Outlaw Heart

by Samantha James

  The task completed to his satisfaction, he bounded lightly to his feet. God, how she hated his false and knowing smile! A saving anger flowed through her, washing away her humiliation. Kathryn slapped away the hand he offered, muttering every vile curse she could think of as she rose unassisted.

  "By God," she said fervently, "you are a bloody bastard!"

  'The question of my legitimacy does not arise," he parried smoothly. "I fear you cannot claim the same of your uncle, which reminds me... I find I am most eager to make his acquaintance. And I'm sure you'll be happy to know that you have just provided the means."

  For the second time in just a few short minutes, he walked round her again, surveying her with the same critical judiciousness. "A pity," he said with a shake of his head when at last he stopped before her. "You have moss in your hair again, lady. I must admit—" His slow-growing smile mocked her. "—it suits you."

  Kathryn was speechless with rage. Just then she didn't know who she hated more—her uncle or this nameless arrogant knight!

  She was just as silent on the way back to the keep. Roderick was bound, his hands tied tightly behind his back. Kathryn walked beside him. There was little chance of escape, for they were guarded well by the dark knight’s men-at-arms. Kathryn's skin grew icy-cold as they passed row after row of men armed with lance and shield. She saw archers and crossbowmen. Catapults and battering rams.

  The dark knight had not lied. He had come prepared for battle. He had come for war.

  More, he had come to win.

  Roderick edged closer. "You know who he is?" His voice was meant for her ears alone. With a jerk of his head, he indicated the dark knight mounted up before them. Not once had he looked back at them.

  Kathryn shook her head.

  "He is Guy de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick."

  "The Earl of Sedgewick," she murmured. Her brow knitted in concentration. "The name is familiar, yet I can recall nothing of him."

  Roderick bent his head closer. "Guy de Marche was one of the most powerful lords in Somerset." His gaze was sullen as he glanced at the seemingly endless formation of men and arms. "It seems 'tis still true."

  Kathryn stepped over an exposed root, wishing she had her cloak. The damp air seeped through her thin gown clear to her skin. "I did not know he was an enemy of Richard's," she said very quietly. "This is the first I've heard of it."

  Roderick hesitated. "I can think of only one reason," he said slowly. "The earl left on crusade more than three years ago. Not long after, Richard heard that he'd been captured in Toulouse. Richard was always careful to stay clear of him but when he heard the news, he captured one of the earl's fiefs just across the border in Somerset—Ramsay Keep."

  "He attacked the holdings of an absent crusader!" Kathryn's lips pressed tightly together. This news only confirmed her opinion of her uncle—he was lower than a snake's belly. A simmering rage filled her veins. Her resentment burned deeper yet when her gaze fell upon the ramrod-straight back of the earl, he with his battering rams and troops.

  The evening mists swirled all around. Night fell swiftly, like the smothering folds of a cloak being dropped upon the earth. Kathryn saw that they were almost upon the gates of Ashbury, just outside the wooden palisade. She wanted to cry out in despair as she spied only a handful of men clustered around the outer walls.

  This was her home, she thought desperately. Hers and Elizabeth's! And the Earl of Sedgewick would see it razed to the ground! God, how she hated her uncle for leading them down this wretched path of destructiveness—and she hated Lord Guy de Marche just as much. He would not be satisfied until he saw her beloved home destroyed!

  The earl had dismounted quietly. Kathryn could scarcely see his shadowed form but her eyes conveyed her hatred as he conversed earnestly with one of his men. The others retreated slightly, jerking Roderick along with them. The earl watched them a moment, then turned and beckoned to her. Kathryn briefly entertained the notion of pretending she hadn't seen his gesture. But in the end she complied, deciding it might not be wise to provoke his anger.

  His tone brooked no argument. "I need a way into the keep other than through the gatehouse. We will wait until those within are asleep, and then you will show me."

  Kathryn was first startled by his daring, then furious at his stealthiness. "What, milord, do you fear a little swordplay?"

  Guy's jaw snapped shut. "By God, lady," he said through his teeth, "did your uncle never teach you any manners?"

  "What he has taught me, sir, I fear you already know!"

  Guy muttered under his breath. He'd never met the likes of a wench like her. She was sorely in need of a strong hand and a will of iron. If he but had the time, he'd have liked nothing more than to instill a little respect in her.

  His legs planted wide apart, he eyed her critically. "You refuse to show me then?"

  Her chin lifted haughtily. "You are a fool if you believe I will help you throw open our doors and storm within. Ashbury is my home, milord, the only home I have ever known. I'll not help to destroy it."

  Her contemptuous calm was infuriating. Guy's reaction might have been entirely different if he hadn't glimpsed the frantic fear in her eyes. "I've no wish to storm these walls, demoiselle. I seek only your uncle."

  His words gave her pause. Yet. . . could she trust him? Now there was a question. She stared at him as if to seek an answer. But in the murky gloom he appeared dark and featureless, evil and forbidding.

  I can't, she thought in panic. She cared nothing for Richard, but what of the others? What of Elizabeth? What of Aislinn, the cook, and Sir Ralph, her father's chief retainer? There were others who had served her family long before Richard came. Everyone would be caught off guard. Indeed, no one would even miss her since she'd told Elizabeth she planned to retire for the night after meeting Roderick.

  "I can wait no longer." The sound of steel hissed through the night. Moonlight glinted on the silver blade of a dagger. Kathryn paled when the earl stepped forward. A mocking smile curled his lips when she instinctively stepped backward. He beckoned quickly with the hand that held the dagger and Roderick was led forward once more.

  He paused before Roderick. "What say you, Hugh?" he asked of another knight who had joined them. "Shall this brave knight be the first to shed his blood this night?"

  Kathryn went white with dread. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the earl's long-fingered hands, absently sliding up and down the length of the dagger.

  With a lightning movement he pressed the dagger to Roderick's throat.

  The earl's eyes never left the other man's face as he said, " 'Tis up to you, milady, whether your lover lives or dies."

  Kathryn's heart leaped to her throat. For the first time, she knew fear as Elizabeth must have known it, watching their mother slowly die.

  She cried out sharply. "No! No, please do not!"

  Roderick's face was a mask of stone. "Do not listen to him, Kathryn! Would you forfeit the lives of those within the keep?"

  The earl's lips twisted. "Noble words for a man about to breathe his last." His eyes flickered to Kathryn. "I say again, lady, I have no more wish for bloodshed than you. I seek no war. I want only your uncle."

  Kathryn's hands were shaking. How was she to choose? How could she live with the stain of another's blood upon her hands?

  The moon slid out from behind a cloud. The knife pressed harder against Roderick's throat. Dear God! The tip of the blade was crimson with blood.

  "It is your choice," the earl repeated.

  She jerked when a hand touched her arm. Startled, she looked up at the knight the earl had called Hugh. She was stunned to discover compassion on his face.

  "Milady," he said softly, "my lord is a man of his word. 'Tis not his way that others die needlessly."

  Kathryn closed her eyes. She had faith in no man's honor. . . in no man. Yet she had no choice, no choice at all.

  "Then let him give it," she whispered. "Let him give his sacred vow that there will be no
murder at Ashbury."

  "Kathryn, no! Do not trust him!"

  She opened her eyes and gazed at Roderick. "My sister saw our mother die." She swallowed against the burning threat of tears. "I'll not stand by and watch her die—or you, Roderick."

  The earl spoke. "I give my word then."

  Her eyes blazed fiercely, yet her voice caught painfully. "Your vow, my lord. I would have your sacred vow!"

  Guy's jaw tightened. No meek and biddable woman was this! She should have been born a man!

  Kathryn sought his eyes. They were hard and completely unreadable. The silence was deathly.

  It seemed an eternity passed before he spoke. "By all that is holy, there will be no murder here. As for your uncle, he will have a fighting chance." His voice was harsh. "I promise no more than that."

  For an instant Kathryn went weak with relief. Elizabeth and Roderick would be spared. She watched Roderick being led away once more, then straightened her shoulders proudly. "Supplies are taken in through the postern on the far side of the keep. We can enter there."

  Hours later, storm clouds gathered dark and forbidding in the night sky. Thunder raged across the earth. The wind was chill and biting, howling eerily as it lashed the ramparts. Deep inside the keep, those within lay deep in slumber.

  Kathryn sagged against the damp stone wall, awaiting the earl's next move. There was a cold tight knot in the pit of her stomach. Weary and bitter, she decided that Lord Guy de Marche had the luck of the devil to whom she had unwittingly compared him. Only a moment ago he had received a signal, a signal that the guards on the parapet had been subdued. And now the storm would muffle any sound his troops would make inside the keep. He had already sent his friend Hugh to sneak through the bailey and open the gates for his men.

  His eyes found hers through the inky darkness. She stiffened when his arm stretched out and brought her back against him. He bent his head low, so that his lips touched her ear. "Which way to your uncle's chamber?" he whispered.

  Kathryn wanted nothing more than to whirl and claw his arrogant face. Oh, if only she dared! Despising her weakness, she nodded toward the stairway at the other end of the great hall. He nudged her forward.

  Her slippers made no sound as she led the way, the earl's arm tight about her waist. A small group of men trailed behind them. They were well trained, she noted scathingly. Indeed, they might have been fairies of old, for they made no sound, weaving quietly and stealthily behind their leader.

  At the top of the stairs, she paused. Her mind raced in tempo with her heart. What if she were to lead them to the floor above, where Richard's knights lay deep in sleep?

  But alas, he had felt the sudden tension in her body. His hated breath fell upon her cheek. "Do not think to deceive me, milady. I could crush the breath from you in an instant." His arm tightened as if to make good his threat.

  But he had come too far to risk making his presence known, and Kathryn knew it. She met his gaze fearlessly. Their eyes clashed wordlessly. Realizing the futility of her plan and the helplessness of her position, Kathryn tightened her lips and gave a jerky nod. "Uncle's chamber is at the far end of this floor."

  She was taut as a bowstring by the time they arrived outside her uncle's door. The earl's presence beside her was unnerving. She hated the touch of his hand on her body; she suspected he knew it as well. He held her as if he feared she would bolt any moment, yet she was surrounded by his men. Where could she run that he could not find her?

  "He is within?" Again he spoke for her ears alone.

  Kathryn nodded. She tried to pull back but he wouldn't let her. His eyes gleamed. "Oh, no, lady. If you betray me now, I would know it." With that he flung open the door of the chamber and pushed her inside.

  The knight he called Hugh stepped in as well, carrying a rushlight. The room was illuminated. Kathryn held her breath, unsure of what to expect.

  "Damnation!" thundered a booming voice. "Who dares disturb me at this hour!" A meaty hand reached to thrust aside the bed curtains but another was too quick.

  "You are Richard of Ashbury?"

  Richard, red-faced with fury, fell back against the pillows. His eyes widened at the sight of the earl, towering threateningly above the bed. Beside him, another figure stirred. Helga sat up, rubbing her eyes and blinking sleepily.

  The earl spoke but three words to her. "You, girl. Out." Helga took one look at the earl, grabbed her clothes, and fled. Another time, perhaps, and Kathryn might have been amused. She doubted Helga had even noticed her standing near the wall.

  The door creaked shut behind her. The knight called Hugh walked over and slid the bolt. The air was suddenly pulsing with tension.

  "I ask once more." Guy's voice was deceptively mild. 'You are Richard?"

  Richard's mouth opened then closed. He hadn't missed the murderous rage in the other man's eyes. His nod was jerky.

  Guy stared down at the man he'd sworn would be his. His smile was savage.

  "Who are you?" Richard gasped. "I have done you no harm, sir knight. Yet you invade my home. My very chamber!"

  Guy's handsome features froze. "I am Guy de Marche, Earl of Sedgewick."

  Richard blanched. His gaze darted to the corner. His sword lay propped against the wall, along with his dagger and other trappings of war.

  The earl's hand fell to his own sword, still in its scabbard at his side. He caressed the handle with deliberate intent. "You would do us both a favor to go for your weapon," he said softly. "I've a mind to end this quickly."

  Kathryn pressed herself against the wall. The earl looked ready to tear Richard apart, limb by limb. God knew she wanted nothing more than to be rid of her uncle, but the menacing intensity of the earl's expression was terrifying. She inhaled sharply. "You can't," she reminded him quickly. "You promised there would be no bloodshed. You promised!"

  Richard's eyes lit on her. His face contorted with rage. "You traitorous bitch! You are the one who brought him here! You have conspired with him to see me thrust from my own keep! Bedamned, girl! I'll see you and that spineless sister of yours thrown out on your ears—"

  Guy stepped forward. “She is guilty of nothing save being caught outside the walls with her lover."

  Richard's eyes bulged. "Her lover!"

  Kathryn's small chin lifted. "I was with Roderick, Uncle. He and I wish to be married."

  "Married!" He cursed lewdly. "By God, who do you think you are to—"

  "Enough!" The thunder of the earl's voice shook the rafters. "You forget the matter at hand. You'd best think about your own dilemma instead of the misbegotten ways of your wayward niece."

  Kathryn's spine went rigid. Misbegotten ways! Wayward niece! How dare he defend her one moment and slap her in the face the next! But all else was forgotten when the earl seized her uncle and dragged him from the bed.

  "Dress yourself! I'll have you face me as a man and not cowering in your bed like a sickly old woman."

  Richard scurried to comply. Kathryn averted her head but she heard the rustle of clothing and soon she heard him say, "I tell you again, my lord. I have no quarrel with you and yours."

  "No?" The earl's tone was silky-smooth. It sent an eerie chill through Kathryn. "You should have thought of that before you attacked Ramsay Keep two winters ago, held for me by my vassal Sir Thomas."

  There was a taut silence. Kathryn held her breath. The earl looked like a man possessed. The tension that gripped his features was frightening. There was more, she suspected, than Richard attacking the keep of one of his vassals.

  Richard's voice, when it finally came, was scarcely audible. "I did not know, my lord, that Ramsay Keep was held by you, I swear—"

  "Spare me your lies." The earl's voice matched the fury of the storm that raged outside. "You knew that land was held by me, just as you knew I was on crusade then. You knew and still you attacked!" He pointed at Sir Hugh. "Geoffrey was Sir Hugh's brother-in-law; he married Hugh's sister Claire. Geoffrey was murdered during your siege... as was my wife."<
br />
  Richard went white. He gestured vaguely.

  "Do not deny it!" the earl shouted. "It was only by the mercy of God that my wife's maid escaped, along with my infant son. 'Twas she told me of your treachery—how you pretended to come in friendship and then laid siege to the keep. You gave orders that no one was to be spared—not women, not children—no one!"

  Kathryn's eyes squeezed shut and her stomach heaved. Her uncle's wickedness knew no bounds. To kill defenseless women and children but for the sake of killing...

  Sweat popped out on Richard's brow. "What do you seek, milord? I yield Ramsay Keep back to you. I will repay you the rents I have taken—"

  "A futile gesture," the earl said flatly, "since Ramsay Keep is once again under my protection. I recaptured the keep three days past. My men took the utmost care to make certain your messenger did not precede me here." His lips formed a twisted parody of a smile. "Even now this keep is being overrun by my troops. Indeed, victory is already mine. You cannot hope to escape and incite your men against me. If you do not believe me, ask your niece."

  Richard's gaze slid to Kathryn. "It is true," she said woodenly. "Ashbury is surrounded. He has twice the forces you possess, Uncle."

  Richard fell to his knees. "I will give you anything you wish. Silver. Jewels..."

  Guy's mind screamed with outrage. You killed my wife, you filthy bastard! The only thing I want is to see you dead at my feet! Yet even that was denied him... because of a damned vow to a mere woman!

  His gaze flickered to the girl. Her eyes were huge in her pale face; she was as white as bleached linen. If she had been anyone else, anyone but Richard's niece, he might have found some small scrap of compassion for her.

  Damn, he thought savagely. Damn! He smote his fist upon his hand, feeling as if he would explode inside. He wanted Richard dead—to pay in kind for his coldhearted murder of Elaine! Only then could his tormented mind find a measure of peace. But he'd given the girl his word. He could not break it. . . at least not here at Ashbury.