A VOW TO KEEP (The Vengeance Trilogy) (3 page)

Rather than holler across half the meadow, Alyna merely returned the wave until she drew closer. “And to you, Sarah. Beatrice told me your stomach is ailing you.”

The sturdy woman sighed as she laid a hand on her middle. “Indeed, my lady. I hated to bother you, but I’ve been miserable all the day.”

“I’m pleased to help.” A sliver of guilt shot through Alyna. Who would help Sarah and the other villagers the next time they felt unwell?

“We’re blessed to have you,” Sarah insisted as she led the way into her small cottage. “Why, you’re as skilled with those herbs as your sainted mother.”

Alyna smiled, pleased by the compliment. She’d spent many pleasurable hours studying her mother’s herbal journal in the past four years, preparing remedies, and experimenting with poultices. She was proud of how many people she’d helped. There was much wisdom in the journal, and not all of it pertained to herbs.

Myranda had added entries on the best use of various remedies as well, making the book all the more precious. Someday, Alyna would add comments of her own to pass on to another healer.

She looked around the sparsely furnished miller’s home, realizing she might never again see Sarah or this cottage. A narrow trestle table and two benches were near the door. A bed with a small wooden trunk at the end of it stood against the back wall. Small, narrow slits in the walls allowed in the remaining daylight.

A pang of regret shot through her. She would miss many of the people here, including Sarah. The past few days, she’d caught herself looking at the oddest things–the bench in her room, the cook, the herb garden–all with the realization that she’d never see that person or thing again. That both excited and frightened her. But the people most important to her would be with her.

“We will miss you sorely.”

Alarmed, Alyna looked up from the basket she’d set on the table. How could Sarah have possibly found out they were leaving?

The woman frowned, obviously confused by Alyna’s expression. “When you marry Lord Tegmont.”

Relief made her knees weak. “Oh, aye, of course.”

With luck, Charles, Enid, Nicholas, and she would be gone come morning and not so that she could become Lord Tegmont’s fourth wife. Certainly not when the third one was freshly buried. She shivered at the thought.

Though she feared her grandfather remained out of the country as he hadn’t responded to her message, she’d determined to set out for his holding anyway. She had nowhere else to go and time was slipping away, stealing her options. “It will be a new experience to be away from home.”

Alyna mixed the dried peppermint with hot water. “Let this steep then sip it slowly. I’ll leave you with some in case your stomach pains you again.”

She bid Sarah goodbye, anxious to get back to the manor before darkness fell completely. Nicholas hadn’t wanted her to leave and the sooner she got back, the sooner she could calm his restlessness and help Enid finish packing.

She stepped out of the cottage and realized dusk had arrived quicker than she’d expected. She pulled her cloak tighter to guard against the cool, spring air and walked briskly up the path in the fading light.

The thought of leaving home and all that was familiar frightened her, but her father left her no choice. The betrothal he’d arranged to Lord Tegmont was unacceptable. Surely the marriage was the plan of which Myranda had warned her. That aside, her father had told her she’d have to leave Nicholas behind when she married Tegmont.

Nothing on this earth would part her from her son. Each day, she gave thanks for the love and joy he brought her.

Her relationship with Nicholas was the one area she defied her father though she did her best to hide it for fear he’d send Nicholas away. The times he’d noticed her attachment to the boy had resulted in heated arguments, but Alyna refused to change how she treated Nicholas. Her father had been livid when he’d first heard Nicholas call her mama, but Alyna had held her ground. Still the awful possibilities of what her father might do to Nicholas if she wasn’t constantly on guard made her desperate with fear. Myranda had given her a precious gift and Alyna would do anything to keep her son safe.

Marriage and a family of her own had always been a dream of hers, but she knew few men would marry a woman such as she. She had only a small dowry and was nothing much to look upon, as her father often told her. Her long, dark hair held no curl. Her eyes were a strange amber color that might’ve looked better upon a cat. Her figure was too slim.

And she’d come to realize no man would want to raise another man’s child as his own.

Some time ago, Alyna had reconciled herself to the idea of never marrying. After all, she had her own family in Nicholas, Charles, and Enid. What more did she need?

She’d been convinced her father wouldn’t allow her to leave as he relied on her to manage Montvue. She was an only child, and her father treated her more as servant than daughter. Never before had he brought up the subject of marriage. Not until Tegmont. The thought of the lord made her shudder with unease.

The last time she’d seen Lord Tegmont had been at a banquet held at Montvue over a year ago when his third wife had still been alive.

He was a distinguished looking man, tall with a long, narrow face framed by black hair with eyes that matched. Eyes that unsettled her with their unwavering regard despite sitting beside his wife. She’d seemed a timid thing and had remained at his side most of the evening. Alyna had been uncomfortable in his presence and done her best to avoid him, but had often felt the weight of his gaze on her.

Much to her dismay, he’d cornered her on her way to the kitchen. She could still feel him leaning over her, his hands caressing her shoulders through the thinness of her gown.

“Lady Alyna,” he’d whispered. “What a beautiful woman you’ve become.” He’d stood so close to her that his breath brushed her neck as he spoke. Something in his dark eyes had seemed unbalanced, evil even.

She eased back, but he followed. “Thank you, my lord. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve an errand in the kitchen I must see to.”

“A lady as lovely as you has no place in the kitchen. You should be waited upon hand and foot.” He drew a finger slowly along her collarbone just above the neck of her gown.

Stunned by his forwardness, Alyna backed up again only to be blocked by the wall. “My lord, I believe your wife needs you.” She’d slipped away when he’d looked back into the hall where he’d left his wife.

She’d come away from the brief encounter aware she’d had a narrow escape. Now she would make her escape for good, and her father would have to pay someone to run the manor in her place.

While prepared to do her duty as a lady and marry, she couldn’t bear the thought of spending the rest of her life with someone who made the hair on the back of her neck rise.

Rumors told of Tegmont’s involvement with a group of barons unhappy with King Henry III. What they plotted and planned was anyone’s guess, but now her father had become embroiled with them. Alyna knew his involvement had been a catalyst for him arranging her marriage to Tegmont.

Tegmont’s timid third wife had died not long ago, God rest her soul. Some whispered that her death had not been an accident, nor had the deaths of the wives before her. None of them had given him an heir. The thought of him touching her made Alyna shudder with horror.

She neared the place where the path edged the forest. The budding trees looked quite cheerful in the day, but now, their dark branches loomed over her. The dense undergrowth and dim light made the path difficult to see.

Her heart pounded and her breath quickened. What was there about this spot today that caused her such disquiet? Shaking her head at her overactive senses, she walked faster but kept a careful eye on her surroundings as she hurried along.

A shadow moved on her right and fear tore through her. The shape shifted again until it took the form of broad shoulders. Before she could scream, a hand covered her mouth and an arm caught her around the waist.

“I wish you no harm, my lady,” a deep voice whispered in her ear.

Alyna responded by driving her elbow into the man’s stomach. Her elbow struck chain mail and vibrated with pain. She stomped on his foot, but received only a grunt in response. She slammed her basket into the man’s face. Her captor loosened his grip, and she ran.

Hope of escape filled her as she raced toward the manor gate. She made it two steps, then five. The edge of the clearing was just ahead, where the guards would be able to see her.

The man’s body slammed into hers. She hit the ground with a force that left her breathless. Immobile and disoriented, she lay on her side, trying to make sense of what had happened. Her attacker’s hard form lay partly under her, as if he’d twisted to take the brunt of the fall.

He eased to the side and leaned over her, his hand again covering her mouth. She could make out the slash of his brows, the strength of his jaw, and the scrape left by her basket on his cheek. He was a handsome man and wore a knight’s attire. What could he possibly want with her?

“I need you to come with me, my lady.” The deep timbre of his voice echoed through her.

Her stomach knotted with panic. She struggled against his firm grip and tried to pry his hand off her mouth. Her basket was gone, so she groped for a rock or stick to strike him with.

“Hold,” he demanded.

But Alyna had no intention of complying. She continued her search for something to aid her when he grabbed her hands with his and held tight. “Your grandfather sent me.”

Alyna stilled, trying to determine if she’d heard him right. She tugged at his hand on her mouth and this time, he allowed her to ease it off. “What?”

“Lord Blackwell sent me.” The knight watched her closely, his distrust of her obvious.

“I don’t believe you.” Alyna’s maternal grandfather had been out of England for years. To her knowledge, he’d left soon after her mother’s death and hadn’t returned since. He spent his time in Brittany and Poitou on the king’s business. She’d sent an urgent message to her grandfather’s holding regarding her betrothal with the dim hope that he’d returned to England, but had received no answer.

Alyna refused to allow her hopes to build from a few words spoken by the knight. “I don’t believe you.” She repeated her words with more force.

“I realize you’re anxious to marry Lord Tegmont, but your grandfather would like to speak with you first.”

His sarcastic tone confused her, as did his words. Had her grandfather received her message after all? “Why did he not come himself?”

“That was not possible.”

Alyna studied the knight closely. “Who are you that you do my grandfather’s bidding? Why did you not announce your presence at Montvue if you represent Blackwell?”

The knight smiled but no humor was evident. Alyna’s stomach tightened in response. “Surely you realize your father would not welcome a delay of your wedding while you disappear to discuss the matter with your grandfather.”

Alyna had to admit the knight had the truth of the matter. “Who are you?”

“Sir Royce de Bremont.”

His name was not familiar to her. “Why should I believe any of what you’ve told me?”

The knight leaned closer. Alyna caught his scent, a clean, earthy fragrance combined with the tang of sweat. His eyes were the same color of slate blue reflected in the darkening sky above him. A nasty scar marked the corner of his eye. “I give you my word as a knight that I speak the truth.”

Something about him made her want to believe him, but she wasn’t so naïve as to think she could trust a stranger.

“You have your grandfather’s eyes.”

Alyna stared at the knight, her doubts melting away. Few people knew that. Apparently, he spoke the truth.

He continued to gaze at her, as though he could convince her by his stare alone. Never before had she been the sole focus of a man such as he. And never had she felt a man’s weight upon her. Warmth spread along the length of her body at every point they touched. Heat suffused her face. She was grateful for the dusk to hide her blush.

Uncomfortable with these strange, new feelings as well as the knight’s stare, she berated him. “You could think of no better way to tell me this than to frighten me half to death?”

A flash of movement caught Alyna’s attention out of the corner of her eye. To her amazement, Nicholas rammed the knight’s shoulder with his stick.

“What the hell?” The knight rolled off of her and jumped to his feet, his hand on the hilt of his sword.