From This Moment On

by Lynn Kurland

  He looked supremely satisfied. “I thought you wouldn’t.”

  She blinked. “You did?”

  “You’ve a decent amount of courage about you, um, Henri.”

  She could scarce believe her ears. “Think you?”

  “Aye, but you surely don’t expect me to blather on about it, do you? Come, let us be about our work. Courage you might have, but your skill is still lacking. I wish to remedy that as quickly as possible.”

  By the saints, had the man actually paid her a compliment? Given her words of praise? She could hardly believe what she’d heard, but her ears certainly weren’t deceiving her.

  Nor were her arms, for they were soon burdened with the task of holding Colin off with one whilst the other strove to poke at him with her knife. And when she thought she could go on no further, he changed tactics and taught her how to fend him off with just her fists—which went less well than her other lessons, but she did her best.

  By the time she was allowed to stop, she was shaking from weariness and strain. But she was smiling. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been, for she surely didn’t have the skill to defend herself should a man come at her truly. But she had more skill than she’d had a fortnight ago and perhaps that was enough for now.

  The next pair of days passed in like manner, full of as much swordplay and knife work as she could stomach—and at times much more, truth be told. But she didn’t argue. Colin seemed just as driven as she felt. And she had more reason to press on than just keeping Sir Etienne far from her. Should she by some unhappy chance find herself in Marie’s sights, she didn’t want to be completely defenseless.

  Not as she had been before.

  One of the happy turns of events during those days was the absence of Sir Etienne. Ali suspected that he was either drinking or wenching himself into oblivion. At least he was gone and for that she was grateful.

  After the first morning, Jason spent most of his time watching her train. He offered no opinion, but readily took the chance to hone his own skills against Colin’s when Colin had finished with her for the day. It was those times that she rediscovered humility. She might have been able to hoist her sword, point it in the right direction, and swing it about with a very small bit of skill, but she was a bumbling page compared to Jason.

  And nothing at all compared to Colin.

  But that didn’t stop her from watching him just the same, and marveling at his skill. The man was enormous, to be sure, but he moved with a grace that was riveting to watch. And once he and Jason began to truly hack at each other, Colin became nothing more than a part of his blade, an extension of the metal that flashed in the stray bits of sunlight. Jason was almost as tall as he, and would no doubt one day be as muscled, but even with his considerable skill, he could no more have bested Colin than she could have.

  She was gaining, she had to admit, a great appreciation for the skill of her erstwhile betrothed.

  Perhaps he wasn’t as erstwhile as she might have thought. And for the first time since she’d first heard his name fall from Marie’s lips, she managed to look at him occasionally without any feeling of fear at all.

  If that was not terrifying in the extreme, she didn’t know what was.

  Too much training, no doubt. It was having an ill effect on her common sense.

  When they finally did take up their journey again, she found that she very much disliked having Sir Etienne rejoin the company. She hadn’t missed him, for more reasons than just his unpleasant personality. Colin, though, seemed to have decided that no matter what Sir Etienne said to him, he wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

  Ali wondered what price she would pay for that.

  Their first night away from the inn, she had the first watch. It was the easiest, to be sure, for ’twas rare that Colin wasn’t still sitting at the fire when she returned to her own blankets. More often than not, she would find him on his feet, watching her as she watched over them. She supposed he didn’t trust her with their safekeeping. Perhaps he had reason.

  But that night even he seemed to succumb to slumber readily. Sir Etienne was snoring in his usual fashion—fit to bring down any and all ruffians in the area upon them. Jason made no sound, but rested on his back with his hands folded over his breast, and his sword lying by his side.

  Ali rose as quietly as possible and made her way into the trees. She looked about her, found nothing, and decided that it was a perfect opportunity to relieve herself. She chose a likely spot, saw to what she needed to, then pulled up her hose and straightened her tunic.

  And then she realized that she was far from alone. She whipped around at the crack of a twig behind her and saw Sir Etienne leaning against a tree. Ah, nay, not again! Would the man never give her any peace?

  “See anything interesting?” she snapped.

  “Very,” he said with a leer.

  “What do you want?” she demanded, trying to sound as intimidating as Colin might have in the same situation.

  He took a step closer to her and she drew her knife. This was a perfect time to use all those lethal maneuvers she had so diligently practiced. Sir Etienne was unimpressed, but he also took no step closer. That was enough for her.

  “What do you want?” she repeated, holding her knife with the pointed end toward his belly. “Tell me and be gone.”

  He looked at her with a smile that made her skin crawl.

  “How bold you’ve become, little mouse. One would think you have begun to consider yourself my equal.”

  “I don’t,” she said bluntly. “But I’ll also not be ground under your heel.”

  “We will see about that. I’m still in need of a whore.”

  She merely stared at him silently. The saints only knew how she would keep herself from that, but she’d sooner blurt out her secret to any and all who might be interested than meet with this man that way.

  “What do you want?” she asked calmly.

  He folded his arms over his chest, seemed to consider, then smiled again. “Something only you can get me.”

  “I’ve no mind to get you anything.”

  “I daresay you’d decide differently did I but prod Lord Colin awake and give him my tale.”

  Ali pursed her lips. “Perhaps he wouldn’t care.”

  “Will you test that?”

  She glared at him, but remained silent. Nay, she wouldn’t test it. Colin’s good humors likely only extended so far throughout that powerful form. Best not to overtax them unnecessarily.

  “I have decided,” Sir Etienne began expansively, “what it is I’ll have you fetch for me. And that won’t be your virginity. Not yet.”

  The saints be praised for something, at least.

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  “I’m tired of listening to you,” she said without thinking, then bit her lip. That was a sure way to make him demand more than he’d intended.

  He took a menacing step toward her and raised his fist. “I’ll give you something else to listen to, then.”

  She raised her knife and gave him her best look of bluster. But she said nothing. No sense in goading him further.

  “I’ll have the treasury of Solonge,” he said curtly, dropping his fist. “Get it for me.”

  She felt her jaw slide down. “The what?”

  “You heard me.”

  Aye, she had, but she could scarce believe her ears. “I don’t know what you mean—”

  “Liar,” he snarled. “You know very well what it is and whence to fetch it. Get it for me. Get all your sire’s gold for me or everyone you know dies.”

  “You wouldn’t—”

  He grasped her wrist and had her knife pointing skyward, useless, before she could gather her wits. He stepped in close and breathed down on her with his foul breath.

  “All your father’s private cache of gold,” he repeated. “Once you have it, I’ll tell you what you’ll do with it.”

  She could only imagine. She jerked her arm away from him and stumbled backward, rubbing her
wrist.

  “Get me what I want or everyone you love dies,” he said coldly. “From the least cur in Solonge’s kitchen to your beloved sire.”

  She stared at him for several minutes in silence, then felt a hardness enter her heart. He boasted, to be sure, but could he really do what he said? He would be killing no one if Colin killed him first.

  “I think I should just go tell Colin everything,” she said.

  “Tell him, and you’ll regret it,” he snarled.

  “How will I regret it, if I’m dead?” she asked.

  Unfortunately, Sir Etienne was much quicker with his fists than she was with her ability to duck. She found herself suddenly sprawled on the ground with him standing on her wrist and grinding it into the dirt. She thought to cry out, then felt the unyielding chill of steel against her throat.

  “You’ve seen how he is when he’s furious,” Sir Etienne hissed, leaning down toward her. “Tell him, and I’ll take your tale and add to it myself. He’ll hear how you’ve passed the last pair of months laughing at his blindness, mocking him behind his back, calling him all manner of names he wouldn’t like in the least. Kill you? Nay, I doubt he’ll do that until he’s avenged those insults.”

  Ali closed her eyes. She didn’t want to believe that of Colin. She didn’t.

  “And,” Sir Etienne continued softly, “if you tell him, you can rest comfortably in your grave, knowing that you’ll soon have a goodly bit of companionship there. Berkhamshire will find himself soon lying next to you, still and cold. Then the pampered puss from Artane. Then the lady Isabeau—”

  “Nay.” She breathed.

  “Aye. And if you think I won’t do it, think again.”

  “But why?” she whispered. “Why would you do such horrible things—”

  “Because I can,” he snapped. He jerked his blade away and removed his foot from her wrist. “Because I can. And I will. We’re only a pair of days from Solonge. I’ll expect my treasure very soon after that.”

  “What then?” she asked dully.

  “Then I’ll find other uses for you. I’m sure you’ll enjoy them as much as I will. Until then, think on what I’ve said. And be certain that should you even think to speak to Berkhamshire, someone you love will pay the price.”

  And with that, he kicked her heartily in the side, making her gasp, and stalked away, heedlessly crunching branches and twigs underfoot.

  Ali lay there, gasping for air and willing herself not to weep. The tears came anyway and she lay there and wept silently until the pain in her wrist was a dull throb and the ache in her side subsided enough to allow her painful but possible breaths. She heaved herself to her feet, leaned against a tree, and put her face in her hands. Her father’s gold? How was she ever to come by that without revealing herself? Steal the key to her father’s treasury and then plunder it? By the saints, what guarantee did she have that she’d be able to manage it?

  The guarantee of the lives of those she loved, she supposed.

  She shook her head and returned to camp. She stood at the edge of the small fire’s light and looked at both Colin and Jason. ’Twas hard to believe that both of them had become dear to her in such a short time. Well, perhaps it was an easy thing to love Jason of Artane. He was handsome and very personable.

  Colin was about as personable as a sharp blade.

  But even he had a certain charm that she couldn’t deny. And, more than that, he possessed honor and courage. Any man would have felt himself blessed to have such a one as he guarding his back. And that he should offer to guard her back? It inspired something strong in her. Loyalty, surely.

  Love?

  Quite possibly.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what she would have decided if she’d but had a passing acquaintance with more than the man’s foul reputation. Hadn’t Gillian of Blackmour said the same thing? Ali shook her head. Aye, she’d made a perfect mess of things and now found herself becoming more and more entangled in the snares of the lies she’d told so far.

  She wondered what Colin would say did he but know a fraction of the lies she’d spewed without remorse.

  Perhaps that wasn’t worth thinking on.

  She knelt down on her blankets, bowed her head for a moment, and listened to the comforting sound of Sir Etienne’s snores. It was nothing short of miraculous how the man could go from threats to slumber in such a short time. Mayhap that was how it went for those whose hearts were completely full of evil. They had no conscience to wrestle with.

  She sighed, lifted her head, and reached out to touch Colin’s leg to wake him—only to find him already awake and watching her. He rose, his face completely expressionless. The next thing she knew, he had squatted down next to her, grasped her face in his hand and lifted it up. It was gently done, but even so, the lip she realized only then was cut stung as if the wound had been made afresh.

  The flash of rage on Colin’s face was truly frightening to behold.

  He rose in a single, fluid moment and Ali had no doubts what he intended to do. But if Colin merely beat Sir Etienne to a pulp, he would still be alive to come after not only her, but those dear to her.

  She reached out and wrapped her hands around Colin’s ankle. He looked down at her, his lips tight with fury. She met his eyes and shook her head. Just once. She couldn’t manage more than that—especially since she wouldn’t have minded in the least if he’d taken his sword, strode around the fire, and plunged that blade into Sir Etienne’s black heart. He looked down at her, then took a deep breath and visibly shook off the hard set to his shoulders. He knelt down again in front of her and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “My apologies,” he said gruffly, in a mere whisper. “I did not intend to leave you defenseless by succumbing to sleep.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault,” she said, surprised at his apology. “It was my watch. I just didn’t watch very well.”

  “You left me undamaged,” he muttered. “I wish I could say I had done the same for you. Now, what is it that whoreson holds over you?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “We both know you’re lying.”

  She looked him in the eye. “Will you beat me for it?”

  He snorted. “You’ve become powerfully cheeky, haven’t you? You know, few dare to speak to me thusly.”

  “’Tis my goodly courage you ever praise that emboldens me,” she said with a smile, then she winced at the pain of her lip. She put her finger to it. “’Tis nothing, my lord, but foolishness between him and me. Nothing important.”

  Colin grunted at her. “I would prefer to judge that for myself, but I can see you won’t give me the tale. Perhaps from now on, I should take your watch with you. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, after all.”

  She knew she should have told him nay, but her face hurt, her wrist throbbed, and she still couldn’t breathe as well as she would have liked. So she nodded reluctantly.

  “As you will,” she said.

  He patted her very gently on the shoulder. “Rest now, Henri. And forgive my weakness. My fine form failed me this eve, and I can make no excuses for it.”

  “Nay—”

  “Aye,” he said grimly, “ ’tis true, as unpalatable a truth as it is. But rest assured, he will be repaid. If not by your hand, then by mine—and much as I wouldn’t deny you the pleasure, I would rather take that pleasure for myself. He won’t enjoy his recompense, believe me.”

  She did. No one who saw the expression on his face could have believed otherwise.

  Colin looked at her very closely, then sighed and rose. Ali lay down, turned toward the fire, and pulled her blanket over her shoulder. Well, at least she would live another day, and so would her comrades. Perhaps she could ask for nothing more than that. Another day of life.

  Another day to learn how to inflict death.

  And as she cradled her injured wrist to her breast, she vowed to throw herself even more fully into her lessons. And the next time Sir Etienne had her alone, he wou
ld have more than her weeping as his reward.

  Chapter 24

  Sir Etienne finished his business with his newfound friends, then mounted his horse and rode back to camp. It had cost him the remainder of Aliénore’s coin, that business, but he was certain it would be worth the expense. And what did his empty purse matter, when it would be filled within days with untold riches from Solonge’s treasury?

  He chortled to himself as he rode along slowly, enjoying the chill of dawn and the knowledge that he was truly about some fine venture. After all, it wasn’t every day that a man found himself on the verge of possibly slaying the beguiling Jason of Artane, potentially humiliating the Butcher of Berkhamshire, and forcing the errant Aliénore of Solonge to make him richer than he’d ever dreamed he might be. He was allowed a bit of good humor when that was the case.

  Of course, he had his own sweet self to thank for finding himself where he was with the knowledge he had. If he hadn’t been such a temptation to Marie of Solonge that pair of years earlier, he wouldn’t have known anything about Solonge’s coffers. But damned if the woman didn’t boast of the most amazing things whilst being tumbled in a hayloft. Apparently she’d been trying to impress Sir Etienne with more than just her delectable attributes.

  He’d been more than impressed by everything she’d offered.

  And when Lord Humbert of Maignelay had needed a message sent to Solonge, Sir Etienne had never found it beneath himself to volunteer to deliver it. He’d passed several very pleasant evenings in the lovely and dangerous Marie’s company, taking full advantage of both her body and her arrogant, blathering mouth. One wouldn’t have thought a woman so calculating could be so indiscreet, but there you had it.

  Reason enough, he supposed, for why he had never wed, nor intended to do so.

  Besides, nuptials meant a wife, and a wife meant children, which meant dowries and other expenses he had no intention of incurring. Nay, his wealth would be for himself and his own pleasure.

  And he could scarce wait to begin indulging in his pleasures.