The Lady and the Falconer (19 page)

Chapter Seventeen

T
he next morning, Solace waited at the back of the courthouse beside Logan. He was flanked by two guards, his wrists bound behind his back with thick rope. She cast a nervous glance at him to find his cool, metallic eyes on her. She tried to force a smile to her lips, but found she could not.

His eyes lidded just a little, and a warm flush swept through Solace. A shy smile formed in her heart and worked its way up to her lips. She quickly looked away from him. She couldn’t think about how he made her feel. She couldn’t think about kissing his lips, nor about his hands on her body. She had to concentrate on getting Logan set free.

She lifted her gaze to the platform. Alissa was seated at the head of the courthouse, listening to Captain Montgomery reporting on the current security of Castle Fulton. She barely stifled a yawn as she nodded to him, waving him away. Then her eyes locked with Solace’s, and a stern look of disapproval thinned her lips and eyes.

To Solace’s left, a few villagers stood in a line, awaiting their turn to voice their complaints.

Graham lounged against a pillar not far from them, gingerly rubbing the cloth that covered his nose. Despite her best resolve, fear surged within Solace at the memory of his body pressed to hers, his hands moving up her thigh. She shivered and glanced away...

...to lock eyes with Logan. His brows furrowed, and he looked in the direction she had been gazing moments before, his eyes searching the faces until he saw Graham’s. His frown deepened and his body tensed before he returned his look to Solace.

She read the anger in his slitted eyes, the hatred in his clenched jaw. During the battle, she had seen that same look on his face, that same single-mindedness of purpose. She had seen that look before, thirteen years ago when Peter was a prisoner. He had looked at her father with the same fury and loathing, with an intensity that was so disturbing she had not forgotten it in all these years. They were very much alike, Logan and Peter, the same build, the same height. Why, they could be kin... Something tugged at her mind. A distant memory. But just as a picture began to form, the guards urged Logan forward.

Solace quickly took up pace with him, as if she, too, were a prisoner. She tried to keep her chin up and her back straight as the courthouse became hushed and all eyes turned to them. Graham stepped before them, leading the way up the aisle.

Alissa’s gaze swept over Logan, then moved by Solace to land on Graham as they halted before her. “What is the complaint?” she wondered.

Solace glanced at Beth. Beth was seated with her long legs crossed, leaning back in a chair beside her mother.

“He struck me,” Graham answered, indicating the bandage on his nose.

“You struck a noble?” Alissa exclaimed in disbelief.

“I did,” Logan replied.

“He was defending me,” Solace proclaimed, taking a step forward, placing herself before Logan. “Graham attacked me.”

A murmur spread through the courthouse.

“It’s a lie!” Graham replied. “I found them together. Apparently the falconer didn’t like being interrupted.”

Solace’s mouth dropped and a blush rose to her cheeks. “That’s not true!”

“Then where did you get those scratches on your face?” Logan wondered.

Graham’s eyes pivoted to Logan. “From our battle.”

“Women scratch,” Logan pointed out. “I use my fists.”

“Enough!” Alissa shouted, standing. When all eyes turned to her and the room quieted, she continued with a regal air. “It is very clear to me that someone is not telling the truth.” Her gaze burned into Solace. “To discern the truth, I have no other choice but to proclaim a trial by fire.”

Solace stiffened. Trial by fire! It hadn’t been done in years! The accused had to carry a piece of red-hot iron in their bare hands over a long distance. If there were no burns, then the accused was innocent. No one ever passed this test.

“If the falconer’s innocent, God will surely protect him,” Alissa said.

Solace cast a nervous glance over her shoulder at Logan. Her mind worked furiously. She had to do something to help him! She caught the smug look in Graham’s eyes, the smile twitching his lips. Bastard! Coward!

Suddenly an idea came to her and she turned back to her stepmother. “Why not make it trial by combat?”

“Surely you jest,” Alissa said in disbelief. “You’re giving your falconer no chance at all. He knows nothing of the art of fighting. Graham is highly trained.”

“You’re right, Mother,” Solace said, quickly, slyly, and looked away. “Forget I even mentioned it.”

Alissa stood silent for a moment, thinking. Beth leaned over to whisper something into her mother’s ear. Alissa’s face darkened with a cunning sneer, and she nodded at Beth’s comment. She then turned to face the assembly. “The guards need a distraction, as do the peasants. It shall be trial by combat,” she proclaimed. “They shall fight until one yields.”

***

An hour later, the castle courtyard was overflowing with expectant onlookers. Soldiers packed the battlements. Villagers watched from their shops. An alewife moved through the crowd, collecting wagers on the coming fight. She had to stop as Logan was ushered through the crowd before her by two guards. Graham awaited him in the makeshift circle the crowd had created.

Logan couldn’t help but overhear the odds were not in his favor. His eyes scanned the crowd. He didn’t care about the damn odds. He had faced far worse before. He continued searching for Solace, knowing she would be here somewhere. Then his gaze came to rest on her. She stood near the garden fence, her hands folded, her eyes on him. It had been a stroke of genius to suggest trial by combat. No one knew him as a fighter. He felt a strange stirring of pride.

He lifted his gaze to the sky, having to shield his eyes with his hand from the glare of the sun to see the falcon circling high overhead like a vulture. “Damn bird,” Logan grumbled. It seemed even the falcon was betting against him.

Alissa stepped forward. “Let the trial begin!” she announced. Then she turned to Graham, bowing slightly. “At your leisure, lord Graham.”

Logan caught the handle of the blade Graham threw to him, but didn’t have time to inspect it as Graham attacked immediately. Logan blocked his blow, feigning a stumble backward. He was far too good a warrior not to expect an immediate attack. But Logan also knew that if he didn’t pretend unease with the sword, his cover could be blown. He stumbled again, allowing Graham to push him back.

The crowd parted as the two fighters moved too close. Graham was a weak fighter. Logan saw it immediately, the way he struck and pulled back in case Logan attacked. The man was incapable of anything but a one-swing attack. He was doomed.

Logan felt the press of a wall behind him. A grin stretched Graham’s lips taut. The image of those lips pressing on Solace’s flesh distracted Logan for a moment. Graham sliced at Logan and was rewarded by a slash on his arm. Logan grimaced, pushing aside any thoughts of Solace.

Then, more confident, Graham swung a blow at Logan’s head. Logan ducked and sidestepped, the blade whizzing in the air just above his head. He quickly moved around Graham to trap him against the wall, raising his weapon to attack. He lunged, pinning part of Graham’s tunic to the wall.

The crowd gasped. All around him, Logan heard shouts of encouragement, but none directed at him.

Logan withdrew the blade in time to block a frantic swing of Graham’s. There was panic in the noble’s eyes, and it would have been Logan’s turn to grin, if he were prone to that sort of thing. He stepped forward, arcing the blade toward Graham’s neck.

Desperately, Graham brought his sword up, blocking the blow. As the blades hit, Logan’s gave way, splitting cleanly in half.

Again the crowd gasped, this time louder than before. Coins began to exchange hands as murmurings of the falconer’s imminent defeat swept through the crowd.

Logan stared in shock at the straight break in the blade. Then his eyes lifted to Graham’s. There was no surprise there, only acceptance. He had planned it this way! That was why he hadn’t given Logan the chance to look at the sword. Logan threw the useless blade to the ground.

He then backed away as Graham waved his blade before him, toying with him. Logan doubted the man would stop with a yield, and he’d be damned if he would give him one.

Graham chuckled low in his throat as Logan retreated. He swung his sword, and Logan leapt aside. The man was out for blood.

“Logan!”

Logan turned and Solace tossed a piece of wood at him. He caught it easily and turned back just in time to block Graham’s swing. With his new weapon in hand, Logan attacked relentlessly, driving Graham back to the herb garden fence near the east wall. He was tired of this game, tired of this man. He wanted to bash his head in and spill his brains into the earth.

Suddenly, Logan stepped on the pointed tip of the broken blade and his ankle twisted. He fell to the ground, the wood tumbling from his hands, sliding across the courtyard.

In the next instant, Graham was standing over him, his blade raised. Logan reached out to his sides, groping blindly in the dirt, searching for something, anything. His fingers closed over the handle of the broken blade. He raised it to protect himself just as Graham plunged forward to slam the sword at his skull.

Chapter Eighteen

L
ogan moved his head to the side and Graham’s sword plunged into the earth beside his cheek. Grimacing, Logan thrust his broken blade up.

He stared at Graham’s shocked face. Graham coughed, spraying Logan with blood, before he slowly slumped to the side. Logan sat up and was greeted by absolute quiet. Hundreds gaped at the bloody scene, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Slowly, Logan stood and looked down at Graham, who lay unmoving, blood soaking through his tunic.

A scream pierced the silence like a clap of thunder, and Beth shoved her way through the crowd, rushing to Graham’s side. She dropped to her knees, sobbing.

Logan cast a look at Solace who stood motionless, as stunned as everyone, her hand planted firmly over her mouth, her green eyes wide.

“Murderer!” Beth hissed at Logan, her eyes full of real tears.

“Guards!” Alissa screamed.

Two men appeared at Logan’s side, both holding swords.

“Take him to the dungeon!” she shouted.

Logan made no attempt to resist as he was led away. He turned one last time to glance over his shoulder at Solace, to see her slowly drop her hand from her mouth.

***

Solace watched the guards take Logan away, her heart breaking. Guilt washed over her. It was all her fault. She was the one who had suggested trial by combat. She was the one Logan was protecting when he hit Graham. She was the one Graham had lusted after.

Beth’s wailing broke through her fragile shell of remorse, and she turned her eyes to her half sister. She was sobbing onto Graham’s bloody chest, her fingers clutching at his tunic. Alissa was at her side, whispering soothing words to her, gently patting her back.

Immediately, Solace moved to Beth. She knelt at her sister’s side, despite the warning glare from Alissa. Solace put a hand to Beth’s shoulder, offering her comfort.

But the scathing eyes that rose to her caused Solace to snatch her hand back as if she had just been burned.

“You,” Beth snarled with contempt and pure hatred. “You little bitch!” She lunged at Solace, catching her around the throat. Solace fell back, trying to fight her off, but Beth’s grip was tight and unrelenting. It wasn’t until Alissa grabbed Beth’s shoulders and hauled her away from Solace that she was able to back away from her sister. She put her hands to her throat, massaging the tender skin, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“It isn’t enough to be heir to Fulton,” Beth hollered. “You’ve always wanted what was mine! You’ve tried to steal away the men I love.”

Her mouth dropped in shock. She continued to rub her neck slowly, realizing for the first time the depth of hatred Beth felt toward her. “I only wanted you to be happy. I never tried to hurt you, Beth,” Solace said, her voice heavy.

“Hurt me? You stole Robert away from me! And you took Graham from me!”

Solace straightened her back. “Graham was attacking me near the mews,” Solace said, raising her gaze defensively to her stepmother. “He tried to rape me.”

Beth’s peal of deranged laughter echoed through the ward. “Of course he did!” she chorded. “Every man wants you! Why, you’re the most beautiful woman alive. No man can withstand your charms!” She picked up a lock of Solace’s dark hair, toying with the rebellious curl. “Why your hair is always tucked neatly under a headdress or combed to a brilliant glow.” Her voice was filled with mocking sarcasm. Solace always wore her hair down or braided.