by Shea,Lisa
Rachel scoffed. “Oh, now you will deign to talk with me, when you want to tell me how to run my life. Look at you! You are carrying a bastard child and you are going to watch his father die. Of course you want to tell me how things should go – all to your benefit, of course!”
Reynald’s gaze moved to Sarah in shock, his eyes widening. She took in a deep breath, then nodded quietly to him, confirming what Rachel had said. If he was going to die, he should know his line would not be forgotten.
A look of tenderness eased through his face, replaced with a determined tenacity.
Rachel took a step forward, and Sarah’s gaze moved back to watch her. Rachel stood there for a long moment, looking angrily into her sister’s eyes.
“You always think your way is the right way. Well, not this time. This time I am going to do what I feel is right! Nobody will tell me what is proper for my child. I am the mother now! This is what I have chosen, and nobody can tell me otherwise.”
Reynald glanced between Rachel and Denis, and a spark of hope lit in his eyes. He spoke into the silence, his voice pitched low but carrying easily across the area. “So, Denis, now you have a woman telling you what to do?”
Denis’s face flushed crimson and he strode back to stand before Reynald. “Nobody tells me what to do!” he shouted with fury. “I am in charge, and what I say, goes!”
Rachel stiffened at this, and Denis laughed, his voice sharp. “Besides, out of the two sisters, I have by far gotten the better deal. Rachel has told me all about the wild things Sarah has done over the years.”
Sarah filled with outrage. She was the one who was impetuous? She strained forward, the sharp bite of the dagger pressing at her throat. “Me?!” she cried out hoarsely. The whole situation had taken on an unreal, dreamlike quality.
Rachel nervously wet her lips, but Reynald watched Denis’s growing emotional state with single-minded focus. His voice remained calm and even. “You insist that you are in charge. I know your logic. The only tenet you abide by is that might makes right. Are you claiming you are the best fighter here, then?”
Denis threw back his shoulders, scanning his eyes over his three remaining men with a sneer. “These men are perhaps capable enough, but they are certainly no match for me,” he boasted proudly. “None here can conquer me.”
Reynald waited for a heartbeat, then quietly challenged, “Are you truly a match for me?”
The world slowed to the quiet trickle of an autumn stream. She knew in her mind that Reynald was doing the right thing. The only thing which might save them.
Even so, her heart screamed that there must be another way – anything but watching him fight this man. Rachel had said Denis was without honor – without mercy. That Reynald might fall to such a man …
Denis threw back his head and laughed, then stepped into the center of the clearing. He looked around at the ring of watchers, his grin growing.
“If I see a motion from any of you, the woman dies,” he called out in warning. “I doubt any of your chivalric souls would dare risk that result.” He looked back to his men and nodded. They both gave Reynald a solid push, throwing him forward onto his knees. One of the men tossed the sword far to the right of Reynald’s dust-caked body. Then both moved to stand guard around Sarah, ensuring that nothing could interfere with the match.
Reynald pushed himself up to one knee, then turned back to gaze at Sarah. She held his look steadily, pouring all of her emotion into the moment. Nothing else mattered but the two of them.
A thick silence descended on the clearing. He smiled at her then, a wry smile that made her heart break.
An instant later, he was lunging sideways for his sword, rolling and coming up into a crouch.
The fight was on.
Sarah held her breath as the men swept in with an attack, blocked, counter-blocked, spun, and attacked again. Both men were elite swordsmen, aware of every feint, ready for every turn of the blade. Again and again Sarah drew back in fear, certain that a sweep of the blade would contact Reynald, and each time she sighed in relief as he dodged the blow, countering with his own.
Reynald’s moves were steady, sure, wearing down Denis with their persistence. Denis’s attacks were more sudden, with a twisting dagger often coming in from the shadows as the main blade bounced harmlessly against Reynald’s block.
Sarah saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned to watch Rachel sidle forward, her eyes fixated on the fight.
There was a sharp oath, and Sarah spun back to the combat. Reynald had stepped backward, and his left arm sported a four-inch gash across the upper muscle. Blood was streaming from the wound, and Denis laughed with glee. “You did not see that coming, did you?” he challenged Reynald with a sneer. “You are going down, old friend.”
Reynald’s look darkened with resolve, and he rotated his blade more firmly in his right hand. He put the blade through a three quarter spin, ending with it facing behind him. He crouched there, waiting for the next attack.
Denis could not resist the opening. With a yell, he swung into an offensive, driving in on the injured man.
Reynald turned and spun, dropping low under Denis’s attack. Reynald drew his blade down at a diagonal, and as Denis twisted to dodge the attack, he lost his footing and went down hard.
Reynald brought his blade up to press against Denis’s throat.
“Let the woman go,” ordered Reynald through gritted teeth, his blade not wavering. “Let her go, or you die.”
“Noooo!” came a scream from Sarah’s left. A blur moved past her, and suddenly a handful of dirt and rocks flew into Reynald’s face. He staggered backward, wiping furiously at his eyes.
Denis sprung to his feet with a cackle of delight, driving forward in one fluid motion. His sword plowed straight toward Reynald’s chest.
Reynald moved by instinct. He dropped to one knee.
Denis’s sword sliced just along Reynald’s shoulder, shaving a seam into Reynald’s leather armor.
Reynald dropped his sword, slamming his right hand onto his own shoulder, trapping Denis’s sword-arm in place.
Denis’s left hand flicked into motion, and the dagger drove straight toward Reynald’s chest.
Reynald’s left hand caught Denis’s barely in time, and the two men’s muscles strained as all focus came down to that thin, sharp blade. To its position only an inch away from Reynald’s heart.
Denis growled, straining, his right arm still pinned hard against Reynald’s shoulder. He leaned …
Reynald’s arms rippled with the effort of holding Denis in place while turning the blade. He twisted … twisted …
Drove.
The dagger slammed hard into Denis’s stomach, burying to its hilt.
Denis’s eyes flew open wide. His sword fell free. Reynald released him; Denis pulled hard to his feet.
Denis staggered backwards once … twice …
His balance was lost.
He toppled over backwards into the dirt.
He lay still.
Sarah’s world blazed in heartfelt thankfulness . Reynald was alive … Reynald was alive. A wave of gratitude flooded through her as she watched him stand and stare down at the fallen man.
Reynald slowly turned, his gaze settling on the eyes of the man holding the dagger at her throat. Behind him, the row of companions lifted their own swords from the ground, coming up behind him to form a wall.
Reynald’s eyes were steady, piercing her captor with deadly promise.
“Release the lady now.”
Sarah’s breath caught as her elation coalesced into pinpoint focus. She saw the tension ripple through the men before her; felt the subtle tightening of the arm which held the knife at her neck. Her captor gave a low, guttural growl. She realized that the bandit would rather kill her, would rather die fighting than surrender to the law.
She reacted on instinct. She moved as Cedric had taught her, in a sequence she had practiced hundreds of times in private since he had first shown her t
he proper action.
She flung her right arm up and slammed her head down hard to the right, momentarily trapping her captor’s knife arm away from her skin. She knew she only had a heartbeat of surprise before his superior strength overpowered her again.
She spun, driving all of her energy and power and will to live in the second motion. Her booted foot slammed in hard against his kneecap.
He howled out in excruciating pain, and the dagger flew wide from his grasp. In seconds her friends were on the bandits, pulling her free and diving in to attack her guards. She stumbled away from the melee, giving the men room to work. There was a flurry of steel on steel, but the bandits were outnumbered and fell quickly. Her breath came in heaves as the last captor fell senseless to the dirt.
Reynald held his blade out to one side at the ready, giving a long, steady scan of the area. The other men spread out at the edges of the clearing, their eyes alert.
Finally relaxing, Reynald turned to Sarah. He took the distance between them slowly, carefully, as if the thinnest of ice lay beneath him and only the most attentive caution could keep them from danger. Even when he reached her, his posture held uncertainty. There was a long pause; his brow furrowed as if he was sorting through what to say.
Finally, he spoke in a low, hoarse voice.
“Are you hurt?”
Sarah glanced at the wound on his arm, still steadily streaming blood. “You would ask me that?” she responded with gentle warmth. She lay a hand tenderly against his cheek.
A glimpse of hope shimmered into his eyes, and she realized just how much she had hurt him with her wild imaginings.
She had been so wrong …
“Oh, Reynald, I have been a fool,” she whispered, folding herself against him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
He stiffened for a moment, as if he were afraid any movement might dispel the dream. Then with a long exhale he brought his own arms tightly around her, pressing his lips against her forehead, his eyes closing in relief.
They spent many long minutes simply holding each other, Sarah immersed in the serenity of his embrace. He was alive. He was hers.
Finally, Reynald pulled himself away, blinking as if waking up from a long sleep. His eyes sharpened and he looked around him, scanning the clearing. Rachel was nowhere to be seen. “Your sister …?”
Sarah shook her head. “Let her go. She is going to choose her own path, and she does not wish for me to be a part of it. I have done as much as I could do, all these years. It is time for her to walk alone.”
Reynald kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “Then, if we have finished with your sister’s distractions, I think we have some unfinished business of our own.”
He knelt before her, drew his signet ring from his pouch, and held it up in a silent offer.
Tears streamed from her eyes.
She quietly nodded, putting her hand forward to Reynald. She watched with growing joy as he slid the ring onto her finger.
When he spoke, his voice was hoarse and raw. “Never doubt that I love you, and only you,” he vowed to her. “I shall be forever faithful to you. I shall love no other.”
Sarah pulled him back up to stand before her, and gazed with love into his eyes. “I trust in you,” she promised in return. “I shall never allow my faith to waver again.”
Chapter 26
Dawn was breaking as Sarah and Reynald arrived wearily at the keep. Word spread like wildfire throughout the complex, and by the time they had entered the main hall, everyone was gathered, cheering and crying out. Sarah hugged her mother and father, reassuring them that she was fine and that Rachel had been unharmed. Someone pressed a mug of mead into her hand, and she gratefully took a sip.
Suddenly she felt Reynald go stiff beside her. Following his gaze, she saw a grey-haired woman enter the room, dressed in an elegantly embroidered burgundy tunic. She seemed sharp and alert, her eyes scanning the room before settling on Reynald. She strode forward toward him.
“There you are,” she called out in a clipped voice. “So you are back at last.” Her eyes scanned down to Sarah, looking her over critically. “This must be your bride to be.”
Reynald’s voice was even when he spoke. “Mother, this is Sarah. She is my fiancée. Sarah, meet my mother.”
Sarah looked with interest at the woman who had caused so much turmoil. Suddenly, Abigail came running to wrap a slim arm around her mother’s waist, beaming with joy.
“Sarah, can you believe it, my mother has forgiven me! She has invited me and Lloyd to come live at the keep. It is wonderful!”
Reynald’s mother gave a dry smile. “I have heard a lot about you, Sarah,” she commented. “Gertrude stopped by my home a few days ago, to catch me up on events. Hearing her talk about rebuilding her life made me think that perhaps I should give more thought to my own family.” Her eyes moved back to meet with Reynald’s. “It would please me to spend time with the two of you, once you settle in to your new life.”
Reynald glanced at Sarah before responding. “We would welcome that,” he stated. “We have not yet set a date for the wedding -”
Sarah took his hand. “Tomorrow,” she announced, causing all eyes to turn to her in surprise. She smiled, tenderly looking up at Reynald. “It will be Saturday, after all, and everybody is here already. There is the full day to send out messengers and gather up friends who wish to attend.” Her voice dropped lower, pitched for Reynald’s ears only. “You are my love, my life, and my joy. I have no doubts. No doubts at all.”
Reynald pulled her close into his arms, holding her tightly against him. “Tomorrow it is,” he whispered gently into her ear, “but I am already yours, heart and soul.”
* * *
Sunset drizzled crimson, tangerine, and golden hues across the sitting room as Sarah relaxed in Reynald’s arms. It seemed surreal. Only a few weeks ago she was in this very room, turning away Simon, wondering what her future held. Now it seemed that her every wish in life had been fulfilled.
There was a gentle knock on the door, and her mother’s head poked around the corner. “Sarah? Might I come in for a moment?”
Sarah drew up to sit beside Reynald. “Of course,” she welcomed.
Her mother came in to sit across from them, looking between the two. “A messenger has just arrived for Gertrude. News from the nunnery.”
Sarah’s brow drew together. “Is there trouble?”
“No,” murmured Mathilde. She hesitated for a moment. “Apparently there is a newcomer.”
Sarah wondered if she should feel surprise, or concern, or nervous anticipation, but instead there was simply a quiet distance in her heart. “Rachel?”
Her mother nodded somberly. “Apparently she has begged sanctuary from them. She wishes to reside at the nunnery, at least through the birth of her child, if not longer.”
Reynald pursed his lips, but said nothing, turning to look at Sarah.
Sarah searched through her heart, looking for traces of concern, or anxiety, or anger, but she found none. Rachel was under the sisters’ stern care now. Her sister would spend time tending to women in dire straits, learning just how fortunate her own upbringing had been. As Rachel’s child grew within her, she would be reminded daily of the delicate young life which depended on her for its every sustenance.
Perhaps this would be the turning point, for Rachel to begin her new life.
Sarah nodded. “Thank you, mother. I appreciate knowing that,” she murmured.
Mathilde stood and moved forward to Sarah, offering a warm embrace, and then left the two of them alone again.
Reynald dusted a tender kiss along her forehead. “How do you feel about that?” he asked softly.
She gave him a half smile. “I would not throw the first stone,” she responded. “I can only hope that this new path is the one she was meant for.”
The pride in his gaze glowed through her, and she closed her eyes as he drew her against him.
* * *
Saturday dawned sun
ny and bright, and Sarah spent the morning washing and preparing with Polly and her mother. Her best church dress was laid out, and soon she was bedecked with red and pink roses. When she walked down into the main hall, she was amazed at the transformation. Overnight, the room had been turned into a garden of flower and decoration. The path to the chapel was lined with bouquets, and the chapel steps danced with colorful ribbons.
Every corner of the courtyard was crowded with familiar faces, and her father stepped up to take her arm. Sarah smiled at her many friends as she walked slowly across the cobblestones, nodding to Lily, Melissa, Bethany, Jack, Gertrude, and all of her other friends as she went. Abigail and Lloyd stood with their baby; Kyle was alongside his friend, and Reynald’s mother was alongside her daughter. Dorrie and Walter stood flanking the steps.
It seemed as if every person Sarah knew had managed to attend on short notice. Her heart swelled with pride.
Then, waiting by the priest on the top step, there was Reynald, standing tall and proud. Her father was tenderly passing over her hand into Reynald’s firm grasp. She knew nothing else, heard nothing else, until they were pronounced man and wife, and she was in his arms, kissing him.
She looked up into Reynald’s eyes, and her heart melted with joy. Nothing would part them ever again.
* * *
Sarah beamed with joy as she made her way through the stuffed-to-the-rafters main hall. Torches flickered on the walls, and the tables were filled with friends, soldiers, villagers, wanderers, and children all laughing and talking in boisterous delight. She knew well that the celebration would go on long through the evening and into the next morning.
In the far corner sat a woman she didn’t recognize. The woman had long, dark hair and deep brown eyes. She wore a simple, blue tunic and was perhaps a few years younger than Sarah. It was the woman’s expression that caught at Sarah. The woman seemed forlorn. Was that the right word for it? Perhaps it was more like hopeless resignation. As if all that was around her was a distant dream – one she could never have for herself.