Medieval Master Warlords (67 page)

As she set the mirror down, she began to hear a commotion down in the bailey. She could hear men shouting and, curious, she went to the window to see what the fuss was about. Her gaze was naturally drawn to the men below, running around, and she could see a portion of the gatehouse but not beyond it. She could, however, see over the wall towards the east where there was a sharp slope and groves of trees, and then the rolling green hills of Wales beyond. As she looked off to the east, it began to occur to her that, upon the horizon, a black tide seemed to be moving.

There it was, spreading across the green fields, moving towards Cloryn in a long, dark line. She watched, curious, until she realized that she was looking at the approach of an army. She had no doubt who was at the head of the army. Her blood ran cold.

Allaston bolted from the chamber, racing down the dark, narrow stairs towards the keep entry. Bolting through the door, she took the steps far too quickly and almost stumbled at the bottom, but she caught herself and began to run towards the gatehouse. All she could think of was warning her father off, of telling him to go back and away from Bretton’s wrath. She was halfway across the bailey when someone caught her around the waist.

Frightened, she looked up to see that it was Teague who had a hold of her. She had never had much interaction with the warrior but she knew, like the rest of Bretton’s commanders, that he was not friendly towards her. Panicked, she began to fight him, kicking and hitting, until he was forced to loosen his grip. But he didn’t release her entirely. He held on to her. A shout filled the air and they both stopped their wrestling.

Bretton was heading towards them from the direction of the gatehouse. As he drew near, he brusquely waved Teague off, who obediently let the lady go and vacated. As the big knight with the piercing dark eyes headed off, Bretton moved closer to Allaston, his eyes riveted to her.

“Where were you going?” he asked softly. “I saw you running out of the keep.”

Allaston looked at him, defiantly. “I saw the army to the east,” she said. “You know it is my father. I was going to warn him off. I do not want him coming near this place for obvious reasons.”

Bretton gazed steadily at her. He hadn’t slept all night, either, trapped in a world that was tearing itself apart, an engrained hatred against a love that consumed him. He’d been fighting with himself every hour of the night, trying to determine if he was doing the right thing by maintaining the hatred that had kept him alive all these years. Would he be a traitor to himself if he gave in to Allaston’s love? God only knew how happy he could be with her. But how happy could he be if her father was still alive, reminding him of his discarded vengeance at every turn? More than that, would he end up resenting Allaston because she had taken away that which had kept him alive?  He could only wonder. Gazing into her lovely face now in the soft light of morning, he could feel himself starting to weaken.

“We are not certain it is him,” he said quietly.

Allaston scowled. “Of course it is him,” she said. “You sent him a missive telling him to come to Cloryn Castle and, more than that, you told de Lohr the same thing when the earl tried to intervene. Of course it is my father – who else could it be?”

She was correct and he knew it. Of course it was de Velt, and de Lohr was more than likely with him. Reaching out, Bretton tried to grasp her arm but she pulled away from him, unwilling to let him touch her. A look of genuine pain crossed his features.

“Please go back to your chamber,” he said. “I am asking you politely to do this. If you refuse, I will put you in the vault until this is over. Is that clear?”

Allaston’s first reaction was to run from him, but he would only catch her. She knew that. Her rebellion turned to sadness, and sadness to pain. She struggled against the tears that were already threatening.

“Will you please tell me what you are planning to do?” she asked. “Please, Bretton. This day will see me lose one man that I love dearly and I would like to know what you are planning, I beg you.”

He was in no mood to argue with her but on the other hand, he couldn’t quite seem to make her go.

“Much depends on your father,” he said. “My actions will be dictated by his.”

“He will want me returned,” Allaston said. “Will you show him that I am in good health? Will you at least let me speak with him?”

Bretton didn’t think that was a particularly good idea but he was curious about it. “What would you say to him?”

Allaston thought on that a moment. “More than likely the same thing I would say to you,” she said quietly. “I would tell him that I love him and I am sorry it has come to this.”

Somewhere overhead, the sentries sounded out a cry that the army was drawing closer and Bretton acknowledged it with the wave of a hand. But his attention was on Allaston. With a gentle sigh, he reached out, taking her hand. Feeling her soft, warm fingers in his grasp nearly undid him.

“I could not sleep last night for thoughts of you,” he murmured. “No matter what this day brings, Allaston, please know that I love you deeply. I always will. I have never loved anything in my life as I have loved you.”

She wanted so badly to believe him but she knew it wasn’t true. She pulled her fingers away from him.

“You do not love me more than you love your sense of vengeance,” she said. “I wish it was true that you loved me more than anything, but it is not.”

“I am sorry you feel that way.”

“So am I.”

They simply stood there and stared at each other, thoughts and emotions as tangible as rain filling the air between them. It was a painful moment, one that perhaps made them realize that they were two individuals with two destinies rather than two individuals with one destiny, a destiny of marriage and love and a future. Allaston couldn’t stand the tension or the agony and eventually lowered her gaze.

“Will you please let me speak to my father?” she asked. “If you are going to kill him, then at least let me say what I will to him. Do not deny me what my father denied you. Let me speak to my father one last time.”

He couldn’t refuse her. “Very well,” he said, sounding dull and defeated. “When it is over, I would expect to turn you over to de Lohr. He will ensure that you are returned to your mother.”

Allaston was so full of anguish that it was difficult for her to think straight. To face losing her father, and losing Bretton, was more than she could appropriately deal with.

“If… if you kill my father, then I will be taking his body with me,” she said, her throat tight with tears. “I will not return home without him.”

“Agreed.”

“But if you should die, Bretton,” she turned to look at him, tears in her eyes, “I will not leave here without you, either. I will make sure you have a proper burial, someplace that I can visit, if only in my dreams. I will make sure that, at the end of your life, you are treated with the dignity and respect you were denied while you were living.”

Her words stunned him, touched him, as he had never been touched before. He’d never heard anything more gracious. “Why would you do this?” he asked, perplexed. “I have killed people and left them to rot. I have not treated the dead with any dignity whatsoever. Why would you treat me with dignity after death when it is not deserved?”

Her tears spilled over. “Because I love you,” she said. “That is reason enough.”

Bretton didn’t think it was possible for him to feel worse than he already did, but he was wrong. Peering into Allaston’s beautiful eyes, he felt cruel and shallow, wicked and shattered… all of those things he had felt when he realized she deserved someone better than him, he was feeling them again, more strongly than before.

“This will more than likely be the last time you and I will have the opportunity to speak to one another, privately,” he said softly. “I want you to know that… that the day I abducted you from Alberbury was the day my life changed forever, only I did not know it at the time. You have shown me life and love and beauty, Allaston, such things as I had forgotten to exist. I pray that, in the future, no matter how this day turns out, that when you think of me, there is a measure of kindness in your heart towards me. Forgive me for not being the strong, virtuous knight you deserve. If I could be that man for you, please know that I would be. But my path is set and my world is dark. As I told you before, I do not want to pull you into that world. I love you enough to know that I must set you free.”

Allaston listened to him, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes. She flicked them away. “I have pain in my heart such as I cannot comprehend,” she replied. “I fear that no matter what happens here today, I will love you until I die, regardless of the outcome.”

Bretton was feeling the same pain in his heart that she was. “Do you still plan to kill yourself if I kill your father?” he asked.

“I do.”

“I will do all in my power to prevent it, you know.”

She shook her head. “You will not be fast enough.”

He grunted. “I will lock you in the vault for your own safety, then.”

“I can still kill myself in the vault,” she whispered. “Do not think to presume you can stop me. If you kill my father… my life is over. I will have nothing left to live for because you will have proven to me that your love for vengeance is greater than your love for me.”

He sighed sadly. “Please,” he pleaded softly. “Please…do not do anything rash or foolish. Allaston, I beg you.”

She wouldn’t answer him. She simply hung her head and Bretton stood there, staring at her. He knew there was no way to prevent her from killing herself if she was truly serious. He could only pray she wasn’t, that somehow, someway, some bit of reason in her mind would stop her from doing it. He wasn’t a praying man but, at that moment, he found himself saying a prayer for divine intervention. If she, in fact, killed herself, then he would have nothing to live for, either. At the moment, he was coming to hate himself for his sense of duty, his sense of revenge. But he could not stop that which was already in motion.

With nothing more to say, he impulsively reached out, again taking her warm fingers in his, but this time she did not pull away. He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the flesh softly and feeling her tremble at his touch. Her hand, at his lips, moved to his face and she wedged herself closer to him, both hands on his face as she hung her head. It was as if she couldn’t bear to look at him but she had to touch him one last time. Bretton moved to put his arms around her but she pulled away, abruptly, and shook her head. However, she did grasp his fingers again, pulling him with her as she moved, unsteadily, towards the keep. Bretton followed blindly, even when she let go of his fingers and ran up the stairs as if the Devil himself was chasing her.

The Devil, in fact, was. Bretton raced up the stairs after her, sensing that she wanted him to follow her and being unable to resist. Once he entered the keep, he slammed the door only to find her standing in the shadows of the keep entry. Before he could speak, she ran at him, her mouth fusing to his and her arms around his neck. Bretton responded wildly and instantly, his arms around her, his lips on hers, kissing her so hard that she was gasping for air. Still, he kissed her harder. There was finality in his touch, knowing this would be the last time he ever tasted her. It would be the last, and only, time he would ever touch a woman he loved. Emotion fed his passion to a frenzied level.

Allaston was in his arms as he carried her into the open room and sat her on the scrubbed table, the one he had molested her on those weeks ago. This time, there was so much fever and fire to their touch that it was raging out of control. Allaston began to weep softly as he kissed her, his hands moving to her body, touching her through the dress he had ripped once, feeling her warm flesh beneath the fabric. When he brushed over her right breast, unwilling to spook her, she grabbed his hand and put it squarely over her breast.

“Touch me,” she whispered against his mouth. “I beg of you, take me as your own, Bretton. We will never know this moment again and I want to remember you against me, within me, as the only man who was ever meant to be my husband. In my heart, you
are
my husband. Please do not deny me this memory of you. Let me feel your love as it was meant to be.”

Bretton didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl, he picked her up again and took her to the end of the room that was dark and shadowed. There was more privacy there. He loosened the fastens on the surcoat this time rather than tearing it, easing the shift and dress off her shoulders, enough so that he could get to a warm and tender nipple. When he suckled her furiously, Allaston cried out softly, holding his head to her breast as if he were a starving child nursing against her. As she held him tightly, his hands snaked underneath her skirts, hiking them up, revealing her virgin core beneath.

Pushing her back on the table, Bretton nursed hungrily at her breasts as his hands, far more gently this time, caressed her buttocks and stroked her thighs. When he gently stroked the dark fluff of curls, she leapt with uncertainty but he stilled her with gentle words and soft caresses. Allaston wanted this, after all. She wanted to feel the man within her, just this once. It would be the one and only time she did.

Bretton slipped a finger into her tight, wet sheath, feeling her gasp at the new and strange sensation. She was very moist and he refused to wait. He had been anticipating this moment since nearly the day he met her and he refused to wait any longer. He unfastened his breeches and let them fall to his ankles and as he put the tip of his hard, throbbing phallus at her threshold, he lifted his head and looked her in the eye.