by C. A. Szarek
Loud voices along with pats on shoulders and backs ran rampant as the king’s men greeted Leargan’s. They hadn’t seen each other in some time, and both Kale and Teagan—two of the knights of the Greenwald personal guard—were saluting their fathers.
A smile played at Leargan’s lips despite the pain in his heart. Family reunions were a good thing.
No one had approached him just yet, where he stood by the dais, but he surveyed the crowd. The king was hugging Lady Cera.
Leargan’s eyes rested on Avril and Roduch. She stood by his side while the big warrior clasped the forearm of Renen, one of knights of the king’s personal guard. The man was bloodkin to Roduch. His friend had squired for the older knight when they were lads.
Avril stood shyly next to Roduch, their hands entwined. Her mess of dark curls had been tamed, intricately braided, a pearled comb and flowers woven in. It made her look even younger. Beautiful and innocent.
Roduch slipped an arm around her shoulders. Even from the distance he was standing, Leargan saw the blush light her cheeks as the big man introduced her to his cousin. But her smile was sweet, welcoming. It was good to see no fear in her expression.
She still stayed away from men other than Roduch, but she was warming up slowly, and Avril did spend time with the ladies of Greenwald.
The girl was safe now.
The trial would help—hopefully. The bastard would pay. Perhaps the king would require gelding as a part of his punishment. King Nathal had always been an outspoken protector of women. Tynan Mont would be punished. Severely.
Avril and Roduch were gazing at each other before Renen as if they were the only two in the room. Roduch’s cousin had a smile of indulgence on his bearded face.
Leargan’s heart skipped and he frowned.
When would he stop hurting?
Never.
A glimpse of red hair caught his attention and he glanced away from Roduch and Avril.
Ansley darted across the great hall, practically throwing herself into her father’s arms.
The big man caught her up, his face a mask of surprise as he pulled her closer to his massive chest. His tunic only partially muffled her sobs.
Oh, hell.
Leargan gulped.
Chapter Twenty-eight
As Ansley pressed ever closer to his chest, Murdoch tightened his arms around her. His daughter had never been one for frivolous tears. She wasn’t crying out of the joy of seeing him; it hadn’t been long since they’d last parted.
She buried her face against him, and he rubbed her back, waiting for her to calm so he could meet the blue-green eyes that matched his own.
Find out what had upset her. Destroy it.
Murdoch caught Nathal’s eye. The king stared, a fair eyebrow arched. Murdoch gave a half-shrug, pulling his little girl even closer. “What’s wrong, love?” he whispered just above her ear.
Ansley shook her head, her thick plait jumping across her back and brushing his wrists.
Feeling eyes on them, Murdoch looked up, inadvertently meeting the eyes of his only child’s intended.
Sir Leargan Tegran’s face was a mask of pain only seconds before the young captain schooled his expression and inclined his head.
Murdoch narrowed his eyes, growling deep in his throat.
The lad had made his Ansley cry.
He’d always been fond of Leargan.
Blessed Spirit, I hope I don’t have to kill him.
“Not now, Da,” Ansley whispered.
Murdoch looked down, their gazes collided. Tears stained her cheeks, and he frowned.
“I’m all right, Da, really.” She nodded for effect, but he didn’t believe it for a second.
After tucking her into his side, Murdoch strode forward, giving his daughter the choice of moving her feet or getting dragged.
“Da!”
He ignored her squawk and kept walking. Murdoch would get to the bottom of things.
Now.
“It’s good to see you, Sir Murdoch,” the lad said, thrusting his hand out for a shake.
Murdoch looked Leargan up and down, not acknowledging the younger captain’s courtesy. “It’s yet to be decided if the same can be said of you.”
“Da!” Ansley’s sharp admonition came with a gasp, but Leargan didn’t react.
Nor did he squirm as Murdoch stared him down. In that, he respected Leargan a touch.
His daughter pulled on his arm, but Murdoch didn’t look away from the young man he’d practically raised. “What have you done to my daughter?”
Ansley sputtered.
“I want to marry your daughter, sir.” Leargan’s tone was even; calm. The lad looked away from him, staring at Ansley, but she averted her gaze.
“That is why I have come.”
“She’s refused me, sir,” Leargan said.
Why in the world would she refuse the lad she was in love with?
Raising an eyebrow, Murdoch spared Ansley a glance.
She glared back, defiance flaring in her teal eyes. His daughter slipped from his grip and squared her shoulders, her mouth a hard line.
Who was this girl—this woman—standing before him?
Certainly not his daughter.
Ansley had always been on the timid side. Confident and capable of fulfilling her duties as a Senior King’s Rider, but not aggressive. That was what had made the decision for him to get her a bondmate—Murdoch didn’t worry so much when she was away knowing Ali was at her side.
Timid was absent in the female before him. Ansley looked ready to give him a piece of her mind. Something she’d never done before.
They had a rather open relationship, but his daughter had always been respectful, dutiful. Never raised her voice, or spoken crossly to him. It was good to see she had some of her mother’s fire after all.
“Daughter, is this true?”
Lifting her chin, Ansley narrowed her eyes. “Aye. I won’t have a husband forced on me. I’ve no use for a man who doesn’t want me.”
The lad snorted.
His daughter scowled at Leargan.
“Hmmm…” Murdoch looked from one to the other, stroking his beard. “What has happened here?” he muttered, more to himself than to Leargan or Ansley. “Well, I have come for a wedding, and a wedding we shall have.”
Making eye contact with his only child, he dared her to contradict him.
Pain marked her beautiful face, and Murdoch’s chest tightened. This was real, not his little girl being stubborn. She was hurting.
Leargan’s expression mirrored his daughter’s.
What the hell had happened between them?
“I need some time to sort this out,” Murdoch said.
“Good,” Leargan said
“There’s nothing to sort,” Ansley snapped at the same time.
****
Scheming. The look on his face told Ansley her father was scheming.
Like King Nathal, it put him at his most dangerous.
She’d rather face him with a sword than let him meddle in her love life—or lack thereof.
Sir Murdoch had never been a man to be trifled with.
If she was Leargan, she would’ve been shaking in her boots when the large man regarded her with the keen stare he currently appraised her former betrothed with.
Ansley sucked in a breath at the reminder that things were irrevocably damaged with Leargan. She trembled, planting tight fists at her sides.
“Neither of you will speak?” her father asked.
Ansley met Leargan’s eyes, ignoring the pain there and averting her gaze.
Her heart thumped.
His agony was as real as hers.
Why?
He doesn’t love me.
How could he look so hurt?
He’d betrayed her, not the other way around. And her father was mistaken, if he thought she would still marry Leargan.
“There’s nothing to say,” Ansley whispered. She’d pull him aside later, explain to her father in
privacy of her intentions.
Ansley would appeal to his heart. After all, he’d loved her mother. He wouldn’t force her to marry a man who didn’t love her.
No matter how she felt.
Murdoch knew how she felt about Leargan. Ansley had been furious—still was for the most part—with him for his role in her delivery of the scroll and the king’s order.
No doubt the whole damned thing was his idea.
She’d been determined to give him a piece of her mind, hold it together long enough to do what she needed to do. But when her father had entered the great hall, hurt had assaulted her, and she needed her da. Needed him to hold her, comfort her. So she’d run into his arms like she hadn’t done since she was a small child.
His surprise had been evident, but Murdoch had held her tight without question. That was always her da, though. He’d be there for her no matter what.
Ansley’s mother, Marael, had been the love of her father’s life. She’d passed away when Ansley was only eleven from a mystery fever that had stumped even royal healers. Murdoch had been devastated.
Not fully understanding why she’d lost a parent, she’d clung to the only one she’d had left. Murdoch raised her on his own, and they’d grown very close. At fourteen, she’d joined the King’s Rider’s. Her father had been so proud of her.
“I will speak to the king.” Her father’s deep voice pulled her from her thoughts, and Ansley locked gazes with him.
“Da…”
He didn’t pause. Turning on his heel, he left her with Leargan.
Alone.
After frantically glancing around, Ansley failed to locate anyone who could save her. Cera was directing maids, Aimil stood arm in arm with her husband, speaking to two of the king’s knights.
Panic rolled over her. Ali whined from the hearth, but Ansley sent her a quick thought-send to stay put.
“I miss you.” Leargan’s pained whisper bought her head around.
Their eyes met and held.
Angry tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them away. She would not let him see her cry again. “Even if you get your way, I will hate you for the rest of our lives. It won’t take you long to resent me, either. Marrying me to follow orders isn’t good for either of us.”
She tried not to remember the terror that had hit when Cera had told her Avril’s former husband attacked him when they’d arrested him.
Ansley made herself look away from the urge to search his forehead for a mark, even though Tristan had long since healed him. It hadn’t been serious, and Leargan hadn’t been otherwise harmed, anyway.
You don’t care.
But she did.
Leargan’s dark eyes blazed with anger and he made a fist. “It’s not like that, Ansley. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip to stave off more tears.
Anger. She needed to be angry. It wasn’t working.
“I’ve never lied to you,” he insisted.
Ansley closed her eyes, ignoring his urgent voice. “You lied about the scroll.”
He stepped toward her; she could feel the heat coming off his body and ached for him, cursing her traitorous desire. For his arms around her. For his lips against hers.
“No. I told you the truth about it. I only regret that it wasn’t from the start.” Leargan grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry for the things I said out of anger.”
Yanking away from his grasp, Ansley glared. “Don’t touch me.”
Leargan dropped his hand to his side, his face a mask of undisguised pain. “I’m sorry. No matter what you think, I am sorry for what I said.”
Ansley shook her head.
Gazes scorched from all directions, and a hush had fallen over the great hall.
Everyone watched them.
Heat burned up her neck and seared her cheeks as embarrassment threatened to swallow her whole.
Their very private situation was now public.
The urge to flee was overwhelming.
“Leargan.” The king’s booming voice made her jump. “Come speak to me, lad.”
With one last glance filled with accusation and hurt, Leargan left her side to obey his king.
Again.
Ansley ran from the great hall, tears scalding her cheeks.
Chapter Twenty-nine
She’d run as soon as his back was turned.
Leargan’s heart broke all over again, but he forced his feet toward the man who raised him instead of running after her like he wanted to.
His eyes rested on her father, and he winced at Sir Murdoch’s murderous expression.
King Nathal stepped in front of his captain, blocking Leargan from view. Surprise washed over him when the king pulled him in for a quick, but tight embrace.
“It’s good to see you, lad.” The king’s voice in his ear was accompanied by an affectionate pat on the back that almost knocked him over.
Leargan forced a smile, meeting King Nathal’s pale blue eyes and trying to forget some hurt. Being away from the big man had made Leargan forget just how large the king was. Seven inches past six feet made Leargan feel short at his height of six feet one inch. Tristan was his height; Jorrin a few inches taller. That was what he’d grown accustomed to.
Looking up at King Nathal brought back memories.
The king smiled back, his tawny, shoulder-length hair as wild as a lion’s mane, dancing around his shoulders. His pale gaze was warm.
Emotion tightened Leargan’s chest, and he struggled for breath. He wanted the king to fix all his problems. The big man had ordered them to marry, after all.
If Ansley approached her father and Sir Murdoch agreed with her refusal, only one thing would change the older captain’s mind.
Revealing that Leargan had taken her innocence.
The problem was, being totally honest would force their marriage to happen—if Sir Murdoch didn’t kill him.
Ansley would hate him even more.
Leargan loved her. Needed her to want him as much as he wanted her. His wife. The only woman he wanted to marry.
Pain clenched his gut and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.
His foster father’s expression slid from friendly to concerned.
Jorrin, standing with Tristan and Aimil in the periphery, cringed. The duke wasn’t all that close, but evidently King Nathal could see Leargan’s pain and Lord Aldern could feel it.
“Walk with me, lad,” King Nathal said, his tone a gentle order. The king threw his arm around Leargan’s shoulders. Sir Murdoch took a step forward to join them, but King Nathal shook his head. “I need to speak with the lad alone, Murdoch. We’ll join you later.”
The scowl on his face was as big as the Province, but Ansley’s father nodded.
They headed to Lady Cera’s garden. It was large, and because of its maze-like pathways, private.
“Arriving in Greenwald wasn’t exactly as I’d imagined.” King Nathal regarded him seriously, but one corner of his mouth was up. His familiar thick northern brogue made Leargan ache for Terraquist.
He’d been born in South Ascova, but King Nathal had brought him to Terraquist after he’d been orphaned during the battle. Raised him as a warrior, a knight.
“Well, lad…you’re awfully quiet,” King Nathal said.
Leargan glanced at him, then away. “I’ve really messed things up, Majesty.”
“Lad, look at me and tell me what happened.”
Focusing on the order, Leargan sucked in a breath and met the king’s eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. No words came. Was he really about to air what happened with the king? Leargan cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you.”
“Whatever for?” King Nathal’s pale bushy brow arched.
“For choosing her for me.”
The king smiled, broad shoulders relaxing. “Oh. You’ll have to thank Murdoch. The whole thing was his idea.”
Damn. What can I say to that?
“He was afraid she wou
ld never marry if it wasn’t you, lad.” King Nathal squeezed his shoulder.
Leargan closed his eyes. Even her father knew how Ansley felt about him. No wonder she didn’t believe him. She must’ve thought his proposal was too good to be true. Then she’d been crushed when he’d revealed the scroll. And the idiot that he was, he hadn’t known his own heart until he’d lost her. “Maybe I can thank him. But right now, I think he’d rather kill me than listen to a word I have to say.”
King Nathal’s chuckle made heat rush his neck. “I doubt it’s that serious, lad.”
Disagreeing with the man who’d raised him wasn’t something he was used to, but Leargan shook his head. “You’ve not heard what happened.”
“Aye. Tell me what happened.”
“I love her, your Highness,” Leargan blurted.
The king said nothing, but nodded.
Words tumbled from his mouth. Leargan couldn’t look at the king when he confessed the threat that had torn Ansley’s heart out, but King Nathal offered no judgment. The comforting grip on his forearm remained steady as the big man listened. His expression was concerned, but the king let Leargan get everything out, his chest shaking with the last of his recital.
“Well, it’s a mess, aye,” King Nathal said, but there was no admonition in his voice.
They sighed at the same time.
“Not that I blame her, but she won’t believe a word I say. Even if I told her how I feel, she would call me a liar again.”
“We’ll get it all sorted, lad.”
“I don’t see how,” Leargan said. He tried to banish the hopelessness washing over him. “When Sir Murdoch finds out we’ve already been intimate, he’ll either kill me or force her to marry me. I wouldn’t be opposed to him forcing the issue, after all, she’d be my wife, but I’m sure Ansley would take issue. She would probably run away.”
King Nathal chuckled, shaking his head. “My Senior Riders are made up of stubborn lasses. It’s a handy thing when they’re dealing with life on the road. Not so much when it comes to marrying them. Blessed Spirit forbid if they perceive an order.”
Leargan frowned. “But it was an order.”
“Aye, for your purposes. I had hoped you could have affection for her, because I knew you wouldn’t refuse me. It looks like that worked out, at least.”