The Dark Lady

by Dawn Chandler

  “Aye, I saw you. You were as much a handful then as you are now. Screamed and kicked. You were indeed a hellion.” He grinned at her playfully. “I remember well that I was the only one who could calm you when your mood was particularly foul.”

  Her eyes darted to his and she could feel the heat of embarrassment color her face. She cleared her throat and tried not to think of how much she had loved him when she was a page in training.

  “What do you remember or what has my father told you?” She didn’t want to know. She wanted nothing more than to stop this line of questioning and not betray her mother’s memory, but honor insisted that she ask. If her father was not the man she thought he was, then she had to know.

  “Well,” Peter relaxed back against the chair and considered her for a moment. Then he smiled and her heart fluttered within her.

  “I was twelve when you were born. My father and I sat with Matthew the entire night as he paced the floor, while you were being birthed.” Peter leaned forward and caught her gaze.

  She stared into his blue eyes and was unable to look away.

  He was unsure of what to tell her and did not like the pained look in her eyes. He did not like the uncertainty that he saw or the uncertainty that he felt. “He was very proud. I even helped look for you after your mo—after you were gone.” Grasping her hands he kissed them. “I think it would be best if your father was the one who told you of your first year.” He watched Van get to her feet, smiling as he noticed she had not removed her slippers.

  “Yes, I shall go to him for a few days. My mother told me she ran because my father wanted to kill me, just for the fact that I was a girl.” She looked down at the empty fireplace and shuddered.

  Peter wanted to go to her, but held off. He felt that she needed a moment to gather her thoughts.

  Her voice was low when she finally spoke again. “I can live with that, being a girl is not an honor or something to be respected, I understand this. I do not know if I can understand my mother lying to me, making me become a—” She jerked her head up and stared back at him.

  He waited patiently and then finally asked. “Become a what? Where have you been for the last nineteen years?” Peter had wondered that since he had agreed to marry her, where she had been, how she had been raised. Now that he had mentioned going to her father he wondered something more.

  Were the problems concerning her father the something she had spoken to her stallion about, the something that she had to take care of before she could leave? Once they were settled would she then just disappear?

  A sudden heavy pressure gripped his chest. He stood and walked toward her barely resisting the urge to grab her and hold her safely to him.

  Her eyes were clouded with questions and doubt. “My mother was a good woman. At least I always thought so. She always did what she had to in order to protect me.” She shrugged. “But if I did not need protecting, than what was it all for? Just so she did not have to go back to him?”

  “From what I remember, she was not a happy woman. She had difficulties with Matthew and his mistress. It is the way of life with men. Your mother was just not able to accept it.”

  She looked at him firmly. “I will not be able to accept it either. I will give my loyalty to only one man. I will expect the same from him. I will not compromise on this.”

  He smiled. He had no desire to be with another woman, but was unwilling to tell her that outright. Instead, he moved the conversation to something else he had been curious about. She had mentioned several things that made him wonder if she was ashamed of what she was born.

  “You speak badly of being a woman. Is it so bad to be one?” He knew there were some women who were unhappy being female, though they were few and far between. Those women wanted the respect and rights given to a man.

  She looked at him for several long seconds as if contemplating exactly what to tell him, or how much. “I have never thought about it. Being a woman does not bother me, but being thought of as a weak woman, a woman with no rights and no honor does. Just because one is born a woman does not mean she cannot do anything that a man can do if given the proper chances.”

  “It does not work that way. A woman is not a strong as a man.” He laughed as she tilted her head at him, looked down at herself, and then back at him. She raised an arrogant black brow and plopped angrily into her chair.

  “Put your beautiful brow down. You are not the typical woman. You are strong, but most women are not.” Peter shook his head. He was surprised that he had admitted that she was strong. She was, but he didn’t like to admit it.

  “That is because most women have not had the opportunity to become the best of what they can be.”

  Peter watched intently as she slipped her slippers from her feet and Peter thought he caught a glimpse of a leather sole on them. He smiled. It did not surprise him in the least.

  “Most women would not even want to be anything except what they are.” He felt the stirrings of arousal as she massaged the white soles of her feet, running her fingers in between her toes. He turned quickly toward the door, shaking the feelings of arousal off the best her could. “I will send up that bath, and we will arrange for you to spend some time with your father.”

  With that he was gone, leaving her to wonder if her father did indeed have any of the answers she needed. Something to tell her who she should be. She had not lied to Peter. She liked being a woman. It was a new experience for her, but she liked it nevertheless. She had never before been one, but she had always known she was one. It had always given her extra pride to think she had prevailed over men, given her extra incentive to try harder. There had been no room in her charade for failure.

  Now her life was spinning out of control and she felt helpless to change anything in it.

  All her thoughts brought her to one conclusion: it was best to be a woman when no one knew you were one.

  CHAPTER 19

  Van lay staring into the darkness, long into the night. The gentle snores beside her did nothing to soothe her troubled mind.

  She wanted back the decisions of battle and knighthood. Those had been much easier problems for her to solve. They were things she was used to. Now she was unsure of what the correct tactics were to insure victory. She was not even sure what constituted victory as a woman, a wife, and a daughter.

  Thoughts of her father swirled through her weary mind, tormenting and teasing her. Questions about him danced mischievously right beyond her grasp, not giving her the answers that she desperately sought. She closed her eyes and forced her body to lie still even though she could feel her nerves tickling right below the surface of her skin. She itched to toss and turn.

  She took long deep breaths and forced her tightened muscles to relax. Her mind began to relax with her body and she was able to push her father from her mind.

  As sleep dragged at her, images of Eolian began to swirl and pull at her mind. She grunted lightly and opened her eyes.

  Looking at the slightly darker square of wall that indicated the window, she sighed. There would be no escape for her this night. Not through the window and not into peaceful dreams.

  She leaned her head back into the softness of the feather pillow and resigned herself to a sleepless night.

  Eolian worried her, but not for herself. She was concerned for the safety of those around her, those she had come to care for.

  She thought she had considered the results of her coming here carefully, but now she knew that she had not taken in all the facts. It hurt her pride to think she had so blatantly missed such important information.

  She had decided before coming how simple it would be just to disappear. If things were not as she wanted or if someone suspected she was more than she portrayed then she could easily mount Damien and fade into the night. She had blindly assumed that her coming had not been a problem for anyone, not counting herself.

  Knowing this, had given her confidence. Now she was not so sure. Eolian had undoubtedly followed her men, thi
nking they would bring him to the Dark Knight eventually. Now they were here and even if she left, her men would not. The ones here would still be in danger.

  How long had he been here watching? Did he follow the men directly here or had he just shown up when the sheep started disappearing? She hoped he had not followed the men directly. That would mean that Eolian had followed her to Junket and that would not do.

  Questions swam, unanswered, through her sleep-deprived mind.

  Closing her eyes, she struggled to get some rest. Still the questions came. How long would Eolian wait to find the man he had sworn to kill? Did he have someone on the inside doing the watching for him? Her breath seemed to catch in her throat.

  Her eyes sprung open and she slid silently from the bed careful not to wake Peter. What was she to do? She grabbed a night robe on her way out of the room, walking down the servants stairs and out into the night. Soon she found herself walking in the garden once again. Sitting on the large marble bench, she leaned her head back. The dark, cloudy sky did nothing to relax her tensions.

  She was unsure what to do. She had tried talking to Peter before bed about the men. He refused to tell her anything, saying it was no concern of a woman. Sometimes he was more bull headed than he had the right to be. He had wanted to know how she had known Verges and was even more angered when she had known his name.

  Van had tried to convince him that a lot of people in Junket knew who they were. That had only brought silence out of him. He had looked at her with suspicion and worry.

  There would be no more discussion of it. He had made that clear. He would not take any advice from a woman. At least not directly, she thought with a sly smile. If it was her advice but told by someone else...like about the boys. She had told them to watch the brothers and when Richard told him he had listened to it.

  That brought her to her feet. On the way out of the garden, she sensed movement. She slid into the dense branches of the overgrown brambles, her heart racing. Had they found her so soon? Relief washed over her as Richard stepped into view.

  “Richard.” Her voice was nothing more than a bare whisper.

  Startled, Richard whirled to face the soft voice, his hand slipping automatically to his sword hilt. He took a deep breath and relaxed as Lady Vanessa stepped into view. “My lady, you should not be out here this late.”

  “Why are you? Just out for a stroll in the garden at this late hour?” She motioned for him to follow her.

  He hesitated for a moment as she turned and walked toward the barracks. His gaze followed the path of the vines until they reached the window to Peter’s chambers. He hoped his liege was still asleep as he turned away to follow the frustrating woman.

  “I saw someone wandering. I heard of your daring escape down the vine.” They stopped beneath a large oak about halfway between the castle and the barracks. Richard looked nervously around the empty yard. He turned his focus back to Vanessa. “Those vines might make it easy for anyone who wants into the keep.”

  She turned toward him. The moon peeked from behind the clouds, glowing lightly against the powder on her face, making it sparkle. “Aye, I have thought of that as well. The grounds-men are to remove them first thing in the morning. I want to talk to you. I was on my way to the barracks to find you.”

  Richard shook his head, but felt no real surprise. “That would not be wise. If someone were to see us...well I shudder to think what Peter will think.” Why him? he thought for the thousandth time since the lady had appeared at his side. Why is it that when she needed someone it was him she went to? If she could not go to her husband, why not Grant as he was second here? Why had she chosen him so quickly?

  “Aye, that may be.” Her soft whisper pulled him from his musings. “I still need to talk to you. With Eolian here—”

  He raised his hand at her. “Did Lord Grayweist tell you that was who it was?” It had not been mentioned that she knew.

  “Nay, where I know it from does not matter. Are you listening to me?” At his nod she continued. “He got here, according to Marcus Teredo, not long after you and m—the men arrived. I think they followed you here.”

  “Why would they have done that?” He knew full well why. Eolian still wanted revenge for his losses to the Dark Knight and for the loss of the poor girl that Van had rescued from his clutches.

  He was curious what Vanessa thought the reasons were, but was sure he would not learn them this night. She always seemed to keep her knowledge well hidden.

  She smiled, her white teeth flashing quickly in the moonlight. “I am sure he has his reasons, just as I know you are aware of what they are. Men do not follow others across the countryside without both knowing why it is they do it.”

  Richard grunted as much in irritation as consent. She had an aggravating way of talking without answering questions and without agreeing to anything.

  “If Eolian is looking for someone,” she continued, stepping closer to him. “He is not going to just stand around and wait for him to show up. When he does not find him, he will do something to help his search along.”

  Richard’s eyes widened. He understood where she was going with her thoughts. He agreed with her. It was not like Eolian to wait for something to happen. He would force his hand if necessary.

  Van looked around the dark night carefully before turning back to him. “The two brothers were gone more than long enough to have had a talk with him or one of his men, someone like Verges. It is more than a remote possibility that they are at the very least just watching things for him.”

  “At the most, they have been told to do something. But what and when?” Richard had begun to pace before her.

  “I think that will depend on how long it takes him to find the Dark Knight,” Vanessa said matter-of-factly.

  “What makes you think that is who he is looking for?” Richard focused hard on her face, but could see little as the clouds covered the moon once more.

  “I am not stupid. It does not take much thought to determine that the man following the Dark Knight’s men is after the Dark Knight.” Her voice was tight and high pitched. It cracked as she spoke.

  He thought there was more to it than she was saying, but knew there was nothing to be done about it right now. He needed to get her to say what she needed to say and return to her bed. It would be disastrous if the wrong person saw them speaking. “What will he do when the Dark Knight doesn’t show up?”

  “Take someone or do something so he will not have a choice but to show himself.” The moon peeked from behind her floating veils and shone across Vanessa’s dark eyes. He met her gaze and held it. He knew her.

  Every time his heart tried to tell him who it was, his mind refused to listen, saying it was impossible, leaving him with an unsettled feeling, like knowing a word that is on the tip of your tongue, but not being able to get it out.

  “Take who? You?” This worried Richard, he might not remember who she was but he had come to care a great deal for her in the short time that she had been here.

  She gave a short snort of laughter. “I do not think so. I do not think it will come to that. It would be funny if he did.”

  “Funny, I think not.” Richard shook his head. Only she could think it funny.

  Van just shook her head in return. “He would only want me if his intention was to get to Peter.”

  Richard realized this was true, but still did not understand the humor in it. It was not funny in his opinion for Eolian to kidnap her to get the Dark Knight to rescue her. Eolian of all people knew Van had a tendency to rescue women in peril.

  “I want an extra watch put on the boys. I believe they are up to something. They have changed too drastically from what the others reported on the march here, for it to be a coincidence.” She reached across and gently touched his arm. “I fear for you.”

  “Me?” he asked in surprise.

  “You are the closest to the Dark Knight and unless something else happens, you are the only pawn he has.” She let her hand fall
away and took a step back.

  “What do you mean, if something else happens?” He felt that familiar tickle of recognition tease him and disappear.

  She only took another step away.

  “I will keep a close watch on the boys and do not worry about me. I can take care of myself.” Knowing he would get nothing more from her this night, he just smiled and shook his head in wonder. “I will speak with Peter in the morning.”

  With a quick nod she disappeared into the darkness toward the castle.

  Richard stood for several moments until he was sure she was safe inside without incidence and then turned to head back to the barracks. He approached the dark building and slowed cautiously as a dark figure stepped from the shadows.

  “Have a nice chat with the lady?” Sneering at him was Ryan Deumount, his deep brown eyes almost black in the moon lit night.

  “What are you doing out here? You are not on the night guard tonight.” He had met Ryan the first night his men arrived. He was new to Peter’s men, had only been with him for about six months. Every one said he seemed to be loyal, but no one admitted to trusting him. He was a cruel man, a warrior through and through. Richard did not like or trust him.

  “I do not have to answer to you,” Ryan said. “You are not the man in charge of me. As far as I am concerned you are no better than I. You may have been second to the Dark Knight, but he is not here, is he?” Ryan stepped closer to him, breathing deeply upon him. “Where did he hide away, anyway? Everyone wants to know.”

  Anger flashed through Richard like a hot tendril of flame and his fist clinched around his sword hilt. “Hiding is not something the Dark Knight would do.”

  Ryan’s eyes flicked nervously to Richard’s sword and then back to his eyes. He held his ground.

  “He is a man of honor, which is more than I can say I have seen from you.” Richard grinned as anger lit in Ryan’s eyes and his lips snarled. “And aye, you do answer to me, I may have been the second to the Dark Knight, but what a lot of men around here seem to have forgotten was that I was third to the Dragon Knight long before that.” Richard took a deep breath and let his hand fall from his sword as the anger slipped from him. “I may have lost some standing over the years, but I still stand beside him. I may no longer be second, but I am a far cry above you.”