Believing Your Eyes - A Medieval Romance (The Sword of Glastonbury Series Book 3)

by Lisa Shea

  Under the bright moonlight, Ian separated from the shadows of the forest and stepped toward her.

  Chapter 20

  Ian looked little like the noble son Lucia had known in Anna’s company. His elegant dress tunic was ragged and covered with grime. His beard had grown out in shaggy fur. But it was his demeanor which showed the most staggering change. His eyes were cold, small, and burning with hatred. His bearing, far from the cock-sure courtier she had known, was now fierce and aggressive.

  A chill coursed through her body; she sank into a combat stance and unconsciously turned her dagger in her hand for a better grip. Her neck arched as she settled into the fighting position. Taking a deep breath, she slowly took two measured steps toward him.

  Ian’s eyes roamed over her naked body “I knew I would find you eventually, whore,” he chuckled hoarsely. A leer crept over his face. “So, you are back to your old ways already. Here I thought after a night of passion with me you would be cured of him.”

  Lucia heard a deep growl from behind her, but it slid out of her focus. Only Ian stood out sharp and crisp in her thoughts. She took another deliberate step toward Ian. Her previous turmoil was gone. In its place rested the soul of a warrior trained to strength, confidence, and skill.

  Her face was set with concentration. She knew how to handle this.

  “I do not hide that you hurt me deeply,” she called out, her head held high. The pain in her heart dissolved as she put it into words and finally admitted it fully to herself and to the world. The burden on her soul eased, and she continued, her voice gaining in strength. “You violated my trust, a trust I gave to you freely. I had sworn I would not let that happen again. I would not lay trust where it was not deserved. Perhaps that fault rests with me.”

  Her voice grew steely. “With you still rests the sin of abusing my trust, of twisting it to your own warped desires.”

  Lucia’s eyes flashed proudly. “You have not won. I have survived. I am still a woman, still possessing strength and will. I am still deserving of the love of my troops, my friends, my family.” She held her ground. “None of that has changed. I have not changed. Only you have changed. You were not worthy.”

  She knew in a corner of her mind that Stephen was still behind her, was watching, was ready. To her relief he did not make a move to interfere. A wave of love strengthened her even further.

  Ian’s face blossomed crimson in anger. “You slut, you should have loved me!” He slashed with his sword to emphasize his point. “How could you possibly refuse me? No other woman dared such a thing. I was the best! You should have been grateful for my attentions! Lily, Abigail and the others all were!”

  Lucia went stone still at the mention of Lily’s name. Even with what had happened to her, she had never dreamt that Ian would have assaulted that young girl. Her face set with firm resolve.

  Ian laughed at her reaction. “You thought you were the only woman in my life? I was the ultimate partner for every woman within riding distance of Penrith.” His eyes sharpened. “You made a mistake when you turned me down. I am certainly better than that … forest vagrant.”

  His voice dropped down lower, and became harsh. “No, he was not content with the hand of my beautiful cousin, and with the affections of my father,” he choked out with fury. “He had to take my woman away from me. Well, not today.”

  His eyes were fierce with blinding rage, and he tossed his head back as if in challenge. “You are mine, Lucia. If I cannot have you, then by God, he certainly will not!”

  Lucia braced herself, dropping even lower into her stance. She was ready when Ian suddenly raised his jeweled sword and came at her with a slicing attack that was meant to finish the fight quickly. She side-stepped smoothly, redirecting his back-swing as he tried to take her out on the up-stroke. The two circled each other. Lucia’s mind, alert and hyper-aware, flicked quickly through every aspect of watching the mock fight in the Great Hall. This was no playful joust to first touch. Ian’s eyes told her that he meant to finish her.

  Their weapons rang out another half dozen times, with Lucia carefully dodging out of the way of each blow. Her years of training had taught her to use her agility and speed against a larger opponent’s strength and power. She spotted an opening and spun past him, cutting his side as she turned. He flinched slightly but did not seem hurt. Wheeling, she saw out of the corner of her eye that Stephen was balanced at the outer ring of their motion. He stood poised for action, sword in hand, watching every move with an eagle’s eye. He was her second, then. Her mind became even calmer, taking on the time-stopping quality that battle brought.

  Then Ian launched toward her to attack again.

  The pain and rage of her helplessness that night fused with her years of training and combat like the paint and plaster of a wet fresco mural. They became one source of power. She slid under Ian’s strokes and took the openings when they were offered her. He was a good fighter, well trained in the basic skills. His fury gave him extra strength, but made his swings wild and without aim. She had the experience of years on the hard trail, and now had her focus and concentration under full control. She was much quicker than he was. Still, his training helped him avoid her strokes, helped him press her back with a flurry of attack. He was stronger than she was, much stronger, and had a longer reach. It was only through sheer determination and her combinations of attacks that she held her ground against him. One exchange left her with a slight wound on her shoulder, but Ian gained two more wounds in return.

  The battle began to take a toll on them both, their blades moving slower as they seemed to become heavier. Lucia knew her strength was failing and watched for a chance to draw him in close. She favored her right side, not using the wounded shoulder, and Ian lunged for this advantage. Quickly, she turned and saw an opening. She pressed in hard, twisted her knife and kicked at Ian’s forward knee. Ian, not expecting this, went down hard on his back. His sword arm lay outstretched to one side; the sword itself went flying into the pond with a loud splash.

  In a flash she knelt over his prone body, her dagger firmly in her hand, and pressed it to his throat. His eyes were full of rage and hatred. Still, looking into them, Lucia remembered how he had helped to rescue her, how he had demanded to be the one to protect his homeland. Her resolve wavered.

  Finally, she spoke softly to him and pleaded for reason. “Truly, Ian, I do not want to hurt you. You undoubtedly saw that I travel with my kinsmen. We are here to save your homelands, to end the menace. Give us space while we deal with the Grays, and then we will be gone. Let me find a new home for Lily and James, up in our keep. I will leave it to your father to mete out any further justice, and relinquish all claim myself.”

  She waited, her heart thumping, hoping he would accept her offer.

  Bloody and bruised, Ian snarled up at her. “You expect me to worry about justice? Hah! This is my land we are on, my life for me to lead any way I wish.”

  “You are bound by the same laws as anyone else in your lands,” Lucia pointed out.

  “And as far as you leaving,” continued Ian, as if Lucia had not spoken at all, “You belong to me now, or have you forgotten?” He scanned her naked body with a leer. “No, how could you possibly forget that night? I had you first. That makes you mine.” He stared up at her with possessive pride.

  The last vestiges of the weight released from her heart. “There you are wrong,” she replied with a growing calmness, her hand steady. “I was Stephen’s long before I was taken by you. No act by you, no matter how violent, could ever sever the bonds that hold us together.”

  The words echoed in her heart and resonated through every part of her body. To her surprise, she found it was true. Suddenly Ian meant nothing to her. His actions were in the past. They could no longer hurt her.

  Her soul soared, released from its heavy chains. She slowly stood. She looked down at him for a long moment, then deliberately turned her back on him and walked away.

  It was over. She was free of him. />
  Ian’s howl of anger behind her shattered the forest’s quiet, echoing far across the surrounding hills. Lucia watched, as if in a dream, as Stephen ran full tilt toward her. His eyes looked past her as he called out hoarsely, “Down!”

  Lucia did not hesitate; she threw herself flat on the mossy ground beneath her. She heard the sharp slicing noise of a blade swinging just over her head, and then Stephen was driving hard past her, and swinging his sword with pinpoint focus. Lucia rolled and turned, all senses alert.

  Stephen drew the full length of his blade across Ian’s chest. As he did so, he brought his face close to Ian’s, and held his eyes.

  “Never again, Ian.”

  He pulled the sword clear with one smooth movement.

  Ian gasped once, staggered backwards, then landed heavily onto the moist sand, a wicked looking dagger in his right hand. He was dead.

  The forest was silent; Lucia’s breathing sounded loud in her ears. She brought herself up to a sitting position, then hesitated before turning to look down at the dead man. Her shoulders slumping, she closed her eyes for a moment in respect for his passing. Ian was a fallen soldier, regardless of what lust and weakness had driven him to do in the end. She felt weary, but also enormously light, as if a great weight had been removed from her.

  When a moment had passed, Lucia got to one knee and then stood slowly. She stepped free of Ian’s body and turned to face Stephen. His breath was coming in deep heaves, and his face was etched with pain.

  * * *

  Stephen fought to steady his breathing, his eyes looking over the scene which had almost broken his will to watch. His muscles ached with strain and weariness. He took a step toward Lucia, then stopped. His eyes took in the cuts and bruises on her body, and he thought for the thousandth time how close she had come to …

  He shuddered at the thought.

  “Lucia, my love, your actions test my very soul,” Stephen rasped hoarsely. “I was forced to watch you face danger, knowing that I could lose you if I did not act. Yet if I did act, if I held you from your own resolution, you might never fully heal.”

  He lowered his sword slowly, letting the tip come to rest on the ground, and his head dropped in exhaustion.

  Lucia stood for a moment, then, glistening from the sweat of battle, she walked over to stand before him. He gently touched the cut on her shoulder, and she winced at the pressure. She put her hand over his own and looked up into his eyes. “You mean the world to me,” she vowed to him gently. “To know that you were there, watching over me, was all I needed. I did not face him alone. I faced him with your support, your understanding, and your trust in my abilities. That was why we were able to win.”

  Stephen closed his eyes and wrapped Lucia tenderly into his arms, holding her tightly against him. As he held her, a great calm descended over him. He pressed his lips down against her forehead, holding the kiss for several minutes. He was utterly swept away with love for the woman in his arms. She had stood her ground against the thing which terrified her the most, faced it, and conquered it.

  A trampling of running feet came from above them, and Michael came bursting into the area, followed by a group of soldiers. Stephen reached for Lucia’s cloak with a deft motion and swirled it around her naked body, pulling her again to him.

  Michael took in the scene in one quick glance. He spun to look at the soldiers.

  “Scout the area. See if there are any more.”

  The men were off in a flash, spreading out in all directions.

  Michael strode down to join them, sparing a glance for the dead body. “How are you both?” he asked with concern, his eyes scanning each from head to toe. “Any serious injuries?”

  “We are fine,” Lucia answered her brother with a reassuring nod. “I believe all danger should be past.” She motioned toward the corpse. “The man you see there is Ian. He is dead. I do not believe he traveled with any others.”

  Her face shadowed. “A rider will have to be sent to let his father know,” she added with a troubled frown. “I worry how Anna -”

  Stephen’s voice was rough. “Anna and Lord Edmund will be lucky to have him back in one piece,” he snapped, raw anger flaring in his voice. “After what he did to you? Apparently to other women as well? After what he almost did here, now? If he had come upon you unarmed, it would have been you lying there dead, with him gloating over you ...”

  Lucia turned and touched Stephen tenderly on his arm. She looked up into his eyes, giving his face a gentle caress. “I know,” she soothed softly. “You saved my life, and Ian brought on his own death.” She paused, then looked over at the corpse. “Still, he is his father’s son, his cousin’s childhood friend. They deserve to be able to say goodbye to their memories of him, even if his later deeds became ... twisted.”

  “He should be left to the wolves,” growled Stephen.

  Lucia glanced between Stephen and Michael, pulling the cloak more tightly around her body.

  A small corner of Stephen’s mind understood what she was saying, but it could not overcome the sea of anger which still roiled within him. Ian had been like a brother to him. They had grown up together, played side by side. Countless times Stephen had protected Ian, watched over him, sheltered him from harm.

  And this is how he had been repaid.

  Michael looked between the two with somber eyes. “Let us head back to camp, and get some food and ale into us. Then we can discuss what to do.”

  The fire had sunk to glowing embers as they walked into the clearing; Marcus stood up with concern, then walked forward quickly with confusion as he saw the faces of his friends. “What was the shouting?” he asked quickly. “I stayed behind to guard the camp. Are you all right? What has happened?”

  Stephen took in a deep breath, marshaling his tension. “Our injuries are minor, nothing serious.” He paused, and then went on. They would know soon enough anyway. “Ian tracked us down, and was waiting for us while Lucia bathed. He attacked Lucia there by the lake.” He gazed with pride at the woman beside him. “She chose to face him alone, and I stood ready, as her second. In a fair battle, she defended herself from his attack.”

  His face hardened, but he hesitated, not quite willing to spread the story of Ian’s final cowardly action. Maybe he could spare Lord Edmund that much. He instead stated simply but tersely, “I gave the final blow. Ian is dead.”

  Marcus and the other soldiers in the camp looked surprised, then grew quiet for a few moments. Michael came forward, looking from Stephen’s distant stare to Lucia’s quiet stance. He exhaled slowly. “What is done is done,” he stated at last. “As the slaying was in self-defense, none can speak against it. Perhaps of any person here, Lucia had the most right to face him for what was done. I wonder if that was not better than dragging him, dragging us all, through the wheels of justice.”

  Stephen felt torn, as if by wild horses quartering him. The woman he cared for had been in mortal danger. The brother he had loved was now dead. A rapist had been brought to justice. But all had happened because he had failed to keep his charge out of harm. Lucia had been his responsibility to protect. If only he had been there, that fateful night ... there were so many ‘if onlys’.

  He realized Michael was looking at him keenly, and nodded. “It is just as well it is done with,” he replied.

  Lucia stirred beside him. Her voice was low, but certain. “Michael, we should send a rider to tell Lord Edmund. They should have the option of bringing him back for a burial.” Her eyes flicked momentarily to Stephen. “Whatever else has gone on, he deserves to be brought home to his family.”

  Michael looked to Stephen, but when he did not say anything, Michael nodded and called over to one of the Penrith soldiers. He took the guard aside and whispered quietly to the man for a few moments. The guard listened with his face set, then nodded quickly. When Michael was done giving instructions, the guard saddled his horse with great speed and rode forward down the path at a gallop.

  Lucia looked to where t
he fire crackled in the ring of stones. Her voice was hesitant, and her eyes flicked to Stephen for a moment. “Come sit with me a while?”

  Stephen looked up, dragged back from his distant thoughts, a warmth coming over him. She had returned to him. After all the pain, agony, and long waiting, she was back by his side again.

  He nodded, putting out a hand, and her gentle touch eased a thousand pains from his heart. Together they walked toward the warm orange glow.

  Chapter 21

  Lucia awoke to streaming sunshine. How long had she slept? She sat up to find most of the camp had been packed; she realized that the men were all off washing up or gathering supplies for the remainder of the trip. She turned to get up, and saw with surprise that another had also not yet awoken. Stephen must have been sitting up for quite a while even after she had drifted off - he was now sound asleep next to her. In sleep the lines of worry were gone from his forehead; she was struck by how peaceful and serene he looked. She reached over and tenderly eased the hair away from his face, wishing that life could be easier on him, on them all.

  Stephen came awake quickly at her touch, reached for his sword, then relaxed with a half-smile when he saw her face. He put his own hand over hers. She found herself lowering down to him, pressing her lips to his, and he was soft, gentle, intoxicating. His arms came up around her, and he was drawing her against him …

  Deep laughter came from above them, rich with warmth.

  “We do need to get going sometime this morning,” grinned Michael with hearty cheerfulness. Lucia smiled, sprang up from the ground, and gave her brother a gentle hug. She felt fresh and renewed as he hugged her tightly in return.

  His voice lowered. “Feeling better?”