Knight Furies

by C. C. Wiley

  The world shook as Meg ran to a man dressed in his padded jak of plaite and gripped his arms. The padded vest not only enhanced his form but also would allow him ease in movement. A leather sporran hung from his belt. The unsheathed claymore gripped in his fist was large enough to cut down a small tree. His shaggy mountain pony, tethered to a bush, lifted its head. The beast turned in Nathan’s direction and nickered.

  Meg and her lover swung around. The Scotsman. Betrayal from both liars tore Nathan’s control from its mooring. He should have heeded Matthew and Harrigan’s advice and run him through. Too bad, Meg will have to witness the Scotsman’s death this eve.

  Before he stepped out to confront the two deceivers, a group of marauders attacked from the other side. They yelled as they swung their mace and hammers.

  The hiss of unsheathed swords announced the battle had begun. His stomach twisted. Meg stood in the middle. Outnumbered, she and the giant Scotsman braced their backs together. Their attackers circled their prey.

  Nathan counted only three. Not too many to handle. He’d deal with them first. And then he would take care of Meg’s lover.

  Woefully unprotected in his simple jerkin of wool, he gripped his sword and charged into the melee.

  Chapter 16

  “Watch yourself, lass,” Duncan said. “I don’t suppose you have a weapon in that wee shoe of yours.”

  “I have my dining knife.”

  Meg unsheathed the little blade and positioned it so that it pointed outward from her chest.

  Duncan grunted. “Well, I suppose something is better than nothing.”

  They turned in a circle, slowly following the path of the smugglers. Their feet scuffed the ground as they came closer.

  “What do you propose to do?”

  “I plan on keeping us alive. Thanks to your untimely arrival that’s about as far as I made it in laying out a plan.”

  “We should have let them take it all.”

  “And allow the bastards to steal from you and me? I protect what’s mine.”

  Blood had already stained the side of his head. “You’re already wounded. It’s not worth the price of a life.”

  Duncan grunted. “Aye, I don’t intend to give mine or yours to them. Talking to the fools dinna make a difference. Guess we’ll have to take lives instead. Are you strong enough for this end of the game?”

  Meg gulped. Her legs had turned to water. Her bladder threatened to relieve itself. “Yes?”

  Duncan grunted again. “That’s encouraging. I don’t suppose your man knows of your clandestine meeting with these fetid thieves.”

  “No. I—”

  Meg stiffened, terrified as the men came at them. She turned her head. “I’m sorry, Duncan.”

  “Tried to warn ye. Stubborn lot of women in your family.”

  A battle cry exploded from the boulders. Relief washed over her. And then if it could be possible, she became more frightened that she had been seconds earlier.

  Sir Nathan swung his sword. The blades rang as they crashed together. He attacked again and ran a man through. Blood exploded from his sliced neck and shoulders as Nathan worked his way to her. Another fell like a sack of grain. Duncan leaped to one side, narrowly escaping the sharp blade arcing in his direction.

  “You’ll pay for this,” Nathan growled.

  Meg squealed as he grabbed her wrist.

  Before he could make good on his vow, three more marauders ran to the aid of their men. Nathan turned, creating a wall with his body. The smugglers’ men regained their strength, forcing them to step back. Nathan wedged his shoulders between Meg and Duncan.

  “’Tis good to see ye, Sir Nathan.” Duncan said. “I’d hoped ye wouldna miss the festivities.”

  “How many more,” Nathan snapped.

  “Ye took down two. By my reckoning, we have four more to rid from this earth.”

  Meg marveled that Duncan sounded like he was enjoying the danger they were in. “Why so many? There are usually only two smug…men.” Who were they? How did they know about the arrangement?

  “Aye, well, lass, at last count there were five all waiting for me to hand over the goods free of payment. I took umbrage at their demands and let them know they could carry their arses back to the hell they came from. That’s when one of them tapped me on the skull with their cudgel.”

  “Enough talk,” Nathan snapped. “Your woman’s safety is paramount.”

  The anger simmering in Nathan vibrated through their bodies and foretold that the night was far from over. If they survived. He pulled her behind a boulder and forced her to kneel behind it. Duncan followed, leaping down beside them.

  Duncan chuckled as he checked his weapons. He pulled out a small blade from his boot. “She’s not my wench, my lad. A bitter mouthful is that one. I wouldna take on the lady dragon for all the whiskey in Scotland.”

  “She sure as hell looked snuggled in your arms a moment ago.”

  Meg peered through the crevice. “If you two are finished besmirching my name, I’d like to know what we mean to do.”

  “He and I are going to finish this,” Nathan said as he glanced over his shoulder. White lines had formed around his mouth. “And you—” he jabbed his finger in her direction, “will stay here.”

  “Oh, but I—”

  “You’ll do as you are ordered. And when we are done, you will confess everything to me.”

  “Excuse me, lass and laddie, but it appears our guests wish to play a wee bit more.”

  “Fools,” Nathan muttered.

  “Aye.” Duncan grinned at him. He pointed to the blood-matted spot on his head. “I don’t mind a scuffle or two.” He fisted both weapons and jumped to his feet. “Care to play?”

  “Try to stop me.” Without a glance in Meg’s direction, Nathan joined him on the other side.

  Offering a prayer of protection, she listened as their grunts and curses wove their way toward the shore. Meg crawled away from her hiding spot and rose.

  Three bodies littered the ground. That left three more. She still did not like the odds. Her blade would even the score. Following the sounds of battle, she ran down to the shore. Shadows danced and wavered. Blades struck and struck again.

  Only two of the thieves were left standing. Their fight carried them into the water. Duncan’s footing slipped and he went down on one knee. His arm rose to deflect the blow. He cursed as the mace caught his wrist and ripped the sword from his fist.

  Meg pressed her knuckles to her mouth to keep from crying out. Sea spray mixed with her tears. She searched the beach. Where was the other man lurking?

  Nathan impaled his opponent, and pushed him off with his boot heel. He spun to aid Duncan. He fought the muck, his legs churning to reach his next victim.

  A sword in one hand, he swept the other weapon from the sheath strapped to his back and attacked with both weapons. The man went down with a strangled gurgle. The water sprayed as Duncan rolled out of the way.

  Another charged Nathan from behind. He swung his war hammer.

  “Nathan!” she screamed.

  He stumbled, falling onto his back. The man crashed through the waves, his weapon aimed at Nathan’s head.

  The image of Nathan’s blood mixing with the sea was too much. Lifting her skirts she ran toward them. She had to do something to save him. The weight of her dress slowed her progress. His head went under the water and did not resurface.

  “No. No. No!” she screamed again. “Nathan!”

  He shot out of the water’s hold. His mane and clothes streamed with bracken from the firth’s seabed. Roaring, his empty sword hand lashed out and missed.

  A few more steps. Her fist tightened around her knife as she struggled to reach them.

  His opponent bent over him and grinned. “Ah, the great Nathan Staves finally dies at my hand. Say hello to the DeP
ierce men on your way to hell.”

  “Do it yourself.” The blade from Nathan’s back harness slammed into the man’s chest. Blood bubbled as he fell and floated into the firth’s mouth.

  Nathan stumbled toward Duncan and lifted him by the shoulders. Meg slipped under Duncan’s other arm, and together they carried him to shore.

  Bending over, he pushed his palms against his thigh to catch his breath. “He’ll need Anna’s help. I’ll send Brother John as soon as I reach the keep,” he said, his voice harsh with emotion. Refusing to look at her, he turned without another word and left.

  Meg’s legs trembled, threatening to collapse under her weight. “How am I going to repair this?”

  * * * *

  After Nathan roused Brother John and Matthew from their beds and sent them to clean up the mess in the cove, he slammed through the double doors. The household may be dark, but he found his way to his bedchamber. He stripped off the wet and bloodstained clothes and threw them in a pile. Rage tore at him like wild boars, attacking, bringing blood and pain. Any wound he had ever received dimmed at the realization that Meg did not love him. He drew in a ragged breath filled with a thousand blades. She loved another. He yanked on his hair. How could this be?

  He sank into the chair beside the hearth. Someone had seen to replacing the one he broke earlier in a mindless nightmare rage.

  His hands dropped to the arms. Was this why she could not accept him? Did she fear him?

  He shot up and began prowling his chamber. He’d certainly showed her the beast within. The night’s events unfolded in his mind with each step. What could he have done differently? Nothing. He had fought and claimed lives for his home. Damn it. His home. His king’s gift was becoming a stone around his neck. And now he found himself betrothed to a woman who apparently did not trust him with the truth and was plotting behind his back all along. For what? A few barrels of ale. A handful of coins.

  He threw himself into the chair and reached for the flagon. Pouring a generous helping, he justified his outrage. He’d killed men in the past. But this time held a passion that he’d never known before. He feared for Meg’s life. Beyond all reason, he feared for the woman who wanted another and he would do it again.

  Drinking deeply, he let the ale swish over his tongue then slide down his throat. Time and time again, he completed the ritual until the events slowly receded. All that was left was the raw pain of taking another life. The knowledge that there was no other way did little to cool the burn.

  It was like every other battle. The regret and the resignation.

  Nathan sat up a little straighter. He did what he had to, to save those who were threatened. And by God, he would do it again. It was who he was, but would she ever see him in that light?

  Would Meg ever look on him as she did the Scotsman? The worm of envy inched through his thoughts. He had to discover what drew her. Why did she leave the master’s chamber only to run to Duncan Graham?

  Nathan threw the mug into the fireplace. The flames licked at the alcohol. It made him want to weep. But that ability had been removed when he was a child. The king did not cherish tears. Therefore no one was allowed to show that weakness.

  He tried to rise from his chair, but his body refused. The bruises were beginning to form. He probably should have sought Anna out for an unguent to dab on the cuts he had received. At the time, knowing Duncan and Meg were ensconced in the keep was comfort enough. That thought made his stomach twist. She was his betrothed. By God, he would not allow their dalliance to go on any further.

  Lurching forward, he grabbed the door’s latch and lifted the lock.

  The door swung open. Meg stood before him. Wide-eyed and beautiful. His warrior maiden.

  “By all that is holy,” he choked out. “Why are you here? Are you a vision or sent here to torment me?”

  * * * *

  Meg stood outside Nathan’s door. How she came to be there she did not know. Ever since the battle, for one could never call it a skirmish; it took lives. She could think of nothing else but finding comfort in Nathan’s arms. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she saw was Nathan, his life about to be extinguished by the swing of an arm. And she relived the terror that he would no longer be in her life.

  A shuddering breath that shook her to the bottom of her soul reminded her that she came for a reason. To only check on their new lord. That was all. Wasn’t it?

  He stood, barring the doorway, as if she were the enemy. His chest, sprinkled with copper coils, blocked her view into the bedchamber. She dropped her gaze and rejoiced in the lean hips and bared flat stomach. The mad desire to lick his stomach nearly brought her to her knees. And that would never do.

  “I ask you,” he voice rough with emotion, “why are you here?”

  Meg gathered the courage that threatened to break away like a wild mare and contained it. Did they not call her the dragon lady behind their hands? Tonight, she would wear that badge proudly. Beside it was the only remaining thread that kept her from running to her bed and weeping into her pillow. She swallowed the fear and pushed him aside. “Giving my report, my lord.” She swept off her night robe. Her chemise, the armor protecting the only item in which she had to barter. “Anna is seeing to the Scotsman. He is bound to the bed as you ordered.” She paused to gauge Nathan’s mood. “His wounds are not mortal.”

  “So your lover lives.” He poured himself another hefty serving of ale.

  “I will tell you once more, he is not my lover. Do not insult me again by making that assumption.” Meg gritted her teeth and walked into the lion’s den. Thoughts of the scene made her question leaving Anna and Duncan alone, but she felt it imperative to right her relationship with her betrothed. God help her. “Apparently my sister is most pleased with this news.”

  Nathan grunted. “I know what I saw.”

  “You understand nothing of what it was.” It pushed her patience. Could the man at least save that for his men and a battlefield? Where was the knight that serving maids whispered about with feverish hope to turn his head? All she saw was an angry arrogant ass. “Damn it. Nathan. What more do you want from me?”

  “My lady,” he whispered. He stroked the gossamer material that barely contained her breasts. “I want nothing more than honesty.”

  She gasped when he flicked a finger over her nipples. Yes, she had come to him, baring all, but the want was more than she anticipated. Denying the fear clamping down on her soul, she placed her hand over his heart and pushed her way deeper into his chamber. To her surprise, he allowed her entrance without argument.

  He caught her hand, trapping it under his. “You will explain. Now.”

  Gentle kisses rained down her lips. His tongue probed, seeking permission to enter. And she gave all that she had, opening, allowing; removing all barriers. If only this would continue on into the night, she would not have to reveal the secrets she had been guarding. She just wanted to feel loved and cherished. Was that too much to request? The thought of him turning away from her, ripped at her with furious claws.

  “Can we not speak of this in the morn?”

  He drew back, questioning what she offered. “We were to be wed in the morn. I have found you in a questionable position with another man, and I have thus killed others, and you wish to not speak of things?”

  Sighing deeply, he set her aside. “My lady, when we do come together, we shall indeed find pleasure in our bed. But not this eve.”

  “You are refusing me?”

  “I am saying until you are truthful, we cannot consummate this marriage.” He reared back his shoulders. “The woman I take to wife will be my partner in all things. Until you understand and accept this, it cannot be.”

  “But the king,” she sputtered.

  “Will take exception, but I will bring our case to him. He will understand eventually.” He ducked his head. “I spoke with Brother John earlier. We
are agreed. We will postpone the nuptials.”

  He turned her, cradling her elbow, as he directed her to the door. Meg blinked. Her skin flushed at his refusal. “Please, you must let me explain.”

  Nathan lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “My lady, I will gladly listen to what you have to say on the morrow. But if you press further, I will take you to bed without another word. Is this truly what you want?”

  Meg turned and touched his firm jaw. She reached on tiptoe to press her lips to his. “Yes.”

  In less than a breath, he swept her up, barred the door, and placed her ever so gently on his great bed.

  “My God, the thought of still having you possesses me.” He stroked her face with one finger then trailed down the column of her neck, over her collarbone. He toyed with the ribbons that held her chemise together. The string fell away, exposing her breasts. “You are more beautiful that I imagined.”

  The cool night air slid over her bared flesh. Meg did not know whether to reach for him or cover herself. No man had ever seen her as such. Naked and needing…something. Instead, she let him look upon her. His forest green eyes brightened. If only he would touch her.

  She squirmed, searching for what her body hungered for. She lifted her breasts. They felt heavy and wanting, waiting for his mouth to suckle. Her nipples pebbled.

  Rewarded with his sharp intake of breath, she circled her breasts, cupping them, bringing them closer to his lips.

  He watched her, a hawk following its next tasty meal but kept his hands clenched to his sides. “Is this truly what you want?”

  Meg ran her hands down her chemise. The room had become too warm. The soft linen too hot to wear. “Yes. I recall your vow: That you would wait for me to come to you when I am ready. And here I am.”

  Grazing his thumb over her breasts, Nathan groaned and knelt beside her. Bracing one arm, he leaned over drawing her wrists over her head. The heat from his knee warmed her thighs. His breath caressed her skin as he hovered over her nipples. He stroked her belly with the flat of his hand, then skimmed across her mons. “Because you fear being put aside?”