Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry (17 page)

“My lord,”
came
a steady, strong male voice from the direction of the main entrance.

Michael.

Relief washed over her for a moment, and at the same time utter shame. Tears fell from her eyes, as she silently sobbed. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

Kent stood up, no longer touching her. Elena wanted to
stand, but she couldn’t move. Her legs trembled, and she thought if she did stand she would vomit. In fact, the table
,
at that moment
,
was the only thing keeping her from crumpling to the floor.

“What the hell do you want, Devereux?” Kent bellowed. “Can’t you see I am in the middle of disciplining my wife?”

Elena closed her eyes tightly. How she wanted Michael to split her husband in two, and how much she knew he couldn’t do it, else face the executioner’s blade.

She could hear the clicking of boots as Michael walked toward them. “There is something I want to show you.”

“It will have to wait. I am in the middle of teaching this bitch a lesson.”

“It cannot wait, my lord.” Michael’s voice was filled with authority.

“You have some nerve interrupting me.” Kent’s voice was filled with anger, his words slurred.

“
Under normal circumstances, my lord,
I would never dare.
’
Tis simply a matter of safety, and I would see to it that Kent is safe, and thy lordship safe, for if you were to tarry here, there is no telling what might happen.”

“What do you mean by that?” Kent sounded confused now, not sure if Michael’s words were a threat or not.

“Come with me, I shall show you.”

With a resigned and annoyed sigh, Kent followed Michael out of the great hall. When the doors banged shut, what felt like a thousand murmurs and hands were on Elena lifting her from the table and taking her to her room. She wasn’t sure who they all were, only that it was more than just her ladies. The servants helped her, cooed to her, all having witnessed the brutality and cruelty of their master to a woman who cared so much about them.

From the hell Kent put her through, came a beacon of light. The people respected her. They loved her.

And once again, the Black Knight had saved her.

*****

Pure rage wrangled within Michael. He wanted to reach out beside him and rip Kent limb from limb, feed his parts to the wolves. And he would relish it.

Their booted feet clomped in the dirt and grass of the bailey. Kent’s breathing was loud and heavy, like he was still calming himself from the exertion of mistreating his wife.

My God, Elena!

Michael
closed his eyes while they walked and took steady breaths. He didn’t really have anything to show Kent, and hoped by the time they reached the main gate
that
he’d come up with something, and
that Kent
would be too tired to really care.

When he’d walked into the great hall, he’d done so in order to see Elena. He knew she’d been tending to the sick at night and he wanted desperately to see her. It had been days since they’d made love, since he’d seen her in the bailey, and he wanted to lay eyes on her. Have her look at him again in a way that sent his blood pulsing through his limbs, just so he could know it was real.

The last thing he expected was to see her lying down on a table while her husband abused her. Rage swept through him anew. To see Kent as he slammed her head down, see him begin to hike up her skirts like he would take her right there in front of everyone…

Michael
balled his hands into fists again.

Aye
, this control he had was taking quite a toll on him. Instead of heading to the main gate they ended up at the chapel door. A small light shimmered underneath, probably from candles lit on the altar. He needed to seek consolation from God. He needed patience to deal with this man, to not shred him from head to toe—that wouldn’t help Elena at all.

“Why’ve you brought me to the chapel?” Kent snarled.

To make you pray for your sins.
“My lord, there is a
tunnel which leads from the chapel to the castle, and then also from the chapel to outside the village walls.”

Kent rolled his eyes, annoyed. “
Aye
, and?”

“I wasn’t made aware of it when I arrived.”

Kent’s hands landed on his hips and he swayed a bit with the movement. “What of it?”

“My lord, with all due respect, if I am to keep this village, your people,
you
safe, I must know all the tunnels which could be infiltrated by an enemy.”

Kent pressed his lips together as if contemplating what Michael said and then folded his arms over his chest. Wisps of his stringy
,
ashen hair fluttered in the wind. His eyelids began to droop a bit, and he was silent for so long, Michael wondered if he was going to fall asleep where he stood before answering the question.

“There
are others,” he finally said.

“Will you show me where they are located?”

Kent’s arms flew out all the sudden as he lost his balance and pitched forward. Michael regretfully caught him, but much rather wished the imbecile had landed face first in the dirt.

“On the morrow, knight.
I find I am very tired all of a sudden.” He righted himself and yanked at his clothing as if it were too tight.

“Right, my lord.”
But he knew Kent would probably not have any recollection of their meeting tonight, and as a result would most likely forget to show him the tunnels. Best if he sought out Elena in the morning to see if she knew.

He walked Kent back to the castle, and was slightly disappointed to find Elena was not about. Then again he was relieved. He hoped she was locked away tight in her chamber with all her ladies about her.

The great hall floor was bare as the servants had indeed done what their master asked and removed the wounded to the dungeon.

“Where is everybody?” Kent slurred.

“Who, my lord?”

“My wounded soldiers.
Are they all well now?”

Michael glanced at Kent who headed for the table to swig some ale from an abandoned tankard.
“They are in the dungeon, my lord.”

“What the hell are they doing in the dungeon? Have they gone corrupt, then?”

Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes and throw his hands up in the air. He wished there was some way he could tell the entire staff and village to pay no mind to their master since he obviously was not in his right mind, but that would only get back to Kent and Michael’s own head would end up rolling in the straw.

“No, my lord.
You ordered them taken there.”

Kent slammed down his tankard and lurched to the side.
“Insolent!
That’s what you are! You had them removed, I know it. You’re against me. You want my title and my wife! That’s why you’ve come here, Irish swine you are! Why—” But he didn’t continue his sentence as his body lurched again and he fell backward,
unconscious
.

Even though his ranting had only been the rage of a drunken man, his words rang all too clear—at least the part about Elena. Michael would have to tread carefully, for even though the earl would most likely not remember his words in the morning, they had taken root in his mind somehow.

Michael
had to get her away.
Soon.
One of these days he wouldn’t be able to stop the abuse she was taking. And hadn’t
Elena
sent for him to protect her?

It took all of his might not to walk over to the drooped body of the earl and press his boot to his throat. Just a few short minutes of pressure on the windpipe and the earl would be gone from this earth. No one would suspect anything. The man was always deep in his cups.
They’d think he died from drinking too much.

Michael stepped forward, the desire to end this despicable, rotten, evil soul, overpowering. Just a few minutes…

“Michael.” Elena’s soft voice stopped him.

He jerked toward the sound of her voice. She hid in the shadows, but stepped out into the light enough for him to see one side of her face bruised and swollen. She opened her mouth, a small sob escaping, and he ran to her, pulled her into his arms and she sank against him, her tears wetting his tunic.

“Oh, Elena,” he whispered and stroked her hair, kissed her head.

Then he realized what they were doing. They were so exposed, even if on the edge of the great hall.

He pulled away. “Not here, my love. Let us find some private place.”

She nodded, and slid her hand into his. Michael squeezed her fingers and led her out of the great hall, up the spiral staircase. On the ramparts they would be alone, and it would be dark.

As they passed out of the great hall, shadows lurked everywhere, as if
even they plotted and planned.

Chapter
Four
teen

W
ind whipped Elena’s locks around her head and her skirts around her feet. She leaned her head back to look at the night sky—black with a thousand tiny lights sprinkling its surface. The moon was just a sliver, like the tip of a fingernail.

Michael stood behind her, his hands rested on her hips and his lips nibbled gently at her neck. She leaned against him, secure in his comfort, secure in the weight and bulk of him. They were alone, not a guard atop this part of the parapets, and all around them the village slumbered.

“Thank you,” she murmured, leaning her head to the right so he might continue to kiss the length of her neck.

His hands slipped all the way around her waist and he held her close. “You needn’t thank me, Elena. The man is a monster.”

He took a deep ragged breath behind her. “I want to take you away from here. I want to do it soon.”

She took her gaze off the sky and looked down at the surrounding village. “Kent would go to the ends of the earth to find me—and kill me.
You too.
My ladies would be tortur
ed if I were to leave. And you…
it would only bring shame to you and your family.” She frowned. “I can’t leave the people. Who would tend to the sick?
The starving?
I am their mistress, and already they have a tyrant for a master. If I can ease their burden in just a small way, I have to.”

“Take your ladies with you then, we shall plan it so no one knows. The servants can well manage themselves.”

She shook her head. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t. Too many people depended on her. To make matters worse, it would only ruin Michael’s life. He would be hunted down, and with the number of spies Kent employed, he’d be found. Already Kent suspected something. The king was
likely to make Michael a titled man in his own right for his service as a knight
, but not if he were to steal her away
. Any future Michael had would be destroyed, and all because of
Elena
.

Michael’s broad chest expanded against her back with his heavy sigh. “At least think about it. I want to get you away from the man—he is an abomination to all things human.”

“I will think about it.” But she had no plans to contemplate it. Not now anyway. As much as her husband humiliated and hurt her, she would have to endure it awhile longer.

Michael turned her to face him, his fingers tracing the outline of her chin. His touch was gentle, so much so that she didn’t even wince when his fingers glided over her bruised cheek.

“I wanted to murder him tonight. I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp.”

“I know.” She’d seen the look in his eyes.

“You saved him, you know.” His voice was filled with irony.

“How so?”

“When you walked into the great hall…” His forehead dropped to hers, and she could see in the faint moonlight that he’d closed his eyes. “I was going to kill him. When you walked in, I stopped.”

She’d thought as much. After Michael had taken Kent and she’d gone to her chambers to calm herself, she’d snuck back down to the great hall. She wasn’t sure for what. Perhaps she’d been intent on murdering him herself while he drowned in his cups, or maybe she’d hope
d
to find Michael so she might gain comfort from his embrace.
Whatever she’d looked for, seeing him had given her a moment of such relief and joy.
But then she’d seen his face, so intent, serious, murder pooling in his eyes.

Part of her wished he had gone ahead and done the
deed, the other part of her was glad that he hadn’t. How would she endure another day married to the devil incarnate? Confusion warred within her. She wanted desperately to get away, but knew it was impossible. At least she and Michael had each other now—if in secret—and an ocean no longer separated them. She supposed she’d have to do what she always did: retire to her rooms until the bruises healed. But for now, alone on the parapets with only the stars as witnesses, she wanted to forget her life at Kent. She wanted to be with the man she loved, even if only to pretend that it was their castle they stood atop of.

“Kiss me, Michael.” She tilted her head up, eyes closed and waited.

But she didn’t have to wait long. Soon his lips brushed over hers with such tenderness she choked on a sob.

“
Shh
…
Don’t
,
my love,” he murmured against her lips as he nuzzled her. The pads of his thumbs brushed away her tears, and his fingers threaded through her hair.

She stepped closer to him, wanting to meld with his body, and he answered her silent gesture, by sliding his hands down her back and tucking her closer. The power and warmth of him, his gentle yet passionate nature, all surrounded her in a cocoon she never wanted to break free from.

His lips slid sensually over hers again and again, but she wanted so much more. Embers ignited in her belly, and desire sparked a flame. She parted her lips, sucking his lower lip gently into her mouth. She wanted to taste him, lick him. A rumble sounded in his chest, and he pulled her hips tightly against his. Their tongues mated in a delicious dance that made her forget tonight had ever happened.

A scraping sound jarred her back to reality, and Elena jumped away from Michael. Her heart pounding from desire now turned to fear. Both of them darted their gazes about but not a person or shadow was in sight.

“Do you think someone has seen us?” she whispered.

But Michael was already walking away from her, his broad shoulders taking up the view of the rest of the parapets.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

She nodded and wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d brought her cloak. Her hair whipped with the breeze. The spring evenings were still a bit chilly. She strained her ears, seeking out any sounds, and attributing their cause. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Perhaps they were being unreasonable
—except they’d both heard it
.

Michael returned a few minutes later with a goblet hanging from his fingertips, a frown marring his features. He turned it over, letting a few drops fall, the liquid carried away with the wind.

“I didn’t see anyone, perhaps we only heard this goblet scraping as it rolled on the floor. Even still, my lady, we must get you back inside. You shouldn’t be missed too long. And it is not safe for you here. On the morrow, I’ve a need to speak with you about the tunnels.” He avoided her gaze and instead scanned the area as he was well trained to do.

Elena hated that Michael had turned back to all business. She wanted to scream and rave,
to hell with cups and ale and tunnels!
She wanted him to make love to her again—to live within the fantasy and not in her real world.

Instead, he took her by the elbow and led her back to the wooden door that would take them down the spiral staircase. The door opened soundlessly.

He escorted her to her rooms without a word. Shadows bounced off the interior corridor walls from the lighted sconces. Everywhere she turned she swore she would see eyes staring back at her. Still, no one lurched out to say they’d seen their lips locked in a kiss.

Finally they arrived at her door. She bit her lip, wanted to reach out and touch her palm to
Michael’s
face. Her hand lifted to do just that, but she caught herself.

Michael grasped her hand in mid-air. “Goodnight, my lady.” His voice held a whisper of longing as he bowed low to her and then kissed the back of her wrist. It was
obvious,
he wanted to come with her just as much as she did. “I will have a sentry posted to guard your door for the night.”

She held her breath, wanted to beg him to come inside with her. Instead she inclined her head and without a backward glance, slipped into her chamber.

*****

Wood scraped across the door as Elena placed a bar in its place to keep anyone from attempting to enter her room.

Devil take
it!

Michael
was glad she was safely locked away, even if it took all of
hi
s willpower
,
and then some
,
not to take Elena into his arms, carry her over the threshold of her chamber and make love to her until the sun graced the horizon. He could tell from her shy glances, her eyes filled with passion—lids slowly sli
ding down to hide their desire—
that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

But it wasn’t safe. Not tonight.

Although he hadn’t seen anyone upon the parapet, he
had no doubt
someone had been there. That person may not have seen them, but definitely heard them. Friend or foe, he couldn’t be sure. He’d employ Fletch come morning on Elena watch duty. He needed to know once and for all who was following her. How many spies were in the household, and how dangerous
were
they to himself and his lover?

He leaned against the stone wall outside of Elena’s bedroom and ran his hand over his face. There was too much treachery going on in this one place.
Too many enemies.
He’d started to wonder if the earl
himself,
wasn’t in fact an enemy of England. Did he have ulterior motives?

Why had he done the tourney to begin with? Besides his lust for blood sport, had Kent hoped that the victory would have turned out differently?

He tried to think back on all those who’d entered the lists. Having just come from Ireland, he didn’t recognize any of the men. The only familiar opponent was Thomas, and that was after the fact. Besides, he’d only joined
to see that
Michael
was victorious
. For love
the love of
Raelyn
.
A fool’s errand.
But hadn’t
Michael
too entered for love?

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not right.

Mayhap they were in more danger than even he’d first realized.

Michael pushed away from the wall and descended the stairs into the great hall. The fire in the hearth had been banked, and several servants lay sleeping among the rushes. Others moved restlessly against one another in an attempt to make love silently beneath woolen blankets.

He walked discreetly out of the great hall to the spiral stairs leading to the lower level and the dungeon. If some of his wounded knights were to spend their nights in the dank, musty hell of a place, he would join them.

As much as he wanted to stay up all night and contemplate the situation at Kent, he recognized
that a
good night’s rest was what he needed.

Two guards stood sentry at the wooden hatch that led down to the dungeon. “You there,” Michael addressed the man on the right, “go and guard Lady Kent’s bedchamber.”

The knight nodded dutifully and left. Michael acknowledged the other guard who skimmed the brim of his helmet with two fingers as a sign of respect. He had his work cut out for him here, and it was going to take all of his strength of mind and body to keep Elena safe.

With a heavy sigh
,
he placed a foot on the ladder and descended through the hatch into the dungeon below.

*****

Michael jolted awake and sat straight up in the darkness.

He looked around, blinking but could see nothing.

After a few moments, his mind cleared of cobwebs and he realized he was in the dungeon, asleep with his wounded men, and a few of the unharmed knights who’d also taken vigil.

What
woke
him?

He heard the sound again.
A scraping.
A whisper.

Silently he crouched, still fully clothed in his breeches, tunic and boots. Ears pricked and keen, he listened for the location of the noises. They were coming from the entrance to the dungeon.

With only the skill a
well trained
knight obtained, he walked silently through the throngs of bodies, stepping effortlessly over those in his way, sure not to disturb a one.

Just as soundlessly
,
he pulled his dirk from inside his sleeve and edged closer to the entrance. The whispers grew louder and then there was a dull thud.
Silence.
The hairs on his arms rose. He narrowed his eyes to try and see better with the dim light from above. Within two breaths, the light from the night guard’s candle extinguished.

Stopping
short of the ladder which l
ed up to the entrance, he
listened.
There was
nothing now.
Silence.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Something was amiss.

Effortlessly he climbed up four rungs of the ladder, when a soft wind rushed passed his ear. Michael hurried his steps, and at the last moment ducked as the wooden hatch to the dungeon came crashing down.