Heart's Ransom (Heart and Soul) (3 page)

“Release me!” Gwen cried, drawing her belt dagger.  She cut at the knight but he smoothly grabbed her wrist and to her surprise, gently disarmed her.

“Hold, lady,” a deep voice rumbled from the great helm.  “I will not harm you.”

“You expect me to believe you, you bloody cod sucking - eek!”

The knight reached out with one long arm and wrapped it around her waist.  Suddenly she was hoisted into the air and placed firmly across the saddle bow in front of the knight.

“Let me go, you foul spawn.”  She battled him with all her might.

The knight’s arm simply pressed her tighter to his body, and she could not move, struggling to breathe.  She blinked suddenly realizing the massive power underneath the yards of chainmail.  His chest was rock hard and his shoulders broad, his arms powerful bands of muscle.

“Be still,” he growled, taking the reins of her horse and turning back to the trail. 

For once in her life, Gwen obeyed, terrified that if she didn’t he would simply break her in twain.

Within moments they returned to the trail.  Gwen gasped in horror to see the massacre.  The guards had been slaughtered.

“Alys!” she cried not seeing the maid.  “Sweet Jesu, what have you done to her?”

“Nothing, my lady,” the knight said mildly and gestured ahead of them.

Alys, still mounted, lifted her chin proudly as one of the men led her horse forward.  She spotted Gwen and relief flooded her composure.  “Oh milady, thank the Saints you are all right.”

Gwen’s eyes burned with tears.  “Praise be,” she whispered.

The knight moved behind her and Gwen cringed waiting to be thrown to the ground and ravished.  She briefly thought about trying to escape his clutches but Alys was in the midst of his men.  Gwen didn’t want her hurt.

The knight merely removed his great helm.

Gwen looked up at him and the knight’s countenance stole her breath.  His dark brown hair was long, pulled into a queue at the back of his head.  Wisps of it escaped and clung to his damp face.  His forehead was high with perfectly shaped eyebrows.  His nose was straight and his cheekbones pronounced angling to a strong jaw.  His lips were full and had tugged upward slightly at the corner, giving hint to the laugh lines around his mouth.  His skin was tanned, but under his eyes was a slightly darker hollow and worry lines on his brow.  The contradiction startled her.  He gazed at her intently, his light brown eyes unreadable, framed by thick dark lashes.

“Who--” her voice cracked.  She swallowed hard and tried again.  “Who are you?”

His lips lifted as if he found this all some great jest.  “Do you not recognize me?” he asked in a deep voice that resonated through her bones.  “I would have thought the legend of my craven heart and foul appearance had been voiced at Powys Castle.  I am Earl Talon Montgomery.  And you Lady Gwenillian ap Powys are now my prisoner.”

Fear and anger shot through her.  She had never met Montgomery face to face and had no desire to change that fact.  She tried to push away but his arm clamped around her again, pressing her too firmly against his rock hard chest.  “What is the meaning of this? My father will--”

“Never know where you have gone.”

“Fool, he will suspect you at the very first.”

“Aye, that’s what I’m counting on.”

She gaped at him.  The man made no sense.

He nodded toward the destroyed caravan.  “Milady, is there anything among the possessions you wish before we abandon this ruin?”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.  Gwen knew Montgomery felt it when his arm pressed her even closer.  “I have a small chest with items from my mother.”

He nodded.  “Fetch it,” he barked to one of his men.  “And fetch the lady’s trunks, she will need her clothing.”

Gwen blinked up at him in confusion.

The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly as if he found her reaction amusing.  “Do you think I will clothe you in sack cloth?”

She gritted her teeth and looked away, her cheeks burning.

Within moments Montgomery's men tied her supplies to the back of Gwen’s mare.  Montgomery turned his mount for the castle and his men followed.

“Why are you doing this?”

Montgomery’s jaw tightened, his eyes turning hard and cold.  “I have my reasons.  But I assure you, you will not be harmed, nor will you want for anything.”

“Except my freedom,” she spat.

“As if you would have that in any measure where you were going.”

She snarled under her breath.  Damnation, he had a point.

The light rain intensified and soon Gwen was drenched.  She shivered uncontrollably and her uncomfortable position over the saddle bow made things even worse.  She wasn’t sure what to think about the whole situation.  She should be terrified of this black knight but couldn’t help but acknowledge her relief at not facing marriage to Fitzalans.  Gwen had spoken boldly but she had also faced her father’s beatings before and had no desire to openly challenge him if she could avoid it.  But how long would the reprieve last and what did her captor have planned for her?  She shivered again.

“You are cold,” Montgomery said and wrapped his voluminous black cloak around her.  He pulled her closer and Gwen resisted only an instant before folding herself against his chest.  Even through the chainmail and heavily padded gambeson she felt the heat radiating from his body, the scent and a bit of spice filled her.  Warmth surrounded her from his cloak and his powerful arms as he expertly guided his horse with his legs.  She felt the strength of his body moving in fluid grace with his mount, as if he had been born atop the horse. 

The rain fell harder and Montgomery shocked her even more by protecting her face with his hand.  He nudged his destrier into a slow trot, keeping the cadence smooth.  “We shall be at the castle shortly where you can warm yourself by the fire.”

Suddenly Gwen didn’t care where the fire was as long as she could soak the warmth into her bones.

****

Talon felt just as stunned as the expression on his captive’s face evidenced.  He had never met Powys’ daughter and had been shocked to see such a beauty glaring at him through blazing
emerald eyes.  She wore her hair in a braid and had covered it, but their mad flight through the forest had torn wisps of the ebon locks from the long rope to flutter around her face.  Her creamy skin glowed in the torchlight, unblemished perfection.  Her eyes were large accented by black eyebrows.  Her nose was pert and her lips slightly pouting rose red and very kissable.

Talon immediately reined in his errant thoughts but she adjusted herself in the saddle, seemingly oblivious to the key points of his body she pressed against.  Talon gritted his teeth at the fire that roared through him.  She was a tall woman, her head reaching his chin but her bearing had been graceful.  She was comfortable with her height.  Her hands were delicate and slender but strong.  She had handled the reins of her horse with surety and had ridden well.  If he had not managed to catch her before she had reached a denser part of the forest, he would still be riding after her.

And her temper....  Talon couldn’t resist the smile that pulled at his lips.  Welsh born and bred, Gwenillian’s fire was nothing like he had ever seen in a woman before.  He could only imagine what it would be like if Gwenillian controlled Powys castle instead of her father.  He might find himself tempted to send raiders into her lands just to provoke a response.  In a land that knew more war than peace, where the rules of civilization did not always apply, he knew Gwenillian would not cow before a hardship or break under duress. 

Unlike Eleanor who had lost her life to the harsh conventions this land and life dictated.

Gwenillian was nothing like Eleanor.  Eleanor had been quiet and gentle, a truly noble lady who should be protected and guarded.  But Gwenillian was fire in the hand, threatening to burn at any instant.  She was as strong as the land which had bred her.

Talon caught his thoughts and pain sliced through him.  What in the hell was he doing comparing Eleanor to Gwenillian?  This woman was his hostage to insure the survival of his daughter, nothing more.

He found his arms tight around her as she huddled against him.  But suddenly he realized Gwenillian, despite her strength, sometimes needed protection as well.  Gritting his teeth against the strange sensations coiling within him, he pushed his mount a little faster, longing for the safety of Montgomery. 

****

Gwen entered Castle Montgomery in a daze.  After a long ride winding through the lower, unfinished baileys, they turned to the straight road leading up the steep motte to the main gate and barbican.  Hailing his guards in a booming voice, Montgomery gained entrance without his horse breaking stride.  The heavy horses rumbled across the drawbridge sounding like an approaching thunderstorm.  They passed through a second, larger walled barbican and reached the inner courtyard.  Gwen craned her neck to gaze up at the soaring gray towers overhead. 

Montgomery pulled his horse to a stop in front of the doors and vaulted off before she had a chance to blink.  Large hands surrounded her waist and lifted her easily from the horse.  Her legs felt numb and shaky.  Montgomery wrapped his arm around her waist when she staggered and escorted her into the keep.

Again Gwen was assailed with the wealth of Montgomery.  Her home of Powys was impressive but this keep was even more so.  The great hall was cavernous, with wooden buttresses soaring overhead and creating beautiful designs of arches and tiers in the center of the roof.  Giant banners with various heraldic emblazons of the earldom fluttered from them and massive tapestries, with various religious and battle scenes, adorned the walls.

Clean rushes covered the floor.  A massive finely carved oak table rose on the dais near a giant hearth which boasted a huge bonfire.  Another large table stretched the length of the hall with benches.  Large gold and silver candelabras, with expensive beeswax candles cast a rich golden glow.  A mouthwatering scent of roast venison and freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchens causing Gwen’s stomach to rumble.

Montfort led her to the great hearth, calling for a chair.  He removed her soggy cloak and wrapped a heavy wool blanket around her shoulders.  She sank into the offered chair gratefully.  A servant brought her a cup of mulled wine which she cradled in her hands for a moment just to warm her numb fingers.

“Dinner will be served shortly,” Montgomery said, bending low, his breath caressing her cheek.  She jumped at his nearness.  “I must see that your room is prepared properly.”

“What?  No dungeon?” she asked, her waspish temper returning.

He shocked her with a small smile.  “Nay, but it can be arranged if you wish.”

She decided not to grace the matter with a response and glared at the hearth fire instead.

Chuckling softly, Montgomery rose to his full, impressive height and strode away, his armor rustling.  Gwen simply concentrated on getting warm again.

Shortly, men hauled her trunks inside and a serving maid escorted her and Alys to their room where they changed into dry clothes.  Alys brushed Gwen’s hair, plaiting it carefully.

“My lady,” she said her voice soft and grave.  “Perhaps I can speak to the kitchen staff this eve.  One of the scullery boys is married to my cousin.  He might help us escape.”

For a moment Gwen found the idea appealing, freedom might be at hand.  But hope crashed.  “Alys, even if we could get free, which I doubt.  Where will we go?  Run to Clun and that horrid Lord Fitzalans or flee to home where my father will just pack me up and ship me to Clun castle again?”

Alys sighed.  “True lady.  But who knows what this dastardly lord has planned for us?  Imagine, stooping to abducting helpless women on the trail.  What if his plans do not work out with bleeding your father dry?”  She hesitated, her eyes growing wide.  “What if he attacks our
virtues and delivers us with our throats slit to your father?”

“Oh stop it, Alys.  Your own imagination is scaring you.  Montgomery is a warrior but never once, in all the forays he’s led into Wales, has he allowed his men to rape and pillage.  In fact, until now, chivalry has always dictated his actions.”

A furrow blurred her brow as Alys continued to work.

“Despite the abduction, Alys, he has been most chivalrous towards us.  Look at this room it is pleasant and warm, well furnished, with its own hearth.  We are allowed our clothes and belongings, we have not been subjected to rough handling or insults, we are warm and dry, and we are about to be fed.  Things could indeed be much worse.”

“Indeed,” Alys said tightly.

Compared to the fate that awaited her, Gwen found this place much more pleasant and comfortable.  She had grown up with Talon Montgomery at her borders, and although she detested the Englishman for his raids into her land, usually in answer to when her father raided, she had to admit she respected him.  It was not easy to keep the peace with a man such as her father staring him in the teeth just across the river.  Yet, Montgomery had managed it.

A knock startled Gwen and she opened it to discover Earl Montgomery towering in its frame.

He had changed out of his armor and wore a clean black knee length tunic, with black hosen and soft shoes.  A leather belt circled his waist; a large finely made dagger drew attention with its delicate craftsmanship as well as the small cornet around his brow.  She was surprised at the length of his hair, falling lose past his shoulders.  A rich mahogany streaked with various hues of glowing copper and golden blonde.  The light reflected off the shining strands, giving his hair a tawny appearance.  And in the better light, she could see that his brown eyes more closely resembled his hair.  Not a solid brown but made up of many different hues from gold to walnut and everything in between.