Daring Damsels

by Domning, Denise

  But slowly, rationality returned. She wanted him to understand why she felt the need to continue her rides, but he would never listen to her. Betrothed or not, he was her enemy. There were people who needed her. His people.

  She turned her back to him and moved to her steed.

  Terran crossed the inner ward to the stairs of the keep with long strides.

  Damn her! He was trembling with such desire he felt powerless before her. He clenched his fists, fighting the feelings threatening to overtake him. He wasn’t used to battling an unseen foe. He couldn’t fight these feelings with swords or lances.

  He cursed silently. She is just a woman. How do I battle this control she has over me?

  He turned back to stare at the stables. Am I mad? I’ve left her to go to another man. I will not permit it!

  The stable door flew open and Bria emerged on her steed.

  Instinctively, Terran stepped toward her.

  But she raced past him toward the outer gatehouse.

  I have to stop her, Terran thought. He took two steps toward the stables before realizing he’d never reach her in time.

  By the time he got his horse out of the stables, she’d be gone into the Midnight Shadow’s arms.

  Frustration consumed him as he watched her ride out of the castle.

  The Midnight Shadow hid in the foliage waiting for the two tax collectors. Suddenly, the sounds of horses’ hooves came to her ears, the clip-clop against the dirt road as they walked. She stepped out into the road, still hidden by the shadows of the forest. The moon was but a sliver tonight, giving just enough light for her to see them in the open road, but not enough to expose her position. Slowly, she saw them coming down the road in the dim light. Only two men.

  Something prickled the back of her neck. What kind of fools would be riding so slowly when their bags were heavy with coin? She wasn’t the only thief to travel these roads this late. And where was their escort?

  As they neared, she could make out the white horse one rode on. She waited until they were almost a horse’s length away to rush forward and seize the bridles of their mounts. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she greeted in her customary low whisper.

  They glanced at each other. They didn’t seem at all surprised to see her. Again that feeling clawed at the back of her neck. They hadn’t even reached for their weapons. Her hand immediately dipped to the hilt of her sword. She drew her weapon.

  Their gazes lifted to somewhere behind her.

  A trap! The thought exploded through her mind.

  Footsteps thudded on the road behind her. She jerked to turn, but a voice cut her off. “Don’t move.” The familiar voice left her cold with fear and foreboding. Kenric’s voice.

  Her limbs went stiff and her breathing shallowed.

  ‘‘The Midnight Shadow,” he scoffed. “Just a common thief. It’ll be a great pleasure to see who you really are.”

  She whirled, bringing her sword up and smashing it against his. He growled and brought his weapon down, cutting into her left arm.

  The Midnight Shadow bit back a cry of pain. She whirled between the horses, shouting loudly to spook them. They reared slightly, inhibiting Kenric for a moment.

  Her left arm throbbed painfully, but she dashed behind the horses and swatted them so they jerked forward. She circled around one animal and found herself face to face with a guard. She met his lunge, knocking his blade cleanly aside, and parried with a cut to his stomach. He cried out and she sidestepped his fall, then turned toward the forest.

  “Get him!” Kenric cried. “Fools! Don’t let him escape!”

  The pounding of a horse’s gallop sounded behind her and she quickly entered the forest, moving abruptly to an area too thick for the horses to follow. Her left arm ached and she cradled it to her side as she ran through the branches.

  Twigs exploded behind her and foliage crunched and crackled as her would-be captors gave chase.

  Her mind slid back to another time when she was racing through the forest running from Kenric. She pushed the thought aside, gathering her cape beneath her arm so it wouldn’t snag on the branches of the trees.

  She had to think. Think of some way to escape.

  She ducked behind a tree, quickly summing up her position. A fallen tree two paces to her left, a small clearing large enough to fight in to her right, and straight ahead more forest, more darkness in which to hide. She’d become very good at disappearing into and out of the darkness. Her cape was perfect for concealing her. She lurched forward, but froze as Kenric emerged, panting hard, from the copse of trees she’d just come through.

  His dark gaze swept the area, but he didn’t see her. “Spread out,” he ordered as two more men emerged and finally a third. “If he escapes, it is your lives.”

  The Midnight Shadow eyed Kenric. Such pure evil. Hatred burned in her veins and righteousness roused her spirit. He was a head taller than she was, and stronger. She couldn’t outfight this man. She had to use her brain.

  Two of the men broke off from Kenric and headed toward the clearing. Kenric signaled the last man to head toward the forest, toward her. Kenric moved in the direction of the fallen tree.

  The Midnight Shadow remained absolutely still, letting herself become one with the night, as one of the men passed within six feet of her. She held her breath until he moved out of sight, afraid he would hear the simple act of her taking air into her lungs. She had to wait until they’d passed and then double back for her horse.

  There was no coin, no tithe. It had all been a ruse to ensnare her.

  She’d been arrogant to think they wouldn’t try to stop her. She was taking gold from Terran. He’d do everything in his power to catch her.

  She watched Kenric’s man disappear into the darkness and stepped out of her cover, moving back the way she’d come.

  Bria rode for a long time that night, crossing and re-crossing her path, making sure no one followed her. She pressed a torn piece of fabric to her wound, staunching the flow of blood. She was lucky. The blade had just grazed her; the cut wasn’t deep.

  Only a few hours before dawn, she rode back into Castle Delaney, stabled her horse, and headed toward the keep.

  Someone called out her name and froze her in her tracks.

  She hesitated for a long moment, fearing it was Terran. She knew she couldn’t hide the pain shooting up her arm. But when she turned, she saw her grandfather. Relief filled her so completely she almost wept. Her steps quickened as she approached him.

  “You shouldn’t be out this late, Bria,” he chastised. “If Knowles –”

  He must have seen the pain in her eyes, for suddenly he grabbed her shoulders, demanding, “What’s wrong?”

  She winced as agony shot through her arm to her shoulder. Harry’s gaze quickly scanned her body, her shoulders, her waist, her arms for an injury. “You’re hurt.” He seized her hand, leading her into the keep and down the hall. “What happened?” he whispered.

  Bria shook her head, allowing him to lead her through the empty hallways. He brought her to his room and sat her on the bed, pausing to light a candle. “Where is it?”

  “My left arm.” Bria eased her arm out of her dress. Though her movements were slow, pain sliced through her shoulder. She hadn’t hooked the side of her dress when she put on her regular clothes. The shooting agony prevented her from reaching the hooks. She had wrapped it as best she could with a piece of her cape.

  Harry unwrapped the material, inspecting the wound with a critical eye. He pressed the material to the wound. “Hold it here,” he ordered. “I’ll be back.” He left the room.

  Bria sat alone in the darkness. Her ally. Darkness had hidden her from Kenric. He’d be furious with her escape, would double his efforts to find her. There would be more traps. She’d barely made it out of this one, and with nothing to show but a sword wound in her arm. That would do nothing to help anyone.

  The door opened, and Harry entered with a bowl of water and some clean rags. He sat down besid
e her, placing the bowl on the floor. “Would you like to explain what happened?”

  Bria relinquished care of her wound to him, but wasn’t sure she wanted to involve him in her scheme. “There was a fight,” she lied. “I tried to break it up.”

  Harry lifted his eyes to hers, searching out the truth. She turned away from his stare, unable to look at him. “This is a sword wound,” Harry informed her. “I’m not a fool, Bria, and I’m insulted you’d treat me like one.”

  “Oh, Grandfather,” she whispered. But she couldn’t tell him her secret, couldn’t implicate him in her plan. She shook her head and her long locks fell over her shoulder. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She stared at her arm, refusing to meet his gaze. “I was coming home from the clearing and I saw two men fighting. I tried to stop it.”

  Harry’s eyes saddened, and he looked down at her wound, cleaning and wrapping it in silence.

  Bria wanted to tell him the truth. It was tearing her apart not to be able to confide in him, but what she was doing was far too dangerous.

  Harry tied off the wrappings. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Just stay away from sword fights.”

  Bria smiled and stood. Grateful, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  He grunted in disapproval, but kissed her hand. “Go and get some rest.”

  Terran sat in the Great Hall late into the night, awaiting word of the capture of the Midnight Shadow, his rival, his hated enemy. He held a mug of ale tightly as he stared into the crackling fire of the hearth. Around him on the floor, servants slept, content in the dreams of commoners. For Terran, there’d be no contented sleep until the Midnight Shadow was captured. His coffers suffered, but not half as much as his heart.

  Footsteps echoed in the Great Hall, the sound bouncing off the heavy stone walls. Terran lifted his gaze to see Kenric approaching.

  Terran rose and moved to greet him, calling, “Where is he? I want to interrogate him myself.”

  Kenric looked away from his cousin’s piercing stare and his jaw clenched. “He escaped.”

  “What?” Terran roared.

  “He’s like a demon, my lord,” Kenric defended himself. “He disappears and reappears –”

  “Rubbish,” Terran exploded. “He is a man. I want him caught.”

  “I wounded him. I know he bleeds. I’ll try again tonight. This I promise.” Kenric whirled toward the doors.

  “No.” Terran slapped his hand on Kenric’s shoulder. “He’ll be expecting something. Wait a while. Let him grow comfortable with his escapades.” Terran’s gaze drifted in the direction of Bria’s room. “In the meantime, let’s see if we can’t secure the aid of my betrothed. Let’s find out where she’s been.”

  Terran stared at Bria’s horse. The black steed eyed him as he moved about the stall, closely surveying the animal for any clue as to where she had gone to meet this man. But her horse’s legs had been washed down and a blanket was thrown over his back to keep him warm.

  Terran’s jaw clenched. She’d taken care of her steed before returning to the keep. This was a smart woman he was marrying.

  Fury and betrayal burned inside Terran. His fists clenched tightly.

  Bria Delaney would know the full extent of his wrath. He would have answers.

  I will have answers, Terran thought again.

  He hadn’t been able to fall asleep with the little night that remained after Kenric’s return. He’d only managed to rest for a few hours before rising. Now he found himself in the Great Hall, waiting for his betrothed. And waiting.

  His mood darkened as the sun lifted further and further in the sky until it was directly overhead. He’d intended to question her gently about her lover. But the more he waited, the angrier he became. His plan to question her calmly was slowly changing to one of getting what he wanted one way or another.

  He rose and headed for the door, stomping over the rushes covering the floor. He hadn’t missed her awakening. She was still asleep in her bed. Well, no future wife of his would sleep the day away.

  Kenric entered the Great Hall, momentarily halting Terran’s stride. “M’lord,” he greeted with a nod of his head.

  “Have you seen my betrothed?” Terran almost spat the words.

  “No.”

  Terran stalked past him. Kenric had to walk quickly to keep up.

  Terran rounded the comer, heading toward her room, and almost slammed into a group of serving women and ladies. He came up short and bowed slightly before them when his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

  Bria stood before him at the front of the women. She met his stare evenly, those blue eyes luminous with a smile that slowly faded from her lips.

  Terran realized he’d never seen her smile before. His anger vanished beneath the happiness he’d just seen touching her eyes, her lips, her cheeks. She was beautiful. Incredibly, amazingly beautiful.

  “Lord Knowles,” she greeted.

  Some of the women curtsied, some hailed him with a barely audible acknowledgment. But Terran’s gaze remained fixed on Bria. What had she done to make herself so vibrant?

  She stepped around him.

  For a moment, Terran watched her move past him, transfixed. Such confidence in her step, such beauty in her features, such --

  “M’lord.”

  It was Kenric. Terran turned his head to his cousin, who was staring at him in confusion, as if something were wrong. It shook Terran out of his fog. He glanced back to Bria, calling, “My lady, I would have a word with you.”

  Bria halted and turned. Her eyes were so large and so startlingly blue. Her long, dark hair hung in ringlets over her shoulder to the middle of her back. The dark blue velvet gown she wore hugged her shapely figure. She nodded and her hair brushed her breast. She whispered something to one of the women and then stepped forward.

  The group of women turned and continued into the Great Hall.

  Terran watched Bria approach with uncharacteristically tentative steps. He shifted his gaze from the subtle sway of her gown to her eyes. She wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Kenric.

  Terran glanced over his shoulder at Kenric to see a small smile of satisfaction on his lips. A frown carved its way into Terran’s forehead. He didn’t like the effect his cousin had on his future wife. He turned away from Kenric and took Bria’s hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm, almost as if protecting her. He guided her down the hall into a more secluded area of the castle. Kenric trailed them like a shadow.

  “You certainly rise late,” Terran commented.

  Bria glanced over her shoulder at Kenric. “Must we have an escort?”

  “He’s interested in what I’m going to ask you.”

  Bria stopped and faced him. “Whatever you have to ask, you may do so right here.”

  Terran studied her slightly upturned chin, the glint of defiance in her eyes. “Are you afraid?” he challenged.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  His admiration grew stronger with each passing moment. No man would dare to admit his fear, even though he felt it. For Bria to do so meant she had more honesty and confidence than any man he knew.

  “I’m afraid to be alone with you,” she clarified.

  A grin quirked the side of his lip. After his behavior two nights ago, he thought that was a fair explanation.

  “I have a right to be, after you murdered your last betrothed.”

  Her words caught him unaware. Murder Odella? Such fury as he had never known claimed his entire being. He grabbed her arm and squeezed it tightly. “You will not speak again of Odella. She was more of a lady than you will ever be.”

  Bria’s face twisted in agony and she bent her body slightly, favoring the arm he was squeezing. Terran lessened his grip, but something beneath her velvet sleeve captured his attention. He ran his fingers up and down her arm until he found the top and bottom of the discrepancy beneath her clothing. He looked at the width his fingers spanned.

  Bria pulled her arm away from his tou
ch, holding it as if it were wounded.

  Wounded! Terran’s eyes snapped to lock with Bria’s. That’s what it felt like, wrappings from a wound. A sword wound, by the width of it.

  He grabbed her forearm in a tight grip. “What is this?” he demanded.

  Bria tried to pull her arm free. “I was hurt,” she replied.

  Kenric stepped up beside Terran. His small, ugly eyes glared at her.

  Bria’s gaze shifted between the two men. “I was wounded yesterday trying to break up a fight!” she said desperately.

  Terran pulled her closer. “My enemy was wounded yesterday.”

  “Terran, you’re hurting me,” she whispered.

  Terran immediately released her arm. “How is it you have the same wound as my enemy?” he demanded.

  Bria rubbed her arm. She opened her mouth, searching for an answer, but nothing came forth. Finally, she closed her mouth.

  “What’s going on here?”

  Terran whirled to find Bria’s grandfather standing in the hallway. He was about ready to command the old man away, when he saw his left arm, which was wrapped in a cloth and cradled by a sling. Then a servant walked by, moving down the hallway. A fresh cloth covered the upper part of his left arm. Terran could have sworn he saw a mocking smile on the servant’s lips. Another man walked by, his upper left arm wrapped, too. Terran’s anger boiled and he snapped his gaze back to Bria. Good Lord! How many other men are wearing wrappings around their arms to cover for her lover?

  He glared at her with all the murderous intensity he felt simmering inside before whirling and stalking away from her.

  She was the key to finding his enemy, but he couldn’t speak with her when there was this much rage inside him. He couldn’t face her and look into her eyes and hear her slanderous words about Odella.

  He paused at an open balcony to look out on the lands, but saw nothing of the world below. He ran a hand over his face. Bria thought he had murdered Odella. It pained him to the core of his being. No wonder she didn’t trust him. No wonder she looked upon him with distaste. No wonder she never smiled at him.