Authors: Betrothed
“Is there a reason I should not?”
“Your brother went to great pains to abduct you from Montague,” Fitz Alan pointed out. “It seemed you went with him willingly.”
“Dante told me that I would be hung if I stayed, that Guy gave those orders himself when the poison wore off.”
Fitz Alan said nothing for a long moment. “Your brother is a liar, my lady. Guy did not awake from his stupor until you were long gone from Montague, and he gave no such orders in his delirium.”
“Does Guy believe that I participated in my brother’s plot?”
Fitz Alan spread his hands and shrugged. “At this point, I would not presume to speculate on the matter. Best you save your questions for Guy.”
That answer was no more helpful than any of Armand’s. Fitz Alan was the last person she should trust, yet she would still go with him willingly. Assuming that Fitz Alan did not lie about the challenge, she had to reach Guy and Dante before one of them killed the other. “How far are we from Kelso Abbey?”
Towering clouds cast a patchwork of shadows over the wide valley and the army gathered there. The clouds did little to diminish the heat of the day or the sticky haze that blanketed the lush green meadows. Guy waited at the edge of the army’s encampment. His warhorse tossed its head to escape a small swarm of flies. Guy ignored the flies, just as he ignored the heat that made sweat pour from his armor-encased body. Through the slits of his helm he watched the gates of Kelso Abbey, high on a hill above them. A lone knight rode through the gates, dressed for battle. His squire followed on the knight’s palfrey. They moved at a leisurely pace down the hillside, through a flock of grazing sheep that dodged and darted away from the horses, their bleats of protest at the disturbance too far away from Guy’s vantage point to be heard. The knight and squire disappeared as they entered a stand of trees.
The woods spread in a thick ribbon along the banks of a river that ran through the valley. Guy envied the knight the cool shade he rode through. He turned to look at Kenric, but could tell nothing of his brother’s mood through the lowered visor of Kenric’s helm.
“He was wise to take sanctuary at the abbey,” Kenric said, his voice muffled by his visor. “A fool to leave its walls.”
Guy’s gaze went toward the woods again. “Chiavari has yet to make a foolish move. So far he has made fools of us all. First he steals Claudia from under lock and key, then while I comb the countryside for some trace of him, he is back at
Montague, pinning an issue of challenge to the very door of my chamber. I would like to know how he managed such a feat.”
“As would we all,” Kenric agreed, “but his luck will soon run out. The word from Fitz Alan’s patrol sounded promising. We may yet ground this fox at his own game.”
“We have not heard from Fitz Alan for three days,” Guy said. “The fox still leads this chase.”
Dante and his squire emerged from the woods, and Guy abandoned his conversation with Kenric, his thoughts centered on Claudia’s brother. Guy could think of no man he disliked more intensely. Even Baron Lonsdale paled in comparison. So far Dante had proved much more adept at treachery than his uncle. Poisoned, robbed of his betrothed, led on a wild goose chase, and outmaneuvered at every turn. Guy vowed that the man who rode toward him would pay for each of those crimes. Most damning of all, Dante was responsible for Claudia’s betrayal. The last five days provided him with plenty of time to surmise what had happened the night of her escape. The plot to poison him did not involve her. Of that much, he was certain. He knew her expressions too well to mistake the look on her face the day of the feast for anything but shock and fear for his safety. He assumed that Dante had not revealed his presence to Claudia until he went to her in the dungeons. Surely Dante told his sister that the poison was not fatal, but somehow he convinced her to go away with him.
Guy recalled the promises he made Claudia, the promises of a besotted fool. He would have renounced his family for her. When faced with her own test of loyalty, she chose her brother. That knowledge ate at him like an acid.
Even worse than knowing she betrayed him was knowing that it didn’t matter. He would never again trust her, but he was still determined to marry her. No matter what she did or who she turned to, he would always love her. She was his greatest weakness. His only weakness. He would marry her for that reason alone. In the hands of an enemy, she would be a
weapon to use against him. Dante’s challenge proved as much.
Guy’s gaze narrowed on his nemesis. Dante rode forward from the woods with no sign of hesitation, despite the fact that he and his squire rode toward an army of two hundred mounted knights and soldiers. He was a brave fool, Guy decided. He also looked to be a wealthy one. Sunlight glinted off the gold and silver fittings of his armor, and rare white plumes on his helm and horse’s bridle waved in regal splendor with each step the horse took. Over his armor Dante wore a deep red surcoat with a shield the same color, yet he wore no emblems or devices, no coat of arms to proclaim his house or identity. Guy knew the reason why from Claudia. Sworn to no liege lord and branded a bastard, Dante could represent no one in a contest but himself. It seemed fitting that the color he chose was the same as blood. As the king’s Enforcer, he had surely spilled more than his share of it.
Guy expected Dante to keep his distance, to rein his horse not far from the edge of the clearing so he could make a run for the abbey and sanctuary at the first sign of trouble. Instead he rode forward until his horse was no more than a length from Guy’s. Cocky bastard.
“I have word from your king,” Dante said. The slits in his helm formed a cross and his deep voice carried well. Surprisingly, he lacked any trace of the Italian accent that marked his sister’s speech. He stripped off a gauntlet, then reached into his surcoat and withdrew a small scroll. He extended the parchment toward Guy. “I will tell you its contents, although I have little doubt that you will wish the message verified.”
Without a word, Kenric nudged his horse forward and retrieved the scroll, then backed into position again next to Guy. He broke the scroll and began to read.
“The king wishes us to settle this matter in a peaceful manner,” Dante went on. “Before I left London, Edward made me swear that I would not murder you for the wrong done my sister. However, he said nothing about a fair fight to the finish.” In a sudden move, Dante threw his gauntlet down
on the ground between them. The high-strung warhorses tossed their heads, and all three men tightened their reins to control the animals as Dante delivered his own message. “Thus I challenge you, Guy of Montague.”
Guy lifted his visor, wanting to be certain his voice carried the full weight of his warning. “Given my present mood, you would be ill-advised to provoke me into a fight.”
“But that is exactly what I intend,” Dante answered. “A fight to the death.”
The corners of Guy’s mouth lifted in a smile that lacked humor. “Why should I accept your challenge, Chiavari? I can kill you now for the wrongs you visited upon me. I made no pledges to Edward that concern your life.”
“Perhaps you should read the king’s message before you do anything hasty,” Dante said, his voice calm.
Guy looked to Kenric, who had also pushed his visor up to read the message. “Well?”
“Edward orders you to abide by the same agreement he made with Dante,” Kenric said. “He also makes mention that Dante is Lady Claudia’s legal guardian, that her uncle had no right to contract a betrothal agreement.” He gave Guy a meaningful look. “The king thinks you might be pleased by this news, seeing as the betrothal was forced upon you. The issue of guardianship makes it invalid.”
Guy felt his gut tighten. No betrothal meant he could make no legal claim to Claudia. His gaze went to Dante. Was this challenge simply a means to negotiate the terms of a new betrothal? Now that he held Claudia, Dante must know that he also held all the favor in any bargaining he meant to do. But a challenge to the death? It made no sense. “What do you want from me, Dante?”
The answer came sure and swift. “Your blood.”
“I did nothing to dishonor your sister.” Guy spoke quietly, even though enough of his men could hear the conversation well enough to repeat it. Unfortunately, he doubted that Dante would be stupid enough to agree to a more private meeting in Guy’s tent. “To my knowledge we were betrothed,
which made her mine in the eyes of the law and God. You have no need to challenge me, for I treated Claudia with the respect due my betrothed. I intend to make her my wife within the fortnight.”
“She will never be your wife,” Dante vowed. “Claudia is bound for a convent. You will never see her again, Montague.”
The discussion was over. Guy made a small gesture with his hand, and a loud hiss filled the air as two hundred swords left their scabbards. He spoke two words that could well decide his future. “Seize him.”
Guy studied Dante over the rim of his goblet. Claudia’s brother didn’t look the least disturbed by the fact that he was bound hand and foot to the center pole of Guy’s tent. His armor and helm were stripped away just moments ago to reveal a face that all of England speculated about. Guy would have recognized him anywhere.
Dante was a masculine reflection of his sister, his profile almost identical. The hair was an exact match in color, as were the eyes. It unnerved Guy to see such familiar features in the guise of a man he hated so thoroughly.
It was the lack of any emotion in Dante’s eyes that bothered him the most. He had seen that same look at a few bargaining tables and strove to imitate it himself on occasion. It was the look of an observer, someone who watched everything that went on around him without any noticeable interest in the outcome. Dante had accepted his capture without resistance, hadn’t argued when they stripped away his armor and tied him up, and now he didn’t show the slightest trace of curiosity about what his fate at Guy’s hands might be. Guy knew it was almost impossible to outmaneuver an enemy not knowing how his mind worked. He didn’t have a clue how Dante’s mind worked. It was frustrating to no end. It was a trait he could not help but admire.
Guy suspected that any demands for answers would only meet with aloof silence. Patience was the key to unlocking
such a mind and Guy was very good at waiting. He settled back on his cot and sipped at his wine. The two men stared at each other, Dante bound in what had to be an uncomfortable position, Guy relaxed and at ease. A good hour passed in their silent standoff, and then it was Dante who finally spoke. “This accomplishes nothing, Baron.”
Guy tried not to smile over the small victory. “What accomplishes nothing?”
Dante ignored the question. “You cannot kill me, and I will not tell you where she is. Claudia is in a place you will never find.”
“You think not?” Guy asked the question as if he truly wanted an answer. “The most likely places to search for her seem to be the west and south. A dullard such as myself would never think to search the east road toward Alstead, nor a hidden path through the forest where the road forks toward the Tyne.”
That did not garner the reaction he had hoped for. In fact, it garnered no reaction at all. Dante’s features remained impassive, his eyes … observant. Nothing more.
“Do you want a chance to spill my blood, Chiavari?”
“Aye.”
“I will make a bargain with you,” Guy said, his tone thoughtful. “I will accept your challenge, but the terms must differ and we must both agree on them.”
“What are your terms?”
“Swords,” Guy said, “on foot, without armor or chain mail.”
The corners of Dante’s mouth lifted in a vague shadow of a smile. “You have a wish to die quickly?”
“Nay, I have no wish to die in any manner at your hands. Nor to slay you,” Guy added. “Your death gains me nothing. The fight will not be to the finish, but until one of us draws blood. The contest ends there, with Claudia as the prize. If you win, you can ride out of this valley and go wherever you wish. You have my word that none will follow you, and I will call off my search for Claudia. She will be free to leave these
lands as well and I will make no attempt to delay or recapture her, or to see or speak with her before she leaves. If I win, Claudia becomes my wife with your blessings and you will not interfere in our lives again.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Those are my terms.”
He held Dante’s gaze as he waited for an answer, his own unwavering. He wanted Dante to know that he was sincere, that he hid nothing from him and offered a fair bargain. Hopefully that would be enough to convince him of the lie. If Dante agreed to the contest, Guy would win either way. He had made no promises about petitioning the king. If Edward ordered Guy and Claudia to marry, Dante would have no choice in the matter. Not if he wished to remain in the king’s employ, or, anywhere in England. Winning the match would only make things that much simpler.
At last Dante nodded. “I agree to your terms.”
“Give me the reins,” Claudia demanded. “You have my word that I will not try to escape. My only wish is to reach this abbey.”
Fitz Alan glanced over his shoulder, a speculative look in his brown eyes. “That is the reason I hold your reins, lady. ’Tis the hottest day of the year and you would run your horse to the ground if I let you have the reins.”
“I would not,” she muttered. “Can we at least canter for awhile? This meadow is flat, and the road through it well-packed. ’Tis a waste of time to walk the horses through such even ground.”
Fitz Alan replied without turning around. “I agreed that we would ride ahead of my patrol to make faster time. Be satisfied with that.”
“But I—”
“Look at your horse’s neck and tell me we have not pushed the beasts too hard already.”
Claudia’s gaze went to the lather that covered her palfrey’s neck and withers. The animal sounded winded as well.
She glared at Fitz Alan’s back, not about to admit that he was right.
“The horses must walk after such a long run,” he went on. “Only then can they be put out to pasture.”
“What? Surely you do not intend to stop before we reach the abbey!”