolve gave one good firm whack to Juliette’s backside. She cried out softly and ceased her attack immediately.
“Devon, what do you?” Rory asked appalled. “She is frightened enough without you causing her harm.”
“What she lacks vocally she makes up in action. Damnation, Rory, this one kicks like a mule and bites like a mad hound. I am done in,” Devon exclaimed.
“Then hand her over to me,” Rory demanded. But when he reached for her, Juliette shied back fearfully. Her slight trembling body pressed firmly against Devon and a small, strangled cry escaped her lips as her tiny hands splayed before her in a pitiful pleading gesture.
“She fears me,” Rory said and shrugged dropping his hand.
“Luck is on your side, brother,” Devon complained. He realized Juliette would become his responsibility until he could deliver her to her sister.
“We needs be off,” Rory declared and gazed up at the sky as dawn comfortably prepared to settle in. He doused the torch light and dropped it to the ground.
Rory mounted his large stallion and moved away. Devon gazed down at Juliette’s drawn and frightened face. “You will not kick at me again or you will find yourself riding before my brother. Understood?”
Juliette nodded slightly. Though Devon’s hand had not been gentle she was unhurt. Her fear of Lord Broc was great. Perhaps the lesser of two evils would indeed be better.
Devon sat her atop his mount and settled in behind her. They rode quietly through the hillside. Devon held Juliette snugly against his powerful chest. Dressed in only her night shift, Devon wondered if she were cold, as her small body shook almost violently before him. Her long dark hair paraded loosely in the blowing breeze.
“We will arrive soon enough,” Devon said quietly, wanting her to understand she would not be cold overlong.
Juliette’s eyes squeezed tightly shut. She was certain he meant her place of final resting would soon be upon her. It was too much. She would never again see her beloved family. She began sobbing, tears dripped steadily down pale high cheek bones. Soon her slight body shook with great heaves, she whimpered. She did not want to die all alone. She was tired of being brave. She wanted her father, her sister, even gangly old Uncle Emit.
Rory stopped his mount seeing and hearing Juliette’s distress. “Now what have you done?” he demanded of Devon.
“I have only told her we arrive soon. This I swear. She shakes of cold, Rory,” Devon said perplexed.
“I had not thought of that,” Rory complained. Juliette’s small unclad feet did look red as they peeked out beneath her night shift as they dangled from atop Devon’s mount.
“Perhaps we should build up a good fire,” Devon suggested enthusiastically.
Juliette cried out terrified. They intended to burn her. Most assuredly she would never be found or identified. She had heard the knights telling of hideous burning tales and the victims shrill agonized howls for mercy as their flesh dropped to the ground. Horrifying images of a beyond brutal death assaulted her already fragile mind frame. Her struggling began anew as she sought to slip from Devon’s strong embrace. Devon held her easily now as she could not kick her feet at him.
“Enough, girl. Remember my warning,” Devon said sternly. Turning her slightly he clasped her chin in his large hand but was startled by her look of wild terror as she gazed deeply within his eyes. Did she fear Rory so much? Filled with compassion now, Devon gentled his grip. “Be still lass, I but play with you.”
“Please, run me through. Snap my neck, I beseech you,” Juliette begged. Devon’s eyebrows shot up horrified as his eyes widened. Her fear of riding with Rory was so great she would seek death? God have mercy, what stories had the poor child been told?
“I will do no such thing,” Devon said, still wide-eyed.
“Please, I do not wish to be burned alive, I beg you,” Juliette cried.
Devon sat mystified. Burnt alive? “What say you, lass?”
“I could not bear the agony. Please, my lord, we meant no harm afore. I will give you whatever you seek. Have mercy,” Juliette implored Rory.
Rory had feared Juliette would be concerned he sought revenge but was unprepared for her obvious absolute terror. Did she really believe he would burn her alive for her curiosity? Sighing softly, Rory brought his destrier closer to Devon’s. He should have explained his intentions sooner. With powerful arms he deftly lifted Juliette before himself though Devon was loath to release her, sensing her mounting terror at Rory’s close proximity.
“Do not fear, Juliette, I will cause you no harm,” Rory promised, a large gentle finger tilted her chin as he sought her eyes. “I seek only to reunite you with Constantine. I fear my little wife pines for you.”
“Truly?” Juliette asked, glazed eyes round as wet water smoothed stones. “’Tis not my dowry you seek upon my demise?”
“I care nothing for your dowry, Juliette, nor your demise,” Rory now raged angrily. What nonsense was this?
“You have heard of my betrothal?” Juliette questioned with trepidation, frightened further sensing she had angered him.
“Aye, that is why we have come for you,” Rory replied, though he sighed exasperated as Juliette whimpered once more. “I seek not more coin lass. My beloved is saddened without your presence. I only wish to reunite the two of you.”
“You will truly take me to Constantine?” Juliette whispered, she dared not hope.
“By the noon you will embrace your sister again,” Rory promised.
Juliette offered up a smile so filled with gratitude Rory chuckled. He did not question Devon as he sidled up closer to reclaim Juliette. She was put before him again on his mount and snuggled securely in powerful arms against the biting cold.
* * * *
“Are you certain?” Mary asked her friend the cook.
“Aye, certain enough,” she replied.
The two sat companionably in the kitchen. Darkness had fallen and the castle was still. They spoke in undertones to one another, their heads closely together for privacy.
“The guards are aware?” Mary asked.
“Aye, they know of the deed,” her friend replied.
“The villagers?” Mary questioned.
“Fear not, no alarm will sound,” the cook promised.
But Mary was fearful. She was positive her gentle young lady would be terrified, but assured herself it was all for the greater good. Her terrible suffering must come to an end. Lord Broc did not deserve such a sweet wonderful giving lass.
“She slumbers peacefully,” Mary said. This was the first night Lord Broc had not made her cry. Yet he was not about. He and his brother were off about the countryside doing only God knew what.
“’Tis for her own sake,” the cook said, a reassuring warm hand settled onto Mary’s own sweating shaking one.
“Aye. But she will be sorrowfully missed,” Mary said.
Both women struggled to control their tears. They had come to love their gentle little lady. Her soft smile would be missed. Her calm voice and quiet ways though not with them overlong had been welcome. Her presence would leave a large aching hole in their midst.
* * * *
Lord Christopher’s heart raced. He approached
Braven castle with excitement atop his magnificent destrier. Being the only son of wealthy parents Lord Christopher had never actually engaged in combat unless in training or tournaments. He was powerfully built and well skilled. His father had seen to that, insisting his only son must best his men. Though when it came to actual violent confrontation, his parents had drawn the line, insisting their only child must be protected at all cost.
Now here he was, alone. About to partake in a deed so perilous his parents, if alive, would have expired at the thought, he was certain. Braven castle lay dark and brooding before him. His prowess so amazing none had discovered him as he had slipped across the land through the villagers. At one point Nicholas had thought the guards had detected him, but felt he must have been mistaken as none had raised the alarm. He was but a tiny shadow upon the wall. Invincible. He entered the castle with caution and moved about quietly. If someone approached luck seemed to be on his side as they detoured in a different direction and he remained undetected. Smiling widely, Nicholas ventured up the stairs toward the great lord’s chambers. He had been told Constantine was forced to sleep there nightly under Broc’s watchful angry eye. He’d been assured Lord Broc was elsewhere for the evening on this night. Most likely with some other poor unfortunate woman.
Nicholas swung the great door wide. Just in case his informants had been mistaken, he made sure his sword was drawn, ready for combat. No one stirred. Soft and gentle weeping could be heard from inside and Nicholas was consumed with compassion for Juliette’s sweet and quiet sister. Stealthily he moved toward the great bed, the light was dim as only the soft hearth flickers shone to guide his way. Nicholas gazed down into Constantine’s beautiful angelic face. Her long black lashes and rosy red cheeks were wet with tears that glistened like fine gems.
Poor lass. He, Lord Christopher, would save her. Nicholas wondered how to begin. He suddenly realized the poor lass had never set eyes upon him. She would be very frightened, terrified no doubt of his powerful physique. She would think he meant her great harm. She would cower, perhaps even collapse from her fear. Nicholas breathed deeply. He must strive to be ever careful, she must realize she had nothing to fear from so fine a gentleman. His responsibility was great. She had suffered enough under Lord Broc’s hard-fisted hand. But Nicholas was at a loss. He could not risk her crying out in her terror. He would need to get her gone from the castle before he could explain what he was about.
With grim determination Nicholas realized what needs must be done. He must gag her effectively. Taking out a wad of cloth from his pouch Nicholas poised himself overtop of Constantine. Carefully he sat the bed beside her. When she shifted toward him his heart near melted. Even in sleep, she sought his protection. So like his gentle little quiet Juliette. Thinking of his betrothed had Nicholas’s hands pause before Constantine’s mouth. He thought of how fearful Juliette would be in Constantine’s place without his protection. How overcome with fear at a strange knight’s intrusion. She would be so terribly defenseless. Frozen in fear of a powerful knight, unable to defend herself.
Nicholas’s large body leaned gently toward Constantine, wanting her to understand his purpose.
He brushed a lock of wayward hair from her forehead. Her mouth ceased its tearful cries as her hand rose seeking his. Nicholas clutched it between his warm palms, enchanted. Smiling, he brought her small fingers to his lips. He vowed then and there he would protect her for his dear Juliette. How right she was as to her sister’s helpless state. Both would be happy while tucked safely behind his castle walls he vowed.
Watching intently, Nicholas noticed Constantine’s eyes flutter like the sweetest of butterflies, as she roused from her saddened slumber. Pensively he witnessed her bewilderment turn to terror. Nicholas shoved the wadding into her mouth as it opened to emit a scream. He realized sadly it could not be helped. She must remain completely quiet for them to be away. Constantine struggled briefly, but again Lord Christopher had been prepared. She was flipped onto her belly by powerful hands as her own hands were captured from behind. Nicholas tied her gently but tightly. He spoke not one word to her as he turned her then lifted her into his powerful embrace. With purpose-filled strides he vacated the room and made for the stairs.
Constantine, eyes wild, was certain she saw Mary come from the kitchen. The woman turned abruptly as though she had forgotten something of importance. Again as they departed from the castle, Constantine felt positive one of the guards had seen them. He too seemed oblivious to her plight. What were they about? Why did they not seek to aid her? Whimpering, Constantine wondered what she had done to so enrage them that they would not help in her time of need.
“Be silent,” Nicholas commanded, when he heard her whimpers reach his ears. He would explain himself shortly. He only wished she was not so terribly frightened.
Constantine silenced immediately, terrified of his angry vicious snarl.
The large man who held her clasped tightly to his chest raced toward a powerful destrier not far from the castle walls. He mounted his black stallion with ease placing Constantine before him. His heart hammering in his chest Nicholas could not believe his luck. He not only single-handedly entered Broc’s castle undetected, but he’d made off with his wife. His cunning most assuredly was surpassed by no other.
Feeling full of himself, Nicholas moved his horse at a great speed toward his own border in the illuminate moonlight. Constantine was gripped solidly in his powerful embrace. His first real conquest. Nicholas was hard-pressed not to puff out his chest like a proud peacock. He had done it. He was victorious. On the morrow, he would send word to Lord Campbell’s and tell Juliette what he’d done for her. What he had risked for her. She would be amazed—and grateful, he felt certain.
Slowing somewhat, Nicholas could feel Constantine shaking before him. Damnation, he had not thought to bring a blanket. She was most assuredly cold; her small unclad feet looked red before him. He wrapped his strong arms about her tighter hoping to calm her violent spasms. He grew dismayed though as her shivering increased.
“Perhaps I should light a fire,” Nicholas breathed softly with concern into her ear.
Terrified, Constantine’s violent shaking ceased. He meant to burn her alive, she felt positive. What a horrible way to die. This man was obviously without mercy. Her eyes rolled back and she slumped before him motionless.
“Constantine?” Nicholas inquired. “Constantine?”
Nicholas repositioned her before him so that he could gaze into her face. Distressed, he realized she had fainted from her fear of him. Damnation, he had been so excited with his accomplishment he had forgotten to include her in his plan. Feeling foolish and a tad concerned, Nicholas again began his quest for home. This would not please Juliette in the slightest. Perhaps he could set things right once they reached their destination. Though Nicholas admitted to himself a bit devilishly having a woman expire from fear of him was certainly intriguing. He cuddled her helpless form closer still. She felt so small and soft against his broad chest he decided he was rather enjoying himself. But it was a good thing Broc had no feelings for the lass, or he might feel tremendous concern at his wrath.
Chapter Five
Constantine awoke while still mounted atop Lord Christopher’s destrier. She shifted to look into his face. Her wide fearful eyes brought a look of genuine compassion from the powerful lord and he gazed back down at her with a smile of reassurance.
“Fear not, Lady Constantine. I mean you no harm. I am Lord Nicholas Christopher. I have come to save you,” Nicholas declared gallantly. “Now promise to hear me out, and I will remove your bonds.” Constantine nodded with trepidation.
Nicholas removed her gag and felt a bit guilty for leaving it on her so long. He just could not have her awaken and begin screaming until he could explain himself. A bit sheepishly he admitted to himself he also rather enjoyed having a helpless female bound before him. Perhaps his gentle Juliette could be enticed into a bit of rambunctious play once they were wed, he thought hopeful
ly.
“Lord Christopher?” Constantine questioned with some amazement.
“That is correct. I am betrothed to your sweet and gentle sister, Juliette.”
“Why have you stolen me?” Constantine asked. She was still quite frightened.
Though the knight before her was not as large as her Rory, he was still very powerfully built and more than twice her size.
“Not stolen. Saved,” Nicolas corrected.
Swallowing heavily, Constantine tried again. “From whom have you saved me?”
“Why your husband, of course,” Nicolas declared patiently. Poor lass. He must have frightened her a great deal, she being so addled and all. Nicolas sighed. Truly he must remember how big and powerful he must seem to one so delicate and quiet.
“Why do you seek to save me from Rory?” Constantine asked with confusion.
“You are to be my wedding gift to my beautiful bride,” Nicholas said, grinning from ear to ear.
Lord have mercy the man was daft. Constantine was certain. He had stolen her to give her to Juliette? Like some prized horse or cow. She was not a puppy. Although a new thought entered Constantine’s head.
“You take me to see Juliette?” she asked, her hope building.
“Not exactly,” Nicholas began a bit hesitantly. He did not want to frighten her, yet she must understand her only hope of safety resided with him. “I take you to my own home. You see if I were to ride with you to your father’s castle, he would be obligated to return you to Broc. This I cannot allow. Your sweet sister pines for you. She has had word of your ill treatment. As her betrothed and future husband, her wellbeing and peace of mind is very important to myself.”
“My ill treatment?” Constantine asked.
“Fear not, my lady, we have heard all. I will protect you, never fear,” Nicolas declared grandly, chin raised in pride.
“Take me home,” Constantine commanded, her eyebrows narrowed.
Nicolas smiled bemused into Constantine’s outraged expression. Why would she wish to be returned to such a heartless monster? Could she not see he had saved her? She did not seem to be very appreciative of his efforts. Perhaps she was still fearful of him. That must be it. The terror of the unknown. Poor little lass.
Battle Cry and The Berserker Page 8