At the Warrior's Mercy

by Denise Lynn

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gregor leaned against the side of the stable, breathing in the air and soaking in the blessed quiet. He was thankful the Empress had drawn Lady Emelina’s attention away, permitting him to escape.

  He knew Beatrice was truly sorry for what she’d said last night. Why she found it necessary to argue simply for the sake of arguing was beyond his understanding, but it was time to put an end to this festering anger that he had wanted to embrace. In their short time together, the two of them had perfected the ability to set off each other’s rage with nothing more than unmeasured words.

  Before meeting her he’d been in control of himself, his mood or emotions his responsibility alone. He’d been capable of not permitting the words and actions of another person to affect him.

  Now? He closed his eyes, sighing. Now he found himself constantly chasing his suddenly elusive control. Unfortunately, it was quicker than he, always managing to stay just beyond the reach of his fingertips. One minute he wanted nothing more than to hear her cry his name in the throes of lust and the next he longed to shout at her in frustration.

  Less than a day into the marriage and already it wasn’t going well. Of course, part of the reason for that was because he’d acted like an ass during the exchange of vows and blessing.

  Gregor cringed at his childish behaviour. He stepped away from the stable. It was doubtful they would find any measure of peace between them this day without yet more accusations and hard words. But maybe they could argue away their misunderstandings long enough to still end up having a real wedding night in each other’s arms. Since it would be one of the few nights left to them before he dealt with her father, he wanted it to be one both of them would remember fondly.

  He stared towards the keep, knowing there would be no possibility of finding the privacy they needed there. The small huntsman’s hut near the cove was too far away. Any of the ships was out of the question—since the fire every one of them was manned with guards.

  Gregor smiled; he knew the perfect place. The midwife was in London visiting her sister, so the cottage was unoccupied and far enough away from the other villagers to provide the privacy he desired.

  He headed back to the keep. Since he hadn’t planned on having a wedding night, he was unprepared and needed to gather supplies—food since she’d only picked at the morning meal and he’d seen her eat nothing since. No wine, he wanted both of them fully in control of their senses, if not their tempers. No torches, but candles, just enough light so that later, after the sun set, he could still see every nuance of her expressions.

  Thankfully he had men to help carry everything to the cottage. He just had to hope they would keep their mouths shut about his whereabouts at least until tomorrow. He also needed to give Simon his orders for the rest of the day and night, as he didn’t want anyone thinking FitzHenry was in charge and then he could kidnap his wife willing or not.

  * * *

  ‘Lady Beatrice, a word?’

  Beatrice stopped to look over her shoulder at Lady Emelina before turning around to see what the woman wanted. ‘Yes?’

  Emelina’s cheeks pinked and she glanced around the crowded hall, asking, ‘Is there somewhere private we could talk?’

  In truth, Beatrice didn’t want to spend any time talking to this woman, but at the sight of the lady’s blush, her curiosity about the woman’s need for secrecy won out. She nodded towards the corridor near the stairwell that led down to the armoury and cells.

  Once there, Lady Emelina folded her hands together and said, ‘It seems you and I have got off to a bad start.’

  What difference would that make? It wasn’t as if they were going to be residing under the same roof. ‘I don’t understand why that would matter to you.’

  ‘Lord Gregor is a friend, a special friend, and I think it would make a difference to him.’

  ‘Special friend?’ Beatrice had no clue what that meant...special friend?

  ‘He put himself at risk to rescue me from my former betrothed.’

  ‘You needed rescuing?’

  Lady Emelina leaned closer to whisper, ‘Yes, just the same as you.’

  The same as her? What did this woman know about what had happened to her? ‘Nothing happened to me.’

  ‘Oh, Lady Beatrice, Gregor has told me how your former betrothed thought to take advantage of you.’

  Something was wrong here. For one thing she and Charles were never betrothed. For another, Gregor would never have said anything to anyone about the circumstances of their meeting. He had promised not to say a word and he was far too private with personal matters to have shared that even with someone who called him a friend.

  Beatrice frowned. ‘He told you about my former betrothed?’

  ‘Oh, yes, he did. He mentioned that he nearly had to kill the man to keep him away. Your suitor must have loved you very much.’

  Beatrice watched the woman while she talked. Something seemed...familiar about her. Yet they’d never met before now. Something in her all-too-forced smile, in the way she used her hands to punctuate certain words. The only other person she knew who did that was...

  Beatrice gasped.

  She heard a noise behind her, then almost instantly felt something hit the back of her head. Before everything went black, she whispered, ‘Charles.’

  * * *

  Gregor made one last inspection of the cottage. Everything seemed in place. He and his men had managed to smuggle away all he’d wanted and more as the table filled with food would attest. There was enough there to feed the two of them for a month.

  He could probably burn down the entire village with the supply of candles in the basket sitting alongside the bedside table. He’d almost forgotten to nab a candleholder, but had grabbed a couple from the bedchamber when he’d been there to retrieve sheets and a cover.

  ‘Lord Gregor!’ Simon came to a rocking stop inside the cottage. ‘You are needed back at the keep.’

  Now? ‘For what?’

  ‘Lady Beatrice is missing.’

  ‘What do you mean missing?’

  He followed Simon out of the door as the man explained. ‘Her mother has looked for her everywhere. When she couldn’t find her, she enlisted the Empress’s aid. Men were sent to scour the keep and the buildings in the bailey.’

  ‘Did anyone think to check the battlements?’

  ‘Yes, I did once I remembered she seemed to have a fondness for walking in the breeze.’

  Her fondness was for the quiet more than the breeze. Mounting his horse, Gregor asked, ‘Is anyone else missing?’

  At Simon’s tight-lipped grimace, Gregor’s stomach tightened. ‘Who?’

  ‘I am sorry, my lord, the men were caught off guard.’

  He was in no mood for guessing games. ‘Damn it, man, who else is missing?’

  Simon spurred his horse ahead. Passing Gregor, he said, ‘The prisoner and Lady Emelina.’

  He nearly flew past his man, shouting, ‘If Beatrice comes to any harm, all of you will pay dearly.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Gregor entered the bailey at a gallop. He nearly leapt from the saddle before the beast came to a full stop. Tossing the stable hand the reins, he ordered, ‘Get the other horses saddled.’

  He stormed into the keep. Spotting Beatrice’s family gathered on the dais, he approached, asking, ‘Any news?’

  The Empress shook her head. ‘None.’

  ‘How did this happen?’

  ‘From what we could ascertain, Lady Emelina must have distracted one of the guards enough to get him to back against the cell. The prisoner broke his neck. From that point it is anyone’s guess.’

  While he could understand how the lady distracted the men, he didn’t understand how two of them could have been overcome by one woman. />
  Beatrice’s mother touched his arm. ‘You are going after her?’

  What kind of question was that? ‘Of course I am.’

  ‘Does anyone know how long they’ve been gone?’

  Matilda shook her head. ‘No. But I wouldn’t think it could be any more than two hours.’

  He checked to make certain Simon was gathering the men, then turned to head into his private chamber to don his armour.

  ‘Lord Gregor.’

  Startled by FitzHenry’s use of the title, he looked at the older man.

  ‘Neither of them can captain a ship, but they could have hired one. Two hours would have given them a good head start, so check the cove first, then the caves.’

  Gregor stared at him for a moment. Naturally the man appeared angry, but he was also agitated, as if ready to jump out of his own skin—a nervous energy that Gregor fully understood. His knowledge of the island could prove useful, so he said, ‘You have ten minutes—get ready to ride.’

  Instantly about twenty years fell off the man as he dashed for the stairs.

  Matilda only shook her head and said, ‘You’d best watch your back. My brother isn’t inexperienced with a sword.’

  Beatrice’s mother took immediate offence. ‘He is not dishonourable. You do him a severe injustice by hinting otherwise.’

  Having no time for this argument, Gregor left the two women to argue and went into his chamber, relieved to see that his squire and a page were already laying out his mail and weapons.

  He dressed quickly and went back out to the Great Hall. Simon had gathered the men. Each was fully armed and ready to leave.

  Gregor took four swords off the stack next to a support beam. He perused the gathering, picking out four of the men from Warehaven that he’d already decided he could trust and handed each a weapon. ‘Guard the women with your lives.’

  James, Colin, Harold and Daniel stepped forward. James cleared his throat, then began, ‘My lord—’

  Gregor cut him off with a glare. They thought he’d leave them behind? He was not about to let a stranger find Beatrice—she would not be afraid of these men. ‘You ride with me.’

  He pulled aside his squire and eight of his own men. ‘Guard this keep. Nobody comes or goes. Make sure every entrance or exit is guarded.’

  Gregor knew by the downcast look on his squire’s face that the young man was not happy with his task in the least, but to his credit he said nothing, only nodded and pulled his weapon to the ready.

  FitzHenry, followed by his two guards, joined them in the hall. Gregor looked at the man’s sword. ‘Make sure you only use that on those who took my wife.’

  Beatrice’s mother joined them to pat her husband’s chest. ‘I’d nearly forgotten the bastard warrior I fell so hard for.’ She raised up on her toes to kiss his cheek before handing him his nasal helmet. ‘Bring our baby back safely, my love.’

  * * *

  ‘Wake up!’ A loud clap near her ear followed the shout.

  Beatrice opened her eyes. Her hands were bound behind her, but she could feel the coolness of the earth beneath her. They were still on the island, which meant that there was a good chance she would be found. Had she been placed upon a ship there would have been little hope for any quick rescue.

  ‘There she is. Thankfully you didn’t kill her.’

  Beatrice squinted against the shrillness of Lady Emelina’s voice. It seemed to bounce off the walls around her before piercing her throbbing head like an arrow.

  She kept the smile from her mouth as she realised they’d brought her to the caves. This was where she, Isabella and Jared had spent most of their childhood playing. Someone unfamiliar with the winding passages might get lost here permanently, or worse, if they didn’t know which mouth was safe to use as an exit, they could walk through expecting to step out of the darkness only to find themselves falling through the air to the sharp rocks below.

  Of course this knowledge was only useful if she lived and could get free. Otherwise what she knew would make no difference.

  ‘Tell me, Lady Emelina, are you his sister?’

  ‘Charles’s? No, his cousin.’

  Ah, that explained the slight differences that prevented immediate recognition. It still didn’t explain one thing. ‘How is it that I’ve never met you, or heard about you?’

  ‘Since our parents aren’t as royally connected as yours, they had no choice in taking sides between Stephen and Matilda. To keep at least some of us safe, the family split up—mine chose Normandy, where Charles’s came to England. There has been little opportunity for us to communicate since then and it was deemed safer that way.’

  The explanation made perfect sense, especially considering that many families had done the same thing, hoping that one day this conflict would end and they could all be together again.

  ‘Why am I here?’ She needed to keep them talking, keeping their attention less directed to what she was doing behind her back. The floor of these caves was littered with broken bits of pottery and pieces of sharp rock. She rooted around behind her in the dirt, trying to get her fingers on one she could use as a knife to cut the ropes binding her wrists.

  Charles and another man walked into the light from the torch. ‘So you can watch your husband die.’

  Beatrice wasn’t surprised to see him. Since someone had to have hit her on the back of the head, she’d assumed it had been Charles right away.

  She looked at Emelina. ‘But I thought Gregor was your friend.’ If she remembered correctly, he was her special friend. Her fingers closed around a sharp-edged rock. She turned it around so she could slowly saw it against the ropes.

  The woman laughed. ‘That mangy beast?’ She shivered. ‘No. He was merely a useful tool.’

  Mangy beast? Her husband was far from mangy and most definitely no beast. Beatrice took a breath against the swimming of her head. Her makeshift knife slipped, cutting into her palm. Focus. She needed to keep her wits about her and not let little things distract her.

  ‘A tool for what?’

  ‘Ships. Men,’ Charles added.

  ‘What do you need with ships and men?’

  Charles squatted down in front of her. ‘Why should your family be the only ones to benefit from something my father helped start?’

  As far as she knew, his father Lord Wardham had done nothing more than lend her father enough coin to buy the materials for the first ship. After that, he’d wanted nothing to do with any of the work or planning. However, it wasn’t something she was in any position to argue at the moment.

  ‘So you did all of this for ships and men? After you burned three ships that you could have taken?’

  ‘The fire hadn’t been set for loss of property. I’d received word that Lord Gregor was aboard one of the two larger vessels. He was supposed to have died in the fire. Little did we know he was safely locked inside a cottage, rutting with his whore.’

  Focus. Focus, she silently repeated to herself. She couldn’t afford to let them distract her from her task at hand, nor could she give them the slightest hint that she was up to something.

  Charles stroked a finger down her cheek. ‘Which is why he must die. He has interfered in our relationship enough. So when he comes to rescue you, which we both know he will, he will be caught by surprise and put down like the dog he is while you watch. But fear not, Beatrice, you will join him.’

  She was relieved to see that Charles seemed to have regained some of his wits, so she didn’t fear he’d do anything to her before Gregor arrived. However, he was wrong. If anyone needed to be put down like a mad dog, it was he, not Gregor.

  Her husband had given Charles every chance to make himself scarce, but he insisted on showing up over and over, inviting trouble. How could she ever have wanted to marry this man? She still couldn’t understand ho
w she could have been so fooled.

  ‘It is simple,’ Lady Emaline explained further. ‘We both seek revenge. Roul’s death will ensure he never gets the chance to interfere in anyone’s life again.’

  ‘Interfered? I thought he’d rescued you.’

  ‘I required no rescuing.’ The woman made a dismissive sound, then added, ‘The fool misinterpreted love-play as abuse. After his interference, nothing I said could convince Comte Souhomme back to my bed and now I am betrothed to a man with no title and little wealth. Roul destroyed my future and it’s only fair I return the favour.’

  * * *

  The last thread of the bindings broke away and Beatrice quickly clasped her hands together to keep her arms from falling free. She wasn’t strong enough to overpower three people. But she could wait. And she could warn her husband of the trap.

  She hoped he didn’t take too long, because the warm blood running between her hands meant she’d done more than simply nick her palm, she’d cut it deep enough that it was now beginning to throb.

  Bleeding to death as Charles’s prisoner was not how she was going to die. It wasn’t an option. Especially not now. Not after she’d found someone she was willing to wed even if it had been prearranged.

  A sliver of sunlight still glimmered through the mouth of the cave when she heard a noise. Unfortunately, the other three had heard it too.

  Charles handed Lady Emelina a knife and waved her over to guard Beatrice while he and the other man took up a position on either side of the entryway.

  Beatrice raised her brows when Emelina stood over her with the knife pointed in the opposite direction. She wanted to tell the woman that her stance was wrong if she really needed to do any harm. It was a mistake that Beatrice welcomed because it would make it much easier to surprise the woman and get the knife away from her when the time came.

  The jingle of spurs, the clanking of chainmail and the heavy steps of booted feet heralded the arrival of armed men. She kept her stare on Charles. He would be the first to flinch, the first to make a move.