“I do not envy Aric,” Waldo said, though his eyes belied his words as he stared after Raven with barely concealed lust. “Taming Raven will be no easy task.”
“You made a wise choice with Daria,” Duff said approvingly. “She is sweet and docile.”
“Still,” Waldo mused as he watched Raven walk away, “a little spirit in a woman is not a bad thing. Were Raven mine, she would buckle under authority soon enough. Taming her would give me a great deal of pleasure.”
“You are but sixteen,” Drake scoffed. “What do you know about taming a woman? Or pleasuring one?”
“More than you, Sir Bastard.”
Drake’s mouth thinned. He hated that name. Waldo had dubbed him Sir Bastard the day he arrived at Castle Chirk and boldly announced that one day he would become a knight. Of course Waldo had laughed at him, and from that day forward Waldo and Duff called him Sir Bastard or Drake No Name.
“Have you naught to say, Sir Bastard? Have you ever had a woman? Or does the code of honor you follow prevent you from enjoying a woman’s body?”
“I will be pure for my wife when I marry,” Drake replied, thinking of Daria and how much he enjoyed kissing her. But that was all he had allowed himself.
“Only fools adhere to so strict a code of honor,” Waldo chided. “Women are to be enjoyed. Some priests teach that they have no souls. They say that if a woman refuses to submit to a man’s will, she should be beaten into submission. I may be sixteen but I have learned to enjoy women in the the way God meant them to be enjoyed. When they displease me, I know how to make them repentant. Do you not agree, Duff?”
Duff swallowed visibly. “Well, aye, but I would not wish to see either of my sisters mistreated.”
“I will kill the man who hurts Daria,” Drake threatened, staring steadfastly into Waldo’s pale eyes.
Waldo laughed but took a step backward nevertheless. “So ’tis Daria you lust after,” he said. “Leave my betrothed alone, Sir Bastard. ’Tis I who will take her maidenhead on our wedding night. Remember that.”
“There is much I will remember,” Drake bit out.
“Come, Duff, there are two comely maidens awaiting us in the village. Perhaps we can find a haystack to tumble them in.”
Drake watched them leave, his eyes narrowed in hatred. He could not allow Daria to wed Waldo. Waldo did not abide by the chivalric code. He dishonored all women. As a child Waldo had been a bully, but as he left childhood behind his viciousness became more pronounced. Drake might not be a knight, but he adhered to the chivalric code, and he doubted Waldo would ever be a knight in the true sense of the word.
A true knight honored women.
A week later Drake saw Daria enter the mews alone and followed, eager for a private word with her. Drake had been riding at quintain all day and was hot and tired, but when he saw where Daria was headed, he quickly followed.
He spoke her name quietly.
Daria turned, smiling when she saw Drake. “I saw you at the quintain and hoped you would follow,” she said coyly as she stretched up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips. “I came to check on my favorite falcon. He was injured by a hawk yesterday.”
Drake cared not about the falcon. He wanted to pull Daria into his arms and press her length against him, but he held himself in check. Though his seventeen-year-old body ached to experience love, no one but Daria would do, and he refused to dishonor her. “Your father returned today,” he said.
“Aye. Plans are afoot to marry me to Waldo soon. I am nearly fifteen and Waldo is pressing Father to name a date.”
“Is that what you want?”
She shrugged and lowered her eyes. “I must obey Father’s wishes.”
Drake grasped her narrow shoulders. “Nay, you cannot marry Waldo. You do not know what he is like.”
Daria’s hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, something Drake would have noticed had he not been so besotted.
“There is naught I can do,” Daria said helplessly.
Drake pulled her closer, though he was careful not to let her touch the hardened place on his body that plagued him mercilessly. “We can elope,” he said earnestly. “We have already discussed it. After we are wed, I will protect you with my life.” When he saw her eyes widen, he added, “Do not look so shocked; many before us have fled their families to wed.”
“I know, but . . . well, I never thought you were serious about eloping.”
“I love you, Daria. Surely you know that by now. You are fourteen, nearly fifteen, old enough to marry, and I am seventeen, old enough to protect you.”
“Hark, I hear something,” Daria warned, turning toward the door.
“ ’Tis naught,” Drake said dismissively. “Heed me, my love. Meet me tonight at the postern gate. I will take two horses from the stables to carry us away. Bring naught but a change of clothing.”
“Elope,” Daria said, suddenly skittish. “But I did not mean . . . That is . . . Are you sure ’tis the right thing to do?”
“Do you love me, Daria?”
“Oh, aye, how can I not? You are handsome and brave, and so chivalrous.”
“Then meet me at the postern gate after matins. Do not keep me waiting.” Then he kissed her hard and strode away.
Daria stared after him, her brow wrinkled in consternation. The flirtation with Drake had been fun and slightly naughty, but Daria had always known she was meant to be a countess. Waldo might not be her idea of a perfect husband, but he possessed everything she wanted in life. Though Drake was handsome and brave and chivalrous, he was bastard born and had neither property nor wealth to his name. Still, it would be an adventure to elope with Drake, she thought dreamily. She knew her father and Waldo would find her, but what fun she would have before buckling down to marriage.
Of course, Daria would not give up to her virginity to Drake, for that belonged to her husband. And she knew Drake would not touch her if she did not wish it. Smiling to herself, she left the mews, her romantic heart fluttering wildly.
Raven waited until Daria had returned to the keep before stepping out from behind a keg where she had hidden herself. Loyalty to her sister and knowledge of Daria’s fanciful nature warred within her. In her heart she knew Daria was not right for Drake. Daria would never marry Drake and give up her chances of becoming a countess. Should she tell her father what Drake and Daria planned? she wondered. Or would it be better to pretend she hadn’t overheard the conversation in the mews. At length she decided to confront Daria with what she knew.
“You eavesdropped!” Daria accused when Raven told her exactly what she thought of her plan to elope with Drake.
“Nay, I . . .” Raven gnawed the soft underside of her lip, aware that she could not lie to Daria. “Oh, very well, I admit I followed Drake to the mews.”
“You want him for yourself,” Daria charged.
“It would not matter if I did. Drake wants only you.”
Daria preened for Raven’s benefit. “He said he loves me.”
“I cannot believe you are actually going to elope. ’Tis not like you, Daria. Methinks you are toying with Drake.”
“So what if I am? If Drake had a title and lands, I would elope with him in a trice. He is better-looking than Waldo and has a much nicer disposition. But alas, Drake No Name has little to commend him besides his pleasing face and body.”
“So you are not going to elope,” Raven said with relief. “Have you told Drake yet?”
“Nay, I will tell him tonight when I meet him at the postern gate. Mayhap Waldo will treat me in a more knightly fashion when he learns I intend to elope with Drake.”
Raven’s green eyes narrowed. “How will Waldo find out?”
“He will know,” Daria confided.
“But . . . how?”
“I have things to do,” Daria said dismissively. “We will speak of this later.”
Infuriated by her sister’s lack of feeling for Drake, Raven decided to seek him out and tell him that Daria had no intention of eloping with him.
She managed to have a private word with him when she followed him outside after the evening meal.
“Drake,” she called softly.
Drake stopped, peered through the darkness, and saw Raven lurking in the shadow of the keep. “Raven, is that you?”
“Aye. A word with you, please, Drake.”
“Very well, but make it quick. I have preparations to make.”
“That is what I wish to discuss. I know you are planning to elope with Daria tonight. You are making a grave mistake, Drake. Daria has no intention of eloping with you.”
Drake’s youthful face hardened and his silver eyes took on an ominous sheen, giving a hint of the darkness inside him waiting to be unleashed.
“Do not try to dissuade me, Raven. Lying does not become you.”
“ ’Tis true, I tell you. Daria is using you to make Waldo jealous. Do not meet her tonight. I have a terrible feeling about the outcome.”
“Go away, Raven. Your concern is misplaced.”
“I will tell Father!” Raven blurted out.
Drake took a threatening step in her direction and Raven shuddered. She’d never seen this side of Drake. His fists were clenched at his sides and his chin jutted out pugnaciously. His expression was hard, implacable. All his enmity was directed at her, and for the first time since she’d known him, she was frightened.
Without waiting to see what he intended, she turned and fled. This was a Drake Raven did not know. Did he not realize she would never betray him? She merely wanted to warn him, to let him know he courted danger. She loved her sister dearly, but she knew Daria’s sights were set much higher than a landless bastard. She might enjoy her flirtation with Drake, but it was Waldo she intended to marry. Despite Drake’s harsh words to her, Raven fully intended to hide herself by the postern gate tonight and do what she could to stop this folly.
Drake paced impatiently before the vine-covered postern gate. Daria was late. The horses he’d taken from the stables were safely hobbled in a wooded area beyond the outer walls; he had taken the utmost precautions to conceal their departure. He heard a voice and his senses sharpened. He whirled and suddenly she was standing beside him. Impulsively he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“I feared you had changed your mind,” he whispered. “Are you ready? Where is your bundle?”
Daria darted a furtive glance behind her. “I . . . well, I . . . forgot.”
“Never mind. I have been lucky at jousting and managed to save a few coins. We can purchase what you need later.” He grasped her hand. “Come, ’tis time to leave.”
Suddenly the sound of pounding feet echoed through the darkness. Drake whirled, stunned to see men advancing toward them with rushlight torches. Reacting spontaneously, he grasped Daria’s hand and tried to pull her through the gate. Then someone ordered him to halt. Lord Nyle.
Moments later he was surrounded by Nyle, Waldo, Duff, and several men-at-arms. From the corner of his eye he saw Raven pop up from the shadows and he knew exactly what had happened. Raven had told her father.
Raw, searing hatred welled up inside him. Betrayed by a jealous woman. Nay, by a vindictive child who thought she was a woman. It was a lesson well learned. One he would never forget—nor forgive. Until his dying day he would remember that Raven of Chirk had betrayed him. He watched dispassionately as Waldo tore Daria, his one true love, from his arms and thrust her toward her brother.
“You have betrayed my trust, Drake No Name,” Lord Nyle charged. “I could have you slain for dishonoring my daughter, or at the very least flogged. But because of the friendship I bear your father, I will be lenient.”
“He does not deserve leniency,” Waldo cried.
Drake saw Raven edging closer to him and he sent her a hostile look. He felt grim satisfaction when he saw her flinch. If he could get his hands on her she would do more than flinch, he thought bleakly. It would bring him great pleasure to see her stretched out on a rack before him, begging for mercy he would refuse.
Dragging his thoughts away from the traitorous Raven, he concentrated on Lord Nyle’s words.
“As punishment, you will be banished from Chirk. You are seventeen, neither a knight nor a squire. Finding your own way in life without my patronage will not be easy, but I cannot forgive you for making free with my daughter. Daria is betrothed to Waldo of Eyre, if he will still have her.”
Drake’s tall, lanky frame stiffened with pride. “I did not make free with your daughter, Lord Nyle. We did naught but exchange a chaste kiss or two. I would never dishonor her.”
“Well said, Drake, but ’tis of no consequence. You are no longer welcome in my home or on my lands. Go now, before I change my mind and have you thrown into the dungeon for the duration of your life.”
“Know you that I will still have Daria,” Waldo taunted Drake. “She was never yours to claim. ’Tis my bed she will occupy, my children she will bear. Carry that thought with you, Sir Bastard.”
Having passed judgment, Lord Nyle grasped Daria’s arm and dragged her away. Everyone else followed in his wake. This is the bleakest moment of my life, Drake thought as he stood alone in the darkness. Not only had he lost his home, but the love of his life. And all because of a jealous girl. Raven’s betrayal had cost him everything.
As if reading his thoughts, Raven stepped from the shadows. “I did not betray you, Drake, honestly,” she softly pleaded. “I cannot bear your hatred.”
“You will bear it till the day you die,” Drake vowed. “I will never forgive you, Raven of Chirk. Why did you do it? I thought we were friends.”
“We were! We are! Pray listen to me, Drake. I would never hurt you. I love you.”
His answer was a derisive snort. But he did not need to speak; his black look was more potent than words. He would not believe her no matter how emphatically she denied her guilt. He opened the gate and stepped through.
“Where are you going?”
“Does it matter?”
“Aye. Will I ever see you again?”
“Not if I can help it.”
Then he was gone, melting into the darkness until not even his shadow was visible. Raven closed the gate, sobbing as only a twelve-year-old with a broken heart could sob.
Drake’s mood lightened somewhat when he saw that the horses he had hidden in the woods were still hobbled where he had left them. One was the horse his father had given him and the other was a palfrey from Lord Nyle’s stables. Drake felt no guilt over taking the prize mare. In fact, he felt quite pleased with himself for having had the foresight to choose so valuable an animal. Besides the horses, he had food to last several days, the coins he had earned jousting with the other squires, and his clothing. He would sell the spare horse and seek his fortune. Men had managed to survive on much less than he had.
If not for losing the woman he loved, Drake would consider himself lucky. He was young, healthy, and stronger than any of the other squires in training. He could survive on hatred alone, if he had to.
One day, he vowed, Drake No Name would have both name and lands. And mayhap he would emulate Waldo when it came to women. He would seek women simply for pleasure and naught else. Aye, ’tis what I will do, he vowed. He had learned his lesson well. Love hurt and he should avoid it at all costs. Never again would he allow himself to become vulnerable. Henceforth, he would follow his head instead of his heart, and avoid women like Raven of Chirk.
Two
A knight fights to acquire lands and title.
Castle Chirk, 1355
He rode across the outer bailey on his pure black destrier. Raven watched him from the window of her bedchamber. A bearer carried his banner, a red dragon emblazoned upon a field of black.
The Black Knight.
He was magnificent and frightening at the same time, Raven thought, leaning over the embrasure so she could see more of him. Clad in unrelieved black from his gleaming helm to the tip of his toes, he rode into the bailey at the head of a contingent of knights and men-at-arms in his service.
Jongleurs and harpers who visited Chirk to entertain the lord and his household spun glowing tales of the Black Knight’s exploits. They told how he had saved the Black Prince’s life and was knighted upon the battlefield by the king. They praised his courage, his strength, his amorous conquests. If he had a name, none remembered, for he had been called the Black Knight from the time he became the Black Prince’s champion and appeared on the battlefield clad all in black like his prince.
Raven of Chirk was amply impressed by the Black Knight’s stature and bearing. He sat his destrier proudly, even arrogantly, as he rode through the portcullis and into the innner bailey. Raven was startled when he lifted his head and stared directly at her window. She quickly stepped back, but not so far that she could not see him. Had he seen her? It mattered not. To the best of her knowledge, she had never met the legendary Black Knight.
Raven had heard so much about the mysterious Black Knight that she could not help being more than a little intrigued by the man. Today, however, was not a good time to admire strangers.
After the games ended, she was to be married to Lord Waldo, Earl of Eyre. She had but four short days left in which to escape this travesty of a marriage. Though she had cried and pleaded, Duff would not be swayed. Several years ago she had lost her mother and father to a virulent fever that had spread death and pestilence across the land. Had they lived, Raven knew they would not have forced her to wed Waldo, not after what had happened to her poor sister.
Dead at sixteen, married but a few months, Daria had died of a strange stomach ailment shortly after Lord Basil had been killed by poachers. But Raven could not relieve herself of the notion that Waldo had been responsible for Daria’s untimely death. Then Duff, Waldo, and Aric had gone to France to fight with the king’s army. Unfortunately Aric had been killed in battle at Crécy.
When Waldo returned from France, he asked Duff’s permission to marry Raven. Duff gave his consent, but only if Waldo obtained a dispensation from the pope, for to wed one’s sister-in-law was considered incest.
Connie Mason Page 2