by Jody Hedlund
He moved in front of the rest of his men effortlessly. And I was helpless but to watch him approach, beautifully dangerous and darkly imposing. I would not want to be his enemy at this moment. He drove his beast mercilessly. And he drove it directly toward me.
He was coming for me. A flutter of hope came to life in my chest.
Lord Pitt’s soldiers swarmed around me and their war cries rose in the air. Arrows began to fly, aimed at Bennet and his men. Still he charged on, urging his horse faster. He didn’t break stride even as he swung his sword at several soldiers who raced toward him and swiftly cut them down. An arrow hit his breastplate and bounced off.
Only then was I overcome with the awareness that Bennet was in very real danger. My body tensed, and I had the sudden urge to shout at him to go back, to save himself. But the thundering hooves of his steed bore down almost on top of me, and he still hadn’t slowed his horse’s gait. He held out an arm, and he was near enough that I could see the determination in his eyes.
I lunged for him the same moment he reached me. As I latched on to his armor, his steel grip wrapped around my arm and lifted me off my feet. He swung me behind him, and I clawed at his back and arms, scrambling ungracefully to hold on. He didn’t stop, but instead swerved his beast into an arc so that we were now moving away from Lord Pitt’s army.
“Climb in front of me!” Bennet shouted over his shoulder.
I tottered too close to the edge of the horse and gasped at the ground that sped by beneath us. An arrow zipped past my arm, almost grazing my puffy sleeve, and I understood his urgency. With my unprotected back facing the enemy, I was vulnerable.
Without any more urging on Bennet’s part, I hoisted myself and slid under his arm until I was sitting on the horse in front of him. The hard plates of his arm surrounded me, and I suddenly slumped in relief. Even though we weren’t out of danger, I felt safe. I was with Bennet, cradled within the security of his arms.
Another arrow whizzed by, this one grazing his shoulder plate. Several more of Lord Pitt’s men careened toward us, swords drawn in an attempt to stop my escape. With one arm around me and one wielding his sword, Bennet fought them off, slicing two and throwing another off balance with a shove from his boot.
Bennet’s heavy breathing rasped against his helmet. The muscles flexed in his thighs as he kicked his heels into the horse’s flank, urging the beast to go faster. He ducked against me, his armor pressing against my back, forcing me to ride lower. I dug my fingers into the horse’s mane, all too willing to cooperate.
“Go!” came Aldric’s shout from my left, where he was in the midst of a swordfight with one of Lord Pitt’s men. “Take her to safety.”
Bennet hesitated.
“Go!” Aldric called again as he leveled a hard blow against the man in front of him.
“I’ll be back,” Bennet yelled.
His arm tightened around me, and he swerved clear of another horse that charged toward him. I closed my eyes and held my breath, sure we would collide. Bennet grunted at the impact, but somehow we didn’t waver in our stampede away from the battle. For several seconds, all I heard was the stomping of his war horse and his labored breath against the back of my neck. Then he stiffened and hissed. His muscles tensed around me, but he kicked his horse harder.
For several long minutes, he rode without breaking stride. As the chaos and cries of the battle faded, his breathing grew louder, and I took comfort from it. My senses reeled with the pounding of horse hooves, the clank of Bennet’s armor, the heat of the beast beneath me. When I finally heard a faint shout, I pried my eyes open to see the imposing walls of Maidstone looming ahead.
An old guard waited at the open portcullis, the spikes of the gate already halfway down. As we neared the man, Bennet slowed his horse and wrenched off his helmet.
I twisted to find myself captured by Bennet’s gaze. The blue of his eyes was dark—almost ebony—and it smoldered with something I didn’t understand, something that set my insides aflame. Before I could think or say anything, he reached a hand to my chin and at the same time brought his mouth against mine. He pinned me, crushing into me with a desperation I felt all the way to my bones. His lips demanded, commanded, and begged all at the same time.
I was breathless and weak at once, but before I could respond with all my love and a matching desperation, he jerked away, breaking the connection before it had the chance to begin. He lifted me away from the horse, and I found myself slipping down into the waiting arms of the old guard.
My feet had barely touched the ground before Bennet jammed his helmet back on, taking away the view of his face and his sweat-plastered dark hair. I found myself bitterly disappointed that I didn’t have more time to study his expression, to read his eyes, and to memorize each line and curve.
“Take her inside,” he ordered the guard who had hold of me. “Then close the gate behind you.” He lifted his sword, revealing the blood smeared along its edge, a stark reminder of the danger that awaited him on the battlefield.
I wanted to tell him not to go, but my throat closed around the words. He might have accomplished a daring rescue, but he’d never abandon his brother or his men. He’d never leave them to fight alone. He was a man of honor and he’d do the right thing, always.
The old guard dragged me backward toward the gate, away from Bennet, even as every muscle in my body protested. I wanted to scream out a long and agonizing no. But my chest constricted.
As Bennet began to veer his horse in the direction of the battle, he gave me one last nod. It was then that I noticed the arrow protruding from a slit in his armor where the spaulder at the shoulders met the scoop of the gorget on his back.
He’d been hit. A crimson trail was already spreading down the silver plate on his back.
I cried out in protest, but Bennet didn’t turn. Instead, he put his head down and spurred his beast away. He was riding to his death. And I knew that his kiss had been good-bye.
Chapter
19
I FOUND ALDRIC EASILY AND CHARGED INTO THE MELEE near him, needing to defend and protect him as he’d done for me while I’d rescued Sabine. Our surprise attack had given us the advantage I’d needed to liberate her. But now Lord Pitt’s army had regrouped and had joined the battle in full force.
We were outnumbered. But my men were fighting as valiantly as they could under the conditions.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d last before the loss of blood made me too weak to lift my sword. The arrow wound in my shoulder stung, but it was the gash in my thigh that was bleeding most profusely. I wasn’t sure when I’d gotten it, but both had been given by skilled soldiers who knew the weak spots in a knight’s armor.
I could see the blood running from a wound in Aldric’s arm near the crack of his elbow. A quick glance at the perimeter of the battle showed that our diminishing army was now completely surrounded by Lord Pitt’s men.
It was only a matter of time before they cinched tighter until, one by one, we fell.
“Is there a way to take the rest of the men and retreat?” I shouted to Aldric.
He glanced toward the rear. “Maybe. If I charge to the front, I may be able to distract them.”
I knew what he was saying. He would sacrifice himself and give me precious seconds to find a way to break away with the men. As lord of Maidstone, he’d make a valuable target. The men would vie with each other to see who could bring him down first.
“No,” I said as I fought a man on the left with my sword. With a mace, I warded off an attack to the rear. But with every movement, burning pain shot through me from the wounds I’d sustained.
If I was going to act, I needed to do it now. “I’ll provide the distraction,” I shouted.
Aldric shook his head. “I’m the one who brought about this war. I’ll be the one to end it.”
I nearly groaned in frustration, but instead I ducked to avoid a pike aimed at my throat. In the same motion, I wound my mace again and whacked it into the rump of
a horse, sending it running in fright.
“Your woman is waiting for you,” Aldric shouted.
“She’ll be better off without me.” I loathed myself for the way I’d rejected her in the instant she’d needed me the most. I didn’t deserve a woman like her. I never had. Even though I loved her, I knew I could never have her. And in some ways, I wanted to die rather than live my life without her in it. I could relate even more to how Aldric had felt—perhaps even still felt—after he’d lost his wife and baby.
“Go now,” Aldric shouted. Before I could protest further, he reared his horse onto its hindquarters, clearing a path. Then he charged forward, breaking into the midst of the enemy by himself.
I wanted to curse him, go after him, and drag him back. But he was already too far into the enemy circle to retrieve. It was only a matter of minutes before they swallowed him up and dragged him off his horse to his death. I couldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain.
I spun my horse and kicked the beast into action. I was relieved when my men followed my lead, apparently realizing what we were doing. I crashed through Lord Pitt’s ranks, forming a gap for our retreat.
It wasn’t until I reached the outer circumference that I realized we hadn’t met any resistance—that in fact the cries of battle and the clanking of weapons had died away. Except for the moans of the dying, an eerie silence had settled over the field.
Sweat and blood trickled down my back beneath the layers of plate and mail. I was faint and dizzy. I had to wrap the reins around my gauntlets to keep from falling from my saddle. I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to make it back to the walls of Maidstone before I lost consciousness. I needed to hurry. But something about the silence slowed my retreat.
It took all the effort I could muster to cast a glance over my shoulder, past the arrow still sticking out of my flesh. I was surprised to see that all of the fighting had ceased. Lord Pitt’s men had lowered their weapons and stared at the distant horizon.
With great effort, I followed their attention. Galloping toward us on enormous warhorses rode an army. In the front were three knights. The middle one was taller than the two who flanked him. He held himself regally, but it was the emblem on his standard that made me sit up straighter. A single white cross.
It was my mentor, the brother of the High King, the noblest knight in the land—the Duke of Rivenshire. From the stance of the two men riding on either side, I recognized my best friends: Sir Collin and Sir Derrick.
Gratefulness swelled so swiftly, my throat clogged. I almost allowed myself to fall into blessed unconsciousness at that moment. But I willed myself to stay alert.
The duke and his band of well-trained warriors drew nearer, until finally they reined their horses at the edge of the battlefield. The duke surveyed the carnage before landing upon Aldric, who I was grateful to see was still upon his horse. Then the duke found me. I nodded to him, still unable to speak past the well of emotion in my throat.
“I see that we’re just in time,” Sir Collin called out in cheerful greeting.
“As usual,” Sir Derrick added sarcastically. My friends had already had their fair share of problems. And although we’d pledged to always be there for each other, to help one another in both fair and foul weather, it seemed that the foul had a way of overshadowing the fair.
Lord Pitt and the others had apparently recognized the duke. They’d lowered their weapons and dropped to one knee before him.
I knew I should do the same. But blackness enveloped me. Although I tried to keep my grip on the reins, I couldn’t. The final vestiges of strength drained from me. My last thought was of Sabine and the need to keep her away from Lord Pitt.
My gaze locked upon the duke’s strong but kind face. “Please,” I managed. “Keep her safe.”
My eyes closed, and I felt myself slipping from my horse into oblivion.
Something soft pressed into my palm. The sensation was like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I couldn’t place it. But what I did know was that I didn’t want the delicate touch to end. I wanted it to go on forever.
Unfortunately the pressure lifted, leaving my palm cold and desolate.
I opened my eyes to a swirl of silver intertwined with blue—the thick curtains that surrounded my bed. Beneath me the smooth linen of my sheets pressed against my bare chest. My cheek lay against a feather-stuffed mattress.
I stirred, only to feel a burning pain in my back and thigh. I couldn’t prevent a groan from slipping between my lips.
Again something soft pressed into my palm.
I lay absolutely still.
It was a kiss. The curve of lips lingered against the tender cup of my hand. The warmth of breath bathed it. Even though I’d only felt those lips twice, I couldn’t mistake them for any others. They were Sabine’s. She was by my bedside, pressing kisses into my palm.
I was half-tempted to pretend to be asleep just so that I could continue to feel her touch. But at the sudden longing to kiss her lips, I tried to raise myself and turn my body. I succeeded only in moaning as I fell back into the mattress.
“Don’t move,” she said tartly. “Or I’ll climb onto your back and pin you down.”
“That sounds rather pleasant,” I said, turning my head and trying to catch sight of her at the side of my bed. She only slapped at my arm as though to scold me, but I could see her smile. She cast a sideway glance toward the chair next to her, where her grandmother sat, head back, eyes closed, and mouth open in a soft snore.
“I like it when our chaperones fall asleep,” I whispered, thinking back to the time when her lady’s maid had fallen asleep in the art room, allowing me a few seconds to kiss Sabine there.
“You’re awful.” She swatted at me again, although her smile widened.
Across the room, the fire in the hearth crackled, and the sweet scent of burning peat permeated the air. I rested my head against the mattress, grateful to be alive and home. “If I go back to sleep, perhaps you can move your kisses farther to the north?” I pointed to my face.
“Farther to the north?” She ignored the direction of my finger and instead glanced above my head. “Why, sir, I’m not interested in kissing your bedpost.”
My heart flooded with happiness. Her bantering had a way of filling my heart like nothing else did. “What are you interested in kissing, my lady?”
Her beautiful eyes widened at my insinuation, giving me clear view of the masterpiece of colors there, the mingling of brown and green that I would never tire of studying. When her wide gaze dropped to my mouth, my stomach tightened with certain need—the need to be with her the rest of my earthly life. I loved her and I had to tell her now before I lost my courage, before the reality of all that had happened came back and overshadowed us.
The clearing of a throat at the door caused us both to jump. Sabine dropped my hand and pushed away from the bed altogether. Her grandmother opened her eyes and sat forward with a choking snort.
The slant of rays slipping in through the shutters covering the windows told me it was afternoon. But what afternoon? How long had I been unconscious? I arched my shoulder and winced. I could feel that the wound had been stitched and bandaged. I shifted my thigh and bit back a hiss of pain. It too was dressed.
Although I was aching all over and weak from the loss of blood, at least I was alive.
The stamp of footsteps across the rushes strewn on the wood floor signaled that whoever had stood at the doorway was now entering and crossing the room.
“I see you’re still busy attempting to kiss all of the women,” came the teasing voice of my friend, Sir Collin.
I glanced up to see the duke, Sir Collin, and Sir Derrick standing at the side of my bed. They’d changed out of their battle armor and cleaned up, and appeared well rested. I watched as they conversed with Sabine and Lady Sherborne, as though they were all old friends, before finally asking to speak with me alone.
“How long have I been unconscious?” I asked.
“Just a day,�
�� Sir Derrick responded, assessing me with his keen gray gaze.
The past days came rushing back. The siege, the starvation conditions, the accusations against Sabine, her capture, and then the ensuing rescue and battle. “What happened to Lord Pitt and his army?”
Derrick’s steel gaze followed Sabine and her grandmother as they walked from the room. The duke, too, waited to speak until the door closed behind the pair. My friends were too somber, their faces too hard. Something wasn’t right.
Anxiety pressed against my chest. “Is Lord Pitt demanding that I return Lady Sabine?”
The duke shook his head. Tall and regal in his bearing, his battle-weathered face was both strong and kind at the same time. He’d been the perfect role model for me growing up, a man of integrity, honor, and chivalry. I owed him everything for the man I’d become. And now I owed him even more for coming to my rescue yesterday.
“No, it seems Lady Sabine did quite a proficient job yesterday defending herself,” the duke said. “Lord Pitt said she almost convinced him to release her.”
“Almost?”
“If not for the fears of some of his men, he might have let her go.”
“So he won’t try to recapture her?”
“No.”
The word should have reassured me, but the crease in the duke’s forehead set me on edge. “But . . .?”
“But he refuses to accept Lady Sabine’s silver.”
I nodded. Superstitions ran deep. If Pitt’s men thought the silver was cursed, then nothing would change their minds . . . except proving that Sabine wasn’t a witch. But there was no way I was planning to let anyone touch her again. I’d keep her locked away here in the castle where she’d be secure from prying eyes, accusations, and danger from people who didn’t understand her worth.
“We’ll find another way to pay our debts,” I said, trying not to think about the previous weeks of siege and having to go through it all again.