Elizabeth Elliott (39 page)

Fitz Alan flashed her a smile. “Nay, lady. Why should we stop when the abbey overlooks the next valley? We are almost there.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Not an hour ago I asked how much further and you said half a day. Why did you lie to me?”

“Because I knew you would argue about walking the horses if you realized we were so close to the abbey. And I did not exactly lie. If we had to walk from there because you ruined your horse, it would take half a day. You did not ask how long it would take on horseback, if you will recall.”

“You knew what I meant,” she bit out. “Give me my reins.”

Fitz Alan shook his head. “Nay, lady. The horses cannot take another hard run, and we are still an hour away—by foot.”

Claudia clenched her jaw and remained silent. Odious man.

Ahead of them was a thick stand of trees bordering the edge of the meadow that turned out to be a sizable forest as they ventured further into it. The scent of pine filled the air, and the screeching racket of birds above them marked their passage through the forest. The ground began to slope downward, and the birds became less vocal. Another sound grew louder, the distant shouts of a great many men and the distinctive ring of metal striking metal.

Claudia’s heart went to her throat. “ ’Tis Guy and Dante. I must stop them!”

She kicked her horse forward, but Fitz Alan tightened his hold on the reins. “Have patience, Lady Claudia. You must not rush into this fight. If that is a match between Guy and Dante that we hear, ’tis no harmless contest between brothers.
They will be bent on blood. A distraction from you could cost one of them their life, and I have seen the effect you have on Guy. ’Tis likely he would be the one distracted. When we reach the clearing, I will signal one of the soldiers to halt the match, and we will arrive without incident.”

They reached the clearing even as Fitz Alan shared his plan. Claudia gave him a distracted nod. “Aye, very well, but let us hurry.”

Below them were dozens of round tents topped with Montague pennants. Beyond the tents, it looked as if Guy’s entire army had gathered to form a large circle around the two combatants. She was still too far away to see the men clearly, but she would recognize Guy at any distance. As in his match with Kenric, he carried no shield and had stripped down to his breeks. His opponent, who could only be Dante, had done the same. What possessed them to shed their armor for such a contest? She shook her head. They were both crazed.

Fitz Alan let out a long, low whistle that made her palfrey’s ears twitch. If he hoped for some reaction from Guy’s soldiers, the result was disappointing. Not one man turned their way, the sounds of shouts and swordplay too loud to hear Fitz Alan’s signal. Given the steep, rocky terrain on the hill below them, they were now forced to let their exhausted horses pick a careful path down the hillside despite Claudia’s wish to race toward the crowd of men. She watched the contest with fascinated terror, knowing she could do nothing to stop it from this distance.

From what she could see, Guy and Dante looked evenly matched. They were about the same height and size, and both wielded their swords as if they knew what they were about. Guy parried and backed away from a fierce series of attacks, then turned aggressor and forced Dante to back away from his blows. Dante would parry until he reached the edge of the crowd, then launch another attack of his own. It looked a macabre dance of sorts, the moves graceful and well practiced, the price of a mistake lethal.

“They are testing each other,” Fitz Alan said, his gaze also on the match. “That means they have not been at it long. If they are as evenly matched as they appear, this could go on for hours. Do not worry, Lady Claudia. Someone will note our arrival before either of them is hurt.”

The words might have been comforting if Fitz Alan had not sounded so worried himself. The horses had walked long enough.

Claudia waited until they were almost at the bottom of the hill. Her chance came when Fitz Alan stood in his stirrups to let out another whistle, his attention focused on any soldier who might respond to his signal. She urged her horse alongside Fitz Alan’s and reached for the reins even as she applied her heels to the palfrey’s sides. The reins came away in her hand as the palfrey bolted forward.

“Damn it, Claudia. Come back here!”

She had almost reached the tents when Fitz Alan caught up with her. He grabbed the palfrey’s bridle and pulled them both to a sliding stop. She was off her horse before it came to a full halt. The path she took through the tents twisted and turned, but she could hear Fitz Alan close behind her, also on foot. An arsenal of longbows stood just ahead, already strung and propped on end to make them easy for soldiers to grab in case of attack. Claudia slowed long enough to yank out the bow closest to the center, which toppled the entire pile. Bows flew in every direction. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Fitz Alan make a graceful leap over one pile, only to catch his foot in another. He tripped and sprawled to the ground just as Claudia smashed into a soldier at the edge of the crowd. Both she and the soldier tumbled forward.

“Mi scusi,” she mumbled, as she pushed herself off the soldier to stand up. The momentum of their fall had carried them forward to the inner edge of the crowd. She heard other soldiers call out her name, but ignored them.

Guy and Dante were just a few paces away from her, both so intent on their match that they paid her disturbance no heed. Neither spoke, but Guy made a sound deep in his
throat each time his sword lashed out. She sensed something different in this attack of Guy’s than the ones she had witnessed from the hillside. This was not an assault to find his opponent’s weakness, but to close in on it.

Guy’s sword made a series of tightening circles around Dante’s blade, ending one circle with an upward thrust, the next downward, then he made a final wide sweep that sent Dante’s sword flying through the air. Almost before Dante could react to that loss, Guy slashed his sword in a sideways arc that made Dante throw his shoulders forward and his stomach backward to avoid the blade. Guy’s sword missed its mark by no more than a hair’s breadth. Thrown off balance, Dante rolled to the ground and somersaulted away from Guy.

“Stop!”

Guy turned instantly at the sound of Claudia’s voice, his body still braced for attack, a look of stunned surprise on his face. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her and his sword lowered as he strode forward.

“Montague!”

Dante’s shout slowed Guy’s pace, then he came to a halt a few feet from Claudia. She remembered Fitz Alan’s warning that she would distract Guy if she interfered in the fight, just as she saw a movement from the corner of her eye. Dante was still crouched on the ground, one hand near the cuff of his boot. She knew that he always carried a concealed dagger there. Once Guy turned around, Dante would have a clear aim at his heart. Panic shot through her and she ran toward Guy even as the dagger appeared in Dante’s hand. The deadly weapon shot forward in a blur of flashing steel.

17

C
laudia stared down at the jeweled hilt that protruded from her chest and thought it strange that she should notice its workmanship. Inlaid emerald chips formed the letter C on the hilt, and intricate etching on the guard spelled out the first half of the Chiavari motto:
For the Good of God
. The side of the guard she could not see would read
No Enemy Unpunished
, the part of the Chiavari motto that Dante chose to live by.

Guy’s bellow of rage seemed to come from very far away, even though she knew he stood close by. Weren’t those his hands on her waist? She glanced up and caught sight of Dante, his face drained of color. It was good to see an honest emotion on his face, even if it was shocked horror. He kept too much inside him, tried too hard to cut away what was left of his heart. Aye, he needed a reminder that he was human after all, and not some soulless beast who felt no regrets for his actions. This he regretted. She could see it in his eyes. She gave him a gentle smile to tell him everything would be fine.

Why was it so hard to breathe?

She watched in a haze as Guy lowered her slowly to the ground. Dante rushed over as well and crouched down beside her. Guy’s fist lashed out and Dante toppled over backward. “Stay
away
from her!”

The icy hatred in Guy’s face disappeared the instant his gaze returned to her. He smoothed a few stray wisps of hair from her forehead. “The blade is in your shoulder, Claudia. Painful, I am sure, but not a mortal blow. Hold very still while I pull it free.”

“The blade is poisoned, Montague.” Dante struggled
against Kenric’s hold on him, his arms pinned behind his back. He winced from some unseen pain that Kenric applied. “Free me, for God’s sake, or she will die.”

Guy spoke in a tone she had never heard before. It was a little frightening. “You have the cure for this?”

“Aye,” Dante replied. He called over his shoulder. “Oliver! Bring my kit and a measure of wine.”

Guy and Kenric exchanged a look, then Guy nodded. Kenric released his hold on Dante and her brother knelt at her side once more. She smiled up at him. “Hullo again.”

“What is wrong with her?” Guy demanded.

“ ’Tis the poison,” Dante snapped. He glanced up at Kenric. “Bring whatever clean cloths you can find. She will bleed more than usual.”

“I want this fouled blade out of her,” Guy said, as he reached for the hilt.

Dante smacked his hand away. “Wait for the bandages. Send someone for clean water as well. I must wash this grime from my hands before I touch the wound.” He leaned closer to her face as Guy shouted out an order for water. “Can you still see me, cara?”

The look on Dante’s face was so tender and caring that her eyes filled with tears. This was the brother she remembered. “Si, Dante. Mi sento mancare.”

“ ’Tis normal to feel dizzy,” he said. “Can you feel me squeeze your hand?”

“Are you holding it?”

Dante scowled.

“Here are the bandages.” Kenric’s face appeared suddenly, upside down, as he knelt by Claudia’s head and leaned forward to look at her. His smile looked upside down, too, or was it a frown? Uncertain, she smiled up at him.

“Hullo.”

Kenric ignored the greeting. “Why is she smiling?”

No one answered him. She felt a small pinprick in her shoulder, then a heavy pressure.

“Did you feel that?” Dante asked.

Why would Dante prick her shoulder with a needle? For some reason, that reminded her of the tunic she had sewn for Guy. She had to change the emblem into a wolf before he decided to wear it. “Where did I leave my sewing?” she mused aloud. “Will you help me find my needle and threads, Guy?” While she waited patiently for an answer, she tried her best to focus on his face. Those tears made her vision all blurry. Or was it something else? Why wouldn’t he answer her? “There is something I must finish on that tunic I sewed for you. Did I leave my needle on the mantel again?”

Guy’s voice sounded strange, as if his throat were constricted somehow. “I will search for your needle, love. Just rest now.”

“Nay, Claudia! Do not rest.” Dante swatted at her face as she closed her eyes. “ ’Tis the poison, cara. You must not sleep.”

But she had to sleep. It was so late, and she was so very tired. The last thing she heard was the sound of Guy’s voice, ragged now with some unknown emotion. His words sounded hauntingly familiar. “If she dies, you die with her.”

The urge to kill flowed swift and hard through his veins. Guy wondered that there could be so much violence in his heart when he had never considered himself a violent man. Watching Claudia’s torment only intensified his urge to destroy something. Or someone. She had retched too many times to remember over the past two days, so violently that her wound broke open each time until it was sealed with a red-hot knife. No one had paid any heed to Claudia’s frantic assurances that she did not mind a little blood. Dante ended up with the gruesome duty while the others held her down.

Guy would hear those screams in his nightmares for the rest of his life. Each time he looked at Dante, he recalled the smell of burning flesh and the image of soft white skin seared to blackened red. He feared she could survive little more of her brother’s cures.

The long hours that Claudia lay unconscious afterward
turned into a full day, then night fell again and Guy still could not bring himself to leave her side, not until he knew if she would live. This was the strongest test of his willpower, to look from the pale oval of Claudia’s face to that of Dante’s as they kept an endless vigil at her bedside. He could reveal nothing of his inner turmoil, no hint of his fear for Claudia, no telling caresses or words of comfort that would give evidence to his love. There was no doubt in his mind that Dante would use every word and deed against him. The man who watched Claudia for any sign of recovery watched Guy just as closely for a sign of weakness. Guy refused to provide such an easy means for Dante to bargain with him. He trusted Claudia no more than he trusted Dante. When she recovered, he would give her no reason to believe she still controlled his heart. But what would he do if she did not recover?