Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
The sergeant, a seasoned soldier
with a heavy Scots accent, appeared rightly off-guard. "My orders are tae
keep her here until yer father decides what's tae be done wi' her, Sir
Stephan."
Stephan's green eyes were like
shards of ice. "As I said, I shall inform my father of my actions and you
shall not be to blame. I am giving you an order to disburse."
The soldier was visibly torn.
Licking his lips, he passed a long glance to the curious men behind him as he
struggled for an answer. "My... my orders come from the baron, Sir
Stephan. I would gladly accept yer order had yer father not instructed me
personally."
Stephan drew in a long, steady
breath. "Then you are prepared to disobey me?"
After a long, deliberative moment,
the sergeant nodded hesitantly. "I must, m'lord."
Stephan's gaze was hard. After a
tense pause, he cocked a deliberate eyebrow. "Very well," stepping
aside, he gestured to Bose directly behind him. "Are you prepared to
disobey Bose de Moray as well?"
Six pairs of eyes stared at Bose
as if he were the Devil himself. They knew well of the man and his reputation
and there wasn't one warrior among them willing to obtain first-hand knowledge
of the man's temper and tactics. More than the threat of the baron's wrath, the
very idea of facing Bose de Moray in mortal combat was enough to cause them to
rethink their stringent stance.
"But... but the baron's
orders...." the sergeant sputtered.
Sensing their intimidation, Bose
was wise enough to use the advantage. Ducking through the doorjamb, he planted
himself beside Stephan, his black eyes blazing and his massive fists working.
"Is the strict obedience of
the baron's orders worth a broken neck?" his voice was a growl.
Eyes wide, the sergeant stepped
back, tripping over another man's feet but rapidly regaining his balance.
Quickly reconsidering his view, it occurred to him that if Stephan du Bonne was
willing to accept all blame for his sister's release, then certainly it would
be within the best interests of all if the girl were freed without contention.
And for the fact that Bose de Moray was willing to fight them all for her
freedom, certainly the baron's wrath did not seem quite so frightening.
"We've duties tae attend
tae, m'lord," spinning on his heel, he waved his arms sharply to the
gaggle of men-at-arms behind him. The collection scattered, leaving Bose and
Stephan smirking triumphantly in their wake.
When the hall was vacant, Summer
emerged into the corridor, gazing down the dimly-lit tunnel as if she could
hardly believe what she had seen. But she soon caught the humor too, and she
turned with twinkling eyes to the snorting, armored men behind her.
"You did not have to fight
them," she announced with a mixture of disbelief and glee. "Bose,
they were simply terrified of you!"
"As they should be," he
said with mock-seriousness, removing the dagger from his gauntlet and replacing
it in the folds of his armor. "Thank God the confrontation was bloodless,
at any rate. I was afraid they were going to force me to follow through with my
threat."
Summer shook her head with a
combination of disapproval and pride as Ian and Lance snorted their endorsement
of their future brother-in-law's imposing presence. For certain, they were not
the only men afraid of the mighty knight.
"I suspect the rest of your
escape will be less simplified," Stephan said, his humor fading as
essential moments began to tick away.
"Indeed," Bose's smile
vanished as well and he grasped Summer by the hand, tightly, as if to never let
her go. "My charger is tethered near my tent. We shall have to make it
there as inconspicuously as possible. All we need is for Breck or Duncan Kerry
to spot us and…."
"Duncan is competing against
Morgan in the seventh bout," Ian said, already moving down the torch-lit
hall as a distinct sense of urgency took hold. "With the second, fourth
and fifth rounds canceled due to the du Bonne brothers' absence, I suspect
Breck is currently watching his brother take the field. The sooner we make way
to Bose's tent, the better."
"Let's waste no time,"
Bose was in close pursuit of Ian, pulling Summer behind him as Stephan and
Lance followed. "I plan to make it to Salisbury by nightfall."
"Salisbury?" Summer
asked curiously.
He glanced to her as he helped
her mount the slippery stairs. "A mighty cathedral is being built there,
only partially finished. But there is a rectory and my cousin is a residing
priest. He shall marry us."
Emerging onto an upper level of
the dungeon, Stephan's voice was faint. "You plan to ride all the way to Salisbury
to marry my sister? Poole or Bournemouth is closer."
Bose did not reply for a moment
as the group edged the darkened walls toward the light of freedom. "My
cousin performed the funeral mass for Lora. I... I would like him to marry
us."
Not strangely, the distance to
Salisbury did not seem so terribly great any longer.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
"Tell me where your liege
took my daughter and I shall be merciful."
When Morgan did not reply fast
enough, another crushing blow caught him in the kidneys and he sank to his
knees, a small grunt of pain the only outward display of his agony. When Breck
prepared to deliver another kick to the man's already-bruised midsection, the
baron extended a sharp hand.
"Answer me, Sir Morgan.
Where did de Moray take my daughter?"
Breathing heavily from the
anguish of broken ribs, Morgan's gaze was unwavering. "As I told you, I do
not know. Why are you so concerned with their disappearance if your daughter is
betrothed to the man? Mayhap...."
A powerful boot to his side sent
Morgan to the floor. Breck loomed over the struggling man, his pimpled face
flushed with anger. "She is not betrothed to de Moray, she is betrothed to
me. Your liege stole my bride and I fully intend to prosecute him for
thievery!"
Gazing up at the irate young
knight, Morgan's countenance was confused. "Thievery? What... what are you
talking about? As of last eve, Bose was betrothed to the Lady Summer."
Breck sneered, unsympathetic to
the knight's misery. "A verbal contract and nothing more. After Lord du
Bonne was presented with the true characteristics of his future son-in-law, he
wisely decided to betroth his daughter to a finer man. Me, in fact."
Morgan appeared even more
confused. "You? God's Blood, Kerry, how in the hell did you manage to
convince the baron that you were a finer man than Bose?"
"With my help, Sir
Morgan," Margot sat against the distant wall, far removed from the torture
at hand and sampling another bottle of the baron's fine Bordeaux. She'd been
settled behind Morgan, out of his line of sight and he had been unaware of her
presence. As he struggled to catch of glimpse of the familiar, hated voice,
Margot merely sipped her wine in satisfied warmth. "It was necessary that
Baron Lulworth be told of Bose's murderous and greedy tendencies. He agrees
with Breck and I completely. Do you not, darling?"
Edward did not look to the woman
who seemed to have overtaken his house and hold within the past several hours.
From the moment she had convince him of her son-in-law's dark character, she hadn't
set foot from Chaldon. Confiscating the largest unoccupied guest chamber in the
upper hall, she had moved in as her severely wimpled lady order all of Lady
Margot's possessions removed from de Moray's tent and relocated into the
newly-selected bower.
Margot had come to see that the
baron was not only petty, selfish and vain, but he was exceedingly dimwitted
and moronic. Whereas Bose's intelligent mind could be manipulated by his
tremendous sense of grief, Edward could be exploited purely for the fact that
he seemed to lack a will of his own. And with the man's sons conspicuously
absent, tending to the tournament and their sister's social affairs, Margot saw
the opportunity to draw yet another man into her venomous web. She had found
another victim to occupy her twisted attention.
A process that was already
beginning as Morgan Skye lay upon the cold stone of the foyer, beaten and
bloodied by an irate Breck Kerry. Arrested on the joust field when word of Bose
de Moray's abduction of Lady Summer had reached Edward's ears, hordes of du
Bonne soldiers continued to lay search for the rest of de Moray's men. The
three remaining knights and Bose's aged uncle, however, were yet to be found
and Edward had vocally suspected his absent sons having something to do with
the knights’ disappearance.
"Indeed," Edward
replied to the Margot’s question. "My daughter cannot marry a murderer, a
man only interest in obtaining her family's wealth. Again I ask you; tell me
where your liege has gone and I will be merciful."
Morgan managed to regain his
balance, still on his knees. The expression on his face, however, was solid.
"Bose is not a murderer. Margot knows as well as I that her daughter
perished in childbirth, yet she seems intent to spread lies to the contrary. Lies
that would destroy Bose all to satisfy her twisted sense of revenge."
As Margot's expression visibly
darkened, Breck slapped Morgan across the mouth and nearly sent him toppling
over again. "Enough of your distortions. Everyone knows Bose de Moray
killed his wife in order to gain her inheritance. The fabrications you weave
are simply to mask the truth in defense of your liege."
"I do not hide the truth.
But Lady Margot does."
"Lies!"
Morgan turned to the flush-faced
knight, a corrupt man that seemed to be growing more corrupt and vile by the
moment. His countenance, his demeanor, in spite of having been righteously
beaten, remained entirely cool. "Why do you want her so badly, Breck? What
is the Lady Summer to you other than another merciless conquest?"
Breck seemed to falter, the
sinister light in his small blue eyes flickering unstably. "She is... she
is the most beautiful woman in Dorset and it is only right that she be my
wife," apparently recovered from his moment of uncertainty, his features
hardened once more. "No more foolish prattle to avoid the subject, Skye.
Where did Bose take my bride?"
Morgan sighed, weakly, seeing
that he was about to meet with more abuse as a result of his honest answer.
"As I have said at least a dozen times, I do not know. I was not even
aware of the lady's imprisonment and I certainly have no knowledge of where
Bose would take her. He has friends all over this country."
Breck was preparing to strike him
again when Edward, in a surprising show of power, firmly stopped him. Sulking
and angry, Breck moved away from Morgan and paced like a caged bull, muttering
to himself in a gesture of madness. The baron tore his eyes away from Morgan
long enough to watch the pimple-faced knight tear a hole in his fine Persian
rug with the heel of is armored boot.
"Logic would dictate one of
two possibilities, young Kerry," he said quietly. "He has either
taken my daughter to the nearest abbey to marry her, or he has taken her
directly to his fortress. In either case, I would suggest we start looking for
him at the seat of his power. Eventually, I would suspect, he will have to
return home."
Rising from her cushioned chair,
Margot set her chalice to a small engraved tray and made her way toward the
baron. "How brilliant of you to anticipate his plans, my lord. Ravendark
is just outside of Salisbury; if your men ride hard, they can be there by
tomorrow morn."
Breck, not to be left out of the
conversation, ordered the nearest sergeant to ready a company of men to ride to
Ravendark. As the soldier fled the solar, he moved toward the Margot and Edward.
"I will have de Moray
captured and returned to Chaldon for trial," he said decisively, focusing
closely on Edward. "I am an outsider to Dorset, my lord. Who is your
liege?"
Edward looked to the young
knight, seemingly not as excited about de Moray's capture as he should have
been. In fact, he had been rather quiet and distracted throughout the entire
interrogation with Morgan Skye and except for his clear-minded suggestion as to
how to trail the fugitive and his captive, seemed to once again lapse into a
sluggish demeanor.
"The Marquis of Cerne, Lord
Bruce Eggardon," he replied quietly, almost lethargically. "He
resides in Poole."
"Then we will send word to
Poole as to the circumstances and charges," Breck acknowledged.
"After de Moray is captured, I would see Lord Eggardon preside over his
trial and sentencing."
"I cannot believe that you
would actually prosecute Bose for thievery when it was he who was betrothed to
the lady first," Morgan had been silent throughout the entire
conversation, but no longer. Now on his feet, bound and bloodied, his liquid
brown eyes were rolling with fury. "If there is to be any manner of
punishment dealt, Baron Lulworth, you should be the one to receive it. Had you
not broken your word, none of this would have happened."
Breck moved toward the battered
knight, reeking of rage as he once again balled his fist for yet another
painful blow. "This is none of your affair, Skye. If you would simply tell
us...!"