Sworn Loyalty - A Medieval Romance (23 page)

He looked forward again to where Michael rode with the troops. “Michael has a level head, and he knew what was at stake. It was clear to both of us that you had not gone anywhere willingly with the wolf’s head. So we raced, as if the Devil himself were chasing us, back to the keep.”

Mary’s head swam with confusion. “To the keep?”

Erik gave a wry smile. “Lynessa is a master manipulator. I knew that she would have her fingers in everything that went on regarding your fate. There is no way that Bronson would have acted alone in this.” He gave a soft shrug. “So my two choices were to scour the entire countryside trying to find you myself – or to ensure Lynessa brought me straight to you.”

His brow creased. “By the time Michael and I returned to the keep, Lynessa was gone, as was Sander. We had every man out looking for you, and I nearly went out myself, but Michael cautioned patience. He pointed out that Lynessa would never abandon her chance to win me when she was so close to achieving her goal. And the key to finding you was Lynessa. So I waited, pacing the courtyard until I’m sure I wore a trench through the stone.” He gave a small smile. “But, of course, Michael was right. Soon enough Lynessa came trotting back in, as pleased as punch, saying she had gone by her family home to summon her guards to join in the hunt.”

The pieces were settling into place in Mary’s mind. “So that is when you told her the story of needing my signature?”

He twined his fingers into hers. “I cannot tell you how hard it was to look into her eyes, to know all she had done, and to still play the besotted beau. But yes, I pledged my love to her, and explained the situation we were in. We could only have the keep and lands if you were still alive.”

He chuckled. “You should have seen the change that came over her. Suddenly she wanted to ride out to talk with her guards. Apparently an idea had come to her. And by the next evening we were heading out to Caradoc’s tower.”

Mary’s mind went back to the dungeon, to her acceptance of death. To her feeling of being reborn when she saw Erik’s eyes.

Her voice was a mere whisper.

“You came for me.”

His breath sighed out of him, and he reached his hand up to gently caress her cheek.

There was a pop, and a whistle, and Erik was diving at her, throwing both of them from their horses. He spun their bodies in the air so that she would land on top of him; his breath blew out at the hard impact. It came at the same time as the solid
thunk
of a crossbow bolt slammed into an oak tree beside them.

Michael’s cry rang along the wooded path. “Attack!”

The soldiers spread out in all directions, swords high, slashing at the underbrush. Erik rolled from beneath Mary, his own blade out, his eyes searching through the dappled woods for any sign of the assailant.

Michael was by them in an instant. “Are you hurt?”

Erik’s eyes flashed to her, and Mary shook her head. Erik called back to Michael, “We’re fine. Go after him.”

In a moment Michael was lost, racing into the shadows of the forest.

The hue and cry of the men faded into the distance as they spread out in all directions. Erik stood alertly over Mary, and it was several long moments before he eased his ready stance, before he reached a hand down and drew her up to stand alongside him. Still, his sword remained prepared, and he kept Mary behind him, carefully tucked between him and the steeds.

Mary’s voice was a low whisper. “Sander?”

He nodded without speaking. His gaze swept the shadowed forest around them.

Mary shook her head. “But surely –”

There was a creak, and a footstep, and she froze. Erik took a half-step back, sandwiching her between him and the steeds, shielding her with his body.

Out of the dappled browns and greens stepped Sander, his flaxen hair askew, his face set with determination. The crossbow in his hand was fully cranked back, the bolt aimed for Erik’s heart.

Erik settled into a steady stance, but Mary noticed in a stray corner of her mind that he did not crouch as he might if he were preparing to spring. She realized that he was not risking the lower profile – was not opening up the opportunity for Sander to shoot her. She dropped to one knee behind him, to give him more freedom to act.

Sander laughed at that, a harsh, barking sound. “Think you can dodge a bolt?” he challenged. “I’ve seen these things go straight through metal.” He scoffed dismissively at Erik. “Your body is feeble protection for your Lady Fair. This missile will plow straight through your gut – and lodge deep within her heart. I will take out two troublesome pests with one shot.”

Erik shifted his feet in the soft ground, finding purchase. “I am the one you want,” he reminded Sander. “Let her go. I am the one who killed Bronson.”

Sander’s face mottled. “You killed him,” he snarled. “Bronson had been my best friend since we were born. He was the brother I never had, the man I could depend on no matter what happened.” His voice grew rough. “You stole him from me.”

Erik’s gaze held steady. “I am the one who should pay,” he insisted. “You want to face me.”

Sander’s eyes turned into hard marbles. “I want you to die knowing you failed,” he growled. “You will know you died unable to protect what was most precious to you.” He shifted his aim lower down Erik’s chest, to point to his stomach. “I will ensure you live an hour or two in agony, clutching the lifeless body of the only person you have ever truly loved. That might begin to show you just what I will face for the rest of my life.”

Mary’s heart thudded in her chest. If she could just dodge out of the way, she could draw Sander’s fire – and it would take the man a full thirty seconds to reload. By that time Erik could cross the distance and overpower him. If she could just figure out –

Erik’s left hand grabbed her hard by her arm, holding her in place.

His voice rumbled out of his depths. “Sander, there is one thing you have not accounted for.”

Sander raised his brow in amusement. “And what might that be?”

The bright silver of a sword burst through the center of his chest, followed by a crimson bubbling. Michael’s head appeared over Sander’s shoulder, and he eased the man to the ground. Michael lifted the crossbow from Sander’s lifeless hand and tossed it far into the bushes.

His voice was rich with relief. “That would be me.”

Chapter 19

The sun was just arching to its highest point in a glistening azure sky as Mary and Erik rode side by side through the gates of their keep. The courtyard was filled with every inhabitant, and the walls rang with the sounds of cheering and applause. Erik was beneath her to help her from her saddle, and then he swept her up in his arms, causing the cheers to grow even louder.

Mary knew he was as exhausted as she was, but she couldn’t tell it by the firm steps he took to carry her through the main hall, up the spiral staircase, and into their room.

A warm fire blazed in the hearth, candles flickered on the tables and sills, and a large, half-barrel tub waited to one side, filled with steaming water. Mary’s body ached, and she didn’t resist as Erik stripped her down before helping her to ease into the deliciously warm water.

A long moan wrenched out of her as she settled down into the rose-scented liquid, sinking lower until only her chin floated on the surface.

He gave a low chuckle, settling down on the floor next to her, taking a bowl of dried figs from the nearby table. “Like that, do you?”

She closed her eyes in bliss. “Oh, do I.”

There was something sweet at her lips, and she parted them, letting him feed her a fig. In a moment she was washing it down with some warm mead. It was a long while before she opened her eyes again, taking in the familiar surroundings.

Erik rested a hand against her cheek. His eyes grew serious. “Oh, Mary, could you not just have told me the truth from the start?”

She gave a wry smile. “If Michael has told you the whole of it, then you know I could not. I gave your mother my vow.”

He gave a short shake of his head. “So many ills have been caused by her stubborn nature, and the influence she had over others,” he murmured. “I thank God we are finally free of it.” He turned to face her fully. “I want us to swear, from this day forward, that we will be honest and true to each other. My mother and her machinations are now behind us.”

She took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips. “I swear it.”

His tension eased at that, and he sat back against the bed, closing his eyes in weary exhaustion. For a long while they remained in drifting silence. Eventually she took up the wood ash soap and worked over her limbs one by one, gently removing what seemed to be archeological layers of dirt and sweat. An eternity passed before she felt truly clean.

At long last she was ready to emerge. He was at her side by the time she had gained her feet, wrapping her in a soft towel. Then he lifted her effortlessly in his arms, walking the few steps to gently lay her in the bed.

When she crawled beneath the heavy blankets, she felt as if she could sleep for weeks.

He gently stroked her hair. “I will be right down the hall if you –”

She sat up in a panic. “Down the hall?”

His brow creased. “I thought, after all you had gone through, that –”

Her voice hardened. “You thought wrong! You were going to leave me?”

Erik waved a hand at her clothes laying by the tub, still coated with blood and dirt. “I only thought with all you had –”

Mary crossed her arms before her chest. “If you think I want to be alone, without you, after everything I have endured, then you were absolutely wrong!”

He held her eyes for a long moment, and there was a glimmer of hope within them, an easing which melted her heart to see. Then he nodded and moved to the tub.

“In that case, I, too, am in need of some cleansing.”

Mary piled the pillows behind her so she could sit up while he carefully stripped down past the many wounds and injuries on his body, until he stood before her in the firelight.

God’s teeth, the man was magnificent.

It seemed only seconds before he had removed the caked blood, eased off the layers of sweat, and was again approaching their bed.

He drew to the opposite side, and looked at her for a long moment. “The keep’s servants will talk,” he murmured.

Her smile grew wide. “Let them.”

He slid beneath the blankets, and nothing else mattered.

Chapter 20

Mary blinked awake to streaming sunshine, and it was a long moment before she could sort out just where she was. The room, both familiar and new, felt more like home than anywhere she had known before. At her side Erik still slept, an ease in his face that she had not seen before.

And she was free.

It was almost too momentous to take in. For so long, for ten long years, her sole mission in life had been to train for two tasks: the tasks of making sure Erik was detached from Lynessa’s influence, and then turning the keep over to him.

That day was now here.

Mary knew she should be thrilled. She should be grateful that she had done what she had been ordered to do, had fulfilled her mission to Lady Cartwright, and had safely seen the keep into hands well worthy of its care. Yet, for some reason she could not name, she felt hollow within. It was as if she had lost her purpose in life, as if the quest had been what had kept her going.

Erik blinked his eyes open, focused on her face, and a smokiness eased into his gaze. His voice was low and pleased. “I could get used to waking up like this,” he murmured. His hand drew up to stroke her cheek.

She smiled, the gloom fading. “Oh, could you?”

Then he was pulling her down to him, and all else was lost.

* * *

She found herself going from room to room throughout the keep, the feeling growing within her that this might be the last time she saw it all, that soon her time here would draw to an end. After all, she had fulfilled her promise. Her feet took her into the kitchen buildings, where a stew bubbled merrily in the cauldron over the hearth fire. She spent time in the stables, drawing a fond hand down her steed’s mane, breathing in the familiar scents.

Eventually her feet took her out to the cemetery, to the elaborately carved grave. The sun shimmered through the clouds, sending waves of tangerine and crimson toward Avoca’s Folly. She knelt before the headstone, drawing stray grasses away from the crocuses that now bloomed there in lavender, sapphire, and pearlescent white.

She sat back on her heels, looking at the streaked granite. Her voice was a mere whisper. “I hope you are proud of me,” she murmured. “I hope my actions were worthy of all the time you spent, all the care you invested in me. I wish –”

Her throat closed up, and she looked down. She didn’t know what she dared wish. She had already been granted so much, when everyone else in her village had perished in those flames. It would be ungrateful to ask for anything more.

There was a shuffling noise behind her, and she glanced up. Erik stood there, his blond hair glistening in the setting sun, and her heart caught. His green and silver tunic fit his rippling muscles with just the right caress, and when he put his hand out to her it was all she could do not to fold fully into his arms. Instead she gave it a squeeze before walking with him back in to the main hall.