“Hey!” she objected. “I’m not some whore you can simply throw to the ground and ravish in the middle of the night.”
Logan stepped toward her, grabbing the nape of her neck and drew her lips to his. He would prove to himself it didn’t have to be Solace, that it didn’t much matter who it was. Her lips parted beneath his, and he drove his tongue into her mouth, wanting to prove to himself it didn’t matter. But the taste of her mouth wasn’t the taste of sweet honey. It was the taste of stale ale and rotten meat.
Logan pulled away from her, just as she began to wrap her arms around him, to push her hips against his. He stepped farther away from her, horrified at what he learned.
It mattered. It mattered very much that she wasn’t Solace. For the first time in his life, something truly mattered other than his revenge. And it scared him.
THE LADY AND THE FALCONER
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Solace stared out over the hills, gazing down at a farm at the outskirts of Cavindale. She had walked a great distance that morning, trying to clear her mind. Most of the first snow had melted, leaving behind a soggy, mud-filled land. Despite the bright sun, her feet were cold, her hands red from the biting winds. She pulled her cloak tighter around her neck.
She wanted Logan’s friendship desperately, but he refused to have anything to do with her. Solace knew that it was she who should want nothing to do with him. She needed someone she could depend on. Someone who would be there for her.
And that wasn’t Logan.
Then why did she feel so empty? She didn’t know what to do, who to turn to. She rubbed her red hands as the wind whipped about her body, trying to blow the cloak she wore from her shoulders. It was hopeless. Simply hopeless. Even the elements attacked her, refusing to give her a moment’s respite.
A caw made her lift her gaze to a young tree near where she stood. Logan’s black falcon perched on a branch, watching her with his keen eyes. “Go back to your master,” she spat out, then immediately regretted her harsh tone.
The laughter of children drew her attention, and she turned her head to see a farmer’s wife near the small creek washing clothes. Two children were running around behind her, chasing each other, their smiles wide and bright. The scene was so peaceful. She watched them all with a longing she hadn’t known she possessed. Children. Assuredly a fine husband, too. A family.
The falcon cried out again, this time in a shrill, excited voice, and took to the air. Suddenly, the ground seemed to tremble beneath Solace’s feet.
Horses! And they were coming in fast! A tremor of trepidation raced up her spine as she turned to see two riders approaching her, charging over one of the rises. Solace squinted, shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, straining to see who they were. They wore no heraldry, no colors. It wasn’t until the two horses drew closer that she recognized one of the men as Logan’s bearded friend, Nolan Ryder. Solace stepped up to greet the man as he reined in his horse. The other man circled behind her.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone, m’lady,” Ryder said.
Solace scowled at him, remembering the same warning issued from Logan’s lips a long time ago. A nervous chill swept through her. She glanced back at the man behind her. “Is something wrong?” she wondered. She hadn’t acquainted herself with him and didn’t like the way his horse danced anxiously beneath him or the hungry look in his eyes as he gazed at her. She looked back at Ryder.
“Wrong?” he asked in a strangely businesslike tone. “No, nothing’s wrong.”
“Then what are you doing out here?” she asked, turning once again to look at the man behind her. Her eyes dipped to his waist. He wore a sheathed sword and had a large club in a pouch at his horse’s side. She lifted her eyes to see an unsettling smile split his lips.
Her gaze turned back to Ryder. “What’s going on?” she demanded.
She heard the horse move forward behind her and instinctively stepped away from it. Suddenly, a blinding pain flared in her head. There was a flash of white light before darkness came. She fought the black abyss, even though her body wanted to leap into the peaceful darkness. Her knees gave way and she dropped to the ground, falling hard onto her back. She forced her groggy eyes open. The bright blue sky swayed above her. Too bright. She squinted and rolled onto her side, pushing herself up onto her feet. Her head was pounding and something thick wet the side of her face.
She turned in time to see the man had dismounted and was approaching her. He tossed the club aside and drew a dagger from his belt. Solace backed away, trying to focus on her attacker, stumbling slightly as she retreated. She bumped into Ryder’s horse, and the animal whinnied and pranced away from her.
Solace turned and desperately clutched Ryder’s leg, looking up at him through pain-fogged eyes. “Help me,” she managed to gasp.
Ryder’s black eyes narrowed. “Finish her,” he commanded.
***
Laughter floated around Logan, but somehow he felt removed from it. Goliath and Blade were practicing their sword skills in the Great Hall. Logan could only feign interest. After returning from the inn unfulfilled and feeling more torn than ever, he had spent a long and restless night. His gaze continued to drift up the stairs. Where was Solace? Why wasn’t she down here watching her men practice their maneuvers? Her men. Even he was thinking of them as hers now.
“Distracted, old friend?” Alexander wondered, taking a seat beside him at the table.
“No,” Logan answered, tearing his gaze away from the stairs to look at Alexander.
Alexander chuckled softly, knowingly. He suddenly found something very interesting in the bottom of his ale mug.
“Mind your own damn business,” Logan snapped.
Alexander threw his head back, taking a long drink of his ale, a smile twitching his lips.
Logan’s gaze wandered again to the stairs.
“She’s not there,” Alexander said. “She left awhile ago.”
“Left?”
“I saw her leave Cavindale Manor.”
An irrational fear twisted Logan’s stomach. “On foot?”
Alexander nodded.
“Grey!” Goliath called, resting his sword point on the floor and leaning toward him. “Are you going to observe all day or do we get a taste of that famed weapon?”
Logan looked toward the main door leading outside. His skin prickled, setting his nerves on edge.
Just then Crox came in, and as the door began to swing closed behind him, the falcon swooped in through the narrowing gap and circled the Great Hall, screeching.
“Logan!” Uncle Hugh screamed almost as loudly as the falcon. “Get that thing out of here!”
Logan grunted. “Like I have any control over it,” he muttered.
“Maybe we can shoot it down!” Blade called, raising a bow.
“Try!” Logan exclaimed. The damn bird would easily evade Blade’s arrow, even though he was an accomplished marksman. The falcon was too stubborn to die.
Suddenly, the bird dove, its claws outstretched for Blade’s head.
“Hey!” the fighter called, ducking, shielding his face with his bow.
Logan bolted upright, scowling. He hadn’t seen the falcon act this way since he had captured the rabbit that very first day he had set eyes on the cursed thing. Something was wrong. The tension strung his body tight as a bowstring. Something was very wrong. Without realizing what he was doing, he suddenly found himself out of his chair, running across the hall.
Alexander chased after him. “What is it?” his friend called. “What’s wrong?”
Logan opened the door and the falcon swooped out. Logan ran after it, ignoring his friend’s concerned questions. He raced into the stables, disregarding the surprised groom as well, and swung himself up onto a horse, bareback. The animal whinnied and circled toward the door as he tugged on its mane.
“Open the door!” Logan ordered the groom.
The frightened man shoved the door open, and Logan whipped past him in a blur
of speed.
“Logan!” his uncle called, lumbering uselessly after him.
As Logan followed the falcon over the rises in the hills, a prickling sensation of impending disaster slithered across his spine. He clenched his jaw, his hands knotted tight in the horse’s mane as he rode.
Logan saw the falcon moving away from him in the distance, a dark speck against the blue sky. He was flying toward the outer reaches of Cavindale. Logan spurred his horse over the last rise that bordered his uncle’s lands. The sight that greeted him sent horror spearing through his body.
Solace stood, wavering before a man who stalked her. The tip of the dagger he clutched winked evilly as the sun glinted off its metal surface. Blood covered the side of Solace’s head. Dark, wet blood.
Ryder was there, sitting atop his horse. He locked gazes with Logan for a long moment before dismounting and running toward Solace’s attacker.
The man lurched toward Solace, the dagger outstretched.
Ryder’s not going to make it, Logan thought. He’s still too far away. Logan leaned forward over the horse, urging the animal faster. Faster.
The man lashed out.
No, Logan thought. No!
Solace stumbled back, out of the dagger’s range, but turned, and in doing so the dagger sliced her shoulder.
“Ahhhh!” Logan shouted in dread and anguish as she went down to her knees.
Ryder seized the man from behind and quickly drew a dagger across his neck.
Logan leapt from the horse, running to Solace’s side, dropping to his knees beside her. She lay still on the ground. Agony and fear swelled inside him. He was afraid to touch her, afraid to move her, afraid she wouldn’t respond.
She groaned and tried to push up onto her hands, but fell weakly to the ground again.
Logan seized her in his arms, rolling her over into his lap so he could see her face. The left side of her head was covered with blood, plastering her dark hair to her cheek. Logan tried to move some of her limp, wet hair aside to see how bad the wound was, but his fingers trembled fiercely and he couldn’t stop their shaking.
“Logan,” she whispered, drawing his gaze to hers. Her eyes were strangely bright and clear.
“I’m here,” he said, drawing her close against his chest. It was impossible to steady his frantic pulse.
Pain flared in her face and her eyes closed.
“Solace,” Logan demanded, shaking her gently, afraid if she closed her eyes for too long she would never open them again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Her eyes opened wide, the sparkle of tears filling them. “I love you,” she murmured and her eyes closed again.
Logan felt her body go limp. For a long moment, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Then he leaned over and gently kissed her lips. As he pulled back from her face, he felt her breath touch his mouth. Relief flooded his body, dousing the fiery anguish burning in him. He leaned his head over hers, rubbing his cheek across her forehead. A tear escaped his closed eyes, trickling down his cheek to mingle with the blood on her forehead. “What have I done to you?” he murmured.
***
Logan carried Solace back to Cavindale Manor, cradling her as tenderly as a child in his arms, refusing help from anyone, not letting anyone touch her. As he walked through the fields, his friends joined him, a procession of silent followers.
He walked the steps to her room like the grim reaper, his face pale, his mouth set in a thin line. His muscles should have ached with the effort of carrying her so far, but they did not; she had been as light as an angel’s wings in his arms. He lay Solace on the bed, growling at William as he tried to peer over his shoulder at Solace’s wounds.
Logan gently wiped the drying blood from Solace’s face, her cheek, her neck with his tunic. Still, she didn’t move. Her eyes remained closed.
“Logan,” William said softly from behind him, “let Beatrice stitch her wound.”
Logan’s eyes moved to Solace’s shoulder. Her clothing was saturated with darkening red liquid. His heart clenched. He didn’t want anyone else touching her. He didn’t want to move away from her. But he knew he had to. Especially if he wanted her to live.
“You can’t do it all by yourself,” William added.
Logan rose stiffly and took a step back, his jaw clenched tight. Beatrice moved in front of him.
As she began to cut the fabric from Solace’s shoulder, William grabbed Logan’s arm. “We’d best wait outside,” he said softly.
Logan ripped his arm free of William’s hold. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replied with stern determination.
“It’s not going to help her if you stay,” William said.
“Come on, boy,” Uncle Hugh encouraged. “It’s best if you don’t see her wound.”
“You’ll make poor Beatrice nervous,” William added.
Logan’s shoulders straightened. “I’m not going.”
There was a moment of uncomfortable quiet before the door opened and closed, his uncle and William departing in the silent wake of his stated resolve. Logan’s gaze locked on Beatrice’s hands as she peeled back the cotton dress, revealing the wound in all its evil - ugly, gaping and dark. It was still bleeding.
Logan realized then why his uncle said he shouldn’t see the wound. His anguish was so fierce and so sudden he had to clench his fists and keep his arms tightly pinned to his sides, lest he lash out and destroy everything around him to vent his rage. She wouldn’t die, he told himself again and again. But the seriousness of her wounds made this a possibility. And Logan knew it. His stomach clenched as tightly as his hands and his jaw. I won’t lose her, he whispered quietly to himself. He stood guard over Solace like a stone gargoyle protecting its territory.
***
William descended the stairs beside his father, his expression glum.
Alexander sat in a chair in the Great Hall, running a rock across his sword to sharpen it. Blade paced before the smoldering hearth. Goliath held a stick and was sharpening the point with his dagger. Ryder sat at the table, rummaging through the leftover dinner bones for scraps of meat. At William and Hugh’s approach, all eyes lifted to them.
“How is the lass?” Goliath wondered, his deep voice resounding through the Great Hall like a trumpet.
Uncle Hugh shook his head and William lowered his gaze.
“And Grey?” Blade asked.
“Worse,” William said. “Won’t leave her side. It’s like the dagger sliced him as well.”
“Perhaps it has,” Blade said, knowingly. “A deadlier dagger than that of steel.”
William joined Alexander at the table, leaning against its edge. “He’s a stubborn man.”
“He doesn’t even know, does he?” Blade asked. “The true hold she has on him?”
William shook his head.
“Perhaps now he has an inkling,” Alexander suggested.
“Perhaps now we all do,” Blade said.
“If he ever understands, his obsession for revenge will change to a different kind of obsession. A saner kind.”
“If she lives,” Uncle Hugh added.
All eyes turned to Hugh. William sighed. “If she lives,” he agreed.
Silently, Ryder fingered the flowered handle of the gold-tipped dagger in his belt.
***
Logan splashed water onto his face from the basin on the table. He moved to the window to stare at the night sky. Dark clouds drifted by the moon like thick wisps of black cotton, obscuring the stars.
How could a killer have found Solace? She was supposed to be safe at Cavindale. Perhaps not so much as you would have liked to believe, a voice inside told him. If Ryder had not reached the man first, she would have been dead.
A groan from behind him caused him to cast a glance back at the bed. Solace was still, her soft skin as pale as a moonbeam. He moved to her side and settled into a chair.
As he expected, there had been two wounds. The dagger wound, which he had watched Beatrice stitch, and the head wound.
It was the head wound that caused him the most concern. He had seen men die of head wounds less serious than what Solace had.
He bent over and touched her forehead, smoothing back her dark hair. He wished he could see her eyes, wished she would open them so he could look into their emerald depths once again. He ran a finger along her lips. He wished she would smile again. He wished he could take every single one of her wounds into himself so she wouldn’t have to endure them.
I love you. Her words haunted his every thought. She couldn’t love him. Not after everything he had done to her. She must have been delirious from the blow to her head.
Logan sank back into the chair. God’s blood, he thought, closing his eyes tightly. How could I be so blind? I didn’t ride back to Westhaven to stop her from her foolish plan. I rode back to see her again. Damn my stubbornness. My destiny was right before me all this time and I didn’t even see her.
He took her hand in his. It looked so tiny and small in his large, callused palm. I should have been there, he thought. I should have been at her side. None of this would have happened. The words resounded in his head just as they had for thirteen years. I should have been there. It seems I can never do the right thing. He ran a hand over his eyes.
“Logan?”
He sat upright quickly, leaning toward her voice as if it were the source of his lifeblood. “Solace?” He clutched her hand tightly, refusing to release his hold on her. A shaft of fleeting moonlight shimmered in her open eyes.
“Logan, don’t leave,” she murmured in a thick voice.
He leaned forward, closing the distance between them, until his lips were almost brushing hers. “I’m right here,” he said. He was so close to her face he could feel her gentle breath fan across his lips. He felt a familiar stirring, too familiar when he was around her.
Her smile was his reward. It was the most glorious reward he had ever received. Does she have to make all my wishes come true? he wondered bemusedly.
Suddenly the clouds thinned and the moonlight shone fully in, casting her face in a pale glow, giving her eyes a deep green luminescence. He touched her cheek. She was all any man could want. He brushed his lips against hers. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? Can I get you something?”
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