She screamed and aimed her knife for the man’s throat, praying for a weakness there. It did not touch him at all—his gauntleted hand waylaid her thrust, the crush of his fingers threatening to break her wrist.
The knife fell from her fingers as he stared down at her, and she stared up at him.
He wore a coat of mail. Atop it was a tunic with a heraldic emblem blazoned across it.
A lion above three leopards.
He wore a helmet and face plate as well, but she could see his eyes. Golden eyes she had long remembered. Staring down at her now with their blazing, warning glitter. Powerful eyes, taunting eyes, passionate eyes, and at the moment, furious eyes …
He sat back on his haunches. Her wrist was freed as he lifted his helm from his head. Thick red-gold hair, damp from its containment in the helmet, sprang about his face. A face she knew. Bronze, rugged, handsome—harsh. Small lines etched now around the eyes. The fullness of his mouth was taut, formed into a grim white line. She felt herself beginning to tremble, even as she stared up at him, even as she felt his touch.
“MacLachlan!” she cried out.
“Aye, indeed, lady!” he said, his voice deep, harsh. “Tell me, did you know my name before or after you tried to slash my throat?” he demanded.
She gasped, a hand instinctively flying for his cheek at the insult. But he caught her hand before she could strike, his fingers curling around her own. “How dare you!” she cried, her voice trembling. “You could have called out, you could have said my name, your name—!” She broke off, gasping for breath. Dear God, but her heart continued to pound; she couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs.
“I did call your name,” he told her.
She shook her head. She hadn’t heard a thing. Dear God, it had been so long since she had seen him. Once, she had been his enemy, and would gladly admit to her deeds. But he was no longer the familiar antagonist she so readily met in battle, but a powerful stranger. One she knew to grant no quarter once he had judged her guilty.
Her eyes narrowed. “If you called my name, I did not hear you. I was scared to death—how could I expect to see you? How can you be here? They were rebels coming for us, attacking us, I know that—”
“We rode in behind them, milady,” he said, still watching her. She had never felt his eyes so intently upon her, felt their piercing power as they raked over her. They brought a warmth with them, like the gold of their fire. He studied her as if she were a new weapon, a painting, a tapestry, something he had not seen before.
Then she realized that although his face had grown more taut and lean, he had not changed much since their last meeting. But she had.
She felt herself trembling again, and she wasn’t sure why. “But there was someone else in the woods—”
“A man thought to accost you there. I convinced him otherwise.”
“Daylin, Simon, the others—”
“One man has a broken arm, there are a few minor injuries, but we lost no men. Five of the rebels were killed—the rest took flight when they saw us arrive behind them.”
She exhaled on a long breath. Oh, thank God, none of her people had died!
“Then you arrived at a most opportune time, my lord.”
“No, milady, I arrived because of the known danger threatening English holdings here. Which God knows, you should have seen as well!”
Anger streaked through her, and she forgot that she lay beneath him. “Don’t you think you can come in here chastising and giving orders! You have ignored Aville these many years and I have managed exceptionally well.”
“Until today.”
“I was not doing so badly!”
“You are the one flat on your back, milady.”
“Perhaps then, you would be so good as to allow me to rise?”
He paused, and she could hear the grating of his teeth. But he rose, offering a hand down to her. When she stood, she realized her disarray. Her hair streamed out about her with bits or tree and grass entwined within it. Her rich, fur-trimmed habit was torn and ragged. She smoothed her hands over it nonetheless, trying to summon her dignity.
“I’m still at a loss, milord. After all this time, you have come here now, today. You couldn’t have come knowing that I might need assistance at this exact moment!”
“Nay, lady, indeed, that was indeed God’s own rare opportunity,” he replied, still staring at her. She felt the fire of his eyes, felt their full and very thorough assessment. Despite herself, she felt a flush rising to her cheeks. Warmth rushed through her.
“Then—”
“Alas, milady, I have come to take charge,” he informed her gravely.
“Of what?” she asked cautiously, eyes narrowing. She had controlled things quite well, or so she thought!
“Of you,” he said flatly. “And Aville, of course.”
“But the king must see that I have—”
“The king has sent me,” he snapped.
Enraged and offended, she retorted without thinking. “Perhaps another king can return you!”
Such rash, foolish words! She wished instantly, of course, that she could take them back.
She could not, of course. She wondered wretchedly where her mind had gone, how he had managed to strip all sense and wisdom from her in a matter of seconds.
He arched a brow, watching her for a moment, a slight curl to his lip.
“I did not mean that as it sounded,” she said, keeping her eyes steady on his.
“Perhaps not,” he murmured softly. “But then again, perhaps it is time for you to start to take great care, milady. And perhaps I made a mistake ever allowing you to come here.”
“I have done nothing wrong, and everything right,” she assured him.
He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Perhaps I have come just in time.”
“Perhaps,” she suggested softly, “you must understand my position. Perhaps you are not welcome here!”
“Ah, but, perhaps, my lady, you will feel differently after tonight.”
“What is tonight?” she asked him cautiously.
He hadn’t heard her and didn’t reply. He was already walking past her, heading for the massive war horse that awaited him. She turned and stared after him.
“What is tonight?” she cried again.
He didn’t even pause, but replied impatiently, his back to her.
“Our wedding.”
The world seemed to spin in green all around her. She never fainted, never passed out! Only once before in her life had she ever felt this way. Long ago. When …
He had mentioned their betrothal.
But then Joanna had died, and what he’d had of a heart had died, and she’d been free all these years, and now …
He was back.
“What?” she demanded.
He turned back to her. “Danielle, we have been betrothed many years. Surely you have not forgotten. There was a reason for our betrothal—good reason, for England. I’ve most certainly given you time to mature. Too much time. And surely, you didn’t expect to remain betrothed indefinitely?”
She was silent, staring at him, the blood drained from her face.
He swore impatiently beneath his breath, then said, “Danielle, the time has come. There will be a wedding tonight.”
“A wedding!” she cried. “Tonight! Because the king commands it! At the king’s pleasure—”
“And mine, as well, I imagine,” he interrupted, a soft taunt to his words, a slight smile of amusement still upon his lips.
She was startled that he could seem so amused—and unopposed to the concept of a real marriage. She stood with her hands upon her hips, furious. He had come to take charge. She meant nothing to him. She was a pretty plaything, that was all, now that he had decided to take charge.
She had done well! She cherished her independence, and, admittedly, her power. Take control of Aville—and the countess there! It seemed the king had commanded, and his earl had jumped to obey.
Walking s
wiftly, angrily, she started by Adrien and his destrier, certain she would find Star in the woods.
“A wedding tonight!” she lashed out, passing him. “In a pig’s eye!”
She suddenly felt a hand firmly upon her arm, and she was swung around back to face him. He plucked her up from the ground as if she were weightless, setting her atop his stallion before she could so much as begin to protest or fight.
Gold eyes glittered upon her. “Indeed, milady. In a pig’s eye or no, the king’s pleasure or my own. There will be a wedding tonight. I swear it.”
“Don’t threaten me, Adrien!” she warned him.
He shook his head, the laughter gone, his lean, hard, handsome face quite solemn.
“Not a threat, Danielle. A vow,” he told her. “And countess, I assure you, I keep my vows.”
Before she could protest again, he leapt up behind her, his arms came around her.
And a wall of shimmering red fire seemed to sweep within her.
Chapter 12
ADRIEN HAD COME WITH twelve men—six knights attended by their squires. All of them, Danielle noted, were well armed and armored, and on good horses.
They were experienced men, ready for battle.
A few wore plain tunics, while others wore their coats-of-arms upon them, as did Adrien. He had come riding John this time, a huge bay with feathered fetlocks and a long mane. The horse, like its rider, was clad for war, with plate armor around its massive chest and over its haunches and a narrow face plate with eye holes over its large face. Adrien’s blazon with its lion and leopards skirted around the horse, just as it was drawn upon his own chest, brilliant crimson against a field of gold.
Adrien rode with Danielle straight back to Aville. Other members of his party and hers had already returned. Guards lined the parapets, watching and waiting, calling out that the countess and Laird MacLachlan had returned. Cheers rose, and Danielle flushed slightly to realize that they were for her safety, which she had taken so for granted.
Inside the courtyard Adrien dismounted swiftly, reached up, and set her down. Then he turned to clasp Daylin, who greeted him enthusiastically. Sir Giles was next to welcome him, and Danielle stood very still, feeling the breeze lift her hair as she watched. The greetings went on, Doctor Coutin welcoming Adrien next, Lady Jeanette, and even Monteine flushing happily at his arrival. Her own men from Aville were eager to applaud him and his men on their swift assistance during the assault.
She felt as if she were being watched, so she turned. Simon was standing some distance from her, by his horse, staring her way with a look of pained anxiety that tore at her heart. She tried to offer him an encouraging smile, but it faded and her heart began to thud when she discovered that Adrien was watching her again. He was listening to one of her own men-at-arms, but as he towered over the shorter fellow, his eyes easily touched hers over the man’s head.
“Daylin, Giles—Doctor Coutin, if you will—I’ve need of your expertise in the hall,” Adrien said, his eyes still just touching hers. “Milady!” he called, “perhaps you would be good enough to see to the quartering and feeding of my men and their horses. They have ridden a long way.”
He turned away from her, leaving his mount with one of the grooms and heading straight for the doors to the great hall in the keep. Daylin, Giles, and Doctor Coutin followed him. She almost gasped out a protest, wondering how he could be so sure of exactly where he was going.
But he had been here before, she remembered. He knew Aville. He had been here after he tunneled his way beneath the fortress walls and allowed King Edward to seize the place from Lenore.
She seethed inwardly, but spun around, smiling to the men as they doffed their helmets and waited patiently in the courtyard. “Welcome to Aville,” she said lightly, and turned to Sir Ragnor, one of the men of Aville who had long served her family. “Would you please see them to the chambers in the north wall and have their horses stabled and fed? I shall see that the hall is readied for so large a group this evening,” she said, offering Sir Ragnor a sweet smile and heading for the hall herself. She had just come into the entrance when someone stepped from the shadows of a tapestried alcove, accosting her quietly. Simon stood behind her, his face gray and taut.
“What is going on?” he asked. “How has MacLachlan come to be here today?”
“I’m still not exactly sure,” she said, aware that MacLachlan was in the great hall, perhaps a hundred feet from where they stood in the stone entry to the keep. She lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “He’s come with Prince Edward because of the trouble here,” she told him.
“My love, we must speak!” he insisted.
“Not now!” She was still completely unnerved by Adrien’s arrival and she was afraid for Simon, especially if he was acting with the rebels who had brought about such massive damage in King Edward’s fief.
“When?” Simon persisted.
“Later.”
“Tonight!” he promised her, and suddenly slipped away, back out the door to the keep. As Danielle came into the hall, she saw that Adrien was by the mantel, an arm leaned upon it. He had stripped off his outer tunic and armor and wore a simple shirt of linen over form-hugging trousers and knee-high soft leather boots. His gaze, even as she entered, fell upon her, and she was certain that he had heard her whispering in the entry. Rem, head of the household servants, had served wine and platters of bread and cheese and dried meat. Adrien held a goblet as he watched her, and when she entered, he spoke casually, halting their conversation as if he didn’t trust her to hear what was being said. “Gentlemen, if you will please see to matters now as we have agreed … ?” he said, his eyes upon her rather than on the men.
“Indeed, milord!” Giles said, leaping to his feet from his place at the table. Daylin, his eyes upon Danielle as well, followed. Doctor Coutin bowed to Adrien, and then to Danielle. “I will see to any injuries among our men,” he said, and departed with the two others. Danielle was uneasy as they left, for she found herself alone in the hall with Adrien. For all its vast size, the hall did not seem big enough.
Once again, his gaze seemed to impale her, penetrate her. The color of his eyes matched the hue of the fire in the hearth, unnerving her still further.
“It has been a long time,” he said after a moment.
“Indeed. A very long time.”
“And you are still determined to wage war with me?”
He left the hearth and strode toward her. Danielle walked around the great table to put its bulk between them. “The French and the English always seem to be at war.”
“This is English territory.”
“That, as well, always seems to have been in dispute.”
“There is no dispute on the matter,” he said with assurance. “Though I agree, the French and English are forever at war. You, milady, have waged battle against me. Let me see if I recall. Pepper in my wine. Honey in my boots. A loosened saddle that all but killed me.”
“I didn’t loosen the saddle.”
It was obvious he still didn’t believe her.
“And I stayed at your side while you nearly perished of the plague,” she reminded him.
“I have not forgotten. I pay—”
“Yes, you pay your debts.”
“I’ve done so here,” he murmured, his eyes reminding her that he had fulfilled his promise of giving her years of freedom.
Those years were up.
“But,” he continued, “I have not been here long, and it already seems that you are ready to fly to battle once again.”
“Indeed, my lord, you have not been here long,” she told him smoothly. “You were elsewhere—as you saw fit. I’ve been here. I’ve cared for these people, worked for the betterment of the fortress and all Aville. You have come here today and walked in as if you have ruled here all your life. Throwing out commands and orders!”
He paused at the head of the table, refilling his wine glass. “True, but remiss. I rode here today, saved you from a pack of knaves, and
then barked out dictates—my lady.”
“No great harm might have come to me—”
“I’m not sure of your definition of harm, Danielle. But rest assured, those cutthroats would have killed every man with you to secure their intended prize. Doesn’t that disturb you?”
“This is my home!” she said angrily. “And you are familiar with it only because you once caused it to fall in battle.”
He was still and silent for a moment, watching her. When he spoke, there was a deadly tone to his words. “I am lord here, milady, make no mistake about it.”
“I have the right—”
“And I have the king’s command.”
“Ah, yes! The king gave you property, riches, and titles—and you haven’t married me yet. You have been busy elsewhere, but now Edward commands you to marry me. I may refuse to give my marriage vows.”
“You will not.”
“Oh?” she inquired. “And why not?”
“You will marry me, my lady, because we have the blessing of the Church, we have been legally betrothed for years, and you have done nothing to break the betrothal.”
“But—”
“And you will marry me because I will drag you to the altar bound and trussed, if need be. Because—”
“You wouldn’t,” she said with deep contempt.
“I would,” he assured her.
“Because the king has commanded it?” she taunted.
“Because I have determined to do it, milady.”
“Surely, you must. If you wish to remain an earl.”
He smiled very slowly with a mocking twist to his mouth that she didn’t like. “Danielle, there’s so much that you cannot forget or forgive! Well, my lady, I can keep memory alive as well! The pranks you played before were one thing. Cross me now, lady, and it will be war indeed.”
A hot flush seemed to ignite within her once again as he spoke, and she tried to tell herself it was the challenge he brought into her life. Or the outrage and fury—how dared he think he could just take over so easily? But it was neither challenge nor outrage that created the wildfires within her. It was watching him. It was realizing that he had changed little, that he remained so striking and so compelling. She was fascinated, longing to reach out and touch a muscle-laden bronzed arm, touch the planes of his clean-shaven face. Her eyes lowered, falling upon his hands. His nails were blunt cut and clean upon very long, powerful fingers, deeply bronzed by the sun as well. She thought of those hands upon her, and of what marriage meant, and the world began to spin again.
Heather Graham Page 18