The Dark Lady

by Dawn Chandler

  “Aye, I still love her very much and I love you, too.” He smiled sadly when she stiffened. “I know that things are not good between us and I will not push you. I will give you all the time you need, but I want you to know I want a relationship with you.”

  Her thoughts of forgiveness were drawn short as she focused on one thing he had said. “If you did not go to see my mother again, how did you plan for the marriage?”

  “Patricia sent a messenger,” he said simply. “She said to get a marriage together and to come and get you. That she would send a message when you were there.”

  Van heart began to race and air caught in the tightness of her throat, burning painfully with each ragged breath.

  Matthew’s face grew concerned and he stood, taking a step toward her. “One of my men went to see her and then I came to get you. I had thought she knew that my standing and influence could get you a better husband than she could arrange for.”

  Van jumped to her feet, pacing the large room. She couldn’t fathom it. “She told me, you came to her, telling her you were sorry for wanting to kill me and that you had changed.”

  “Kill you? What the hell are you talking about?” He reached for her as she paced by him, but she jerked her arm from his grasp. “Stop and talk to me. I don’t understand.” His arms dropped to his sides. Confusion and pain swam in his eyes. Eyes so much like hers. “I could never want to hurt you.”

  His words had wormed their way into her heart and mind and had softened her against him. His sweet words and touching stories had taken their toll on her hatred and anger, but it was the pain and confusion that now screamed in his quiet voice that made her positive that he was not lying.

  “I cannot stay here.” She turned and ran from the room, making her way up the winding staircase without seeing the stairs beneath her.

  In her chambers, Van tried to get herself under control. How could her mother have done this to her?

  She heard a light knocking on the door, but she ignored it. It was more than likely her father and she could not face him right now. The knock came once more and then heavy footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

  She slumped down onto the bed and closed her eyes.

  Everyone had the same story, the same story of a man distraught over the loss of his beloved daughter, a man who searched for her for nineteen years.

  Thoughts spun through her mind, the same thoughts that had crossed her mind when she was younger and it was late in the night. She would lay awake thinking of the man who had sired her. She would try to imagine why a man would search for so long just to kill his daughter. She had pushed those thoughts away when she was a child, but now she let them run freely.

  Why would it be so important to him to have his daughter dead? No one could care that much if he had a daughter. Once the daughter was out of sight, she should be out of mind as well.

  Out of mind if he had wanted to kill her, but not if he only wanted to be her father.

  The castle seemed to creak around her as if the walls were trying to put in their opinions, too. The wind began to blow branches against the outside walls as if hands were reaching for her, in comfort or something else, she was unsure.

  She lay back onto the pillows and shuddered lightly. Her head throbbed as restless thoughts whirled through it like dirt in the whipping wind.

  Forcing her breathing to slow, she tried to concentrate on something besides the headache that had taken hold of her.

  She thought of the man who had acted as her father. She liked Dr. Burgess, but Matthew was right, he was the kind of man who did whatever Patricia had wanted. Even when he had disagreed with her about the way she was raising Vanessa, he would let her do what she wanted. Not only was Van her daughter and not his, but even if she had been his, Van really doubted he would have stood up to Patricia.

  She had never felt a bond with Paul, who had tried mostly to just stay out of the way. Sadly, there had been no deep bond between her and her mother either. Paul and her mother seemed to keep her at a distance—perhaps just because of her father.

  She tossed and turned until late in the night and still she could not find sleep. Unable to bear facing Matthew in the morning, she grabbed her bag and silently left the manor.

  It was not a far walk and the night was clear and not too cold. She had been in colder weather and had walked farther in her life, so she set off toward her new home on foot.

  The entire way to Grayweist she suffered fresh pain. What she wanted more than anything was to get on her horse and run, to just disappear, but she knew she could not do that.

  She was not supposed to be the Dark Knight. She was not supposed to be a warrior. Those were things she should never have been.

  She knew now that she should have grown up in the comfort that Matthew would have provided and been the kind of wife Peter deserved.

  The soft breeze caressed her cheeks and eased her mind. Perhaps she should just tell Peter the truth. She trusted him and his judgments. She had no doubts that he would help her.

  She had seen the way he had changed toward her, the way he looked at her now. She was beginning to think that he loved her. She hoped it was not just her hopeful imagination that saw these things in his eyes and his actions.

  When she got back, she would explain it all to him. Tell him everything and then try to become the kind of woman she should be.

  She was supposed to be a woman. She could be a woman. She would have to wear the right clothes and stay away from the men, but it was the way it should have been in the beginning. She would work it out with Matthew and life would be as it was meant to be before her mother used her as a pawn.

  CHAPTER 21

  As soon as Vanessa’s carriage had disappeared from his sight, Peter let out a troubled sigh. Worry tickled the back of his mind. He could not forget what the stable master had overheard when she was speaking to her horse.

  She had told him that she could not yet leave. She still had something to take care of.

  A constant barrage of questions ran over and over again through Peter’s dark thoughts.

  What if she deals with her father and then disappears? What if that is all she needs to do before she can mount her horse and ride away? Would she really just leave? Could she?

  He tried to push the concern away, but it still buzzed incessantly in his ear like a coven of gnats.

  He did his best to ignore it and set to completing his tasks for the day. Knowing he would get no sleep without her warmth against him, he decided it would be the best time to stake out Marcus Teredo’s sheep.

  He kept his mind occupied that entire day with preparations for the evening. He would take the men early and set up a camp. They could stay hidden in the tall grasses that surrounded Teredo’s pasture and in the thin line of trees that flanked the grass to the west.

  He would have a few days before Vanessa returned and he hoped that in that time more sheep were taken and they could catch the thieves. More, he hoped he could find enough to keep him busy so he would not dwell on her absence and what it might mean for him in the end.

  ***

  Ryan tugged on the sleeve of Gregory Penchiot as the men trudged along in the growing darkness on their way to their destination. Penchiot was a tall man, thick as a barrel and about as pretty. His brown hair was dull and lifeless and his green eyes were dim. He gave off the impression of a stupid man. He was cruel and mean and had few ideas of his own. No, he did what others told him.

  That suited Ryan just fine.

  He liked men around him who did what they were told. Men like Christopher Dalton who had yelled out for the entertainment at the wedding feast. Everyone seemed to believe it was Peter’s little whore that had coerced him into yelling, but it had been Ryan who had told him what to say and when.

  He nodded to Christopher and the three men began to slow.

  They slipped through the marching men until they were off to the side and out of hearing range. Ryan smiled snidely. “I have a small job
for you, Penchiot.”

  Ryan had noticed the jealousy that Peter showed when he saw his bride with other men. He planned to take advantage of that.

  The jealousy was not bad yet. It was just a glimmer, but with the correct seeds sown it could grow into an infestation. One that could make Ryan’s last few days here entertaining if nothing else.

  It would serve the overly large woman right to have her marriage fall apart for what she had done to him, he thought spitefully. His loins still ached at the missed opportunity with the enticing little minx, Amy.

  “I want you to go to Lord Lawston and make some small comments for me. Nothing bad, just some friendly advice.” Ryan grinned as the smile spread across Gregory’s face.

  He leaned forward and whispered quietly what he wanted said and then the grin widened into a full-toothed smile. As he watched Gregory hurry away to catch up with their fearless leader he thought of his actual task for the night.

  He had to stop this ambush from happening and he knew a simple way to do so. He planned to throw a rock at the head of that big stupid beast of a man, Verges. He grunted as Gregory touched Peter’s arm. He could only hope that Verges was smart enough to know it for the sign that it was.

  ***

  Peter was lost in thought of where Vanessa was and what she was doing when he started at a soft touch to his elbow. He turned to look into the face of Gregory Penchiot.

  Gregory had joined him almost a year before and Peter still did not trust him. He had considered letting him go several times, but the man did nothing he could point to with conviction. It was just a feeling, one he could not shake.

  “My lord, may I talk to you?” he asked as he sidled up next to him. “It is quiet important.”

  “Aye, Penchiot, what is it?” Not in the mood for any problems, Peter only listened with half an ear, his mind on his bride. He was not looking forward to the nights without her. More than likely, he thought, he would spend every night with the men.

  “I am not the only one who has noticed...” He fell silent and soon Peter was drawn from his thoughts.

  He turned his attention to Gregory. He came to a stop and waited. The men behind him stopped as well. He glanced at them and then back to Gregory.

  Gregory smiled lightly and continued. “I mean, I would not say anything against Lady Vanessa...”

  Peter scowled at him. “Just tell me. I do not have time for riddles this night.”

  Gregory cleared his throat and leaned closer to him. “She has been seen in the garden in the middle of the night and not alone.”

  “What do you mean, not alone? Who was she with?” Peter took a step back, not wanting to here Richard’s name mentioned, but he knew that was what he would hear.

  “One was Richard—”

  “One?” Peter could not hide his anger.

  “Devon has also been seen in the garden alone with her, Gary as well.” His voice was consolatory, but his eyes gleamed nastily. Peter barely noticed either.

  Soft waves of doubt had caressed Peter ever since he had first seen Vanessa with the men. He knew he was jealous, but he had thought it under control. Now as those soft waves began to violently crash against him he knew it was not.

  He’d had doubts about her loyalty many times, seeing her with the men and the comfort she seemed to feel around them—comfort she should not feel.

  Peter told himself firmly that she would not betray him. He reminded himself it was fear left behind by his mother, but the doubt lingered persistently.

  “I do not think it your place to tell me of my wife and her goings and comings. I think you should concern yourself with what you do from now on.” With that Peter turned and walked away.

  He took his place in the tall grass as the last of the daylight faded from the sky and watched the growing shadows closely for movement, but his mind wandered.

  Vanessa was forced into a marriage with him and she was unhappy. These things he knew without a doubt. What loyalty did she owe him?

  Images of Vanessa in the arms of other men danced before him in the darkness. He closed his eyes tightly, but her writhing body taunted him behind his closed lids.

  How could she do that? “That would explain why the men were so close to her.” His frustrated whisper disappeared into the darkness. And why they seemed so loyal, he thought.

  He opened his eyes and tried to concentrate on the task at hand but doubts and jealousy tore at him. Pain stabbed his heart and a tight lump clogged his throat.

  How many other men had she gone to? How many others knew her intimately? He could not bear to think of it. What was he to do? There had to be something he could do that would tell him if his suspicions were accurate.

  Suddenly he saw several dark shadows moving among the sheep and thoughts of his betraying wife were lost.

  The plan of attack was already set forth and no signal was needed. All the men knew what was expected of them and they moved quickly but silently. Peter’s heart began to race with adrenaline as they closed in on the intruders.

  Peter was close enough to reach out and grab one of the dark figures when the peaceful night broke into chaos.

  A deep grunt of pain and surprise was heard. Then a shout, then screams, and men began running. Peter heard the sounds of fighting and the thuds of blows connecting.

  Eolian’s men broke away and began a steady retreat. Peter took chase. He barely registered the sounds of pounding feet behind him.

  He felt a hand on his arm and slid to a stop as he was jerked around. He drew his fist back, but took an unsteady breath as his eyes focused on Grant’s face.

  “Peter, stop. What are you doing? We do not know how many men they have out there.” Grant gave Peter a gentle shake and gestured around the darkened trees. “Look how far we have already followed them.”

  Grant dropped his hand from Peter’s arm and Richard stopped behind him as he looked around. He focused his gaze on the accusing face on the moon and realized his mind had not been on the chase. He did not know where he was.

  Turning, he almost told that Grant he was right, almost, until he saw Richard standing alongside him. Then he felt his face redden and a scowl pulled at his lips.

  His wife may have betrayed him, and he would find a way to discover the truth, but for his friend to have done it was something else. Anger shook his voice as he spoke. “What did you do?”

  The men, breathing hard from the fast chase through the trees, had begun to gather around.

  “My lord?” Richard’s act at confusion enraged Peter.

  He attacked the man he had thought of as a friend. Both men slammed to the ground. Peter got in several hits before he felt hands tugging at him.

  Grant’s voice was almost panicked in the confusion. “Whatever it is, my lord, I would suggest we take it back to the castle.”

  Peter was pulled to his feet and yanked back. Grant refused to release his arm when Peter twisted at it.

  “This is not the safest place to be distracted.” Grant pulled Peter along with him, taking the lead. The men followed.

  Peter kept looking back at the men, each glancing at one another for some clue as to what had happened. Like they don’t know, Peter thought.

  Back at the castle the men were led to the dining hall. Peter grumbled and said he was not going, but Grant tightened his grip on his arm and dragged him along.

  Peter was confused by his thoughts. He could not pull himself from the past, from the pain of his mother’s abandonment.

  Richard turned toward him with his fists clenched. “Now, shall we talk about why the men took off, or about what happened between us?” he stood facing his friend, his face red with anger or embarrassment.

  Perhaps both, Peter thought as he took a deep breath to try and control the violent shaking that overtook his limbs. “They were somehow tipped off. Someone was seen, that is all. As to the other, I will talk to you in private.”

  His voice rose as he bellowed across the room, “Horacio, Puelo, come.” H
is voice lowered. “Grant, you and Devenroe will stay as well.”

  Again his voice boomed as he addressed the entire hall. “The rest of you may retire.”

  He waited until the room was empty, save for the five of them, before turning on Richard again. “I trusted you, all of you and this is how you repay me. This is how you repay me for taking you in after the Dark Knight abandoned you.”

  He ignored the look of sudden and dangerous outrage on Richard’s face and turned to Gary. “And you, this is your thanks for me taking in you and your sister.”

  “My lord—Peter, what is this about?” Grant asked.

  “They know. How many times have you taken my wife, Richard?”

  Peter did not give him time for an answer. Ignoring the shocked and confused look on Richard’s face, he threw himself at his traitorous friend. They both hit the floor with a deep grunt of pain and Peter drove his fist into Richard’s face.

  The men standing around tried to break it up, Peter just shrugged them off. What stopped him, when it finally registered, was Richard’s refusal to defend himself. He just lay there trying his best to protect his face from Peter’s blows. He did not throw a single punch.

  Dark and poisonous jealousy rampaged through Peter’s system as he pulled himself off Richard. With his head hanging low, he sucked in deep and painful gasps of air. “Why do you not even fight back? You could at least have the decency to do that.”

  Richard, blood spiraling down his thick whiskers from cracked and broken lips, just shook his head. “You are my friend. I will not hit you. When you are through and we can talk about this, then I will talk to you.”

  Peter snorted loudly. “My friend, indeed.” He fought the urge to once more attack him. He had exhausted enough of his anger that he would not attack a man who would not even defend himself.

  Richard shook his head sadly. “I do not know why you think I would betray you, but if I have done something that was offensive to you.” He took a deep breath and bowed his head in what looked like shame. “And I know I have.”