Tall, Dark, and Medieval

by Barbara Devlin

  Their befuddled looks caused her to take action. She dove into the tent, screaming over the roar of the fire, “Is anyone in here?”

  Through the thickening black smoke, Bria saw a pile of blankets. She dropped to her knees and crawled over to it, feeling around beneath them, but the blankets were empty.

  The thick smoke encircled her, trying to cut off her air. She coughed and lifted her arm to her nose, trying to breathe through the fabric of her dress. Her eyes watered and she brushed at them with the palms of her hands. She turned to leave, only then realizing that the black smoke was hiding the exit.

  Panic welled within her, but she fought it down, desperately searching for escape. Above her, the roar of the fire reached a crescendo and she looked up to see that the fire had already engulfed the top part of the tent. With a loud rumble, the entire tent began to shake.

  A scream welled in Bria’s throat. A burning piece of wood landed beside her, making her leap to her feet.

  Suddenly, from out of the black smoke, a dark shape emerged. It was the devil himself, his eyes glowing red. She reared back, but he caught her arm and hauled her into the smoke and the burning walls.

  MIDNIGHT SHADOW

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Bria clenched her eyes tight against the smoke and a blast of hot air assaulted her face. Then, suddenly, a cool mist sprayed her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. She opened her eyes and found herself outside the burning tent, standing in the light rain. She coughed harshly, gasping for breath.

  It was a long moment before she was able to lift her watery eyes to the dark shape standing at her side, a moment longer before she realized the man who stood before her, lit from behind by a dancing red light that could come only from the fire, was Terran Knowles.

  Her fogged mind pieced together the quick turn of events leading her here, and she finally whispered in shock, “You saved me.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “And you burned my tents.”

  His accusation came as a blow and her mouth dropped open. Then her brows drew together as her anger reared, her narrowed eyes matching his. “What would I be doing in your tents if I set fire to them?”

  “Caught in your own trap,” he snapped.

  Hurt and disbelief constricted her chest. How could he believe that after the kiss they’d shared? With a snarl of frustration, Bria attempted to turn away, but was stopped short by a shackle-grip on her arm. His large hand was wrapped around her forearm. She turned her gaze to meet his furious eyes. “Let me go,” she commanded, trying to break free, but his grip was tight, his large fingers digging into her flesh.

  “So you can try to poison my drink or hire someone to kill me?”

  “I did not try to kill you.”

  His eyes narrowed even further. “No. Killing me wouldn’t achieve your goal.”

  “What are you talking about?” Bria demanded, stilling her vain attempts to free herself.

  “The papers. That’s why you set fire to the tents.”

  “What papers?” Bria asked.

  “The betrothal papers,” he snarled. “You hoped the papers would be gone, too, burned with the tents.”

  “What betrothal papers?” Bria demanded, confused.

  “These papers.” He reached inside his black tunic and produced two sheets of parchment that he held in a clenched fist. He pushed them at her, leaning close to her face to growl, “You didn’t think I’d be stupid enough to let them out of my sight, did you?”

  Bria stared at the papers. Betrothal papers. No wonder all of the other suitors had left without so much as a word.

  Terran stepped back from her, releasing her arm. He quickly put the betrothal papers back inside his tunic, sheltering them from the rain.

  A shiver raced along her shoulders as she looked into his black eyes. Those are the eyes that showed no emotion when you tried to tell him of Mary’s murder by his dog of a sheriff, she reminded herself. Her gaze dropped to his lips. But those are the lips that kissed you with such warmth and passion.

  “Bria!’ a voice called from behind her.

  Bria forced herself to turn away from Terran to see her grandfather racing toward her across the fields as fast as his old legs would carry him. He lost his balance and fell to one knee a few feet from her. For a moment, Bria couldn’t move. Shock held her immobile. How could she marry Terran? How could part of her want to?

  Harry’s gaze remained on her as he knelt in the mud, and for a moment he looked like a penitent man, begging for her forgiveness. Then he scrambled to his feet, reaching for her. He grasped her arms desperately. “Are you all right?”

  Bria nodded, searching his eyes for answers.

  “Since our tents have been so grievously ruined, I’m sure Lord Delaney will have no objection to our staying inside Castle Delaney,” Terran said from behind Bria.

  Harry looked up at him, his mouth open as if in objection, but no words came forth.

  “Good.” Terran marched away from them toward the castle. Two servants followed him, as well as the men he had arrived with. All glared at Bria as they passed.

  When they were well away from them, Harry swept Bria into his arms. “Bria,” he whispered as he held her tightly against him, “I never meant... you could have been killed.”

  Bria pushed away from him so she could look him in the eyes. “Grandfather, am I really betrothed to Knowles?”

  Harry looked away from her, and Bria could see the agony etched in his furrowed brow. “I never meant for this to happen. When I was lord of Delaney, old Lord Knowles, Terran’s grandfather, was a powerful man. We wanted our lands united. I was just as greedy as he was. We pledged our first girl to his son, or the other way around. Knowles and Delaney lands would be united. But he had a son, and so did I. You were the first girl on either side.” He looked into her eyes. “Do you understand? I was young then. I wanted more power. I wanted more wealth. I didn’t care about the future. I didn’t care about... anything. Bria,” he said desperately, “I would give anything to destroy those papers, to take back the betrothal.”

  Bria stared at him for a long moment. He seemed infinitely older, the weight of her destiny on his shoulders. Finally, sympathetically, she patted his hand. “It’s all right. We’ll find some way out of this.” She took his arm and together they followed Terran into the castle.

  Tonight it begins, Bria thought. Her grandfather leaned on her as they moved up a slope. Betrothed to Terran or not, it begins tonight.

  Terran watched Bria enter the hall, holding on to her grandfather’s arm. Her face was covered with soot and her hair was in a wild disarray of curls, but she still managed to hold her head high, her back straight. Damn, he thought. She still manages to look beautiful.

  He shook his head, trying to see beyond her beauty. He’d underestimated her. He wouldn’t have thought her capable of burning his tents. She was an opinionated woman, yes, but it took strength of character to act on such beliefs, a strength no woman he’d met thus far had. She’d be a difficult woman to keep firmly beneath his rule, a woman who would need to be watched every moment of every day.

  He found his eyes lingering on the way her brown curls reflected the light of the fire from the hearth, found his gaze captivated by her lips as she spoke soothingly to her grandfather. And he remembered their kiss. It had fueled the spark she’d started with her defiance -- passionate, uninhibited.

  He had thought briefly that one kiss, one taste of her lips would be enough. Far from it. That one dangerous kiss only made him want to taste the rest of her. It was a feeling unlike any other woman had given him, and there’d been many willing to give themselves to the victor of the tournaments. One taste of their practiced lips and bodies had been more than enough.

  But Terran could watch Bria every moment of every day and never be bored. He shook his head, trying to free himself from the spell she was casting on him.

  That wasn’t why he wanted her as a wife. He needed her dowry. If she were the ugliest woman in the universe,
he’d still marry her in order to pay the king’s tithe, to save his lands. It didn’t matter she had eyes as infinite as a clear blue sky, eyes he could lose himself in, or that her kiss was earthshaking.

  The only thing that mattered was her dowry.

  MIDNIGHT SHADOW

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Stupid peasants,” the tax collector muttered, weighing the sack of coin in his hand as he glanced up at the half moon high in the night sky. All of their pleading for leniency, all of their groveling for mercy, had made him very late. His wife was going to yell and curse him, accusing him of stopping at the inn for a round of ale with the boys. It was almost midnight already.

  If Kenric wasn’t paying him so well, he’d be damned if he’d do this dirty work. He spit on the ground in front of the farmer’s house he’d just left. He turned to his horse and was about to mount when he heard a sound behind him, a soft sound like the fluttering of cloth. He whirled toward the noise, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. But the field before the farmer’s house was empty. He shrugged slightly. Probably just the wind.

  He turned back to his horse and put his foot in the stirrup. Again the muffled sound of fluttering clothing, now louder. Closer. He whirled and drew his sword. “Who’s there?” he demanded of the darkness.

  But no one stood before him. A gentle wind blew about him, moving through the trees with a whispery softness. The shadows thrown by the trees shifted and transformed as the moonlight filtered through the swaying branches. He relaxed slightly. He was hearing things.

  Then he felt something sharp against his throat. He shifted his gaze to his side and his eyes went wide as he saw a man dressed all in black, a cloaked hood concealing his face. Where had he come from? He wasn’t there mere seconds before. It was as if he’d formed out of the darkness itself. Fear gripped the tax collector’s heart.

  “Drop it,” the masked man said in a firm whisper.

  The tax collector held up his sword and released it. It thumped against the earth.

  “The bag,” the masked man ordered again in a whisper, holding a black-gloved hand palm up.

  The tax collector began to tremble as he handed the bag to the robber. The robber palmed it, then grabbed the tax collector’s hair and shoved the tip of the blade against his throat.

  “Tell Lord Knowles his tyranny will no longer be tolerated,” the masked man whispered against his ear. “Tell him the Midnight Shadow will see to it.”

  The Midnight Shadow shoved the tax collector into the dirt.

  The tax collector lay still for a long moment, terror keeping him pinned to the ground. He slowly lifted his head and looked about him for any signs of his assailant. But the field was empty and still.

  The Midnight Shadow was gone.

  “I’ve been waiting for you. You awaken late.”

  Bria whirled to see Knowles moving toward her. The red light of the hallway torch flickered over his black hair, casting his face in shadows. Does he know? she immediately wondered. Has he come to confront me?

  She lifted her chin slightly. “Do you always hide in the dark waiting to accost ladies as they emerge from their rooms?” she demanded. Her heart pounded in her chest. He startled you, she told herself, that’s all.

  He straightened at her barb, but feigned disinterest. “I was waiting to accompany you to break your fast.”

  A rush of relief spread through her. He doesn’t know. The relief was followed quickly by a moment of excitement -- to sit next to him, to speak with him of his castle and lands. What am I thinking? Bria wondered. I have to keep in mind who he is. “I don’t think my father would care to have you in his hall.”

  Terran drew up slightly, his demeanor becoming cooler. “I don’t think he’d object to having his son-in-law dine in his hall.”

  Bria turned away from him, shaking her head. “Surely you see it is futile. My father will not betroth me to you.”

  Terran stepped up close behind her, and a shiver raced up her spine. She held her breath, waiting.

  “If you speak to him, perhaps he will change his mind,” Terran murmured.

  Bria felt that rush again, that anticipatory anxiousness. “Why would I speak with him?” she asked.

  “Because you want to be my wife,” he whispered against the nape of her neck. His hot breath sent shivers shooting down to her toes. She closed her eyes, relishing the feeling. She opened her mouth to deny it, but no denial came forth.

  He chuckled low in his throat and brushed a kiss against the soft skin of her neck. “You are mine. You have always been mine.”

  Bria half turned to him and something caught in her throat as she saw just how close he was. He was going to kiss her.

  When he spoke again, his lips caressed her hair. “I will not give you up, my lady.”

  The sound of approaching footsteps caused Terran to step back from her. Without the warmth of his body radiating over her, the spell was broken. Bria stumbled forward, quickly moving away from him. She trembled as she hurried down the hallway, feeling his gaze upon her. The pace of her steps increased until she rounded a corner to a spiral stairway. She stopped and leaned against the stone wall, almost as if she were hiding from his view.

  What is happening to me? Every time Terran is near, I lose my senses. It must be because I am so tired. I barely slept at all last night. She had lain in bed, excitedly replaying her daring exploit with the tax collector over and over in her mind.

  Yes, she thought. I’m just tired.

  And in danger, another voice reminded her. He may have just been your suitor before last night, but now the real war has begun. You‘ve made him your enemy now.

  With that certainty, Bria moved toward the Great Hall to break her fast.

  Kenric sat in Terran’s judgment chair in Castle Knowles, staring down at the tax collector who had returned empty-handed. “The Midnight Shadow?”

  “Yes,” the man replied. “I swear he just disappeared with the bag, or I would have chased him down.”

  Kenric’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a good story,” he commended. “Now give up the bag.”

  The tax collector’s eyes widened. “I don’t have it, I swear!”

  Kenric nodded at one of his men standing near the door. The man approached the tax collector. “Make this easy on yourself. Give it up.”

  “I don’t have it! This man just appeared out of the night and stole the bag from me at sword point!”

  “Yet you have no proof.”

  “What was I to do?”

  “Die.” Kenric nodded at the soldier behind the man.

  The soldier pulled his sword from its scabbard and plunged it into the tax collector’s back.

  The man stared at Kenric with large eyes before slumping lifeless to the floor.

  “The Midnight Shadow,” Kenric muttered. “Such nonsense.”

  MIDNIGHT SHADOW

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Terran sat in the back of the Great Hall watching the head table. Bria, her father, and grandfather all sat there, looking righteous and proud.

  Terran ripped off a chunk of venison. He watched Bria as he slowly, thoughtfully, chewed his food. Her long brown hair was wound tightly in a braid running down her back along her spine. He only glimpsed it when she turned to exchange a word with her father or grandfather, who sat at her side like sentinels.

  Terran tore his gaze from her. She was no Odella. She was bold, headstrong and determined. But those qualities only made her more appealing, more of a challenge.

  Terran didn’t mind that there was no chair at the head table for him. The Delaneys had chosen to ignore the betrothal, to ignore him, by denying him a place at their table. Their action intrigued him. It showed their anger and their hostility toward him, yet Delaney had not challenged him outright, nor even banished him from Castle Delaney. As if this slight will make me leave, Terran mused.

  He wasn’t leaving until he got what he came for, a wife and a dowry. Still, it had made him furious to see his betrothed s
obbing at her lover’s side, the way she clung to him, held onto his arm, touched his shoulder. He shook his head. At least he knew she loved another man. Yet she had responded to his kiss, had actually kissed him in return. Could he be wrong about her relationship with Dysen? Or did Dysen simply not satisfy her?

  Terran threw back a drink of his ale. When he set it down again, his gaze came to rest on Bria. She can’t be trusted, he told himself for the hundredth time. She thinks the worst of me. She‘ll betray me at the first opportunity that arises.

  His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the little nymph at the head table delicately bite a piece of bread. I will enjoy changing her mind about me, he thought, night after night.

  “He’s watching you again.”

  Bria already knew it. She could feel his dark gaze upon her, and her body responded instantly, a delightful shiver coursing through her. He’d been following and watching her since the afternoon meal.

  She glanced back over her chair to see Terran Knowles standing at the opposite wall, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his feet planted firmly shoulder width apart. He just stared at her, making no pretense that he wasn’t watching her.

  A tingle raced up her spine at being the object of his intense stare. Bria turned back to the fire, her anger at her immediate response to him mounting. He was, after all, her enemy. He wouldn’t listen to her about Mary or Kenric, and yet he affected her in an instantaneous way. It was frustrating and confusing. “I don’t understand why Father won’t throw him out of Castle Delaney.”

  “He doesn’t want to start a fight,” Harry answered.

  Bria shook her head. “Ever since he came back from the war, he wants nothing to do with battle. He’s already angry over the joust that took Garret’s life.” Bria shifted in her seat.