Authors: Julia Keaton
“Spare me if it
pleases you.” Constance’s words had finally snared Alex’s attention. She knew
nothing of her mother’s family, and to hear Constance describing her cousins
made her throat tighten uncomfortably. Would her only chance for salvation be
merely the mists of a dream? “What have they done to earn such a vile
reputation in your esteem?”
“’Tis too numbered
to count. Just this past fortnight they have stolen much cattle. They have
brought terrible humiliation to my father for as long as I can remember. And
their women.…” Alex felt her shudder against her back. “I’m afraid to even
speak of them.”
To hear her cousins
badly maligned did not bear well with her. Did she truly want to find them and
discover firsthand what Constance said was true? What possible reason would
Constance have for lying? She could think of none, for the girl displayed no
dubiousness of character. She paused, thinking. Unless her cause was to keep
Alex at her house--an unwelcome thought she quickly pushed aside.
Were her kin truly
thieves? Surely if they were it was because need drove them to it, and she had
enough riches they would never go hungry in twenty lifetimes. She felt a
sudden onslaught of pity for her relations.
Constance yelped
excitedly. “There! ‘Tis Derwin Hall! Faster, I must tell my father of all
the excitement we have had.”
Obliging her
reluctantly, she urged Firedancer into a canter—any faster and they risked
injury from uneven road and potholes.
The cavernous trees
thinned and eventually petered out, spreading open into a wide clearing as far
as she could see. No longer obscured by growth, the stars shown a clear path to
a bridge leading across a stream, the babbling water rushing past cleared land
to a copse of trees. Ahead, illuminated by moonlight, she could see a massive
manor house, almost a castle with its fortifications, but it was clearly being
modernized due to the recent building boom. They were a wealthy people,
evidenced by the glass windows adorning the stone facade, which also told her
something important ... they were at peace, for no lord would be so foolish as
to build such a house in war ravaged country. But King Henry had been
strengthening his borders, adding castles for his defense. The incongruity of
this half-castle struck her as folly when war could break out at any time,
especially so near the border of Scotland.
Lights glowed in
the night, drawing her eyes. Fires. Fires snaked about its base, giving her
pause.
“What are all those
lights?” Constance asked with wonder.
Men, at least a
hundred, milled about the grounds, preparing for something.... Alex wondered
at first if the castle had been besieged. Had she been wrong to think there was
no war here? She slowed.
As they neared the
bridge, a hue and cry went up, followed by another and another. Alex stopped,
still running distance from the bridge.
“How long have you
been away?” she asked accusingly.
Constance was
unnervingly silent behind her. She wanted to throttle the girl. “Well ... I
believe ‘twas ... perhaps a day ... well, actually the night before and today
as well.”
Search parties. A
hundred men bearing arms and torches. How long had they been searching? And
why had this road not been checked?
“I have seen you to
your father’s house. ‘Tis far enow.”
“Nay, I would be
trampled if I walked now—see the men approach? ‘Twill be all well and good, my
father shall wish to reward you for my safe return.”
Just get off my
horse!
she thought frantically as men seemed to swarm around them, pushing
them forward on the grounds. Someone helped Constance off the horse, and Alex
was pulled unceremoniously down. A groomsman took her reins and Alex snatched
them back only to have them taken again just as a bellow echoed over the crowd.
CHAPTER TWO
The torch-bearers
merged in mass, surrounding them, their faces grim, silent, as though awaiting
an execution. Constance chattered joyfully, ignorant of her own folly, or
perhaps blatantly ignoring it. Alex heeded not her words, escape foremost in
her thoughts.
They’d abducted
Firedancer. Without him, she had no hope of reaching her destination, no hope
of success. So she waited. She knew not what would become of her, but a dread
presentiment crawled into her mind and lay heavy on her breast. She did not
wait long.
The hum of
Constance’s chatter ceased abruptly, and a prickle of unease danced across
Alex’s spine. Sensing the change overcoming the crowd, she slowly turned,
fearing the worst, and found herself faced with a wall of shining armor.
Alex became aware
of sounds she hadn’t heard before: the creak of leather buckles holding plate
in place; men talking in awed, hushed tones; her own harsh breathing. She felt
as though her mind had been clouded--but it had, and by her own foolishness.
Flames twisted and
flickered, reflecting off polished metal and shining into her eyes.
Her eyes focused on
the breastplate before her, steel etched by a master hand--whorls and vines
twined into a crest held aloft by wolves. Inexplicably, she felt a thrill of
excitement. She blinked and looked up, and up, her lower jaw remaining fixed
level while the rest of her face turned skyward.
A strong jaw came
into view first, covered in faint, dark stubble, clenched in anger. She
followed the line as she would with fingers, like a caress, up past his cleft
chin to his full, grim set lips. She swept past his nose, broken at least
once--a man who likely enjoyed battle. But when she reached his eyes ... she
shuddered, her unnerving flights of fancy disappearing in an instant. Dark,
perhaps deep sapphire, they pierced her with intense scrutiny, like a lance
seeking and finding its target. She was looking into the most fascinating,
forbidding face she’d ever clapped eyes on ... and his attention was fixed on
her. Half limned in golden flame light, half in shadow, he looked as fierce as
a pagan of ancient lore.
A strange, womanly
sensation assailed her. It had taken but a moment to take him in fully, but
she was disconcerted to find she hadn’t had her fill of gazing upon him. She
felt warm inside, inexplicably weak and giddy.
She suspected she
driveled on herself. Alex shut her mouth with effort and swallowed. She felt
a dumbstruck fool--she would surely give herself away, staring at him like a
simpleton. In annoyance, Alex waved away moths that had congregated to the
torches and their body heat.
“I’ll have your head
for what you’ve done,” the man ground out, grabbing two massive fistfuls of her
doublet. He lifted her from the ground like a bit of fluff, and
disconcertingly, she felt her toes dangling. He grunted, though not with the
effort. “You weigh naught more than a pageboy.”
This was what she’d
been taught to admire. Knights in shining armor, protectors of the innocent,
men who would conquer heaven and earth for their lady love. She hadn’t
envisioned herself in the role of villain, however.
Alex was quite
taken aback by his implication. Had she done something wrong? Mayhap she
shouldn’t ought to have stared quite so long. She tried searching her sluggish
brain for any other offense, but none came to her. She considered struggling,
but it was hardly appropriate for her to start fighting like a she-cat. He’d
merely misunderstood.
“Nay!” Constance
yelled, a welcome intrusion. Thrusting herself between them, she forced the
brute to drop Alex. Alex stumbled back a step, keeping her balance, her gaze
never wavering from him.
He looked at
Constance in confusion, and Alex almost smiled. She doubted anyone stood up to
the tyrant--ever. Alex wasn’t sure why she should need protecting since she
hadn’t done anything wrong, but she appreciated it regardless. He was a mite
larger than she could handle on her own.
The man’s hands
clenched into fists when he looked back at her. Unease tightened like a noose
about her neck.
Saints! He had a
foul disposition. If she weren’t so certain of herself, she might be
frightened. Any other fool would be, but not she.
“You don’t know
what you’ve done, Constance.” Each word came out slowly, as though he was
pained to utter them. “Get you to bed, woman.”
“I will not leave
while you tear him limb from limb, Bronson. You are my kin, and I love you,
but....”
Alex tried to make
words come out but her throat had dried of a sudden. She swallowed
convulsively, forcing moisture down her throat to loosen her vocal chords.
“Mayhap if I introduce myself....” she squeaked.
The man, Bronson
she knew now, glared at her whilst another, younger looking giant laughed and
spoke up, “Good god, Constance, the boy hasn’t even become a man! Listen how
his voice breaks.”
Alex gaped at him.
How dare he? she fumed. She was certainly old enough to be a man ... well ...
Certes!
“Oh, Rafael.”
Constance giggled, confirming Alex’s earlier suspicion she was an airling.
A fluffy moth flew
drunkenly around her face and she blew it away. “I will expla--” The world
went black in one of her eyes. She yelped in a most unmanly manner, clamped a
hand over her eyes, and flailed her free arm in the air in a vain attempt to
clear it. “Damn! Remove those blasted torches from my presence!” Tears
streamed down her cheek.
“What has
happened?” Constance attempted to pull Alex’s hand from her face.
Alex wiggled from
her grasp as a child would evading its mother. “Leave me be woman. Those foul
torches have attracted every insect for a fortnight.”
Constance started
giggling, uncontrollably, which was bad enough, but then the distinct sound of
male laughter began bellowing forth from her cruel inquisitors.
“‘Tis not a matter
of humor. Doubtless I shall be blinded in this eye and live with the damnable
insect in it the remainder of my days.”
“Come, let me see
it, boy,” Bronson said, his voice over gruff and impatient. Mortified, she
knew he had laughed also. She attempted to evade him, but he caught her in her
susceptible condition.
Bronson grasped her
chin, engulfing it in one massive hand, and tilted her face up. “You’re as
soft as a babe’s bottom. No doubt just out of swaddling yourself. Open your
eye, lad.”
Her arms dropped to
her sides in defeat. Was he implying she was weak? “I can’t.” She squeezed
her eyes tightly shut. Alex wouldn’t put it past him to poke one of those
enormous digits in the offended lid.
“You will.”
Something about his
tone brooked no argument. Her lids had grown heavy as an oaken chest. She
strained to lift them and looked into his face. Someone held a torch near and
she flinched, expecting more flying monstrosities, but the grip that held her
was firm.
He brushed a
callused thumb and forefinger near her eye, holding it open wider, looking
closely. His brows were pulled low over his eyes, lending him a grim
appearance. Her insides felt quivery again, but she knew it was merely fear of
discovery, not those large hands, that made the wash of weakness flow through
her veins.
He released her
suddenly, rubbing the hand that held her as though he’d been burned. “You’ll
live. The wound was not mortal.” The other armored men began chuckling anew,
earning them a glare from Alex.
Her eye did feel
better though, and she rubbed it absently.
“I suppose we’ll
have no killing tonight,” the third man spoke with a grin, obviously the
youngest of the three.
“Come, Father is
awaiting your safe return to his house. We will speak inside.” Rafael took
Constance’s arm and began leading her away.
“I must needs be on
my way. If I can have my horse....” Alex whirled around and started running
when she was pulled to an abrupt halt, one foot suspended in the air. Craning
her head around, she saw it was Bronson’s hand fisted around her cape.
“Mine father
wouldst speak to you as well, pup.” His expression was quite serious. He
looked accustomed to having his way in every matter. Well, she would teach him
he could not bend her to his will.
As he dragged her
across the grounds, Alex had a terrible suspicion she was drawing close to the
wolves’ den.