by Beth Mikell
In some ways, she had no idea what it meant to truly smile and not feel guilty for it. She did not even know who she was or what pleasures freedom could offer. Would she enjoy afternoon picnics away from the keep? Would she treasure an unattended walk alone with her thoughts, or picking herbs without worrying about who might happen upon her and run a sword through her heart? Truly, self-reflection was the devil’s jest. It brought nothing but discouragement. Feeling older than her years, Adara wanted to give up, but there was so much to do and no one else to standup for the injustice beating inside her heart.
“Kitten, what are you thinking?”
Startled, Adara found Rowan in the doorway. He had changed into a black linen tunic and black pants with knee boots; a sword at his hip. Only the top portion of his hair was pulled up, the rest hanging down over his shoulders. He looked potent and sinewy, throwing her senses into another race for balance.
“It is nothing,” she said, keeping an eye on him, wary of his presence.
*.*.*.*
Rowan strode toward her, not stopping until her was an arm’s length away. An earthy scent clung to her skin like a delectable promise. The awareness of her sang through his body, filling his air deprived lungs until his heart sped faster to help perpetuate his breathing. At the same time, he inhaled her tempting sweetness.
“Does ‘nothing’ also make you defensive, kitten?” he cajoled in his rich Scots brogue.
“I am hardly a kitten as you have dubbed me.”
Rowan folded his arms to keep from touching her. He ached to pull her close and soften the worry lines from her face. “Now that would be a matter of opinion, lass. From where I stand, you are definitely… cat like in many ways.”
A subdued smile touched her lips, though not reaching her eyes. “Your charm will not work on me.”
He grinned, his dimples creasing. “Shall we test that theory? I am of an excellent mind to find out.”
Adara gave a short laugh, shaking her head. “I have a missing knight, a keep to run, and the Gray Legion breathing down my neck. It is certain, I do not have time for your silver-tongued words, no matter how tempting,” she offered with telling drops of sarcasm.
He took a step closer, his hands dropping to his sides. “Sounds like an invitation to me, kitten. You have all the requirements of a damsel in distress—and I am a knight, of course—who is well versed in saving the day.”
She began to turn away from him, but he reached out to stop her. She stiffened. His hand caressed her arm, and she pinned him with hard, black eyes. “I am not a casual woman, Rowan. Play your games somewhere else. I do not have the time to think of myself or to impress you.”
A measure of anger filled him. Though he had not been allowed the chance to spend quality time with her, he was hardly after a quick tumble. “Games? Impress me? Is that what you think, lass? I do not believe there is anything casual about you, Adara. In fact, I admire yer strength, courage, and spirit. Despite the fact that you put on a good face for the sake of everyone around you, I see you. If only in the short time I have known you, I would never presume to belittle yer pride or nature in such a careless manner. And do not suppose you know me or my intentions, lass.”
She pulled her arm from his grasp abruptly. “Then—if you understand this about me—why do you speak so ardently with sweet words. What do you want from me?” Her eyes narrowed; her face a mask without a telling expression.
“I want you to stop running from me every chance you get,” he said softly. “I dare say you have not many friends or family to rely on. Would it kill you to place yer trust in me and stop treating me beneath yer foot?”
She shook her head, biting her lip. “At what cost? Until your mission is over and you walk away? My apologies,” she said. “I cannot give you what you want. I do not have the luxury of… self-indulgence.”
Rowan cursed under his breath. “God, do you hear yerself? I am not asking for a tumble in the hay, though that might do you and me a hell of lot of good right now. I am asking for yer respect and trust as a man—to faithfully honor and protect you.” He drew a deep breath, exhaling hard. “Rely on me! Stop worrying all the time, and allow me take over some of the bloody responsibilities so tight fisted within yer grasp. Is that so hard for you to understand?” he said vehemently.
*.*.*.*
Adara wanted to run and hide from him. He was keenly aware of her situation, even how she felt about the problems without saying them. No one had ever realized that before and it shocked her. However, she parted with her deepest secret of her father’s death earlier. Was that not a beginning? She knew she could trust him, and he would not intentionally disappoint her without cause, but did she want him to have access to other areas of her life? Like her heart?
She mulled over his proposal. Rely on him? “All right, I accept, but on my terms, of course,” she said, watching a smile spread over his face and it irritated her. Had she given in too quickly? She hated to think so.
“As expected, kitten,” he said, adding velvet depth to his accent.
She huffed a bit. “What I mean is, if you could manage the keep affairs, I will have more time to look after the people. Many are sick and in need of my attention. Are we in agreement?”
Rowan held out his hand and Adara looked down with skepticism.
“Seal the deal, kitten?”
She lifted an eyebrow, moving her hand slowly against his. The warm pressure of his skin engulfed her with a sensual slide of sultry pleasure. His fingers slipped over her flesh, and a tingling sensation hit her low in the belly. She swayed on her feet, suddenly feeling light headed. He was too close. She breathed him in, delighting in his carnal scent. A whispering shiver rolled down her spine, echoing her dizziness. Staring up into his light brown eyes made her weaker. Desire lurked in his gaze, drawing her closer to a flame she had never circled—a yearning so dangerous an ache settled at the heart of her body. She did not know how to respond to him.
“Your deal sounds fair,” she said gruffly, inwardly wincing at the rough sound of her voice. Frankly, she was not sure where his offer would lead them. She snatched her hand away, turning toward the table. “Let me show you the books.”
“I am at yer service, lass.”
She closed her eyes, willing her body under control, but her hands shook and so did her heart.
Chapter 7
Blackstone Castle
The Festival of Bells was otherwise known as winter solstice. The vassals would celebrate the phenomenon, which marked the shortest day and the longest night of the year. Religiously the church did not recognize the festival, but the people enjoyed the time of togetherness, even exchanging gifts. The bells rang in a fruitful harvest and signaled the coming of winter with a happy heart. Animals were slaughtered for the upcoming winter months. Wine and ale that had been prepared earlier in the year was ready for consumption. December welcomed the event with much enthusiasm.
Lady Brenna of Blackstone stood in the garden, overseeing the women of Blackstone Castle, weaving long strands of wooden twine together, and attaching bells at various points. Garland would decorate the keep too. The beautiful greenery was entwined with colorful ribbons, infusing a bit of natural color for the celebration.
Brenna’s hand rubbed down over her very swollen abdomen, feeling her child kick against her hand and she smiled. Her time was very close, perhaps a month away, but honestly, she wished for any time. She was not worried about the delivery, but Darrius. Indeed, he was as anxious to receive their newest addition to their family, but his upmost concern lay for her trial of the birthing bed.
Her husband was a stickler about his level of control, but birthing a child fell outside his predictability, snapping his otherwise coolness into a bear like demeanor. When she had gone into labor with Liam, he all but delivered the infant himself, entirely worried that the mid-wife did not know what she was doing. She shook her head at the memory. His love for her was deep.
Ryrie, Darrius’s half-sister and ma
rried to Colin the Loyal, was a godsend, taking over much of the keep duties Brenna would normally attend, even softening Darrius’s worries with her level headed stride. For Brenna, Ryrie was more than just a sister-in-law, but as dear to her heart as her husband. In all her life, she never had imagined a home so filled with love and happiness. Her previous life with her father, Sir William of Carthmore, never included such a depth of love or affection. The day her abusive father had died, was a day she could live without fear. God’s blessing was ever blowing over Blackstone Castle in ways that promised the sweetest future.
“Indeed, my lady wife,” Darrius exclaimed in a forceful tone. “You may have found a way to test my patience further. Why are you not resting, little dove?”
Smiling, Brenna turned to face her husband, noting his intense blue eyes as he approached. He appeared ever the lord in his fur-lined mantle, and the impressive strength of his body gleamed under his dark clothing. Her heart raced, and her lungs worked fast. Every line of his expression showed his disapproval, as she tried to quell the urge to throw herself at him. “I only needed some fresh air and to check on the women, Darrius. I feel they needed my presence, warrior. Perhaps a little understanding for me?” She delighted how his warm arms slid around her, pulling her close.
He kissed her forehead, smoothing his hand down her braid hanging over her shoulder. “I wish you had mentioned this outing this morning. You know how I enjoy our walks together, little dove. Your time is too near for comfort and the weather is too cold,” he said, drawing back a little to smooth his hand over her swollen belly, his eyes narrowing.
Ryrie approached the couple, smiling. As she neared them, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Not to worry, brother, I have had my eye on her the whole time,” she said with a saucy wink, moving away, carrying a basket of bells.
Darrius grunted. “She seems too happy with her husband away. I wonder why?” He eyed his sister before looking back at his wife.
Brenna grinned. “It is the nature of every woman to be happy when one is expecting, my love,” she announced, watching the subtle recognition light his face.
Rendered speechless, his eyes followed Ryrie moving among the women of the keep. His face softened and his happiness was evident. “God bless Blackstone, little dove. So many miracles and so many blessings each year,” he said, looking back at his wife. “Shall I escort you back to the keep, my lady, or do you insist upon staying out to further to torture my concern?”
She gave a short laugh. “Lead the way, warrior.” She took his arm, heading back to the keep.
*.*.*.*
After settling Brenna safe and comfortable with her sister, Darrius went to train his new recruits for the Imperial Elite. After the tournament ended three months ago, he chose ten candidates that were not foresworn to a lord, but only four showed promise and potential from the grueling demand he handed them on a daily basis.
His hope was to install an Imperial Elite Knight within every northern keep to ensure stability and to be a liaison to Darrius for the sake of His Majesty King Henry III, as well as to take some of the king’s stress in worrying about what potential dangers may arise within his northern lands.
The Imperial Arm faced his new recruits. They were ready for hours of training.
*.*.*.*
Colin, Nyle, and Thomas neared Blackstone Castle after two weeks of travel, gathering information from within the borderlands and northern keeps. With the trouble afflicting HieLach, Rowan stayed behind, engaging Simon and Angus to stay with him. As they approached the keep, John, the gatekeeper recognized them, lowering the drawbridge and opened the portcullis. All three riders cleared the gate, receiving shouts of praise on their safe return.
To both Colin and Nyle’s happiness, their wives, Ryrie and Maude, were waiting for them. As soon as the warriors dismounted, they were greeted by the affection and the love they missed in the arms of their beloveds.
Colin drew Ryrie close, fitting her tightly to his chest, inhaling the wonderful cinnamon scent of her skin. He cupped her jaw to be sure she was real, his gaze raking over every inch of her face, violet eyes, and midnight hair. “Sweetness, I missed you so much. Two weeks was—two too many. I hope Darrius has trained his new recruits well. I am ready to forgo extended travel, even an hour away from you is too long, my sweet,” he whispered, leaning forward to brush his lips across her mouth.
Ryrie moaned softly. “I am happy for your safe return, my husband. If you like, I may speak to the Imperial Arm. I happen to know him well,” she said playfully with a wink.
He laughed. “Indeed, sweetness. If he were anyone else, I would take their head for claiming such an intimacy with my beautiful wife.”
The sound of a throat clearing behind the embracing couples redirected their attention. They came face to face with the Lord of Blackstone, who stood with powerful command in his armor. The Imperial order glinted in the sunlight, a royal seal of red over his left arm. His black mantle graced his shoulders with his hand on the hilt of his sword. The smirk on Darrius’s mouth claimed a telling sign of delight.
“I see your wives found you well, Colin and Nyle,” Darrius greeted. “Thomas welcome back.” He frowned. “Did you misplace Rowan, Simon, and Angus perchance?”
Colin bowed to his lord and half-brother. They shared a blood connection with Lord Robert of Dorling Castle, yet they did not share any other physical resemblance. “My lord, our journey was most enlightening, and we should discuss it straight away. As for your missing knights, they are safely installed at HieLach at present. There is a matter of great urgency there,” he explained.
Darrius nodded his head. “If you can break free from your wives, shall we adjourn to my solar?” he asked with smile, glancing at his sister.
Some may think it odd that his half-brother and half-sister married each other, but the couple was not related, sharing only the Imperial Arm as a sibling.
“At once, my lord,” Colin said, reaching down to take Ryrie’s hand, and he brushed a kiss over her skin. “I will see you later, sweetness. Promise.” His eyes confirmed his oath.
*.*.*.*
Darrius listened to Colin’s in-depth report regarding HieLach, and the startling news regarding Lady Adara’s deceased father. With Decimus missing, he knew what strain would befall HieLach, yet the account of Sir Robert of Chevington did not surprise him.
“While you were gone, I traveled to Chevington Manor,” the Imperial Arm said. “I received a cool reception from Sir Robert, which was odd, considering his past greetings, bordering on indecorous. When I mentioned my plan to install one or two Imperial Elite knights at his keep to improve northern relations with the king, he flatly refused. Ideally, my suggestion is to integrate a loyal knight to the king, not run over their individual authority. A measure of peace must be maintained, or more groups like the Gray Legion will surface repeatedly. Sir Robert did not see it that way, and that made me suspicious. But after your account, it is not surprising,” Darrius concluded.
Dugan, the Lord of Carthmore and married to Brenna’s sister, grunted. “It sounds like Sir Robert is worth a closer look.” The knight, formerly known as the Bloodsword, crossed his arms over his wide chest. His usual grumpy scowl was in place.
Colin agreed with a hmming sound. “Lady Adara was definitely against her uncle and his activities, whatever they maybe.”
Darrius sat back and tapped his hands together. “I do not necessarily suspect Sir Robert’s involvement with the Gray Legion, but I believe he is hiding something. I have an idea that may solve all our problems,” he said with a knowing smile.
Chapter 8
HieLach.
“My lady?”
Adara glanced up, finding Taryn standing in the doorway of her herbal. The nurse was of average height with tawny colored hair. Her dark dress was plain, but neat and tidy; her features sweet with clear green eyes. She had been in service since Kayden’s parents died. Her kind temperament and the gifted way she handled herself bespoke of
great fortitude and strength. Though her post was that of a nurse, she had become more of a mother to the orphaned child, taking her duties seriously. She tutored the young girl in her studies as well.
The Lady of HieLach smiled, setting aside her mortar and pestle. “Is everything all right? Is Kayden ill?” Concern touched her brow, always thinking as a healer.
Taryn shook her head. “She is well, my lady. She is in the kitchen having her morning meal,” she explained, taking two steps. “May I have a word?” There was a tightness around her lips, her gaze narrowed.
“Of course,” Adara said, wiping her hands on a cloth.
The woman brought her hands up, twisting her fingers together. “I know my place here at HieLach and I would never presume a closer acquaintance, but I am troubled. I have had overheard the people talking and I know about Lord Samuel.” She winced as she said the words. “Please accept my heartfelt condolences.”
A sting of tears gathered in Adara’s eyes, but she fought them back. Any mention of her father’s death brought sadness. “Thank you. I apologize for keeping my silence. It was not intentional.”
If anything, Taryn appeared more distressed. She shook her head. “Forgive me, but I knew the day your father passed away. But I was bound by silence, too.”
Cocking her head, Adara frowned. “How did you—”
“Decimus and I…” she hesitated, exhaling slowly. “We are together, my lady.” Her admission hung heavily in the air.
Understanding bloomed inside Adara. Her faithful knight and Taryn were secretly a couple. With his disappearance and the other woman’s silence, she knew how devastated Taryn must be without news of his return. “I did not realize that you and Decimus were close.” She inwardly winced at her words. The last thing she wanted was to appear insensitive.
Taryn’s head dropped down. “Yes, my lady.” The sparkle of tears fell down her cheeks, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand before looking up. “I love him, but he suffers under the assumption that he cannot do his duty and have a wife at the same time. As if he is undeserving.” She drew a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “When he did not return…” Her words faded, shaking her head. “I have been sick with worry. Please, tell me straight—is he—gone for good, my lady?” More tears sparkled in her eyes.