A VOW TO KEEP (The Vengeance Trilogy) (2 page)

“Aye. She gave it to me when she felt her time was at end.” She laid her hand on Alyna’s. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”

Her mother had fallen ill and despite her attempts to treat herself, had died within days. Alyna studied Myranda more closely as a hazy memory struck her. “You were there that day. The day she died.”

Myranda nodded. “I’ve missed her, but I know my loss paled compared to yours.” She looked back at the book. “My own notes are in there along with your mother’s. It will aid you in the days to come. Study it so you’ll be ready to assist those who need you.”

Overwhelmed, Alyna set the book aside. She had little knowledge of healing but looked forward to reading her mother’s words. Now more than ever she wished she knew more. “Myranda, is there a remedy we can make to ease your pain?”

The healer moaned as pain gripped her. “Nay. It matters not, my lady. I will not see the end of this day.”

Alyna’s stomach dropped. “Please do not speak so. You and your babe will be fine.” She shared a frightened glance with Enid. Surely Myranda’s statement came from nothing more than the fear most birthing women experienced.

Myranda’s eyes glazed with pain. Her words came between pants. “You were meant to assist in the birth of my child. He – is your second gift. You must raise him and care for him.”

Alyna froze, stunned at her words. “But, Myranda–”

“Nay. I know this. He’ll help you. He’ll have the sight as well.”

“My lady, surely you know you can’t do this,” Enid whispered in Alyna’s ear. “Your father would never allow it.”

Alyna nodded in acknowledgement. Her father barely tolerated her. Never would he allow her to raise an orphan, especially if the mother was reputed
by some
to be a witch. There had to be an alternative. “Who is the babe’s sire?”

That brought a weak smile to Myranda’s face. “Do you wish to know if I have lain with the devil as others believe?”

“Nay. I don’t believe that. Wouldn’t you like me to let the man know he has a son or daughter to care for?”

“This child is a strong, healthy boy, my lady. As for his father, he was a good man. Handsome and strong. But he was killed in battle months ago. The day he was struck down, I knew he would not return to us. My heart broke, for I realized our son would never know either of us.” Myranda cried out as another contraction ripped through her.

A lump stuck in Alyna’s throat. She could think of no response to the words Myranda had spoken with such sincerity. While it might be pleasant to know what life held, to foresee one’s own demise was not something Alyna wished to experience.

Myranda clutched Alyna’s arm, her grip noticeably weaker, her voice a mere whisper. “You must listen, for I have much to tell you and little time. When the trouble comes, go north. There you will find your answers.”

Alyna had no chance to ponder Myranda’s advice as the woman’s pains increased. Terror was a hard, hot ball in Alyna’s stomach, but things progressed so quickly, she didn’t have time to panic. Before long, Myranda began to push. Enid moved aside her gown to check her progress. To Alyna’s surprise, they could see the baby’s head. “The babe has dark hair just like you,” Alyna whispered in awe.

“And like you, my lady.” Myranda spoke between pains. “You must raise him. You’ve been chosen to be the mother of my child. I know I ask much–but he’ll have powers as I do. Aid him with his gift. He’ll help you find the one–with a crystal the color of the sky.”

“Myranda, please,” Alyna begged her. “Save your strength for the baby. Soon you’ll be able to hold him.” She closed her eyes briefly to say a prayer that it would be so.

Myranda appeared to take Alyna’s words to heart. She rested when she could and pushed when the pains came. Time ceased to exist as they all focused on the birth.

“Push, Myranda,” Alyna urged her. “You’ve almost done it.”

With a cry, Myranda bore down again and brought the baby into the world.

“A boy, Myranda, just as you said!” Alyna laid the wet, crying babe on Myranda’s stomach with shaking hands.

“Oh, my.” Myranda’s tears flowed down her cheeks. She touched his head, his hands, his legs and toes, as though she needed to see and feel all of him. She cuddled him tightly and looked at Alyna, her eyes full of pride and tears, her voice quivering. “Isn’t he perfect? How beautiful he is!”

“He is indeed.” Alyna wiped away her own tears.

Enid completed the birthing while Alyna cleaned the infant and swaddled him in a cloth. Alyna gave him back to Myranda, relieved beyond words that mother and babe had survived.

The exhausted healer held her son with great care. She pulled out a blue blanket from beside her on the bed. “I made this for him,” she told Alyna as she placed it around him. With gentle fingers, Myranda lifted his tiny hand free of the blanket and held it against her cheek. Her tears flowed as she cuddled him. “Always remember, I love you.” Then, she kissed him on the forehead and gave him to Alyna, simply saying, “His name is Nicholas.”

“’Tis a fine name for him,” Alyna said as she admired the beautiful baby. She ran a finger down his velvety cheek. His complexion held none of the ruddiness some newborns bore. Cloudy blue eyes looked up at her with innocence and trust and grabbed her heart. Surely all Myranda had said would not come to pass now. Everything seemed fine. She grasped Myranda’s hand. “What can I do to help you regain your strength?”

Myranda merely shook her head, her tears falling. “The one with the crystal...will be your guardian knight. But you will have much to overcome before...true happiness can be yours. Always know you’re stronger than you think.” Her voice faded on the last words.

Panic skittered down Alyna’s spine.

And then it started. Blood. So much blood. It flowed from Myranda and soaked the linens, changing the
bedding
to crimson. The sickening metallic odor scented the air.

“Oh, dear God.” Alyna looked at Enid. “What do we do?”

“I know not, my lady.” The maid checked Myranda. “I don’t think the afterbirth came properly. We need more cloths.”

Alyna refused to sit and watch life drain from the new mother. “Myranda, tell me how to help you,” she begged as a panicked Enid attempted to staunch the flow of blood. Myranda seemed oblivious to their fear.

“Your knight may seem unwilling...but he’ll help you. Nicholas will give you a sign. Let no one stop you,” she whispered in an ever weakening voice.

“Myranda, please,” Alyna begged as tears streamed down her face. “Tell me what to do!” She gripped Myranda’s hand tightly, trying to lend her some of her own vigor. “Your son needs you.”

Myranda’s eyes closed, then opened suddenly to capture Alyna’s. “Please, love my Nicholas.” She squeezed Alyna’s hand and closed her eyes, her face tranquil for the first time since Alyna’s arrival. Her hand slid from Alyna’s.

Numb, Alyna stared at the healer, unable to believe she was gone. But death was unmistakable. Alyna murmured a prayer, then rose with the quiet babe in her arms, unable to make out his face through her tears.

There was no way she could raise this baby as her own. Yet what else could she do with him?

“Mayhap there’s someone in the village who’d take him,” Alyna murmured.

“The babe of a witch?” The doubt in Enid’s tone made Alyna realize how impossible that would be. “They think his father’s the devil!”

“You know that’s not true, Enid,” Alyna admonished. “Look at this baby. He’s perfect.”

With slow, careful movements, she drew him closer and kissed his satin smooth cheek. She inhaled, breathing in his scent. Myranda had entrusted her with this child’s life. She had to find a way to keep him safe.

Her father be damned. Somehow, she’d do as Myranda had asked.

A warm glow filled her heart at the precious gift she’d been given. “You’re mine from this day forward, Nicholas,” she whispered. “I will love you always.”

Enid gasped in dismay. “My lady, what about your father?”

The question only deepened Alyna’s determination. In the past hour, the course of her life had changed forever. She would not fail. Resolve filled her as never before.

Alyna stared into those blue eyes and made her vow once again. “Nicholas, I will love you and keep you safe. Always.”

CHAPTER ONE

“One large leaf of feverfew can be

eaten to ward off a headache.”

Lady Catherine’s Herbal Journal
 

Spring, Four Years Later

Sir Royce de Bremont’s stomach grumbled as he watched the comings and goings at Montvue from his well-hidden spot in the trees near the manor gate. The time for the evening meal had passed and darkness would soon fall, but he made no attempt to ease his hunger. The pieces of dried bread and cheese in his pouch had already served for two meals and had held little appeal even then.

After fortnights of planning, revenge was almost within reach. That knowledge was all the sustenance he needed.

As he’d been advised, the manor was not well guarded. Two men-at-arms stood at the gate discussing something with great enthusiasm, if their slaps on each other’s backs were any indication. They were the only soldiers in sight. Though the manor was relatively small, Royce thought the lack of guards reeked of laziness. To keep the things he had, a man had to hold on with both hands. And sometimes even that wasn’t enough.

A woman emerged from the manor gate and caught Royce’s attention. She wore a fine cloak, her veil fluttered in the light breeze, and she carried a basket over her arm. From her bearing and attire, she appeared to be a lady. No maid accompanied her, but a small boy walked by her side, dragging a stick behind him. After a few words with the soldiers, she bent down to speak with the boy then turned and pointed.

Royce’s breath halted when her finger aimed directly at him. How could she have spotted him?

He released the breath in a whoosh when she kissed the boy’s cheek and left him standing guard with the men-at-arms, his stick raised and ready. She
hastened
down the path that skirted the forest and led to the small village nearby, taking her directly past him.

Royce remained concealed behind the thick trees as she hurried by. The brief description he’d been given left him little doubt that she was indeed the one he’d come for but had not prepared him for her loveliness. Her white veil framed an elegant face blessed with alabaster skin. Her full lips were a deep red that drew a man’s eye and his thoughts toward more pleasurable pursuits. High cheekbones and dark brows emphasized large, amber-colored eyes, a color familiar to him.

He stilled as she glanced at the trees where he hid. Her brow creased and her steps slowed as if she could feel his gaze. She perused the area more closely then continued on her way.

Royce could see why his uncle, Lord Tegmont, was said to covet this woman. By the look of her father’s holding, her dowry would be small, but the lady herself was a prize for certain. It would give him great pleasure to snatch her from his uncle’s grasp and prevent their marriage. The thought of his uncle’s rage made Royce smile. If halting the wedding disappointed the lady, so be it. Her feelings were not his concern.

He needed to move farther from the guards before he took action so followed her at a distance, curious to see where she went in such a rush. Surely, she’d return home before nightfall, and that meant he wouldn’t need to find a way into the manor to fetch his quarry after all, though he’d come prepared for a fight. This would be much easier than he’d hoped.

***

Alyna glanced over her shoulder as she hurried toward Sarah’s cottage, unsure what caused her unease. She’d walked this path many times before and never had a worry. Nicholas was safely occupied on guard duty and out of Enid’s way. The maid had enough to do with the packing.

Most likely her nervousness of what lay ahead this evening caused her concern. She needed to complete this one last errand and then all would be ready for their escape.

“Lady Alyna,” called Sarah, the miller’s wife, from the distant door of her cottage, waving madly as though Alyna might not see her. “Good evening to you.”