One Winter Knight

by Townsend, Lindsay

  “No. No, that’s not it at all.” Noelle’s hand trembled slightly, and the bowl shook a little. “It’s because—I am. Now…” She sighed heavily. “I’ve ruined any chance of a good marriage—the kind my mother would approve of.”

  “O’Malley, you mean.”

  Noelle nodded, looking away.

  “Would you marry him—if you could?”

  “I told you—I don’t know him—”

  “He’s tall. Dark hair, dark eyes. Some say he has a temper, but he’s fair.”

  “They say he’s a fierce warrior,” Noelle said.

  At her tone, Logan put the spoon in the bowl, his eyes compelling her to look at him. Finally, she did.

  “Does that frighten you, muirnin?”

  She set the bowl on the table, shaking her head—and ignoring the fact he’d just called her “sweetheart”.

  ”No. What frightens me is losing my—freedom. I love the woods, the night, the raging storms…” She shook her head and chuckled. “It sounds daft, doesn’t it? But when I marry—if I marry—I want to marry my forever love. Someone who will love me, and one whom I can cherish with all my heart.”

  “He’ll not harm you, Noelle. And I think you’ll find he loves those same things, too. It’s not daft at all, lass…especially that last part. A forever love would be the very best kind to have, I’m thinkin’. ” He paused, watching as she relaxed. It was time to tell her the truth. But he wanted her closer. “Will you come lie with me again? Warm me?” He managed a shiver.

  “Oh! Of course!”

  Noelle hurried to put another log on the fire first, then gently climbed into the bed and lay beside him. He put his arm around her, pulling her as near as he could. She seemed to snuggle into his side, and a surge of desire rushed through him.

  He laid his hand on her hair, the softness like fine silk under his fingertips.

  Contentment filled Logan as Noelle tentatively put her arm around him, mindful of his wound.

  “Just to warm you, you understand…” Her voice was low, comforting.

  “Aye. And thank you.”

  Peace stole over him. The dancing shadows cast by the firelight along the walls lulled him, along with the occasional crackle of the flames. The cabin filled with warmth and safety, a haven from the cold outside, and the loneliness that was always with him.

  “Noelle, I have somethin’ to tell you.”

  “What?” Her voice sounded dreamy.

  There was nothing for it but to come out and say it. Logan swallowed hard. “I’m…Logan O’Malley.”

  The fire popped and Noelle’s body melded into his, even closer. He’d expected shock, outrage…but not—

  A soft sigh escaped her. Sleep had come swiftly. She’d not heard his confession at all. He smiled wryly. Now, he could say the other thing he may never have the chance to tell her. “I love you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I love you, Noelle Breasal.”

  ****

  By morning’s first light, Keiran O’Malley was ready to return to the cabin where he’d left his brother and Lady Noelle.

  But the snow had begun again, and the wind gusted with a vengeance. Half of the men who had accompanied him and Logan from Clan O’Malley were wounded, and unable to ride. That left four of his men who could accompany him to the cabin while the others stayed here to recover. That wouldn’t be enough—not against McTierney’s forces, who evidently meant to steal Noelle from his brother.

  Logically, he had to admit that Noelle and Logan were safer where they were—far from McTierney’s plundering forays. He had to hope Isabel’s assessment of Noelle’s healing abilities was accurate, and not tinted by her admiration and love for her sister.

  And…he had to admit, he didn’t feel right about leaving Castle Breasal, taking the few men he had, and letting Dalon McTierney try his luck at raiding again. With no male heir of an age to take charge here, and the master-at-arms sorely wounded—well, someone had to see to commanding the Breasal forces—such as they were.

  Keir hadn’t slept well. Indecision gnawed at him. When he’d risen and seen the blowing gusts of heavy snow, he’d known his choice was made for him. He’d not risk his men, nor their mounts in this weather—especially as weary, and some as wounded—as they were.

  He sat now with his men, eating a breakfast meal of porridge and bread. His thoughts wandered from the welfare of his brother to what McTierney might try next…and the beautiful smile that Isabel Breasal bestowed on him far too rarely.

  As if he’d called her up with his thoughts, Isabel entered the room and made her way directly to where he sat. The men on either side of him gave one another a knowing look and excused themselves.

  “I know you’re worried about your brother,” Isabel said without preamble. “I wish there was some way to convince you that he is in good hands with Noelle. Knowing he is her betrothed might help her over the sting of bein’ forced to wed—”

  “But she doesn’t know.” Keir stared at the table. He should’ve told Noelle who he and Logan really were.

  “You—you didn’t tell her?”

  “No. I—” Truly, there was no explanation for why he hadn’t been forthright about their identities—except for the fact that Noelle wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to avoid her marriage unless she was dead set against it. “She seemed so vehement in her wishes. Not to wed, ye ken.”

  “You were worried for your brother’s safety?”

  At her incredulous tone, Keir turned to look at her. “No—not—”

  “She would never hurt him. Even if she knew he was her intended.” Her words were colored by hurt and anger.

  “Lady Isabel…I do not know your sister like you do. I had to entrust her with the life of my brother—wounded, incoherent…I did everything I knew to do to keep him safe. That…is all. I didn’t believe any evil of Lady Noelle.”

  Isabel put a hand on his arm. “I apologize. Please forgive me. Of course, you were trying to do all you could. But—Noelle is the kindest, most generous person I know. You need have no fear. And mayhap, by now, she knows the truth of his identity.”

  Keir nodded. “Aye. I figure as much. If he still lives.”

  “Keiran O’Malley,” she said softly. He raised his eyes to hers, and she smiled. “The O’Malley stubbornness is known far and wide. Have faith your brother is likely too determined to live to slip away from this world yet.”

  Keir gave her a reluctant smile. “You’re right, of course. That brother of mine is used to ‘stubborning his way’ through difficulties. And it’s time my men and I put our own heads together to come up with a plan for getting through the next battle with McTierney.”

  The light left her eyes, replaced by worry. “You believe they’ll return, then.”

  Grimly, Keir nodded. “We’re of a mind they’ll be back, lass. And soon. With the wedding drawing near, he’ll be desperate.”

  “Keiran, with Noelle gone…if McTierney should breech our walls…am I safe? Would he be satisfied only with Noelle, or would he—would he take me—”

  “He will take you only over my corpse, Lady Isabel. This, I swear to you.” He paused. “Trust me.” He watched her closely, seeing that she did take his words as truth. Finally, she nodded and looked down.

  “I do.”

  ****

  Noelle came awake slowly, languorously…She was cocooned in warmth and safety. And she was lying on a muscular shoulder…Logan… This was becoming a habit—and one she enjoyed. It had been three days since Keir had left. Though Logan had brooded, there was nothing they could do but wait out the snow with the hope that Keiran had made it back to Castle Breasal safely—and that he was only being forced to do the same waiting as they.

  She opened her eyes and looked straight into the dark, fathomless depths of Logan’s gaze.

  “Good mornin’ lass.”

  “G-good mornin’…um…by now, you must be warm.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t leave. Stay.”

&
nbsp; “It’s—not proper,” she said for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  “Ah…does it have to be proper to feel right?”

  She pulled away slowly and sat up. It did feel right. She didn’t answer immediately. She wanted to think about the way his voice sounded…the delicious shiver that ran through her when she looked into his eyes…Oh, how she wished this time together could go on forever! But the time was growing nigh when she would needs face the music of what she’d done—the running off, and ending up in this cottage with a strange man that she had lain with every night. Yes, she was still innocent enough, but her thoughts ran wild every time she laid eyes on Logan Devlin!

  His question hung in the air.

  “I—no. It doesn’t have to be proper. It—does feel…right, somehow,” she admitted. With a rueful grin she added, “It’s felt right for the last three days.”

  Logan reached up to touch a tendril of her dark hair. “I love your honesty.”

  A pained look crossed his features and Noelle’s heart jumped. “What’s wrong? Do you hurt?”

  “No. Thanks to you, I think I’m healing well. Just not—very strong yet.”

  “The bleeding was fearsome.” She raised a brow. “Somethin’ else, then?”

  “Noelle…”

  “Ah! I understand. You need the necessary. Will you need help, then, or can you manage on your own? I’ll just go feed the horses—”

  Relief seemed to mix with the humor in his eyes, and Noelle realized she must have turned bright scarlet with the way her cheeks heated.

  “I can manage. Take your time with the animals, though.”

  She nodded, rising carefully. She climbed over him to stand and put on her boots.

  She walked to the peg by the door and took down her cloak, fastening it at her neck. “I’ll just be goin’ then,” she mumbled, opening the door and shutting it quickly behind her without a backward glance.

  The cold wind was welcome upon her burning face as she made her way to the barn and opened the doors. Dancer whickered a greeting, and Victory stamped and blew.

  Noelle closed the doors behind her quickly to block out the freezing wind. Then, she set about breaking the ice that had formed in the water buckets and filling feedbags for the two horses.

  Take your time, he’d said. Well, the horses could use a good combing…

  Just then, a sound caught her attention from outside.

  Men’s voices. Noelle hurried to peek through a knothole in one of the boards at the door. Four men approached with caution, silent now that they’d seen the smoke curling upward from the chimney.

  The leader had a cruel look about him. His lips curled slightly, in a compromise between what might have been humor and disdain. His livery and tack displayed the McTierney crest, and from his looks, she knew she was staring at Dalon McTierney…the man no one spoke well of.

  Sweet Jesu! Logan was at risk—there was nothing she could do to help him—

  She whirled and ran to the corner where she’d placed Logan’s weaponry and leather saddle pouches earlier. She began to rifle through the pouches. A letter, folded carefully; a small wooden box—she lifted the lid, her breath catching. The most beautiful emerald she’d ever seen graced a filigreed band of gold…a wedding band, by its design…

  An idea began to form in her mind…Logan Devlin…but with this beautiful wedding band, could he be—Ballocks! She couldn’t think of it now—not with those men outside!

  Thankfully, she had her own dagger, and there was a long hunting knife stowed in a leather sheath inside the saddle pouch. Her gaze went to the tooled quiver of arrows and the hunting bow in the corner. The bow was heavier than her own…but—she picked it up and pulled back the taut string. Yes, she could do it. But would she have the strength to shoot true?

  She gathered everything, slinging the quiver and bow over one shoulder, the saddle pouch over the other. Quickly, she climbed into the loft where she removed the knife from Logan’s sheath. Then, she shoved the pouch under the piles of hay stored there. She stood, intending to go to the other end of the loft to look through a chink in the boards, but just then, the door opened and a man walked in.

  Noelle crouched down, instinctively reaching for an arrow and nocking it into the bow. She had to shoot before he got near the animals. She could not risk hurting the horses. She let the arrow fly, higher than she’d intended. It pierced the man’s throat, preventing him from uttering a sound, his eyes searching for his assailant before he died.

  Noelle gasped. She had killed a man. But it was not the first time. Her father had taught all his children how to use a number of weapons. Her mind flew back…

  She’d been but fourteen…there had been a battle and she’d been set to protect her younger siblings. Somehow, a soldier had made his way into Castle Breasal and found the nursery, where Noelle, Isabel, Paddy and Jory had been hiding. When the man had come at her little brothers, Noelle hadn’t hesitated to use her dagger. She had a strong stomach, but she was aware that her mother had regarded her as an oddity because of it. Her strength, and the protection of her sister and brothers, had caused her to be regarded with admiration…but also with a measure of uncertainty, and even a bit of fear.

  No matter. She would do everything in her power to protect Logan Devlin. O’Malley. She shook her head impatiently. It didn’t matter who he was. She’d worked too hard to save him to allow him to be taken by the murdering McTierneys.

  She hurried down from the loft, assuring herself the man was dead before she pulled his body even farther into the darker recesses of the barn. She kept close to the wall, so as not to be seen by the others. The horses whickered uneasily at the scent of the man’s blood. She glanced out the door in time to see two of the other men hide on each side of the cabin, while their smarmy leader knocked on the door.

  There was no response. Noelle silently reached for another arrow and fit it to the bow. To shoot, she’d have to expose herself. Then, she’d surely be taken. She didn’t delude herself—she was no warrior. She had surprised herself when she’d killed the soldier who’d entered the barn. She couldn’t count on luck to help her protect the wounded man inside the cottage.

  “Hello, the house!” the blond man with the cruel smile called loudly. “I’m Lord Dalon McTierney…My men and I are seeking shelter from the cold.”

  In the next instant, Noelle saw the man on the left side of the cottage disappear. Had he gone around to the back? If so, she couldn’t wait. They’d all be upon Logan in a matter of minutes.

  Damnation!

  McTierney put his hand on the door, and pushed it. Noelle stepped into the open and raised the bow, pulled back the taut string, and let the arrow fly. It found its mark, but was not a fatal shot, hitting the man in the shoulder blade.

  He gave a sharp cry, and whirled. Instead of going down, he staggered, then found his footing again as he leaned against the door frame.

  Where was Logan? She expected him to come after the intruder with a vengeance from the inside of the cottage. But the only sound was the raspy breathing of the man she’d wounded and the angry cry of his co-hort when he realized what had just happened.

  McTierney stood staring at Noelle, his eyes as cold as the blast of air they were engulfed in. A harsh smile curved his lips, and he murmured to the man who’d rushed to him, waving him off. His eyes never left Noelle’s.

  “Don’t harm Lady Noelle, Richard. She will, after all, soon be my bride. And then…her punishment will be up to me. Completely.”

  ****

  Logan’s anger at McTierney’s words overrode his pride in what Noelle had done. He’d managed to get outside through the back door in the nick of time. McTierney, with his blond mane, was easily recognizable. At the sound of approaching riders, Logan had slipped out the back door and worked his way around through the woods. He’d come up on McTierney’s man at the side of the cottage, and dispatched him swiftly with his dagger.

  As he’d moved around to the other side
of the cottage, he’d heard McTierney’s words, then his cry of pain. Noelle made her stand, framed in the barn door. Logan’s breath left him. She was stunning. Like a warrior queen, she stood tall and unafraid, her dark hair free, blowing in the wintry wind, her eyes as frigid as a stormy sea. She had protected him.

  It took a moment for Logan to realize the impact of her actions. She could have run. Could have left him to deal with McTierney and his men…left him to die.

  But she had not. She had stood with him, regardless of the consequences. She loved him, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

  But love would do them very little good if they died here together.

  McTierney’s words fired Logan’s determination even more. He would lay down his life for Noelle Breasal. Whatever he must do to keep her safe—he would do.

  He ignored the pull in his side. The wound wasn’t ready for hand-to-hand combat. The killing of McTierney’s man had been simple, taken by surprise as he had been. Logan cursed the fact he hadn’t been able to get the second man, as well.

  How badly was McTierney wounded, then? Noelle held Logan’s bow in her hand—she wouldn’t have been strong enough to use it to maximum efficiency. But by the gods, she’d done McTierney some damage. If only he was in a position to see—

  Just then, McTierney’s words came to him on the wind. “Bring her to me, Richard. David, where are you, you son of a bitch?”

  This ‘David’ had to be the man Logan had sent to his hurried end just minutes earlier.

  “Probably in the woods,” Richard volunteered. “Pissing…as usual.”

  “Sorry bastard,” McTierney added, by way of agreement.

  From the raspy sound of McTierney’s voice, he was wounded worse than he was letting on. Logan felt a ray of hope. Suddenly dizzy, he put a hand to the rough wood of the little cottage until his senses righted themselves again.

  He took a deep breath as the pain embraced him. He’d lost too much blood. Hadn’t counted on McTierney riding this far afield…and had counted on Keir to have returned before now. Yet, in a way, it was a blessing they’d had this extra time for him to heal—at least, somewhat.