The Dark Lady

by Dawn Chandler

  Van smiled. “I know that you like him. I understand. You do need to be careful, although I think he likes you as well.” She pushed away Amy’s trembling hands as the girl’s face lit in a bright smile and her gaze jumped to Van’s eyes.

  Van just shook her head and finished the laces. “I came to ask you if you would like to help me in the gardens. I already have some of the servants starting on it.” The gardens had been the pride of Grayweist Castle when she was a page, but had fallen into a mess of weeds and grasses. The garden had been her favorite retreat during her training, and she wanted to bring it back to that glorious state once again.

  “Aye, milady, if that will take your mind off what you have just seen, then I will gladly dig in the dirt,” Amy said in a weak voice.

  CHAPTER 13

  Rebeka sat slumped in the jolting carriage as it made its way to Hillsford and thought of the hovel she was sure Vanessa had deemed to put her in. She was certain that in her spite, Vanessa would place her in the worst ramshackle of a hut she could find.

  She cursed Vanessa Lawston violently, every so often kicking the seat before her to punctuate those curses. “The new lady of Grayweist,” she snorted snidely into the empty carriage.

  The carriage came to a sudden jolting stop. Her two laughing escorts jumped to the ground. She straightened her back and lifted her head proudly, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.

  She sucked in a deep breath and steadied herself the best she could, but she still jumped when one of the soldiers tore the door open. When he looked in with his round white face and grinning mouth, she barely suppressed the urge to kick him in his crooked teeth. She had no idea who either of them were, but they were new to the castle. Perhaps if they had been Peter’s men she would have gotten more sympathy.

  She shook her head. No, she thought foully. Even Peter’s men seemed enamored of the giant woman.

  Rebeka raised an eyebrow at the man who had opened the carriage door, but he just stepped away. She scowled deeply. He smiled in return.

  “You are an ass, boy,” she spat at him. “Do you not know you are to help a lady depart a carriage?”

  “Oh I know and I do help ladies down,” he said with a gentlemanly tone that did not match the condescending smile that lit his eye as he smirked at her.

  “Get away from me then,” she snapped with as much loathing as she could pack into her words.

  He stepped back with a mock bow and gestured for her to step down. She kept her gaze on her footing as she slid unassisted from the coach.

  “Welcome to your new home.”

  Rebeka glanced up as the second man unceremoniously dropped her luggage onto the stoop.

  She made no reply but ran her gaze across the house. To her amazement, it was not a hovel or a hut. It was a nice, clean, and cozy house. She snorted at it loudly and turned to the two men who were climbing back onto their perch. “It is smaller than the house I am accustomed to,” she brayed in a loud voice that echoed across the still air.

  They made no reply and, with a flick of the whip, the horse’s hooves clattered against the hard packed street. She stood there trembling until they were out of site, and then she turned her frown toward the house.

  The door was silent as she pushed it open and the interior, much to her grudging approval, was warm and inviting. A hard heavy lump settled deep in her stomach and she didn’t even step inside. She closed the door with a slam, picked up her luggage, and walked away.

  By the end of the day she was less than two miles from Lynton, sitting at a small table in the dining room at the Doveslane Inn. She had walked for only a short distance back toward Lynton and the Castle Grayweist when an elderly lord had stopped to offer her a ride.

  He was heavyset and graying at the temples. Once in the carriage, he had smiled at her lecherously and ran his hand against her thigh. She had smiled sweetly, hiding her fear and disgust. He had told her he wanted more than her gratitude for the ride, and she had thanked him thoroughly more than once.

  Rebeka shuddered in revulsion as the memory flooded her mind. She bowed her head on the table. Luckily, he was old and quick, she thought. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, pushing thoughts of the sweat laden man away.

  Her plan was to stay out of sight for a few days and then return to the castle. She was fairly sure that it would not take longer than that for Peter to tire of his new bride. She still could not fathom how he managed to consummate the marriage.

  She could hear the other guests of the Inn bustling around as they checked in and out, but she did not raise her head nor pay them much heed.

  The scraping of a chair drew her attention. Her gaze shot up as a large man wrapped in a filthy cloak sat down without a word.

  “Pardon me, can I help you?” she said with more bravado than she felt.

  She eyed the big man cautiously and concern started to worm through her. He was dressed in black and bulky clothing and looked out of place in the somewhat respectable inn.

  Without lifting his hooded head, he gave a small laugh. The sound splintered through her like an axe through rotted wood. The chair groaned and protested as he shifted his massive bulk. “You talk awfully arrogant for nothing more than a whore.” His raspy voice sent violent chills of fear through her.

  Rebeka sucked in a deep breath. She looked around her and saw to her dismay that every person in the Inn was casting long sideways glances at the big man. She shook her head and prayed no one noticed who she was. Peter could not know she was here until the time was right.

  She could not afford to draw any more attention to herself than necessary and decided her best course of action would be to leave the man sitting where he was. She started to rise. Long rough fingers wrapped around her slender wrist. She could feel the blood drain from her face as her bones scraped together.

  Sharp pain tugged at her wrist and arm, dragging a sharp cry from her dry lips. “Let me go or I will scream.” She stood in a crouch and struggled against his iron grip. Concern over being caught by Peter was being overrun by a steady pulsing fear for her safety.

  “Scream. From what I have been told it will come as a surprise that you are not in Hillsford.” His words were soft and calm as if this were tea time in the parlor.

  He tugged her forward and she sat so quickly she issued a grunt. His grip loosened and she pulled her hand away, absently rubbing her wrist.

  “I have a message.” He shifted his bulk closer to her and whispered conspiringly. “The Knight of Fear wants to see you.”

  Fear turned to icy terror at the sound of his name. “Why?”

  “I do not ask things that are not my concern.” A rancid smell of decay and old food wafted over her as he leaned even closer. “I am to bring you to him. He thought you might be a little reluctant, so he sent me. I have a way of...bringing around hesitant folks.” He stood suddenly and she heard several people gasp behind her. He held out his hand in invitation.

  Rebeka sat there like a stone, staring at him. He tilted his head and the hood slid back, revealing the sharp, jagged angles of his almost sunken nose. His dark brown eyes were dull and pained, but showed intelligence and a deep seated anger. The man smiled widely. Grimy blackened teeth showed between cracked and bloody lips.

  “You can take it or scream. I don’t care one whit either way. It has been awhile since I have killed a lot of nice-dressed folk.” The chilling words were said in that same even tone.

  She rose without taking his hand and followed him out to an awaiting carriage. The man on the driver’s perch sat rigidly, staring forward, and did not even acknowledge their approach.

  The big man pulled open the door to the windowless carriage and placed a large sweaty hand on her arm. A violent tremor overtook her muscles and raced throughout her body. She tried to pull away, but he propelled her into the carriage as if she were a child’s ragdoll.

  The door closed and she let out shaky breath when she realized she would not have t
o ride with the odoriferous and terrifying man.

  The interior was lit by two candles that adorned the candelabras attached to each side of the carriage. The air inside was slightly smoky, but not overpowering. She watched as the smoke swirled along the ceiling and then disappeared out a small slit in the covering. A sliver of fading daylight beckoned her through the vent and she started to cry.

  She could hear the horses whinny and snort in restless anticipation. The leather harnesses creaked and strained as if the horses were fighting against their restraints. She closed eyes and laid her head back against the seat. The jolt of the carriage bounced her head painfully.

  All her life she had been the one in control. She knew very well where her power had come from, but she had never been above using whatever was necessary to obtain what she wanted.

  First, it had been due to her father. He was a man of no land and little worth, but made up for it with malice and fear. Rebeka had learned at an early age to use that to her benefit, throwing her weight around, knowing her father would back her up.

  She shifted in the uncomfortable carriage seat and smiled weakly as she thought of how good her life had been before her father had died. No one questioned her, no one contradicted her.

  Never had she been afraid of anyone. Well, besides her father, she thought, brushing impatiently at her wet cheeks.

  She was not a woman above tears, but they were always used to get what she wanted. Very seldom in her life had she had need to actually cry.

  Rebeka scrubbed at her weeping eyes and shifted along with the rocking of the quickly moving carriage. She took a deep breath, retaining an unsteady hold on her racing emotions.

  Dragging in a sharp, painful breath that wheezed past her heavy heart, she forced herself to focus on the memories of her life. It was easier than to think of what her future now held.

  Rebeka remembered being uneasy when her father had died, avoiding the people who might not have been so accommodating to her now that he was gone. It was then she decided to find a protector.

  She opened her eyes and smiled as she thought of Peter. She had met him two years ago. He had been in mourning over his father and unnerved by an arranged marriage to some girl he had known when she was only one. He had been distracted and consumed with only his men. It had been easy to coerce him. She had soon taken over the run of the castle.

  Rebeka’s smile fell away. Vanessa, she thought with a snarl. Her tears were completely forgotten as anger assailed her.

  She had heard rumors of a shy and secluded girl, young and sheltered, and never seen even by those of the village where she lived. Rebeka had thought to intimidate her. She had been expecting a weak child and had been taken off guard by the giant of a woman who had arrived.

  Rebeka had little experience with fear, and yet she could not imagine a greater fear than she had felt on the day of Peter’s marriage celebration, that first night in the corridor. She shivered uncontrollably as she felt the chills that had run rampant over her spine that night. She could almost feel the tight grip on her throat and gagged slightly with the vivid memory. She had seriously thought the new Lady of the Castle was going to kill her.

  The carriage came to a jerky stop thankfully throwing off the painful memory. Her heart thrummed in anticipation and dread.

  The door opened and someone held out an almost delicate hand to her. She looked beyond him at black trees and shadows. She took note of the dark, star-sprinkled sky through the tops of the trees and realized they had traveled into the night.

  She looked back at the man who patiently held his hand out to her, surprised to see a wide, friendly smile and bright blue eyes. Knowing she had no choice at this point other than to acquiesce, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to assist her onto the moist, leaf-strewn ground. Her foot sank slightly.

  “Where is my abductor?” she asked quietly, looking around.

  “Verges? Oh, he had other things to take care of. Come, let me take you inside.” His voice was gentle, but it did nothing to calm her.

  “Inside where?” she said timidly.

  He smiled sweetly, placed his hand on her arm, and pulled her gently along.

  A small cabin seemed to appear within the darkness of the trees as they approached it. She relaxed slightly.

  He opened the door to the cottage. Warm air wafted out at her. She shivered and her feet stopped once again. The man just chuckled lightly and pushed her through the open door. Her muscles twitched as a torrent of fear threatened to drown her.

  “Close the door,” a deep voice said from a tall backed chair facing the fireplace.

  Rebeka turned toward the door, but her escort was gone. She took a deep breath and thought to run. Her body slumped. There was nowhere to go. She did not know where she was and she had an idea that if she ran, she would not get far before they caught her.

  She pushed the door closed soundly and gathered all her courage. It wasn’t much, but when she spoke her voice did not betray the scared little girl she felt like. She turned back toward the chair and forced herself to take a step forward. “Are you the Knight of Fear? I have heard much about you.”

  “Have you now?” The eerie voice floated up from the far side of the chair.

  “There is always idle talk after the meals.” This time her voice was weaker. The scared little girl peered out from beneath her façade of bravery.

  He stood gracefully and turned to face her. Her breath caught. He was a handsome man with thick black hair, light brown eyes, and a wide nose. It was not a delicate face, but it was a rugged one.

  “My name is Eolian Montgomery. I have asked you here, knowing that you were turned out of your home, a home you have known for the past two years.” He spoke with a passion and a deeply embedded anger that frightened her. “I know you are without a protector and that you have refused both the money and the housing that the new lady has provided you.”

  She quivered as he stepped closer. “What does that have to do with you?”

  “I am offering my protection. More importantly, I am offering you a way to get back at the self-righteous Sir Peter and perhaps a way to get your rightful place from the woman who took it.”

  “How can you give me back what was taken?” she asked, her interest peaking. Her fear faded beneath a lustful desire for power and prestige.

  Eolian did not answer, only smiled, sending chills down her spine. He beckoned her forward and unable to refuse, as she looked deep into his eyes, she took several steps forward.

  “Take your clothes off.” His smile fell away and his dark features became passive, his voice calm in the same careful tone he had used to tell her to close the door.

  She took a step back, fear trying to insinuate itself into her mind again. She pushed it away the best she could, but still it remained to taunt her seductively. A knot formed deep in her throat threatening to cut off her breathing. “What?”

  He took another step toward her and she retreated again keeping the same distance between them. “If I am to be your protector, I will see my new property.” He shrugged indifferently and shook his head. “Take them off now or I will send you back to Hillsford and you will stay there.”

  She took another step back to widen the gap. “You cannot make me stay there.”

  “You are right. I will just take you to Lady Grayweist. I am sure she will have plenty of time to deal with you before she becomes occupied with giving her husband an heir,” he said calmly and turned away.

  “Wait,” she said weakly and began to hastily remove her clothing. She fumbled with the fasteners as her fingers trembled uncontrollably. A tear slid down her face. Once she was standing naked she stared at the floor.

  The warmth of the fire caressed her lovingly. It reminded her of the heat that had flowed through her in response to his smile. She wondered irrationally what it would take to get him to smile at her once more.

  She stole a glance at him then focused again on her slipper-clad feet. “How can you promise to
return me to Grayweist?”

  “When I take over Grayweist, I will be in need of a woman to stand at my side and bring heirs to my home.”

  Her gaze shot to his face. He did not appear to be jesting and her heart skipped erratically. She took a careful step forward, never taking her gaze from his arresting brown eyes. “I can be the Lady of Grayweist castle and not just your mistress?”

  He smiled. That small act of approval thrilled her more than anything she could ever remember. The warmth of the fire was suddenly overpowering and she pressed her thighs together to stem the quivering anticipation that was building.

  This time when he approached her, she stepped forward to meet him.

  CHAPTER 14

  Peter had thought of nothing besides his aggravating wife since he had left the lists. With his mind not on the training, he had made mistakes and took several good hits.

  An hour before the sun set, and training would end, he took his leave and headed for the castle. He told himself he was tired, dirty, and wanted nothing more than to bathe and rest, but he knew what he wanted was to see his wife.

  Looking forward to a bath, he had sent Grant ahead of him to see to it. Now, Grant met him at the foot of the stairs. “Your bride is not in here.”

  Peter tried to scowl at him, but a smile touched his lips. “Did I ask about my wife, Hestlay?”

  Grant snapped off a mock bow. “No, my lord and liege, you did not.” His artificial military demeanor made Peter’s grin widen.

  “I told you I was coming early for a bath.” Peter had known the men were not fooled when he had left. He very seldom left the training field before his men and then it was for something more important than a bath. He grunted.

  Grant’s face lit with a knowing smile that made Peter want to smack him upside the head, perhaps with his sword. “I know what you said, my lord. I also know you want to check on your new bride.”

  He shook his head in objection. “Of course, I want to check on her. I need to make sure she is not whipping the help or training the men.”