The Dark Lady
Page 50
“I apologize that we have not come to see you in the last few days, my lady. I hope you know you were in our prayers and our thoughts.” His voice was thick with respect and he looked at her lovingly, as he had when she was still the Dark Knight.
“Richard.” The tearful word was all she could say.
Behind Richard were her men, Verges included, and flanking them were Peter’s men. All stood at attention. Then as if on cue all her men dropped to one knee before her.
Her hand flew to her throat, her breath caught, and she would have fallen had Peter not grasped her waist. His encouragement meant everything to her, as did his love.
Her eyes met Richard’s deep green ones as he spoke. “My liege, we have made a grievous error. We swore our fealty to you and when you needed us the most, we turned away.” His voice shook with passion and her heart stilled. “We would reaffirm our pledge to you. Our featly and honor is yours, if you will but accept it and our humblest apologies.”
Richard dropped to his knees before her, his hand outstretched above his bowed head to await her answer.
She looked out at all her men with their heads bowed in a pledge of fealty to her and she was transported back in time to the first time they had made the gesture.
With a lump in her throat she stepped away from her husband and on shaky legs approached her men.
She raised her bare foot and laid it gently in Richard’s waiting hand, his fingers curled around it possessively.
Peter stepped up beside her and wrapped a loving arm around her waist. A tear streamed down her face as Peter’s men took to one knee.
They were finally as one.
EPILOGUE
England 1161:
Peter paced before two new squires who had been sent from the manor of Lord Johanson. He watched carefully as Daniel Reeres, and Raymond Donlay struggled against their captors.
Daniel cursed as Richard’s arms tightened around his kicking and screaming form, while Grant did his best to contain the other irate lad.
Peter knew that things had been coming to a boil between the two arrogant young men for two weeks now. Raymond was a bully, treating the smaller and younger Daniel with malice and disrespect since long before they had arrived.
Their disobedience was the reason they had been sent to Grayweist. Lord Johanson had hoped Peter would be able to turn the boys around. They were at constant war with each other and had been since Daniel had come to be a page under Hardy Johanson.
While Raymond stood at least six foot and was burly as an ox, Daniel was at least a good six inches shorter and thin.
Peter saw great potential in the younger Daniel. His size was not a deterrent to his strength or his skill with a sword. Peter had seen him practicing after the others had gone to sleep. He was good and getting better.
Peter paced back and forth before them and scowled deeply. The men around them waited patiently for the situation to be settled.
Peter had contrived every way to get through to Raymond the importance of judgment. It was not safe to ever assume anything in battle, especially not to underestimate the abilities of another. Appearance meant nothing.
He had tried everything he could think of to get across to the arrogant young know-it-all that appearance meant nothing. Peter did not know how he was going to get him to understand.
His last resort was to give them both a sword and let them deal with it. But until Raymond no longer believed himself impervious to the smaller boy that would not be possible.
Peter knew that if Raymond went into it unprepared and too cocky, one or both of them would be hurt. He had never dealt with a more stubborn fool...Well, yes, there was one, even cockier than any of the boys he had encountered so far, including Raymond. In fact he had spoken to that very arrogant and pigheaded woman about his options concerning the boys.
He smiled as he thought about his beautiful wife. He had missed her in the lists these last seven months, even though he was surprised that she had followed his instructions for once and stayed away.
In the beginning he had fought Van tooth and nail for as long as he could before admitting defeat. When the first pages had arrived three years ago, it had been an everyday battle to keep her away from them.
Peter had absolutely and adamantly refused to let her come to the lists. That had all changed, in a big way, a little more than a year after they had been married.
The boys and the men faded from his mind as he was swept back to that warm day two years ago...
***
Peter returned to the lists after seeing to his tenants. Anger swirled through him when he saw his wife standing nose to nose with one of his new men, Mavis Bowers. He shook his head. She was not even supposed to be at the lists.
He dismounted several paces away, but neither seemed to take notice of him as they shouted at each other.
Mavis loudly told her to take herself back to the kitchen where she belonged and Peter cringed as she threatened to cut off the place where his brains were dangling.
Peter rushed toward them, hoping to stop the confrontation before it got any further out of hand. The men and the new pages were all milling around, unsure of what to do.
Peter stopped at Van’s side just as Bowers drew his sword. Peter had a quick vision of her, sick and fevered in bed, as she had been after the battle with Eolian and fear quickly turned to rage.
He pulled Van behind him and advanced on Mavis. “If you would like to live, I would suggest you never insult my wife again.” His voice boomed with the darkness of a thunderstorm.
The color drained from Mavis’s face and he dropped his sword.
Peter turned to Van, surprised to see her calmly waiting for him to finish. She mounted her horse willingly and said nothing when he mounted Jackal and reined in beside her.
Unease began to set in his mind, but he pushed it away, telling himself that she was acting this way because he was finally getting through to her. She rode silently to the castle, a slight smile on her face the entire way.
At the castle he kissed her gently.
She kissed him back, but the grin she gave him sent chills down his spine, he just wasn’t sure why.
He dismounted again at the lists and Richard and Devon, as well as several others of the men who had ridden with Van before their marriage, stared at him with concern and misgivings. “What is that look for?” he asked Richard.
Richard smiled a little uneasily. “I just have not seen the Dark Knight in a while, my lord.”
“You see her every day,” Peter said surprised.
“Aye, I see her every day, but it has been a long time since I have seen him,” Richard said. When Peter had only stared at him, Richard shook his head. “You interrupted at the wrong time. He has been tormenting her since his arrival six months ago, saying he has heard of the reputation of the Dark Knight.”
Peter sucked in a deep breath and shook his head. Her silence had not been acquiescence, but anger. He shuddered to think of what her devious mind was planning to get even with him.
Richard sighed and looked across at Mavis who smiled arrogantly as he spoke to some of the men. “He thinks it is all exaggerated or else she is lying about being him, and he had told her so. She had decided enough was enough, and when you pulled her away she had just put her hand on the hilt of her sword.”
“Hell,” Peter said quietly. He looked in the direction of the castle and considered going to her before she did anything rash.
“You embarrassed her. Now he thinks he was right to call her just a woman and not to respect her.” Richard shrugged apologetically. “When you pulled her behind you like she needed protection, I saw the Dark Knight come forward.”
Peter laughed and it was an uneasy sound that made him shudder. “That explains the grin. I did not understand why it had made me nervous when I dropped her off, now I do. I will—”
Thundering horse beats cut his words off. Turning, he blanched.
Riding toward him, in full armor, was
the Dark Knight. She rode with her black helm resting on her thick thigh, and an arm slung carelessly over the top of it.
“She is beyond enraged, my lord.” Richard gave a groan. “She has the helm off so you will see it.”
She took both hands off the reins and slipped the helm over her thick black braid. Damien skidded to a shaky halt before the men. Before he had come to full stop, she had landed on the ground, sword in hand.
“I would suggest you draw your sword.” At Devon’s warning to Bowers, Peter looked at the unprepared man as Van approached.
Mavis laughed, proclaiming loudly, “Putting on a costume changes nothing. You will always be just a girl, Vanessa.”
Peter looked at her, thinking of the strength she possessed and fearing for Mavis’s safety.
Van twisted her hand and rotated the sword until it pointed out behind her like a dagger ready to plunge into the man’s heart. She swaggered toward him lowering her head until all that showed in the shadows beneath the helm was the arrogant grin.
Richard shoved Peter forward. “God, she will kill him.”
Even as Peter began to move, the Dark Knight’s deep, graveled growl, full of arrogance and pride, proved Richard was right about her intent. “This girl has killed better men than you.”
With no more warning than that, she swung her sword in an overhand arch and almost took off Mavis’s head before he got his sword free to stop her. She rotated her calloused hand once more and the sword swung back into the proper position.
The ensuing battle was short, but violent as she hacked at him with the same ferocity she had possessed in her encounter with Ryan Deumount. The only difference being, Bowers was not the swordsman he thought he was.
Mavis lost his sword to a heavy blow and was dropped to his knees by the crushing impact to his ribs that followed. The flat of her sword had knocked the wind from him and he held up his hands in surrender.
Peter saw the battle lust still raging in her eyes and was prepared when she swung her blade in for the killing blow. The ring of steel echoed across the field as Peter stepped in front of the downed man.
Horror spread through Peter when instead of giving up as he had expected her to, her grin spread and she swung on him. On him, her husband. He could not believe it, and he barely had the wits about him to raise his weapon to defend himself.
“Stop. What are you doing?” he asked in a panic.
His wife advanced on him as he stepped back. She didn’t answer his question, just thrust at him once more.
He deflected the soft blow with a growl. “Stop. Now.” He was starting to lose his temper, which with her it seemed to happen all too often.
“Why?” She parried and thrust without the fervor she had used only moments ago. “Are you afraid to face me?”
Peter didn’t believe it for a moment. Her deep ebony eyes still smoldered with the fires of her unsatisfied anger.
At first he only tried to block her blows, but his temper was getting the best of him. When she swung several hard, true hits against him, he stepped away stunned by the strength behind them.
She had been his wife for over a year. When did she practice to stay in such shape?
Her ringing voice put him quickly on the offensive. “Men, what is your lord’s first rule of battle.”
The men all spoke in unison, their voice clearly ringing though the lists. “Never underestimate your enemy.”
He attacked.
The men circled them unsure of what to do. The battle raged until both combatants were slick with sweat.
Van sliced through his chain mail with a slow sweep of her sharpened sword and Peter returned the blow with a bruising shot to her ribs.
With a grunt of pain she doubled over. Peter knew she would not surrender to him, and he caught the hilt of her sword, ripping it from her hands. It skidded across the meadow tearing a swatch through the grass. He lifted the sword to her throat to show he had won.
His heart fell into his stomach as Van spun toward him and the deadly sharp edge of his sword scratched the skin of her throat, a trickle of blood ran down her dark, tanned skin.
Horrified he thought to withdraw his sword and beg her forgiveness. That was until he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. Looking down his eyes widened in disbelief.
Through the rent in his mail she had slipped her dagger, the very one he had given her, its jeweled hilt sparkling in the warm sunlight. The cold steel had pierced his skin, not enough to be lethal, but enough to know it was there.
She smiled, no, she grinned that same devil-may-care grin that still tormented him. “Shall we call it a draw, my lord husband?”
Unfortunately, it was then that he noticed more blood than the small trickle on her exposed neck. The shot to her ribs had torn through her mail, and was now bleeding.
He dropped his sword tip to the ground and took a step toward her with a question on his lips.
Her soft whisper stopped him more than the dagger that had somehow found its way from his waist to his neck. “You were not about to ask me if I was all right in front of your men, now would you have been, Dragon Knight?”
When he shook his head no, she smiled up at him with such love and adoration that it took all the control he had not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her—and be damned who saw it.
His control may not have been enough to keep him from her arms, but her arrogant words were. “You do know, my lord, that the only reason I did not take your head on the many occasions you gave me was because you are my husband and I love you, right?”
His laughter rang out across the lists. “And you know that the only reason you got those occasions was because I went easy on you, because I love you, my lady wife.”
He watched her retrieve her sword, but instead of sheathing it she pointed it to the assemblage. Her smile was gone, the knight back.
The growl was directed to Mavis, who now stood looking at her with awe. “Anytime you want to lose that wagging tongue of yours to my blade, just call me Vanessa once again.” Her eyes swept the men. “That goes for anyone.”
He watched in pride as she sheathed her weapon and mounted Damien, who had stood calmly while steel rang around him. She faltered slightly and Peter forced himself not to help her.
He had to see to her wound, but he would not embarrass her again. He smiled, walking to his horse.
“I shall return soon, I need to take care of something,” he said ignoring the warning scowl she sent at him. “I do have one sword she will not fight if I use it on her.”
Her face flushed red with embarrassment and she kicked Damien into a gallop.
She had made it to the castle and her bed chambers before he arrived. Miceal met him at the door. “She says you are not allowed to enter in your armor.”
“Why? So she has a better shot with that bloody dagger?” Even as he grumbled he quickly allowed Miceal to assist him. Telling him to bring some hot water and fresh bandages, he entered her room.
She stood naked before him, her back to him. The first thing he noticed was the gash across her ribs she was dabbing at with a linen cloth. He had done this to her.
He tried to ignore her naked breasts and backside as well as his painful arousal and tried to push her onto the bed. “Sit, I need to clean you, to see if you need stitching. It may hurt. I am so sorry. Can you forgive me for—”
Her lips stopped his words as she wrapped her arms around him pulling him onto the bed. He fell between her spread legs.
“What are you doing? You are bleeding. I have to see to you. We cannot—” He groaned deeply as her swift hands released him from his braies.
***
Peter quickly pulled himself from his memories before he hardened and embarrassed himself before his men. He looked at them and shook his head, pacing before them.
They had stopped their struggling and now stood watching him, a look of growing concern spreading across their faces. He smiled and thought to make them sweat a little longer.
&nbs
p; Peter remembered scolding Van for her stupidity, had scolded her with zeal with every stitch he put in her side. But from that day on she was at the lists, in full gear. She not only watched the men but fully participated in the training of the boys, as well as practicing with the men.
When the men at arms had left her wanting more and bored, she would seek out her husband. She did so in such a charming way that he had never turned her down.
She would sway her hips up to him, look up through her long lashes, and smile so sweetly it almost made him forget himself. She would wink at him and say, unfortunately loud enough for all to hear. “I will go easy on you, my love, as not to tire you for when you want to sheath your sword later.”
He blushed now as he thought about it.
When she could not draw him to the lists to practice because he had other things to do, she would wait along his route to ambush him. Leaping onto him, or knocking him from his horse. He had bloodied her nose more than once. He had growled at her once. “You cannot keep doing this. I am going to hurt you. I have to assume you are an enemy, I cannot let my guard down.”
Her response, spoken with a slight pouting of her lips, was, “If you ever let it down, I would be disappointed, and no longer feel the challenge of besting you.”
He didn’t try to dissuade her again, but he got his own revenge on the few occasions he could outsmart her.
Things had changed much for him in the three years he had been married. He had gone from thinking a woman didn’t have a decent opinion, to relying heavily on his sometimes sweet, sometimes angry, but always volatile wife’s suggestions.
Now he went to her first when he had a dilemma. She was clever, stubborn and extremely intelligent.
His thoughts were drawn back to the problem before him as Grant cursed the arrogant and stubborn Raymond who had once again began to struggle. Peter had moved to intercede when Raymond stopped struggling and all the men stared.
He cursed loudly as he saw what they were seeing.