Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry (27 page)

What he did next was the most painful question on her mind. He had a duty and loyalty to England, would he risk all of that and return to Ireland to find her? She couldn’t ask that of him, no matter how much she wanted it.

Elena’s ladies trailed behind her as she exited the warmth and comfort of the great hall and entered the dark, shadowed corridor which led to the stairs. An ever present draft chilled her to the bone. With luck, her servants would have built up the fire in her room. She’d forgotten how chilly Irish nights could be this late in the fall. She could almost see her breath upon the stairs.

When they reached the solar attached to her room, Elena walked toward her chamber door. Hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she shivered. She stopped short of her chamber and turned around. Beth was stoking the fire, her other ladies had started to gather their sewing things, and
Raelyn
was right beside her.

“Is everything all right?”
Raelyn’s
brow knitted together in concern.

“I know not. I had a sudden sense that things were not right, but—”

Raelyn
clasped her arm around Elena’s
shoulders
. “There is no need to fret. We are safe enough here. Mayhap you are still trying to get used to all this.
So many changes.
And with a babe inside you, your body will be on alert for anything.”

Elena chuckled, trying as hard as she could to feel some relief, with little affect.

“Do not go alone into your chamber just yet, my lady. Come and sew with us. We have missed you so.”

The others nodded and voiced their agreement, beckoning her forward.

Elena agreed. ‘Twould be nice to sit with her ladies a spell. “What are you working on?”

“We are each working on something different,”
Raelyn
said. “Beth and Sarah are making blankets—very small blankets. Mary, Olivia and Nicole are making little gowns. I am making you a churching veil.”

“You have been working on things for me and for…?” Tears of happiness and humbleness instantly brimmed in Elena’s eyes. “You truly are the best of friends.”

“And you have been the best to us, my lady,” Olivia said.

“We would not be where we are today, if not for you,” Beth added, then laughed. “I do not mean that literally, but figuratively. You have helped protect us, teach us. We each owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Elena shook her head. “There are no debts between us. I cannot thank you enough for keeping my—condition—secret, and for helping to prepare for the sweet cherub once it arrives.”

Her ladies set down their work and each in turn embraced her. But despite their support, the weight of her secret rested heavily on her shoulders. What would her brother think? What would he do?

The evening passed quietly as the ladies sewed and talked about babies, men, Ireland and other silly things. Elena had forgotten how much she needed these women and the normalcy they brought with them. A maid came up an hour or so after they’d left the great hall with sweet almond milk and roasted sugared
nuts
.

“From Lord Richard, my lady. He says they are your favorite.”

Elena laughed aloud, recalling how Richard had snuck
her these
specific treats when she was a child. “And what is the occasion, did he say?”

The maid smiled with joy. “In fact he did, my lady. Tomorrow is your birthday—an early gift he said.”

Elena’s smile faltered. She’d forgotten tomorrow was her birthday. It was also the anniversary of her marriage to
Kent. She’d not celebrated her birthday since.

She cleared her face of emotions and plastered a cheerful smile upon her lips. “Tell my brother I send my thanks, and that I shall treasure his birthday treats.”

The maid curtsied then left.

“Tomorrow is your birthday,”
Raelyn
mused. “Why is it we have not celebrated before? You’ve always avoided telling us, my lady.”

Elena let her pain show on her face now that the maid was gone.
“’Tis not a happy day.”

“I recall it well,” Nicole said quietly, her lips quivering as she offered a comforting smile.

“’Twas the day of your marriage,”
Raelyn
said in a whisper. “I had forgotten.”

“Aye.”
Elena looked down at the soft ivory colored wool in her hands. She couldn’t sew anymore. Her eyes were too blurred with tears. “I think I should like to go to bed, I am quite tired.”

Her ladies all murmured their wishes for sweet dreams.
Raelyn
and Beth followed her into her chamber where they helped her to undress, and Beth built her fire stronger. The two of them tucked her into bed.

“We shall make tomorrow a day you’ll want to remember, my lady,” Beth whispered sweetly on her way out.

“I will cherish it,” Elena answered. She counted the swirls on her canopy for what seemed like hours. How long had it taken someone to embroider all two-thousand four-hundred eighty-seven swirls?

*****

Elena sat straight up in bed with a gasp. The room was pitch-black, her fire having died out.
The shuttered arrow slit window provided only a thin shaft of moonlight. Not enough to illuminate the anything.

What had awakened her?

She clutched the sheet to her breasts, feeling the chill of
the night and fear seep into her bones.

A whisper of fabric sounded to her left, and she turned in that direction, blinking, trying with every fiber in her being to see in the dark.

“Who is there?” she said into the darkness.

Another swish of fabric and was that shoes scraping on the wooden floorboards?

“I demand you announce yourself!” Elena tried to keep the fear from her voice. Her eyes began to adjust a little to the gloom—and masses took shape, shadows dancing all around.

The shap
e did not make a sound. Was she going crazy?

Then the sound of metal scraping and a warm wind against her face.
No not wind—breath.

“This is from my master,
your
master,” whispered someone against her ear.

Her eyes adjusted further,
revealing her assailant standing beside her—inches away.

Elena gaped at the man clouded in shadows, a cape or some covering hid his face and body. There was only one man who’d ever sworn
he
was
her
master. Kent.

He’d sent someone here to—
do
what?
And on the eve of their wedding anniversary.
He never wanted her nightmare to end.

The man’s arms slid out of his billowing black sleeves. Something glinted in the
thin shaft of
moonlight. Metal. In his hand he held a blade.
Long as her forearm, thick as her wrist.
Instinctively she covered her belly with her arms. No!

From your master.
Kent wished her
dead,
she should have known he would eventually find her.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The man moved forward. “You need never know.” His voice was sinister. Her heart chilled, freezing her insides. Her skin bristled all over. The hair on the back of her neck came to standing. How long had he waited for her? Had she sensed him there when they’d retreated to her rooms earlier that
evening?

Without warning, he lunged toward her. Elena tried to roll away, move somewhere, but it was dark, the sheets and counterpane entangled in her limbs. His black cape was at once on him, and then felt like it was everywhere, surrounding her, choking her.

Pain like she’d never known seared through her belly, she let out a shrill scream. He’d stabbed her. She sucked in a breath, her eyes wide as she searched for something, anything. He pressed her down on the bed by the shoulders, his blade still buried deep in her middle.

“I never wanted this,” he whispered. Was that regret in his voice?

He pulled the blade from her and disappeared. Blood, warm and sticky oozed over her fingers. She curled on her side, choking on a sob.

“My baby…”

Then everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“S
he’s not here, Michael.” Elena’s father barreled down the steps of the keep and came to stand in front of Michael. His spine was rigid, chest puffed, ready for a battle, one hand on the hilt of his sword.

Michael stared up at the imposing figure of Baron McCullough. Even as an older man, he still cut an impressive stance. He was well built, tall, and the scowl on his face would have sent any other man running for their life.
But not Michael.
He’d known McCullough nearly his entire life.

“Where is she, my lord?”

The older man narrowed his eyes and snorted. “Now, why would I be telling you that?”

“I need to see her.”

“Why? She is not your concern. She is a married woman.” The old man gnashed his teeth.

“And married to the very devil.
With all due respect, my lord, you have not seen what Kent has done to her. No woman should be treated as less than a dog, beaten and hungry.”

“I suppose you want to play the knight in shining armor then? Come to the rescue of the fair princess?” Even behind his mocking words, Michael could tell the man was concerned.

“I only wish to keep her protected.”

“You did a mighty find job of that now, didn’t you? She looked
very
protected
when she arrived here a few weeks past, bruises on her tender flesh.” The baron’s voice was sarcastic.

Michael swallowed hard, guilt riddling his mind for having been the one to blame for her situation. “She was here?”

The baron gave a dejected sigh.
“Aye.”
He looked down to the ground and shook his head. His hand slipped away from the hilt of his sword. “She looked badly bruised up. I wanted—” He did not continue, instead, clamped his mouth tight and glared at Michael.

Michael sank to his knee in front of the baron, bowed his head. “My lord, I beg forgiveness for having left her in the care of a madman. I had no knowledge he was a traitor, and I know that is no excuse, but I would never have seen her harmed. I went to England intent on protecting her.”

Several moments of silence passed before Baron McCullough placed his hand out for Michael to take. He placed his hand in the firm grip of the older man and was pulled to stand.

“You wouldn’t have had to go there if I’d done my own duty, Michael.
’
Tis my fault.
And pride has gotten in the way of me accepting that I made a mistake. Instead my own child has suffered because of it.”

“’Tis not too late for us to both make amends,” Michael said with conviction.

The older man’s gaze was determined.
“Aye.
I’ll travel with you to Richard’s holding.”

“She is with her brother?”

“Aye.
Smart and stubborn bastard that he is.
He was raised well. A man I am proud to call my own son. He made me see the fault of my own reasoning when he took her in, refus
ing
to send her back to England.” The Baron lowered his head once again and shook it.

“My lord, we cannot dwell too long on the past else we find ourselves not living for the now. Come let us go to Richard’s and we shall seek forgiveness from Elena from the both of us. I should also let you know that I have a messenger, most likely at the king’s court as we speak, reporting Kent’s crimes. We shan’t have to deal with the whoreson any further.”

“I should have let you marry her when you asked me all those years ago.”

Michael grinned half-heartedly. “Do not dwell on past regrets. We can make it right now.”

McCullough clapped him on the back. “Let us go then.”

Michael nodded, and they started toward the stables when two knights barreled through the gate doors, swinging from their horses before the animals stopped and running toward the baron.

Michael jumped in front of the knights, sword drawn.

“What news?” the baron bellowed. His face was fierce, and it was then Michael noticed that the two knights wore McCullough colors.

“We went to Lord Richard’s as you asked, my lord, and when we arrived, there was…” the man trailed off, swallowing hard, his eyes showing fear and regret.

The other knight picked up where the first had left off. “We arrived to a grisly scene, my lord.”

“Spit it out!” McCullough said, his face flame red with rage.

Michael’s sixth sense kicked in…Elena. Something had happened!

“Screams were coming from the keep, and bellows. We raced inside to find Richard slicing a man to ribbons. And—and the lady, Elena, she was, she is dying, my lord.”

White flashed before Michael’s eyes. “How?”
he croaked.

“An assailant broke into the keep and ran her through while she slept.”

Michael swallowed hard, feeling his insides turn cold. Kent. The devil had finally gotten what he wanted all along. Michael subdued the need to retch. He wanted to murder the old jackal himself! Without a word he entered the stable and mounted his horse bareback. No time for a saddle. He had to
get to Elena. He could murder Kent later. No one stopped him
. I
n fact, he didn’t know who or how many, but several followed suit. The gates opened and the road swallowed him as he barreled down the dirt expanse to Richard’s keep. He’d be damned if she’d leave him now—not when fate had finally given them what they both wanted!

Less than three hours later he arrived, with Michael feeling as though the devil made
it
twice as long. He
agonized
the entire ride that he would not arrive in time.
That his precious Elena would be gone.
That she would have succumbed to her injuries. Hell, it had been at least six hours since she’d been attacked. Men died in less time than that.

Oh, God in Heaven, did they even have the proper physicians, medicines, wrappings? Elena was an expert in healing, but who would heal her?

He dismounted quickly and ran inside the keep, the guards seeing Baron McCullough with him did not stop their progress.

“Where is she?” Michael asked his voice edging with panic.

The Baron followed closed behind with feral eyes.

“Up the stairs, sir, third door on the left,” a timid maid answered. She carried a bowl filled with bloody rags.

“Are those—” but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

She nodded,
then
hurried away. Those rags were covered in Elena’s blood.

McCullough grasped Michael’s arm and yanked him
toward
the stairs. “We can do nothing down here.”

Michael followed on heavy legs. What would they see when they entered the room? No amount of thought could have prepared him for the sight of her lying so deathly pale on white sheets, a strip on gauze soaked with blood pressed to her middle.

McCullough sucked in his breath then let out a choking
sound, before rushing to his daughter. He took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips, murmuring words against her flesh. But Michael couldn’t move. He stayed put as if someone had nailed his boots to the floor. His mind shouted
no
a hundred different ways and still the vision before him did not change.

She couldn’t leave him. He wo
uld not survive without her. Elena
was his whole world.

A warm hand gripped his arm, and Michael looked down as if in slow motion to see the hand was connected to one of Elena’s maids,
Raelyn
—Thomas’ woman.

“She lives,” she
said,
hope masking the sadness in her eyes.

He nodded, not wanting to voice his own fears.

“She is strong, Michael. She is fighting death.”

He nodded again, but this time found the courage to ask, “How bad was it?”

“The man stabbed her with a dagger, but not too deep, and not in any of her major organs the physician has told us. She’s lost a lot of blood, but it was a clean wound, and should heal well enough. We must be careful of fever, and that she receives plenty of fluids so her body can replace the blood she lost.”

There was hope. If they kept her well, if he took care of her like he’d promised
,
she might live. She might live long enough for him to tell her how sorry he was and how much he loved her.

“There is something else you should know,”
Raelyn
whispered.

“What?”

“Not here.” She left the room, and he followed behind her until they were alone in an alcove in the corridor.

“No one knows except for
myself
and her maids, but Elena is with child. The physician did not say anything, I do not know that he is even aware, but the wound, it was
nowhere near her babe. The child will hopefully survive this.”

Michael’s mouth fell open slightly before he clamped it shut. “She is with child?” he asked, mostly to confirm that he’d heard it correctly but also because he could not believe it.

“Aye,”
Raelyn
smiled wistfully and stared off into the distance. “She is happy about it.
’
Tis yours.”

He leaned back against the wall for support. Shock ripped through him, clearing his mind of all thought.
A babe.
Elena was having his child. Oh, God, the child could die within her womb. Did not mothers lose children when their bodies suffered? A child could not possibly make it through such an ordeal.

He felt dizzy. All at once the stakes were even higher. He could lose not only his love, but his child. He’d be a broken man for sure then.

Raelyn
placed a comforting hand on his arm again, and met his gaze, her eyes filled with strength and determination. “I will do all that I can, Michael. Elena was more than a woman I served, she was more than a friend—she was like a sister to me. I will see to it she gets through this. She has taught me all she knows. I will use those skills to heal her.”

Somehow her words lent him strength and he felt as though he could go on. He nodded.
“My thanks.”

Raelyn
smiled. “None required. Now, you must go and speak to her. Even though she sleeps she will hear your voice and perhaps that will give her another push to wake. She missed you so.”
Raelyn
looked off into the distance again, sadness taking place over her features for a moment. “I must go and make a poultice.”

“Thomas missed you too,
Raelyn
. He is well. He will come for you soon.”

She beamed at him, seeming to have been wondering that very thing. “Thank you.”

Raelyn
walked off in search of what she needed to make a poultice for Elena, and Michael reentered Elena’s
chamber. Her father had left her side and talked with her brother discreetly in the corner. Seeing her alone on the bed, Michael felt now was the best time to go to her. They would have some privacy at least for a few minutes.

He knelt beside her, taking her cold hand in both of his. “Elena—” His voice cracked. He pressed her hand to his forehead as he bowed his head. “Forgive me, my love, for leaving you unprotected
.
F
or everything.
I should have taken you away when I had the chance. Everything
that has happened to you is
my fault. I pray you will be able to find it in your heart to forgive me some day.” He stopped and looked up when her fingers squeezed his.

“Michael,” she breathed out, barely audible, her lips only parted slightly. She didn’t open her eyes, but just saying his name, he felt his stomach flop.

“Elena,
aye
,
’
tis me.
Oh, my love, I am so sorry. You will live, you will be all right.
Raelyn
is helping with your care, and your brother has a great physician.”

“Baby,” she whispered, her fingers fluttering inside his grip. Her head twisted from side to side, her brows drawn together, but still she didn’t open her eyes.

He leaned forward, so that his lips were only an inch or two from her ear. “Our babe is safe, love. But you must
sleep,
you must gather your strength.”

She sighed.
“Love.”

“Aye, love, I love you with every fiber in my being.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, which was wet. Was she sweating? Was a fever starting? He pulled back to see that a tear had slipped from her closed eyelids, and a small smile curved her lips before she sighed once more, and then was still.

“Elena!” he said,
fear
pummeling his gut. But her chest rose and fell with strength beneath the coverlet. He hadn’t lost her.

A firm hand gripped his shoulder. “Michael, let her
rest,” McCullough said from behind him.