The Stolen Bride

by Susan Spencer Paul

  Suddenly, the man in the lead pulled his horse to another halt and stared hard in Sofia’s direction. She stared, too, wondering who it might be and whether she should be afraid. When the man turned his horse about and began to move toward her, the hairs on the back of Sofia’s neck prickled forebodingly. She drew in a sharp breath as the man neared and she told herself to run—to run now, out of the forest and to safety—but fear paralyzed her limbs.

  Sir Griel’s ugly face sneered in the semblance of a smile.

  “Mistress Sofia,” he said in a low, laughing tone, “how fortunate that I find you here…and all alone.” He glanced at the meal she had spread out upon the ground. “But you await someone? Could it likely be Master Kayne, the blacksmith? Do you meet in the forest to cuckold me, Sofia? Has he enjoyed you often? But it must be so, else you’d be surrounded by the safety of both maid and manservant. Tell me, Sofia, do you prefer being taken by rough, common men? If I had known, I would have been glad to pleasure you in such a manner.”

  Sofia stepped back unsteadily, both her mind and heart racing. His two soldiers had joined him, and sat upon their steeds, leering down at her in the same manner as their master.

  “He has not yet joined you for your secret tryst?” Sir Griel asked. “But it will be soon, will it not?” His small, black eyes narrowed within the frame of his heavy beard and eyebrows, and he began to dismount. “We must make certain to surprise him with some form of entertainment, do you not agree? I think he will like to see how a true man can make a woman such as you howl with pleasure, Sofia.” The men behind him laughed.

  Just as his booted foot touched the earth, Sofia fled. She did not think where she went, nor consider what her safest course would be. Fear drove her; that same fear blinded her. Sir Griel would rape her without mercy, and the truth of that spurred her onward in a frenzied panic. Trees rushed past as she set one foot in front of the other, striving not to stumble or strike a tree or rock, praying that she’d get away. Behind her were the sounds of shouts and horses’ hooves, coming nearer every moment.

  The two soldiers came up on either side of her, then moved together to cut off the path she had taken. Without stopping, she changed course to another direction, and then, finding the way stopped by Sir Griel, to yet another, and another, moving in a desperate circle, panting from both fear and exertion. When the horses came so close that she could not move beyond them, she drew in as much breath as her aching lungs could manage and cried out aloud, “Kayne! Kayne!” and kept shouting the single word even as Sir Griel dismounted and approached, fury in his set features.

  “Slut!” he said angrily, raising a hand to strike her. Sofia raised her own hands to ward him off, fighting like a wild animal and still screaming Kayne’s name. Sir Griel swatted her blows aside as if they were naught, and brought his gloved hand down hard across the side of her face.

  “Bitch!” he spat out as she fell to the ground. “Whore!”

  Dizzy from the blow, Sofia tried to sit up. Sir Griel struck her again, harder this time, and as she fell upon the ground her mind whirled with pain and darkness. She tasted blood in her mouth, and heard someone groaning, but was too confused to know who it was. Again, setting one hand flat against the cool, damp ground, she tried to push herself up, blinking to clear her blurred vision. A booted foot caught her in the stomach, kicking her over onto her back, where she lay, gasping. Two more kicks followed, hard and savage. Somewhere overhead, Sofia heard the sound of laughter. He was enjoying what he was doing. He would laugh even as he killed her.

  Powerful hands grabbed her, steely fingers dug into her skin, and dragged her along the rough ground.

  “I warned you, Sofia, what would happen to you if you should displease me. And I am most displeased, indeed. Now I must teach you a lesson you will never forget.”

  Blindly, she tried to push him away, managing to thump her fist across his broad forehead. It availed her naught. He gave a harsh laugh, lifted her up, and slammed her full length against the trunk of a tree, so brutally that she lost all consciousness for the space of several long moments.

  A cold draught of water poured over her head—coupled with severe shaking by Sir Griel—brought Sofia unwillingly back to her senses. She coughed and blinked and, with what little remained of clear thought, prayed for Kayne to find her soon, and if that was not possible, then please God bless her with a quick and merciful death. Her back, shoulders and neck contracted with pain from where they had struck the tree. The slightest movement was agonizing.

  “Ah, good, she has come awake again,” Sir Griel said, very near her face, so that she could both feel and smell his sour breath. “I want you full aware of what I’m going to do to you. Every moment of it, so that you’ll remember, and never again cross my will.” He lunged forward and set his mouth against her own, pressing so hard that her lips were ground against her teeth, filling her mouth with blood anew. His heavy beard consumed her face almost entirely, even tickling up into her nostrils so that she could scarcely breathe. Then he forced her mouth to open wide beneath his own and thrust his thick, seeking tongue inside, swabbing her mouth with such violence that she gagged and was nearly ill. He felt her convulsing, and wisely pulled away. Sofia had never known such relief, and gasped for air.

  But relief was short-lived. With a rough, sickening movement, Sir Griel picked Sofia up and threw her face-down upon the ground. The force of impact knocked the breath from her body, and Sofia opened her mouth wide in a plea for air. Dirt mingled with blood in her mouth, but she was beyond caring for that. Sir Kayne’s hands were on her skirts, pulling them up above her waist, baring her cotton leggings.

  “No,” she murmured, pleading. “Do not…please God…”

  “I like to hear you begging,” Sir Griel said, panting now with clear excitement. “It arouses me as nothing else could, Sofia.” He suddenly lay fully atop her, his heavy weight squeezing the breath from her lungs, grinding the hard ridge of his manhood against her bottom in an obscene manner. Somewhere nearby, she heard his men laughing with approval.

  “I will ride you like the bitch you are, Sofia,” Sir Griel murmured against her ear, thrusting up against her in a lewd rhythm. “And in the backward manner of a dog with his bitch in heat, just as you deserve. Oh, aye, this first time, you’ll have your due. I’ll give you all you want, and when I’m sated, I’ll let my men take their pleasure of Mistress Sofia Ahlgren. Kayne the Unknown won’t touch you after we’ve done with you, not even for a fortune. You’ll be my whore, Sofia. Mine, and no one else’s. Do you feel that, bitch?” He shoved his manhood hard against her, and his cruel fingers dug into the waist of her leggings, ripping the cloth to pull it down. “That’s going to ram you so hard that you’ll not walk for a week without remembering it. I promise you—”

  Suddenly, Sir Griel gave a loud grunt and fell heavily on top of Sofia—but only for a brief moment. Almost at once, he was lifted away and tossed to the ground beside her, landing with a resounding thump.

  “Sofia.” She heard a dear voice, filled with harsh emotion, murmuring her name, and knew that she was safe. The relief made her begin to weep, as she’d not yet been able to do, even with all Sir Griel’s terrors.

  “Oh, my love.” A hand gently smoothed her skirts down, and then she was tenderly turned over and lifted into strong, soothing arms. From the corner of one swelling eye she saw, blearily, one of Sir Griel’s men lying not too far from his master, clearly insensible. Sir Griel and his minions must have been too occupied with his evil to hear Kayne’s approach, and thereby to stop him.

  “I have you,” Kayne murmured, cradling her against himself. “He cannot harm you now.” Careful fingers pushed the hair from her face, and then he was still for a moment, very still. She heard him draw in a tight breath. “I will kill him for this, Sofia,” he said, his voice trembling. “I make this vow to you, and before God. I will have him dead. But not now. Not when he is insensible, and cannot suffer as I shall make him suffer. Now, I hold you in my arm
s and will not let you go for the sake of any man, or for any reason, until I have you safe.”

  Sofia felt herself being lifted, and with a sigh she turned her face into the immense comfort of Kayne’s muscle-hard chest, letting herself drift back into the beckoning darkness.

  She did not know how long it was until she woke again, her body wracked with pain, to find herself riding on Tristan, still held securely in Kayne’s arms.

  “Kayne,” she said, distressed to hear how gravely and horrid her voice sounded.

  She felt him look down at her, and he shifted her slightly upon the saddle. The movement made her groan aloud.

  “Forgive me,” he said, adding quickly, “Nay, do not try to move or open your eyes. You are grievously bruised, love, and ’twill give you great pain to move at all.”

  He was right. Her eyes were swollen nearly shut, and she hurt everywhere. But her mouth was terribly dry, and she begged for a drink of anything. Kayne’s hands moved, but always carefully supported her, and soon, not slowing Tristan’s steady stride, he set a wineskin to her lips. She sipped eagerly, only to discover that even that small effort hurt. Her mouth was swollen and the taste of blood and dirt yet strong on her tongue. Kayne took the wineskin away and gently dabbed her lips with the tip of his cloak, in which Sofia discovered that she was wrapped.

  “Try to rest,” he advised softly, cradling her nearer. “We will be there soon, and all will be well.”

  “Where?” Sofia managed to whisper, cracking her eyes open enough to gaze up into his taut expression.

  “To a dear and trusted friend,” he replied, holding his gaze steadily upon the road before them. It occurred to Sofia for the first time that they were surely being pursued by Sir Griel and his men, who would have followed after them as soon as they had wakened from the slumber Kayne had gifted them with. “No man—nor any army—will be able to touch us once we are safe within Aric of Havencourt’s gates.”

  Chapter Eleven

  When Sofia next awoke it was to find herself being lowered with great care into the arms of a huge, dark man who was shouting instructions at the top of his voice, “Shut the gates at once, Harry! Richard, take Sir Kayne’s mount and have him properly stabled. Domnal, have the walls fully manned—weapons at the ready and every torch and fire lit! Philip, count the arrows we have in the storeroom and give every man a shared measure. We’ll give the scoundrels a welcome they’ll not soon forget!”

  It sounded as if he were preparing for a terrible battle, and was most gleeful at the prospect.

  Sofia groaned and tried to open her eyes, and the dark giant’s voice lowered at once.

  “She’s stirring,” he said, to which Kayne replied, “The dead would stir at all your shouting, Aric. Here, give her to me gently…gently, man.”

  She was transferred to Kayne’s arms, and the other man said, “God’s mercy, but she’s been sorely abused. I’ll fetch Magan at once. She’ll know what to do. And Lady Katharine can be called for if need be. I’ll send one of my lads to Senet once we have your good lady settled. And to John, as well, by the Rood.” His voice began to rise again. “We’ll teach the bastard who did this vile thing a fearful lesson, I vow.”

  “Only lead me to Magan before you start your war, Aric,” Kayne said impatiently. “I want Sofia made comfortable at once.”

  She drifted in and out of awareness for the next hour or more. She recalled the soothing sound of women’s murmuring voices, and very gentle hands caring for her. She protested as she was unclothed and bathed, for the pain of being moved about and cleansed and having her wounds tended to was nearly unbearable, but to no avail. Soon enough, however, Sofia was laid upon a soft, cool bed and covered with a very light sheet. She nearly drifted to sleep again, but was roused by the sound of Kayne’s voice, saying gently, “You must drink this, Sofia. I know ’tis difficult, love, but you must do the best you can.”

  She made a murmuring protest as he slid an arm beneath her aching shoulders and drew her up to sit. A cup was pressed to her swollen lips and tilted until the bitter contents filled her mouth. It tasted awful, but she recognized the potion as being very like one of her own medicinal remedies, and was grateful for the benefits that would soon follow.

  When she had drunk it all, Kayne lowered Sofia to her pillow once more, and she gave a sigh of relief and contentment. On the morrow, she would likely suffer even greater swelling and soreness, but it did not seem that Sir Griel had done any greater damage than to badly bruise her. Nothing felt as if it was broken, leastwise, though a couple of her teeth felt loose. Still, the outcome might have been far worse, and certainly would have been if not for Kayne.

  Kayne took her hand and squeezed it lightly, and Sofia managed to open her eyes a bit. The chamber she lay in was dark, save for the light of a hearth, but she could see the worry and unhappiness etched on Kayne’s handsome face as he gazed down at her. She must look a dreadful sight, to elicit such concern. Ignoring the pain that the movement gave her, Sofia smiled and murmured, “I’m glad you came today…but sorry it turned out so…poorly. I meant to feed you a grand meal…not give any trouble.”

  He squeezed her hand more tightly and bowed his head low. “I very nearly did not come to you today, Sofia,” he said in a voice both tormented and sorrowful. “I nearly sent a boy with a message, to tell you that I would not meet you. ’Twas only by the mercy of God that I changed my mind at the last moment. When I think of what you suffered at the hands of that brute…when I think that I might have kept it from happening if I’d only gone to you at once, if I’d never been so damnably foolish in turning you away as I did…”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered, rubbing her thumb lightly over his hand. “Kayne, you saved me from him…not for the first time.” She drew in a shaking breath, afraid that he was weeping. “Please, Kayne…do not…”

  He shook his lowered head. “I vowed to be your champion, to keep you from harm. I vowed that he would never touch you again. He was going to rape you, Sofia. He might very well have killed you in the doing of it.” He raised his face at last, taut and filled with a violence she had never before seen. “But he will never have the chance to do so again. I am taking you to Vellaux as soon as you are well enough to travel.”

  “Vellaux?” she repeated, utterly confused. “My father will be afeared…to know what has become of me.”

  “Aric has already sent two of his swiftest riders on their way to Ahlgren Manor to allay your father’s fears and inform him of my plans. It was necessary that they take the longer road, for Sir Griel and his men are very near to Havencourt now, but they are good men, riding Aric’s strongest mounts, and will reach Wirth before dawn. Once there, they will remain at my dwelling and care for my animals until I’ve returned. You must fear for nothing, Sofia, not even for your father’s worries. Only rest, and know that you are safe here.”

  “I do not fear for myself, Kayne. But…I will not be easy until you take back your vow…that you will kill Sir Griel.”

  His skin darkened. “That is a vow I will keep, before God and man. I will kill him. Indeed, I pray that I may do so this very night—even within the hour.”

  She was full distressed at the words, and with her feeble strength gripped his fingers.

  “Nay, you must not, Kayne. I will make charges against him…and he will be justly condemned for what he did this day. But you must not go against the vow you have made when you gave up the knighthood.”

  “Then I will take up the knighthood again,” he said, his blue eyes hard and cold. “If only to kill him, I will do it.”

  Sofia could scarce believe such words. To kill again, especially from a rage born of hatred, would shadow him forever, and in time he would be burdened with awful regret.

  “No, Kayne. Not for that reason. Never for such a reason. ’Tis not what the knighthood is for—merely to kill.”

  “Is it not?” he asked bitterly. “I was a knight for many years, Sofia, and spent all of them doing little else.
For the first time, I shall enjoy taking a man’s life. For what he did to you, Sir Griel surely and rightly deserves to die.”

  “But not by your hand, Kayne.” Tears stung her swollen eyes. “The law will judge and punish him.”

  “We shall see,” he replied curtly, then began to rise. “You must rest now.”

  Using her last bit of strength, Sofia held on to his hand, not letting him go.

  “Stay with me,” she pleaded.

  His gaze softened and his voice was more gentle. “I will return soon, I vow, and sit here beside you through the night to tend you.”

  “Nay, do not go at all. How can I rest easily knowing that you go to fight and kill Sir Griel? It is a very torment to me, only to think of it. Please, Kayne. Please.”

  He stood for a long, silent moment, frowning at her, while Sofia struggled to remain awake against her great weariness and the powers of the potion she’d taken earlier.

  With a sigh, Kayne gave way, pulling his chair closer to the bed and sitting in it, yet holding her hand.

  “Very well, Sofia. To give you peace, I will stay.”

  “And will not leave, even when I have fallen into slumber?”

  He gave her a slight smile, then leaned forward to very gently kiss her forehead.

  “I will not leave you.”

  She released a deep breath and relaxed. “I am glad,” she murmured, closing her eyes with relief. “So glad, Kayne.”

  The room was silent, then, save for the comforting sounds of the fire. Sleep pressed heavily upon her and Sofia, her hand held securely in Kayne’s, gladly embraced it.

  “For my own part, I would be the first to approve your regaining the knighthood. But, for your part, Kayne, I cannot admit to being so glad.” Senet Gaillard set his hands behind his back and held Kayne’s gaze. “You have been happier since putting aside your ordination, my friend. You have even gained that measure of peace which you so dearly sought—at least for a time it seemed thus. Since coming here yesterday, I have seen only a return to that man who you were when we left France, and it fills me with sorrow.”