Dark Destroyer

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He nodded, a look of hope and longing on his face that was quickly gone. “Of course.”

  Kathalin had seen the expression and her heart beat faster, just a little. It was difficult to be around the man and not feel that pull between them, that attraction that was undeniable. It was so powerful at times that it literally took her breath away.

  “It is about my mother,” she said, brushing the hair out of her eyes when the breeze blew it in her face. “How long have you known her?”

  Gates pondered her question. “Since I began serving de Lara,” he said. “It has been thirteen years, at least.”

  Kathalin considered that. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  Again, he thought on her question. “Not since I have returned from France,” he said. “Before that, I cannot say when the last time was.”

  Kathalin looked up at the keep again. “But when you saw her last, how was she dressed?”

  He wasn’t sure what she was getting at. “Dressed?” he repeated. “I do not know, to be truthful. I do not pay attention to things like that. I am sure she was dressed as she is always dressed, with layers of fabric covering everything, even her face. Why do you ask?”

  “So you have always seen her dressed like that?”

  He nodded. “Ever since I have served de Lara,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

  Kathalin drew in a long, deep breath, her eyes still fixed on the keep. “Because I must tell you something and you must swear to me that you will never, ever repeat it. If you did, the consequences could be quite terrible.”

  Now he was concerned. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What have you to tell me, Kathi?”

  Kathi. He’d used that sweet name before, murmured in his beautiful baritone. But this time, the way he said it made her think that he meant she, personally, had something terrible to tell him. She hastened to reassure him.

  “It is not about me,” she said. “It is about my mother. You see… my mother is very ill, Gates. That is why you have never seen her without every part of her body being covered. She is sick and, being that I have been trained in healing, I have decided that I must help her. That is why I am out in this dead garden. I want to bring it back to life and grow herbs and flowers that might help her. I would like to try.”

  Gates was listening to her seriously, digesting her words. But he seemed confused. “That is a noble desire,” he said. “However, you made it a point of telling me on our journey from St. Milburga’s that you resented your parents a great deal. Something must have changed your mind if you seek to help the woman you spent years of your life resenting.”

  Kathalin nodded, averting her gaze. “You and I have not really spoken about anything since we arrived at Hyssington,” she said, trying not to touch on the delicate subject of their feelings for each other but realizing it was unavoidable. “When we went to Shrewsbury, we spoke of… that is, we did not speak of anything other than what was important to us.”

  “My love for you.”

  It was like a blow to the gut, hearing those words from him, and she struggled to stay on subject. “Aye,” she whispered. “And of my love for you. There was no time or opportunity to speak of the meeting I had with my parents before we left for Shrewsbury. I spent time with my mother, alone, and discovered a great many things, Gates. I discovered that she sent me away because she was falling ill and she did not wish for me or my brothers to contract her disease.”

  Gates’ brow furrowed as he absorbed her words. “Disease?” he repeated, very concerned. “What disease?”

  Kathalin reached out and grasped his gloved hands, clutching them tightly. “You must promise not to repeat what I am about to tell you.”

  He held her hands tightly, too, pulling her to him so they were standing quite close to one another. The first physical contact with her after five days of virtually no contact at all was enough to drive him to his knees.

  “I swear to you that I will not tell a soul,” he assured her softly, gazing down into her lovely face and absorbing the warmth of her body into his. “I swear on my oath as a knight. What disease does your mother have?”

  Kathalin tilted her head back, looking up at him, realizing how very much she had missed the man. “She is a leper, Gates,” she confessed. “My father keeps her bottled up in that room because he does not want anyone to know. Fear of what it would do to the family name drives him, and fear of the panic it would spread if the people around here knew. My poor mother… she told me so much, Gates, how she never sent missives to me because she did not want me to keep fond memories of home. I think she wanted me to hate her so I would never want to come back because if I did, I might catch her affliction. It was very hard for her to tell me all of this and I do not know if she told my father at all of our conversation, but I get the impression there is not much trust or affection between them. In any case, St. Milburga is the patron saint of lepers. Did you know that? It is as if God has had a hand in me returning home so that I can help my mother. I want to do it, Gates. Will you please help me?”

  He lifted her hands, kissing them tenderly. “You know I will,” he said hoarsely. “What would you have me do?”

  She smiled up at him, now pressed against his body as he held her hands to his lips. Her entire body was running wild with warm, fluid feelings, causing her knees to tremble. The glory of the emotions between them was not something she could ignore; she knew he could not ignore them, either. There was too much there, something deep, anchored within them no matter how much they tried to ignore it or pretend it did not exist.

  “I want to regrow this garden for herbs to help her,” she said softly. “I want to return to St. Milburga’s but not for the reasons you think; it is not to stay. It is because I know they have the finest herbs and flowers on the Marches, and I want to bring some of them here, to my garden. I want you to ask my father if we can return to St. Milburga’s to collect such things.”

  He smiled faintly. “He will think you are trying to trick me into taking you back there.”

  She shook her head, her focus on his full lips, watching them move as he spoke. “Alas, that was true, once, but no longer,” she said. “I can never go back. You are here at Hyssington. Even if… if we cannot be together, as one, if I remain here, I will still be near you. That is all I can ask.”

  Gates kissed her forehead as he caressed her hands. “I have been a fool,” he said, his voice raspy. “I must ask for your forgiveness. My fears for you… fear that the sins of my past would shame you… I was wrong, Kathi. I have never faced a situation like this before, finding love with a woman, and I was reacting the only way I knew how. To save you from my shame by refusing to marry you but the truth is that I am a weak man. I cannot stomach the thought of you married to someone else, for it would surely be the end of me. The torment would be more than I can bear. When we came home from Shrewsbury and you stood up to Lord Linley, I suppose I knew then that I had not given you enough credit for your bravery. I suppose I did not trust your word. But I will trust you if you will trust me. If you will not run from my past, neither will I.”

  It was everything Kathalin had wanted to hear from him and tears of joy popped to her eyes. “I will never run,” she swore softly. “I will never run from you, Gates. I will be as strong and true as the strongest man ever could be. I am yours and only yours, my love, until I die.”

  She threw her arms around his neck as Gates swallowed her up in his massive embrace, a searing kiss for the ages sealing the love and desire and trust between them. In fact, Gates had brought his mouth down on hers so hard that he had driven his teeth into his soft lower lip, and he could taste blood upon their kiss. Sealed in blood, he thought. My love for this woman is sealed in my blood.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered between fevered kisses. “Are you utterly sure, sweetheart?”

  Kathalin nodded even as he kissed her cheeks furiously. “Aye,” she said. “So long as we are together, I can face anything, I swear it.”

/>   He believed her. His doubt was gone; his fear in what his past might bring to their marriage. Whatever it was, they could face it. Now, he knew he could face anything. He stopped his frenzied kisses and held her face between his two big hands, looking deeply into her eyes.

  “Then I must speak to your father right away,” he said. “Given what he knows about me and my past indiscretions, I am not entirely sure I will be able to coerce a marriage agreement out of him, but I will not give up. I swear, by God, that I will not give up.”

  Kathalin touched his cheek with her small, calloused hand. “I know you will not,” she said. “But if he does not give his consent, what will you do?”

  Gates kissed her cheek one last time before dropping his hands. “Then we will flee,” he said simply. “I will marry you at the first church we come to and we will head north to my father at Castle Questing. Although I would hate to break my oath of fealty to de Lara, you are more important than even that. You are the most important thing in the world to me.”

  Kathalin was greatly relieved at his words, touched by the sincerity of them. “When will we go?”

  He shrugged, hearing the iron gate groan as it was opened and taking a step back from her for propriety’s sake. “I am not sure,” he said. “Your father has invited all manner of fine houses here in the quest to find you a husband, so I would say we will leave very soon if I cannot convince him. Let me at least talk to him and see what kind of response he has. If it is favorable, well and good, but if it is not….”

  Kathalin understood. She glanced over at the garden gate and noticed that Mary had returned. Even so, she couldn’t keep the utter adoration out of her expression as she looked up at Gates.

  The man I love.

  “I will pray that my father gives his consent,” she said softly. “I should like to remain here, as your wife, and grow my garden and tend to my mother. It would be a wonderful life, Gates, so long as you are with me. But if we must flee to your father… do you think he will let me have a garden?”

  Gates laughed, a joyful sound, just as the servant woman came upon them. After that, their conversation was cut short, but it didn’t matter. It had been the best conversation of his life, one that gave him more hope and joy than he’d ever known possible. It almost didn’t matter to him whether or not Jasper agreed to a marriage; either way, he would have Kathalin as his wife and the fulfillment he felt at that thought was something he’d never experienced before.

  Gates stepped away from the woman, heading out of the garden and determined to seek out Jasper, but all the while, his mind was rolling with thought. He’d spent his entire life living dangerously, whether on the battlefield or in a woman’s bed. He’d found such excitement in both, but as he thought on it now, only his prowess on the battlefield had been the part of his life that had been personally satisfying. He was confident in his abilities and he felt invincible.

  But in his personal life, that was different… bedding woman after woman, treating them as disposable commodities, as if he were looking for that one woman who wasn’t disposable to him. That one woman who would fill the big hole he’d been trying to fill for a very long time, the hole that spoke of loneliness and the fear of death.

  Aye, death. Gates loved life. He loved the thrill of it, the accomplishment of it. Death frightened him because he knew he hadn’t done everything on earth that he wanted to do, and that included finding love with a good woman. It had been a secret dream, one he never fully acknowledged until this moment.

  Now, he was living that dream.

  The Dark Destroyer had finally found his mate.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Henry!” Jasper said happily. “Welcome to Hyssington, my friend!”

  Henry de Lohr was climbing out of his luxurious wagon, the one he and Elreda traveled in for any length of distance. It was enclosed and cushioned inside, keeping them comfortable and protected from the elements. Henry disembarked the rear of his wagon only to be greeted by Jasper’s big hug.

  “I am so happy to see you,” Jasper said, hearing Henry grunt when he squeezed. He released the man. “It has been too long. You are looking well.”

  Henry rubbed his ribs where the eager Jasper had nearly broken them. He chuckled at Jasper’s exuberance. “Thank you,” he said. “As are you, old friend. It has indeed been too long.”

  Jasper pulled Henry out of the way as Alexander helped his mother out of the carriage. “Lady Elreda,” Jasper greeted. “You are looking quite well today. Welcome to Hyssington.”

  Elreda smiled weakly; traveling always made her ill and she wasn’t feeling particularly well, so Jasper’s comment was a noble lie. “Thank you, Jasper,” she said. “It is very agreeable to see you again.”

  Alexander smiled at his mother, his arm around her shoulders. “How about me?” he asked. “Isn’t it agreeable to see me again, too?”

  He squeezed his mother and kissed her cheek, loudly, to which Elreda put her hand over his mouth. “Alexander,” she hissed. “Behave yourself.”

  Jasper and Henry laughed at Alexander’s enthusiasm when it came to his mother. Alexander kept trying to hug and squeeze the woman, but she didn’t want to be pawed at. She finally pushed her son away by the face to loud laughter.

  “Henry,” she said. “Do something about your son. He has gone mad.”

  Henry wagged a finger at a grinning Alexander. “Leave your mother alone for now,” he said. “You know how traveling disagrees with her. All of the manhandling you are doing will only make it worse.”

  Alexander went to his mother. “Then let me carry you into the hall, Mother,” he said. “I will not let your feet touch the ground.”

  Elreda rolled her eyes and pushed past him. “Madness,” she hissed. “Get him away from me. I am going inside!”

  Jasper and Henry, still chuckling, followed the woman towards the hall as Alexander, grinning at his parents, ordered the de Lohr escort disbanded and arranged accommodations for the men. Stephan and Tobias had come forth to assist and, soon, the big carriage was moving for the livery and the fifty-man escort was being directed towards the troop house near the north side of the fortress.

  Meanwhile, Jasper and his guests retreated into the great hall, which was surprisingly clean. Jasper, not wanting his guests, particularly the female guests, to be offended by the odor of urine and dogs, had the servants scrub the tables and floors with ash mixed with pine needles at the cook’s suggestion. Most of his servants were male and scrubbing floors and tables wasn’t something they relished doing, as that was women’s work, but they’d done a fairly acceptable job nonetheless. By the time Jasper brought Henry and Elreda into the hall, it smelled mildly of smoke, with a whiff of dog, and not much else.

  Sending a servant for refreshments for his guests, Jasper took them to the feasting table reserved for him, one with table legs that were actually stable, and had his guests sit. Small talk bounced about as servants brought pitchers of tart red wine with cups, pouring the first of what would be many cups of wine for the day. Another servant threw peat and some wood into the hearth, starting a fire to bring about some warmth, as Jasper settled in with a cup in his hand.

  “Was your trip pleasant?” he asked. “It has been a long time since I have traveled south towards Lioncross. I have not seen it in many years. Has much changed?”

  As Elreda sipped at the rich wine in the hopes of settling her stomach, Alexander answered before his father could.

  “Lioncross has not changed in over one hundred and sixty years,” he said. “Ever since the Defender of the Realm, the great Christopher de Lohr, took charge of it. He is buried in the small chapel there, you know. I think that subsequent generations feared that if they changed the fortress too much that he might rise, displeased, from his grave.”

  Henry snorted at his son’s vivid imagination. “It is not as bad as all that,” he insisted, “although there are rumors that he haunts the place. I think I even saw evidence of that, once.”

 
Jasper was very interested. “Is that so?” he asked. “What did you see?”

  Henry was thoughtful. “When I was a very young lad, I thought I saw the image of a big man with a beard standing near the hearth. He was there for a moment and then he vanished. I described him to my father and he said that I saw Christopher.”

  Jasper liked stories of ghosts and phantoms; he believed in them when the church frowned upon such things. “Interesting,” he said. “I should like to see his phantom sometime. Hyssington, of course, is without such prestige. It is a very boring place. No excitement at all.”

  Henry sipped his wine. “I am sorry to hear that,” he said. “But at least your daughter has come home. That should be some excitement, shouldn’t it? When will we meet the young woman?”

  Jasper’s thoughts shifted from ghosts of legends past to Kathalin and the entire reason for his eagerness to speak with Henry and Elreda before the other guests arrived. He was hoping to have more informal conversation first, however, setting a warm and pleasant mood before delving into the entire purpose for their invitation to Hyssington. But the subject of Kathalin had revealed itself and Jasper felt compelled to take it. He kept thinking on what Rosamund had said – we must marry her off quickly – and that fed his courage. There was no time to delay if he wanted Kathalin’s situation settled.

  It was time to set the trap.

  Briefly, his gaze moved to Alexander. His first instinct was to send the knight out of the hall so that he could speak privately with the parents but on second thought, perhaps it was best if Alexander remained. After all, it was his life, too, and from what he had seen over the past week, Alexander had gone out of his way to be polite with Kathalin and to speak with her. Perhaps a marital arrangement might be agreeable to Alexander if he thought Kathalin attractive enough.

  If the dowry was big enough.

  Even though Alexander had something of the same reputation that Gates had when it came to women, Jasper surmised that if Henry and Elreda were anything like him, as a parent, they were probably more than anxious to see their son wed and settled, especially in lieu of his reputation. Jasper was fairly certain they didn’t want their son chasing women for the rest of his life.