by C. C. Wiley
“Whitefoot,” Baldric screamed as he limped out. He struggled to free his wrists from the soldier.
“There are so many,” Meg cried.
“Stay here,” Nathan said. He did not know how, but he intended to end this. All of it. At the dawn of this day. He skidded down the trail. Leaping from one boulder to the next.
A loud whistle tore through the air. Rocks sailed over Nathan’s head. He ducked as one shattered, splintering blade-thin shards into the trees. One after another, they rained down, striking the shore, then shooting off toward the men near the cave. He did not know how Darrick and his men had found him but he was never so relieved. Nathan bared his teeth at the mercenary charging toward him. “Come taste my steel.”
The Knight of the Swan had returned.
Baldric broke free from his captors. He scooped up the hound and ran past Nathan. White-faced, Meg stood beside him. Her blade drawn, she gritted her teeth, daring anyone foolish enough to get between her and the boy.
Nathan shot a glance over his shoulder. His blade arm wavered. ’Twas not his brothers in arms but the Scotsman, Duncan Graham, astride a shaggy little pony, leading his band of men. Once they hit the shore, they ran toward the fray. Their claymores clanged against steel as they met the cowards attempting to escape. One by one they fell. The lads of the clan succeeded where Nathan had not.
“Sir Nathan.” The man who haunted his days and nights now held his blade against Meg’s throat. He spit out a stream of blood. “Your woman is feisty,” he yelled. “Wager she’s a handful when you rut.”
He renewed his grip, yanking her head. Meg slapped at his hands, struggling to break free. Air hissed through her lips as his knife cut into her skin.
The red haze began to seep into Nathan’s vision. Only this time, he knew that he could control it. Empowered by his rage, he stalked the bearded one. He focused on the marauder’s tang of sweat and locked gazes with Meg. Trust me.
Duncan had left his men to tend to the prisoners who still breathed. He strode toward them, looking as large and proud as a bear ready to take down his next meal.
Nathan cocked his head toward Baldric. Understanding, Duncan blocked the boy’s path and wrapped a beefy arm around his small shoulders.
Ensured that no one else could be harmed, Nathan turned his attention on the bearded one. “Let her go,” Nathan growled.
“Give me the king’s treasure and I’ll be on my way.”
“What treasure?”
DePierce’s man narrowed his eyes. “D’you think that I’ve sat on my haunches all this time, waiting for nothing? My lord DePierce got wind of this treasure long before. ’Tis why he coveted this godforsaken land. He’s long dead now thanks to you. In my mind, you owe me for wages lost.”
“You’re a fool,” Duncan shouted over their heads. One hand on his hip, the other still gripping his claymore, he barked a laugh. “There hasn’t been a treasure kept in this cavern since the Knights Templar stowed it.”
Duncan’s distraction was working, drawing the soldier’s attention. “Where is it?” he croaked. He cut his gaze to the cavern. “Bring it to me.”
“Och, laddie, I fear you’ve wasted your life for nothing, if you believe that bedtime tale.” The large Scotsman shook his head. “They sailed away with it years ago.”
“You lie.” His face blanched, then flushed. His arm tightened. Spinning with indecision, he rocked on his heels. His boots scraped through the stones scattered over the shore. “I won’t leave empty handed. It’s either the treasure or this wench. Imagine someone will pay for her services.”
Nathan saw the red haze. It seeped in, giving him strength to keep from charging the man and impaling him on his sword. He had told Baldric not to lose his balance. To remain calm. An opportunity would present itself.
The bearded one nipped her earlobe and Meg elbowed him in the gut. The padded gambeson deflected the blow, but it was enough. Nathan locked gazes with Meg. He took the opportunity and charged.
Meg let her legs go limp, dragging her captor off balance. Nathan struck. His blade did the damage the king’s blacksmith had planned so many years before at the forge. But all that mattered to Nathan was Meg was no longer in danger.
She fell into his arms. She was safe.
He gulped the air, filling his lungs. The visions had not come during the fight for their lives. They’d remained silent. Ironically, it took the threat of death to make him see that he might be free.
Truly free of the nightmare.
He tensed. If that were true, would his king expect his imminent return to the battlefield?
Meg tilted her head. Blood seeped from the wound on her throat. He tore a strip of fabric from his tunic and pressed it to stop the flow.
“My love,” she whispered as she brought him down. Her mouth covered his, and for once in his life, he had found a home for his heart.
To Nathan’s horror, she sank into his arms, and went limp.
* * * *
Nathan paced the solar. Anna had already had him removed from Meg’s bedchamber. He should have demanded the right to stay by Meg’s side. She was still his betrothed. They were still to be wed. And he was the damn lord of the keep. God help him, even the head of the household.
Brother John eyed him, then ducked his head, his voice rising as he continued to pray.
Duncan stood in the corner nursing a flagon of something he called his clan’s secret elixir. Two men, nearly the size of Duncan, flanked his sides and pretended to drink from a horn cup. These brawny men, who had come to their aid, Nathan had learned, were Duncan’s brothers. Robert and Lawrens Graham nervously watched everyone waiting in the room for news of Lady Meg.
Though he had downed most of it, the Graham seemed to become stronger, more aware. He adjusted his sporran, and fidgeted.
Grunting, Nathan abandoned the worn path and joined Duncan. He swiped the flagon from Duncan’s fist and took a deep swig. It burned down his throat, warmed his stomach, then seemed to ignite his whole body.
Duncan grinned and thumped his back. “You’ll learn to love the taste of the Clan Graham’s golden elixir.”
Meg snorted from the doorway. “Is this how my betrothed now spends his time?”
Nathan’s heart melted. Anna had worked her healing magic and though still pale from their ordeal, Meg stood straight and proud. The linen wrapped around her neck, only seemed to accentuate her raven tresses.
“Go to her, laddie,” Duncan urged under his breath.
Nathan handed him the flagon and strode toward the woman who had managed to capture his heart. If only he dared to believe that she felt a fraction of what he did, then theirs would be a strong marriage. A strong bond between a man and a woman. Husband and wife.
Chapter 21
Meg watched Nathan leave the men and stride across the solar. His long legs ate up the distance with little effort. The room seemed to narrow until all she saw was the man she had come to care deeply for. If only she was courageous enough to admit it.
Love.
That single word scared her almost as much as hope.
Hope.
Her heart thumped against her chest, threatening to break every rib. Liquid heat formed in her belly, warming her core. Her knees trembled at the thought that one day this would be her husband. They would find joy in each other’s arms.
She stepped toward him. The fear of dreaming of love faded as they drew near each other. She would no longer be alone. She would dare to speak of love.
His intense gaze deepened. The mossy green of his eyes darkened. His lush lips lifted. She knew not only that she could trust Nathan. This was the single man in which she could place her heart and soul and know without a doubt that he would never harm her.
“My Lady Margaret,” Brother John said, his voice booming as if he intended it to carry over a congregation. “’T
is good to see that you have recovered. God be praised.”
Meg tore her concentration from Nathan’s seductive mouth. They needed to settle the monk in a new home. Mayhap one far from the master’s chambers. The sooner the better.
“Brother John,” her voice still hoarse, she nodded in his direction.
Nathan linked his fingers with hers. He kissed her knuckles. Under the guise of bending his knee deeper, he added a mischievous lick to the side of her thumb.
A languorous smile lit up his face. Her breath hissed between her lips. How had she ever thought this man would be her downfall?
Phillipa and Baldric skidded into the solar, nearly knocking Brother John over. Meg and Nathan chuckled at their excitement. “You’ve returned,” Phillipa cried. She batted her lashes at the hulking Duncan Graham, including him in her praise. “Huzzah!”
Whitefoot danced around them, barking and leaping on his three legs. Phillipa snapped her fingers and he settled at their feet. If only Anna were in attendance their family would be reunited.
Nathan quirked a golden eyebrow. “You’ve decided to allow a hound in the keep?”
“After his heroics,” Meg shrugged, “I fear I’ll never have the heart to send the hound to the stables.”
Overhearing her proclamation, Baldric wrapped his arms around her waist. “Good news. Phillipa said the blacksmith left behind a few more pups. ’Tis up to us to care for them. Don’t you agree? We’ll be one large happy family. Pups and all.”
“That is up to my lord, Sir Nathan, to decide.”
Nathan’s eyes twinkled at Meg over her brother’s head. “I’ve always desired a family.”
“Takes a wedding to make that happen.” The old monk winked and rubbed his hands together. “Shall we be about it come the morrow?”
“No,” Meg and Nathan said.
Nathan’s smile vanished. The skin over his cheekbones tightened.
Meg’s chest constricted, threatening to burst open. How could she have been so wrong?
Nathan grabbed her wrist. “Excuse us.”
Without another word, they climbed the staircase until they reached the upper floor. Meg’s feet tangled in her skirts and she bit out a curse. Why was he enraged? She was the one being manhandled, tripping over steps. All she wanted was to have Brother John say the words that day. Mayhap, nightfall, at the latest.
By the time Nathan unlocked the doors and dragged her through them, they were both out of breath. She stared at him as he turned and cupped her jaw. He brought his mouth down, covering her, devouring her lips. His tongue probed, tasting, licking. His lips sucked and drew, nipping until they were breathless.
When he broke free, unshed tears sparkled. Was this goodbye?
* * * *
“You don’t desire to take me as your…your wife?” she stuttered. She wrapped her arms around her middle.
“You made your desires known.” Nathan turned away. To look into the hurt in her eyes was too much for him to bear. He had vowed to never cause her pain. And before the day was even close to being over, he had succeeded in doing so again.
Meg tugged his sleeve. “You will not present your back to me. My lord,” she added to her command.
Nathan flared his nostrils. “What do you want from me, my lady?”
“To be heard,” she said. “You once told me what you wanted in a lady that you took as wife. But never gave me,” she thumped her beautiful chest. “Me. The opportunity to tell you what I want.”
His heart ached. Did he really want to listen to his faults? He already knew what they were. He closed his eyes. He was too much of a coward to see her disdain for him. “Then tell me,” he said, repeating the very words she had given him.
“I desire…” She started slowly. Her breath caressed his cheek. Would he ever again know the pleasure in her touch when they were through? “I desire a man to love me for who I am. Not because it pleases our king. Or that it protects my family or the people of the village. But for me.”
Nathan opened his eyes. She stood before him. His beautiful warrior woman. The lady of his heart. The sun shined all around her, creating a halo. Tears glistened against her flushed cheeks.
She took a step forward, linking her fingers with his. “I want a friend. Someone to challenge me. Support me. Hold me when I am afraid, and when I am done listing my fears, kiss them all away.”
Nathan sipped in a breath, afraid that if he moved she would slip away and take his heart with her. Her fingertips danced over his mouth as she continued.
“I want to share my family with my husband. The duties and the joys. I desire children. And I want a husband who wants this as badly as I do. But more so, I want someone who simply wants to share his life with me. Share his secrets and desires. To build a life together. To love me.”
She kissed the corner of his mouth. “Just. Me. The dragon lady of Fletchers Landing.”
Nathan could no longer resist and pressed her to his body. His hands spanned her narrow waist and he returned her kiss. “I love that lady,” he declared. “The one who raises bees, raids their hives, fights for her family, takes chance with rogues and knights. All for the sake of love and devotion.”
Her fingers slid through his hair. He shivered as her nails scraped over his scalp. “But most of all, I love you, Lady Margaret of Fletchers Landing.”
She pulled back, an unexpected pout lined her lips. “Then why do you resist in wedding me?”
Nathan barked a laugh. Lifting her off her feet, he spun her around until they both were dizzy. “My love. I want to wed you. I fear I’ll die of thirst if I do not sip from your body this very eve.”
Meg fell into his arms. “Thank God. I don’t want to wait any longer.”
Nathan swept her into his arms. “Let’s find Brother John and the children.”
They turned as the door swung open.
The steward bent over, panting in the doorway as if he had run up three flights of stairs.
That warning itch threatened to creep up Nathan’s spine. “Matthew, what is it?”
“There’s an army of soldiers riding this way. The Scotsman has fled for fear of arrest.”
She squeezed Nathan’s hand. “Let them go.”
Love poured into his soul. “Aye, a wedding gift to us both.”
* * * *
Meg’s legs trembled, but not out of fear this time. She knew what to expect once the celebrations were completed. Her core tightened in anticipation for the pleasure they would share on their wedding night.
She stood arrayed in her best gown of the softest lamb’s wool. The bodice cut deeply, providing a most advantageous view of her breasts for her new husband. The gilded belt, woven of fine linen and studded with pearls, enhanced her waist.
Nathan’s brothers in arms, Sir Darrick and Sir Taron, watched over them, their armor reflecting the sunset. And, since Nathan had vowed to share his secrets, he had explained briefly, that they shared more than a bond in knighthood. They were members of the Knights of the Swan. The king’s selected few.
She took in a shuddered breath. They still had a great deal to learn of each other. And she prayed they had a lifetime to do so.
She and Nathan would finally be wed. His fingers tightened around hers. She caressed his newly shaved jaw.
Nathan smiled down at her as Brother John intoned the vows. They repeated them. Swearing promises to God and king, but most importantly to each other.
They kissed to seal their agreement. His eyes radiant with adoration, he lifted his head to look over those who witnessed their union. She followed his gaze as he took in all who now became his family. His brothers of the Knights of the Swan grinned at him. Darrick and Taron elbowed each other as if sharing in a secret joke. And her brother and sisters. They too, had become his to care for.
Their steward, Matthew, stood beside Phillipa and
Baldric. They were dressed in their finest clothes. Whitefoot, freshly bathed and brushed, wore a ring of flowers around his neck. He sat obediently on the pew bench waiting for Baldric’s next command. And Anna…
Meg’s heart skipped a beat. Dread seeped into her bones. Had she once again tempted Fate’s jealous heart? “Nathan, where’s Anna?”
“Let us find out, my lady love.” He kissed her forehead and led her to the children.
A piece of parchment stuck out from Whitefoot’s festive collar. Baldric held it out to her. “This is for you.” He tugged on his lower lip. “She said ’twas a surprise for you on your wedding day.”
Meg unfolded the missive.
My dearest sister. Now that you are wed, and have found your love, I must bid you goodbye. I believe you now must understand how love cannot be denied when it is shared with the one you are destined to be with.
Not to worry. I am in Duncan Graham’s care and loving protection. And as you know, he is a man worthy of trust. He will not come roving over the hills and shores of Fletchers Landing.
Leave a note in the great oak tree should you ever be in need.
God be with you until we meet again.
All my love,
Lady Anna
Meg crumpled the missive in her hand. She should have heeded her misgiving and kept Anna from tending to Duncan’s wounds. “She’s left. With Duncan.”
Nathan braced her, holding her gently in his arms. “We shall run them to ground if that is what you desire.”
She shook her head and cupped his strong jaw. Though she hated to admit it, she knew that one day her sister would leave their home. And Anna had tried so many times to tell her that she had found someone to love. Meg had been too afraid to listen. Until now. “My lord husband, how can I deny their love, when we have just discovered ours?”
“Nathan, our men are at your service,” Taron said as he joined them.
“Mayhap this will allow us an opportunity to penetrate beyond the debatable lands,” Darrick added. “King Henry will be pleased to discover what the Scots might be brewing.”
“Politics will manage for a little while longer without our aid. We will stand down, for today,” Nathan said. “When we meet with our new family, it will be in peace.”