The Dark of Knight
Gentlemen of Knights
Book Four
Elizabeth Johns
© Copyright 2020 by Elizabeth Johns
Text by Elizabeth Johns
Cover by Dar Albert
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
[email protected]
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition December 2020
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Elizabeth Johns
Gentlemen of Knights Series
Duke of Knight (Book 1)
Black Knight (Book 2)
Knight and Day (Book 3)
The Dark of Knight (Book 4)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Elizabeth Johns
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
The sky was clear and black save for the stars and moon. The breeze was warm, with the scent of citrus and night jasmine in the air—a perfect night for scaling walls and housebreaking. If only he knew what he was looking for. Felix knew nefarious deeds happened by the light of day, but why take the extra chance of being seen? He was a guest at the ball happening now, in this very house, which was full of dignitaries and the military elite, but he had slipped out via the rear courtyard to scale the wall and look for some sign of treason. Then he would rejoin the party with no one the wiser… if all went as it should.
He looked up at the wall – these Spanish villas had lovely iron railings around the walls, which made it easier to climb. Any reduced risk of breaking his neck was always appreciated. He looked around discreetly, using the pale moonlight to seek any watchful eyes. Seeing none, he began to climb to the third window from the left on the next story above. Those were the directions he had been given when he had received his orders to investigate the owner of the villa. He found himself on a balcony of sorts, the doors open and sheer curtains blowing outwards as if in welcome.
Nice of them to be so obliging, he thought to himself. It hardly made this a challenge. He stood for a moment in the shadows outside the doors, catching his breath. Even something so simple could give an intruder away. The scent of roses wafted to his nose. Had he come to the wrong room? No, he was certain he had counted properly. Being a spy tended to make a person careful about details. Was there someone else in the room with similar ambitions?
Felix leaned forward to listen, but there was nothing beyond the distant hum of the music in the ballroom. Slowly, he pulled back the sheer curtain and crept in behind it, pausing a few moments for his eyes to adjust. This was a study of some sort, a sofa and fireplace set to one side while a wall of books and a desk occupied the other. It was a masculine room, with the underlying odors of tobacco and leather. The rose perfume was distinctly out of place. There were papers on the desk which had been strewn about. Had he interrupted someone on the same task?
He looked around very carefully. Besides the scent, it appeared he was alone—no heavy breathing, no minuscule movements by which the amateur would betray themselves. Felix slid a knife from his inside pocket and decided to reassure himself anyway. He crept around the room, deftly and silently checking every spot where he himself would hide. Finding nothing, the only other place someone could be was beneath the desk. It would not be impossible for a person to escape the other side of the desk, but Felix must have a look at those papers. Who had he interrupted? There was no one else assigned to this task, after all, and he did not think any French would be about. But he could be wrong.
He went over to the desk, paying mind to the fact that someone might be hiding beneath it, and began to ruffle through the papers on the top. Holding the documents up to the thin ray of moonlight, he could see familiar script—troop movements, cargo shipments, dates, names… all of this information should be closely guarded. Either Felix had caught someone in the act of stealing these reports, or they had been deliberately placed here. Folding them carefully, he placed them in an inside pocket of his jacket and made to leave, ever conscientious of timeliness and being missed from the ball downstairs.
Unable to help himself, he gave one shove with his boot beneath the desk and heard a tiny grunt.
He should always trust his instincts… yet who could it be? Another spy? Or someone waiting for a clandestine engagement?
He risked being seen as much as they, and he hesitated to reveal himself. However, if there was a traitor in the midst, it would be best to know.
“Do you intend to reveal yourself, or do you intend to make this difficult?” he asked in a low, disguised growl.
A negative noise came from beneath the desk. It was either a young boy or a woman. Felix hesitated. No spy worth their salt would wear perfume. He had the papers he needed. Should he risk his own exposure?
He knelt down, but in the dark could not see the face of the figure huddled beneath the furniture.
“Why are you in here? Are you in trouble?”
“Why I am in here is my own concern, and I am perfectly well, thank you,” a female said in a well-bred Spanish accent.<
br />
Felix relaxed. She was doubtless an unlikely traitor. “I will leave you to your assignation, then, ma’am. I am sure neither one of us wishes to be revealed.”
“I should ask why you are here,” she said, seemingly as an afterthought.
“As you say, it is none of your concern.”
Felix should have already been done and gone, but there was something drawing him to this person. Dallying was the ruin of any good spy.
“Adios,” he said, standing up and leaving via the balcony as he had come. He hesitated to return to the ballroom immediately, wondering if his mystery lady would also escape that way, but he had already been gone too long. He straightened his coat and slipped back in through the terrace doors towards the wall. Taking a drink from the tray as one of the footmen passed, he then joined Captain Everleigh and some other British soldiers. One would not guess, by looking at the glamorous picture before them, that they were in the midst of conflict. It was one of the great ironies of war. He repressed a sigh, disliking the idea of dining and dancing while common soldiers barely had enough food to eat and slept out of doors in the harshest conditions.
Felix gave Everleigh a quick signal to indicate he had found something. All attention, it seemed, was drawn to the other side of the room.
“The Lady Catalina has just arrived,” Everleigh said by way of explanation.
“Therefore I was not missed,” Felix replied dryly.
“Not by any of the men,” Everleigh agreed, as they both watched the horde of men surround the beauty.
She was the daughter of General Mendoza, one of the most powerful men in the Spanish army. Many said she was his greatest weapon. Men would kill for just a dance with her. Felix had never thought any woman worth violence, and had often said so. The world was full of beautiful women; in fact, this ballroom alone held several. It was more than the physical attributes of a woman that attracted him. Irrespective of his own thoughts on the matter, the sea of uniforms parted like the Red Sea for her to enter, as though she were the great man himself.
Felix looked to see what all the fuss was about. It took him a moment to find her. Once he had, he took full advantage of being able to examine freely from afar. A beauty to be sure, he mused, but there was definitely something more, something unique about her. She was petite, yet perfectly proportioned, with ebony hair and skin as fair as snow. There was a radiance about her that made her shine and everyone around her seem dull. She would be very, very dangerous. He watched as she smiled and charmed her way through the crowd of gentleman surrounding her.
Felix hardened himself against her. Women were an unnecessary distraction in this business and had led many a better man than he to his death.
*
How had she been so careless? She had almost been caught! Strictly speaking, she had been caught, but for reasons she could not fathom, the man had chosen not to reveal her presence or seek her identity. As soon as he left through the window, she scrambled out from under the desk and ran down to the ballroom. It was imperative that she be there before him—whoever he was. She stopped before the glass in the hall to shake out her dress and make certain everything was in its proper place. Her heartrate and ragged breaths, she reflected, might never return to normal after that scare.
Outwardly, she seemed the picture of maidenly innocence; she had chosen a light silver gown with no frills, only a delicate overdress of fine lace. Even in the candlelight her black hair shone in stark contrast to her porcelain skin. She looked everything that was proper. She tucked one loose curl behind her ear and paused to still her breathing and put on her best society mask. If anyone knew what she was really like, they would laugh themselves silly. This character she assumed was not the real Catalina Mendoza y Elizondo. If only they knew she preferred to be at home, alone with her dog and horse, not following the drum or playing the society lady. She wanted nothing to do with any of these men who made themselves foolish over her.
Her father was waiting for her when she came down the stairs. “What took you so long?” he asked her.
“Complications,” she answered blithely.
“You look perfect now. Let us go, we are later than usual.” They always arrived late to make a grand entrance. That was quite acceptable to Catalina. The less time she had to spend pretending to enjoy the attentions of men, the better.
They entered the ballroom and were announced. Immediately, she was surrounded by gentlemen and officers and her father drifted away, a look of satisfaction on his face.
Instantly, Catalina knew he was in the ballroom. She could feel his eyes upon her while she greeted her court of usual gentleman, Father’s Lieutenant Dion amongst them. She was uncertain whether that was a direct order from her father or entirely his own idea. Lord Rollings, Major Silva and Captain Molina had all asked for dances. She did not think she knew this gentleman spy. Her senses would have told her. Perhaps she might recognize his scent, though it had been faint: bergamot and tobacco, she rather thought.
She smiled and took Lord Rollings’ arm as he led her out to the dance floor. With every step, she could feel his gaze upon her. Did he know who she was? That was doubtful, but did he feel the strong attraction she did? It was going to drive her out of her senses. Besides, if they were looking for the same thing, would they be doing each other harm or a disservice?
“You grow more beautiful each time I see you, Señorita,” Lord Rollings said.
Catalina forced herself to look up and smile. He was an important minister of some sort, and Father would want him to be kept happy.
“You flatter me, my lord. There are any number of ladies more beautiful in this very room.”
“Not to my eyes.” He looked at her meaningfully. Oh dear, she must change the subject quickly.
“How long do you think we will be in Salamanca?”
“It all depends on the French. Wellington is rarely the aggressor unless necessary,” he answered, in a tone indicating he was placating her.
“I quite like being near to my home, though I do not wish there to be any battles here.”
“I cannot agree with your father’s decision to have you so close to the fighting, but I benefit from that, of course.” He gave her another meaningful look, heaven help her.
Catalina kept the smile on her face but did not encourage him any further. Her gaze wandered around the perimeter of the room for any new faces. She saw only one or two people she did not know and one of those was standing near Major Silva. Perhaps she could gain an introduction. As the music drew to a close, she decided she must meet the new guests. She could feel it in her bones that she would recognize the man.
“Major Silva is my next partner. Would you please escort me to him?”
“I suppose I cannot keep you to myself the entire evening.” A jealous man would drive Catalina to distraction. Lord Rollings might be handsome and well connected, but he would smother her independence.
She rapped his arm with her fan. “Of course not, my lord,” she said playfully.
Major Silva was standing amongst a group of British soldiers. Catalina proceeded towards those she knew. Captain Everleigh and Captain Owens she had met many times, but between them was a tall, broad shouldered yet lean man with dark, brooding eyes. He was watching her as a predator watched his prey, not with any sense of adoration as did all the other men. Instantly, she was intrigued.
“Who is this new gentleman come among us?” she asked flippantly. “I do not believe we have met.”
Major Silva and Lord Rollings exchanged looks of annoyance.
“Devil take it, Knight, did you have to be sent here? None of the ladies will pay us any mind now,” Rollings drawled.
“You may have them all, I assure you,” he drawled in a deep, bored voice.
Catalina searched her mind for the name “Knight”, but could think of no one to whom she might attribute it. If he was a soldier, where had he been? His face was not one she would forget. Despite herself, she felt an attraction. Could this
be the man?
“Lady Catalina Mendoza, this is Major Lord Felix Knight.” Captain Everleigh made the introductions.
She held out her hand. She needed him to touch her to know. Instead, he bowed over her hand and kissed the air above it.
The other men exchanged sly glances. They had noticed the slight, evidently. It almost confirmed her suspicions. He wanted to play games? So be it.
The orchestra signalled that it was ready to begin the next song, and many of the officers excused themselves to find their partners for the next dance.
Another Portuguese officer came over to speak with Major Silva, leaving her standing near Major Knight. She tried not to let her annoyance show. Surely she was not so shallow as to be angered by his failure to pay homage? That would require further consideration later. In this moment, she needed to find out more about him.
Major Silva looked up. “Unfortunately, Señorita, I must go and speak with my commander. Knight, would you be a good fellow and dance my dance with the lady?” He looked back to Catalina. “I will make this up to you later.” He took her hand, and kissing the air above it, walked away without waiting to hear Knight’s answer.
She looked up into the Major’s dark eyes and could read nothing. “You need not feel obliged to dance with me, sir.”
“I never feel obliged to do anything,” he said, in a deep voice that assured her he meant it. She also sensed that he was reluctant to dance with her.
“Perhaps you would escort me back to my father, if you do not wish to dance,” she said, more curtly than she wished.
“I did not say I did not wish to dance.” He was now toying with her, to judge by the look of amusement in his eyes.
“Then what do you wish for, sir?” What a ridiculous question. Her wits had deserted her around this man.
“Many, many things. But for now, we should dance.” He held out his arm and the moment she placed her hand on it she knew. A deep breath to smell his unique aroma was not necessary, for there could be no doubt it was he.
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