The Bride and the Brute (25 page)

“It’ll take time, but I know you can beat him,” Mary assured her friend.

“Garret said he has a move guaranteed to disarm him,” Bria said quietly.

“Really?”

Bria nodded her head. “He’s going to show it to me.”

“Isn’t that cheating?”

Bria quirked an eyebrow. “Not if I win.”

Mary’s brown eyes widened in disbelief. Then she smiled and draped an arm across her friend’s shoulders. Together they walked slowly through the grass. “Do you think your future husband will let you sword fight?”

Bria grunted. “Not likely,” she murmured.

“What if it’s Garret?”

“Mary!”

“You’re so lucky!” Mary’s enthusiasm bubbled over. “He’s handsome and kind –”

“Mary, I can’t marry Garret. It would be like marrying my brother!”

“But he’d let you sword fight.”

“And we’d have to move very far from you.”

Mary sighed, her excitement leaving her in a huff of exasperation. “No matter who you marry, you’ll move away.”

“So I won’t marry.” Bria shrugged Mary’s arm from her shoulders and raced off through the clearing.

Mary followed her through the tall stalks of grass. “You have to marry! You’re a lady!

That’s your place -- to produce heirs.”

“What if my place isn’t to produce heirs? What if my place is... to battle against tyranny?”

Mary giggled.

Bria stopped, striking a statuesque pose with her hands on her hips. “I am the Midnight Shadow!” she proclaimed in a deep voice.

“You sound like a woman.”

“How’s this?” Bria lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “I am the Midnight Shadow.”

“That’s pretty good,” Mary admitted, amazed and surprised. “I think you’ve been practicing.”

Bria smiled. Sometimes alone at night, she did. “Tyranny will not be tolerated!” she whispered. “All people will be treated fairly.”

Mary grunted, the humor leaving her. “Then you’d have to battle Lord Knowles.”

Bria broke her pose. “Now what has he done?”

“He increased our taxes again.”

“Not so!” Bria gasped. That was the second time in a month. Trying to come up with the extra food to pay the collectors had been hard enough, but now it would be next to impossible for Mary’s family to have a decent living.

“Mother and Father work so hard. They’re up before dawn and work well into the night. I help as much as I can...” Mary shook her head, her dark locks swaying over her face. “But it’s never enough. Lord Knowles always wants more, more, more.”

Bria had no words to console her friend. She wished Mary lived on her lands, under her father’s rule.

“Someone has to do something!”

Bria was shocked by the conviction in Mary’s voice, the passion.

“It’s not fair that we should have to work day and night! If Mother or Father get sick, we’ll starve!” Mary sighed. “If only the Midnight Shadow were real. He’d do something about this.”

Bria remembered a time when she’d wished for the Midnight Shadow, too -- when her father had gone off to war to fight the French and Randolph Kenric threw her into the bramble patch.

She put an arm around Mary’s shoulders. “I wish I could do something to help –”

Suddenly the sound of a man’s laughter rang out through the forest. A second man’s voice spoke quietly.

Silence settled around them again and the two girls glanced at each other.

“Let’s go find out who it is,” Bria whispered, feeling brave in the darkness.

“No,” Mary gasped. “What if it’s robbers?”

“They won’t see us. Come on, Mary.” Bria tugged her friend toward the voices, pulling her into a group of thick bushes near a small dirt road.

An elderly woman’s voice drifted over to them from the road. “I don’t understand why you’re bringing me here this late at night.”

“It’s necessary,” a man replied.

Bria peered through the leaves. An old gray-haired woman stood near a man in the pale moonlight. She was dressed in a plain brown gown, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The man had his back to her, so Bria could not see his face. His leggings were black, his tunic pale.

But what captured Bria’s attention was the sword strapped to his waist. Bria swung her gaze down the road before them and saw another man not far away -- a soldier, she guessed, by the chainmail he was wearing -- but his tunic had no crest, no allegiance. He held the reins of two horses.

“Well, what is it you want?” the old woman demanded. “I’m sure it could have waited until morning.”

“It’s Widow Anderson,” Mary whispered. “The herbalist.”

Bria nodded.

“You want me to make you more potions?” Widow Anderson asked. “You still owe me for the first one. A lot of time and skill went into it, believe me. And if it’s not used properly it could have deadly consequences. I took a great chance giving it to you.”

“Yes, you did. And you’ve kept the secret well, as I instructed. It is with great regret that I must tell you there will be no payment,” the man said.

Every one of Bria’s senses flared to life. Something was wrong here, very wrong. Beside her, Mary shifted her position. Bria could feel the anger in her friend’s stiff shoulders and clenched fists.

“No payment?” the woman huffed. “We agreed on ten gold coins.” Her voice quickly changed from one of outrage to one of calm certainty. “I think you’ll pay up.”

“And I think you’re mistaken.” The man’s hand dropped casually to the hilt of his sword.

One of the horses the soldier held whinnied and reared, and the man before the old woman turned suddenly, stepping into a beam of moonlight.

Bria froze as the ghostly light washed across his features. It couldn’t be! She recoiled into the safety of the dark bush, praying he hadn’t seen her. She’d hoped never to see him again.

“Listen, Kenric, you cheap worm, you’ll pay what you owe.” The old woman drew the man’s gaze to her once again.

Kenric! Fear coiled around Bria’s body, immobilizing her. Bria reached out for Mary...

But Mary wasn’t there. Her friend had burst through the cover of the bushes and onto the road.

“No! Mary!” Bria whispered frantically.

But Mary moved forward, oblivious to Bria’s warning, stalking toward Kenric and Widow Anderson.

Bria peered anxiously through the bushes, but remained hidden, unable to stop her pounding heart, unable to suppress the fear encompassing her. It was Kenric, her mind repeated. Kenric.

As Mary stomped toward the duo, Kenric’s eyes slowly turned and his lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. Fear gripped Bria’s insides. Fear for Mary, fear for the old woman. Fear for herself. Her breathing came hard and fast as frightful images danced before her mind’s eye.

Haunting memories of Kenric’s ugly black eyes glinting down at her. Falling into a thorny patch of brambles. Wicked laughter played over and over again in her ears.

Deep inside, she knew she should do something. She knew she should take a stand beside Mary, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t face Kenric. She could only watch in frozen terror as Mary approached Kenric, her tiny fists clenched at her sides.

Kenric surveyed the area around them, his gaze flashing past Bria’s hiding spot and moving on. He turned back to Mary.

“That is quite enough!” Mary proclaimed. “You’ll pay Widow Anderson, or everyone will know you cheated her.” Her threat hung in the air.

“She’ll get what’s due her,” Kenric finally said.

Bria didn’t like the sound of his voice.

Mary seemed well pleased by his verdict. She nodded and smiled with satisfaction. Had Kenric changed after so many years? Was he going to do the right thing? Would he pay Widow Anderson?

Kenric drew his sword and plunged it into Widow Anderson’s stomach.

Sheer terror held Bria immobile as Widow Anderson’s mouth went round in a circle of shock.

Kenric’s black, evil eyes shone in the moonlight. They were the most terrifying eyes Bria had ever seen. He smiled coldly as he pulled his sword from the herbalist’s body. Widow Anderson crumpled to the ground like a scarecrow untied from its pole.

Bria struggled to regain control of her senses. “Run, Mary, run!” she shouted. A dark, shadowy presence swept over her as Kenric turned in the direction of her voice. She prayed she was hidden well enough in the bushes so he couldn’t see her. He studied the area around her, his dark eyes narrowing as they tried to penetrate the darkness.

With a cry, Mary raced away into the forest on the opposite side of the road and quickly disappeared into the blackness of the thick trees, swallowed up by the woods. The soldier gave chase.

Bria shrank back into the cover of the bushes. Kenric still held his bloodied sword, looking in her direction. He took a step toward her.

He’s coming. He’s going to find me.

Midnight Shadow

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A Knight of Honor Bonus Preview

A Knight of Honor - Prologue

England 1340

Taylor Sullivan wondered if her mother had gone mad. No one in her right mind would be wearing a bright vibrant smile like the one that lit her mother’s lips, not in a situation like this one. How could she smile in the face of such unspeakable horror? Taylor wondered frantically.

Her own body shook with fear. She had to clasp her small hands tightly in front of her so her mother wouldn’t see her fingers trembling with terror and misery.

The black gown her mother wore contrasted sharply with her pale alabaster skin, making her flesh look almost ghostly white. Her brown hair was tied back tightly into a thick braid that hung down the length of her back, dangling to and fro as she walked toward Taylor.

Dangling like a rope.

Taylor dropped her chin to her chest, unable to look at her mother’s radiant face.

“Oh, darling,” her mother murmured and reached for Taylor’s hands. “Why such a sad face?”

Suddenly unable to control herself, Taylor hurled herself toward her mother, flinging her arms around her mother’s shoulders and hugging her as tightly as she could.

With a startled laugh, her mother returned the embrace.

Taylor squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that burned there.

Her mother stroked her hair calmly, reassuringly. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “He’ll come for me. I know he will.”

Taylor pulled back to look into her mother’s blue eyes. They were glazed and had a faraway, dreamy look to them. The blissful smile Taylor had seen on her mother’s lips when she first stepped into the room returned.

“He won’t let me burn,” she went on, even as the reflections of the room’s candles dancing in her eyes tortured Taylor with a vision of the terrible things to come. Her mother turned to the window. She placed her palms on the cold stone ledge of the windowsill and stared out into the early morning sky. “We love each other far too much,” she whispered.

“Father?” Taylor wondered, a weak hope in her question.

Her mother laughed softly. “No,” she said.

Taylor heard the door opening behind her and turned to see two guards standing in the doorway. To a child of twelve, the two burly men looked like armor-plated giants. The light threw deep shadows across their faces, transforming them into gruesome masks that made Taylor think of the ogres in the tales her mother had once told her.

“It’s time, m’lady,” one of the ogres called, his voice gruff and menacing to Taylor’s ears.

Taylor’s desperate gaze returned to her mother. Her time was running out. She had to stop this. “No!” Taylor cried out, finally finding the strength in her voice. “They can’t do this!” She grabbed her mother’s arm, pulling her deeper into the room.

Her mother touched her cheek softly. “He’ll come,” she reassured her and gently pried Taylor’s small fingers from her arm. Then she stepped past her daughter, moving out the door.

Taylor watched her mother’s straight, tall form and wished that she could feel the confidence her mother voiced. Then the two brutes stepped in behind her mother, forming a massive wall of muscled flesh and cold steel. A sinking feeling grabbed hold of Taylor and pulled her deeper into despair. She followed the procession into the hallway. There was only one chance. There was only one man who could stop this.

Taylor turned away and ran down an empty hallway, fully aware of the blossoming sky as the sun chased the darkness from the land, fully aware that the sun’s rays heralded her mother’s doom. She couldn’t make her small slippered feet move fast enough over the stones of the corridor. Her silk dress wrapped around her legs, inhibiting her hurried steps.

Finally, she halted before a closed door. Her fear rose like a tidal wave to bathe her resolve.

But like a brave knight, she fought down her dread and lifted a hand to push the door open.

The room was dark except for a lone candle on a desk. Taylor took a hesitant step forward.

She made out the shadowed form of a man sitting behind the large desk.

The man slowly lifted his dark eyes to her as she entered.

The wavering flame of the candle threw slashes of reddish-orange light over his face, casting demonic shadows across his brow.

Taylor knew she could not give up, despite every one of her senses telling her to run, beseeching her not to incur his wrath. “Please,” she whispered. “Show mercy.”

The man leaned back and his eyes disappeared completely into the darkness. After a long moment, he rubbed his palms over his eyes. “I loved her, you know,” he murmured. “I gave her everything. Everything she ever wanted.” He shook his head, his gray hair swaying around his shoulders with the movement.

Taylor thought she saw a sparkling in his eyes as he lifted his head to gaze at the ceiling and she wondered if they could be tears.

“This I cannot forgive,” he groaned. “There will be no mercy.”

“Please, Father,” she whispered, barely able to contain the terror she felt.

Her father suddenly looked older than she had ever seen him before; the wrinkles on his brow, the lines around his mouth, all seemed to darken and deepen. “There is no such thing as true love,” he murmured. “Remember that, daughter.”