by C. A. Szarek
“That is not in Lower Greenwald,” Tynan growled.
She’d no coin, and the tavern and inn in question was in Greenwald Main, the better part of the city center. If his wife was there, unless she sold her body like barmaids at many a tavern, she’d gain no room and board.
“Aye, sire. But Mistress Avril is not there.” Harlan’s knuckles were white on his horse’s reins as the beast stood beside him. Only the large gelding stood still.
“You looked at all the wenches as well as spoke to the proprietor?”
Harlan nodded. “Even looked in the kitchens. They’ve not seen a dark-haired lass at all that fit Mistress Avril’s description.”
“Where the hell is she?”
“Shall I have Ferd and Han rove the market again?”
“Do it now.”
His steward shouted for his two oldest sons and relayed Tynan’s orders.
Without a word, both young men mounted their horses and took off toward the city center, only a ten minute ride from the slums.
Tynan glared up at the disheveled sign announcing the Dragon’s Lair. Supposed to be shaped like a shield, the wood was split and hung at an angle above the entrance, the other nail long rotted through. The fire breathing dragon on it used to be green. It was chipped and half gone.
The stupid bartender swore he’d not seen Avril, either. Tynan had checked all his whores. Every last one was older and haggard; none could hold a candle to his wife.
In the very least, she was attractive. If she’d have been trying to work there selling her body, the other women wouldn’t have had it. She would’ve been tossed to the street for taking all their clients.
He snorted. If she was trying her sweet little bottom at being a whore, Tynan would kill her. No matter where he ended up finding her. Then he’d demand her stupid father repay her dowry or he’d replace Avril with her younger sister.
A slow smile spread across his mouth. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad idea. The girl was at least four and ten now, would have to be pretty, too, because she looked like her older sister.
He could have another virgin. Maybe the younger sister could do what Avril had not, and give him a son. Though his wife was the only one known to have magic in her family, it was in the blood, wasn’t it? Her sister’s son could be just like Avril.
“Let’s go, there’s nothing here,” he snarled at his steward.
“Aye, sire.” Harlan tied his horse to the back of Tynan’s coach and climbed into the driver seat.
“Take me to the White Sage Pub.”
“Sire?”
“We’re staying in Greenwald until we find her. She’s around here somewhere. I will find her and bring her home.”
****
The more Avril spoke, the more Leargan’s blood boiled. His blunt nails were biting into his palms as he squeezed tight fists, but that was about the only thing that kept his sword in its scabbard. He wanted to tear the bastard from limb to limb.
Ansley’s teal gaze and wide smile kept dancing into his mind, making him see even more red. Even the thought of someone hurting her like Avril had been hurt made him want to run something through. Leargan would kill anyone who’d attempt to hurt Ansley like that.
The duke, too, was angry, fists clenched, jaw tight.
Tristan was also present to witness what Avril had to say, but he sat silently, pale. Knowing what she’d been through because of his magic and hearing her talk about it were two different things.
Lady Cera had expressed concerns that a female should be present, but Roduch protested it would be too many people for Avril, so the ladies were excluded. No doubt Cera, Aimil and Ansley were waiting in the Duchess Solar.
Roduch sat, his chair plastered to hers, her small hand in his. But the more she spoke, the closer she moved to the big knight, until he finally pulled her onto his lap, holding her as her voice shook and she fought tears.
Leargan was proud of Avril for how long she held it together.
Tears didn’t course down her cheeks until she’d finished her recital. She promptly buried her face against his friend’s broad chest and started to sob.
Still he admired her. It wasn’t easy to show emotion in front of virtual strangers.
Jorrin winced and exchanged a glance with Tristan. The duke’s empathic magic would cause him to feel what the girl was. That’d be uncomfortable at best.
Leargan shifted in his chair, taking a breath.
“Let’s go arrest the bastard,” Roduch growled. The girl in his arms whimpered, but the knight just held her tighter.
Lord Aldern cleared his throat, holding a palm up. “Calm, Roduch.”
Leargan stood and moved behind the taller man, squeezing his shoulder, smiling slightly at the grateful look Roduch shot him.
“Avril,” Jorrin said softly. The half-elfin duke waited for her to compose herself.
The girl lifted her head and looked at him, her green eyes as wide as saucers.
“You were married at age fourteen, correct?”
“Yes, Lord Aldern,” Avril whispered.
“Do you wish to remain married to Tynan Mont of Greenwald, now that you’ve come of age?”
Avril shook her head vehemently. “No!”
Biting back a smile, Leargan stood taller. She was small, but strong. It was nice to see some spirit. Her former husband hadn’t ripped it all from her.
“He needs you to say it, lass,” Roduch said, squeezing her hand.
She looked into his friend’s eyes for so long the other men all shifted in their seats. Then Avril squared her shoulders and sat taller against Roduch’s broad frame.
He didn’t miss the softness in his friend’s gaze. Leargan could already see a bond forming between his friend and the girl.
They both deserved happiness. If they could find it together, so be it.
Blessed Spirit guard their hearts.
Leargan spared a glance at Jorrin. The duke’s expression was serious, but he could tell the empath saw it, too. No doubt magic would confirm it.
“I, Avril Larange, formally renounce my marriage to Tynan Mont.” With every word, her voice rose, more clear and confident. When she finished, her face was radiant.
“Witnessed by Lord Jorrin Aldern,” Jorrin said.
“Also witnessed by Lord Tristan Dagget,” the healer seconded.
“Also witnessed by Sir Leargan Tegran.” He added his voice, as did Roduch, vehemently. Probably more witnesses than legally necessary, but it couldn’t hurt anything.
Avril looked overwhelmed, but allowed Roduch to kiss her knuckles. She relaxed against his friend, a smile playing at her lips.
Good.
Leargan hadn’t seen the girl smile yet.
“Gamel drew up this parchment. We’ll sign it. It decrees that your renouncement is official, Avril. We’ll go arrest him, and then the king can deal with him.”
“I still want to kill the bastard,” Roduch muttered.
“The king?” Avril breathed, paling.
“Aye,” Roduch said.
“He should be here soon,” Jorrin said, one corner of his mouth up. He caught Leargan’s eye.
“Don’t remind me,” Leargan mumbled.
“Why is the king coming to Greenwald?” Avril whispered.
“For Leargan and Ansley’s wedding,” Jorrin said, much too brightly.
Leargan glared, and Tristan coughed, but it was really poorly disguised laugh.
Roduch shot him a glance, but he just shrugged.
He hadn’t told his men about his betrothal.
“Oh,” the girl said, looking at Leargan. “Congratulations, Sir Leargan. I like Mistress Ansley very much.”
“Thank you,” Leargan said. “She is fond of you, as well.”
Avril’s lips upturned slightly. It was shy and sweet and had Leargan smiling in return.
Who was this girl that she could say congratulations regarding marriage, considering the one she’d endured?
“What happens next? No
w that the decree is signed?” Roduch asked, looking at Jorrin. “Can we go arrest the bastard?”
“Very soon, Roduch. Very soon.” The duke nodded, his blue eyes earnest as they regarded the knight. “We have more to discuss, but Avril is safe here and welcome to stay as long as she wants.”
Roduch pulled her closer.
Was forever an option? Leargan smirked. No way Avril was going anywhere.
“Am I done?” Avril whispered.
“Aye, lass. Let’s go get some air. I’ll take you to Lady Cera’s garden again. Even in the fall, the place is peaceful and beautiful.”
She smiled—genuinely smiled—as the big knight stood in one fluid motion and put her to her feet.
Leargan tried not to stare.
Avril’s face lit up. Beautiful slid into gorgeous. And his friend was already lost to her as he stared down.
After tucking her small hand into his elbow, Roduch bowed to the lords and inclined his head to him before taking Avril from the room.
“Wow,” Jorrin whispered as soon as the door to his ledger room had closed.
“There’s certainly something between them,” Tristan said.
The duke came around to the front of his desk, perching on the end and crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You’re not kidding. My magic lit up from the inside out.”
“Speaking of magic, did you notice something about her recital?” the healer asked.
“What’s that?” Leargan leaned forward in the ornate carved chair across from Jorrin.
“Not once did the word magic come out of that girl’s mouth.”
“So?” The duke cocked his head to the side, blue eyes intense.
“Could you not feel her magic, Jorrin? When I healed her…I knew it was there.”
“I felt nothing.” Jorrin’s brow furrowed.
“Exactly. She has great power. Great power.”
“Of what nature?” Leargan asked.
“That, I cannot tell you. She’s too guarded. When I touched her mind with healing magic, a vault slammed shut on me. I sensed magic, a lot of it. But nothing more.”
“Do you think she knows she has magic?” Leargan asked. Having none himself, the only knowledge he had of magic was from those around him.
He could thought-send if he concentrated, but it gave him an instant headache. Having someone else’s voice in his mind always made an unmanly tremor shoot down his spine, but he’d received thought-sends from others on occasion.
“Aye.” The healer nodded, taking a breath. “There’s no way she has that much control and doesn’t know she has it. She’s hiding it. Avoiding it at all costs.”
“I agree. Control suggests training. But why hide?” Jorrin mused, shoving his hand through his dark hair.
“We need to find out. Before we go traipsing to Tynan Mont’s holding,” Leargan said.
“You don’t think it’s a trap?” Jorrin threw him a look.
“No. Not with those kind of wounds,” Tristan said before he could speak.
“I just mean, we need to know what we’re riding into.”
“Well, you’re the captain. Tell me what you need,” Jorrin said.
“Knowledge.”
“I can’t order her to divulge her magic. I mean, I won’t. Not after what she’s been through.”
“I know who can get her to talk.” Tristan’s hazel eyes were keen, and he tented his fingers.
“Roduch,” Leargan and Jorrin said at the same time.
Chapter Twelve
Roduch assured him he could get the girl to open up to him about her magic, but he’d begged Leargan and Jorrin to give him some time.
People overwhelmed her.
She still took most meals in her room, the big knight only leaving her side for training.
Tristan checked on her daily, and the ladies visited briefly—now she would see all three of them regularly—but for the most part, Avril was a hermit of her guest suite.
If Roduch—more anxious than anyone to apprehend Avril’s husband—could be patient and wait until she was ready, so could the rest of them.
It would happen all in good time. She was being taken care of, safe. Leargan was content with that, until it was time to lead his men to get the bastard.
Jorrin had put out feels, magic as well as sending a few men, to discreetly see if Tynan Mont knew his former wife’s whereabouts. They’d received no confirmation, other than the man was angry beyond all means that she’d disappeared. None of the men had approached him, but he’d been spotted in Greenwald Main.
He didn’t even try to play the grieving husband, though he was promising a reward of gold for her return. Wouldn’t Tynan Mont be surprised when he received an armed escort of knights instead?
Despite the plan in regards to Avril’s former husband, the next few days passed quickly, with Leargan grabbing Ansley and kissing her senseless every chance he got.
He had to concentrate not to skip down the wide corridor.
When had he ever been happier?
Leargan could only grin at the looks he received from servants he passed on the way to the kitchens. He didn’t care. Nothing could bring him down.
“Captain, I’ve everything you asked for. And the bread is still warm. I put sweet spread on it and wrapped for you both.” Daicy inclined her head, grinning. Her brown eyes danced as he took the picnic basket.
He smiled. “Thanks, Daicy. Did you give her my note?”
“Aye, sir. I also made sure one of the lads readied your horses. Mistress Ansley should be in the courtyard waiting for you.”
His stomach jumped. A free afternoon was rare, but Leargan wanted to take time to get to know his betrothed.
Alone with Ansley—really alone, away from the prying eyes of Castle Aldern was going to be a test. He was determined to be honorable by her. She’d make it to their wedding night with her virginity intact.
Even if it killed him.
And with the way she pressed against him, caressed him, and kissed him back, it just might. Ansley wasn’t just responding to his overtures anymore. She’d started initiating contact; she’d reach for his hand, touch his arm, and kiss him, too.
The fact that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her was testing his resolve—and self-control.
Daicy bowed and returned to her duties with a parting smile.
Leargan whistled, grinning like an idiot as he headed out of the castle.
She looked up, as if her eyes sought him as he crossed the main courtyard. The smile that lit Ansley’s face made his heart skip.
He ordered himself to keep it together and thanked Ansley for minding Fia when he reached her and their horses. “Afternoon.” Leargan pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Grinning, she leaned into him. “Afternoon.” She glanced at the well laden basket. “A picnic, Leargan?” Her blue-green eyes were wide and eager.
“Aye, if you’re up for it.”
“Oh, aye.” She slipped her arms around his waist and squeezed. “You could’ve just asked me, you know. The note suggested something clandestine.”
Leargan chuckled. “And here I thought my Senior Rider betrothed would have appreciated my efforts, message and all.”
She giggled. “I do, I really do. Thank you.”
When she bowed, he could hardly keep the grin off his face. What was this woman doing to him?
Ansley’s eyes swept the courtyard, and Leargan’s gaze followed, seeing a tiny Avril on Roduch’s arm, headed toward the gardens.
When she looked back at him, her expression sobered. “Maybe we shouldn’t go. There’s a lot going on right now.”
He caressed her cheek. “We’ll get Tynan Mont when the time is right. I think an afternoon to ourselves is fine. She’s safe here, with Roduch especially.”
Ansley bit her bottom lip, but nodded, squeezing his hand. “Do you have a place in mind?”
“Aye, if you’re up for a long ride.”
She patted her white gelding’s neck. “Of co
urse. Long rides are what Caide does best.”
“Good.” Leargan secured the basket to his saddle, giving Fia a pat. She nickered, bumping his hand for more affection.
Ansley ran her hand down her long muzzle. His buckskin mare bumped her hand when she went to move away. “You’re a greedy girl, aren’t you?” Her tone was amused.
Leargan rubbed his horse’s jowls and laughed. “She likes you.”
Ansley glanced over her shoulder. Her bond was slinking toward them, head down, as if she was stalking prey. She sighed. “I wish I could say the same for how Ali felt about you.”
The wolf sprinted the last twenty feet, coming to a stop only seconds before plowing Ansley over. She leaned into her mistress’s thigh, the look in her yellow eyes screaming, Mine.
He shook his head, then met Ansley’s teal gaze. “I hope she’ll change her mind at some point.”
After scolding her bondmate, Ansley pushed her off and patted the wolf’s rump. “Be nice, Ali, I mean it.” Her expression was full of chagrin. “Well, I like you, so that’s all that matters.”
Leargan’s heart thundered and he fell into her eyes.
She liked him?
Liking him was one thing, but couldn’t it be more? It shouldn’t bother him, because he liked her, too.
He ignored the voice that suggested it was more.
His hands reached for her of their own accord. Ansley came to him, ignoring Ali’s protest. Leargan disregarded her bond as well, claiming her mouth. Just one kiss and then they’d go.
Opening for him like she always did, she pressed closer. Her lush breasts flattened against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him, hips pushing into his.
He felt every inch of her tall frame, and his manhood stood up straight, threatening to punch through his breeches.
Her taste exploded in his mouth as their tongues dueled. He kissed her harder, swallowing her moan.
Leargan pulled away, gasping when he caught himself cupping her bottom and thrusting against her. Looking at her face was a mistake. He groaned at heavy-lidded teal eyes, full kiss-swollen lips and pink flushed cheeks.
He wanted to make her truly his. He would never survive until their wedding night. “We—” he cleared his throat. “We should go. I want to take you to the lake.”
Ansley nodded, slipping out of his arms and taking a breath that made her delectable breasts rise and fall. She brushed her hair out of her face. “Are you bringing a blanket?”