Kathryn Le Veque (21 page)

A run that was brutally interrupted, his hopes and dreams dashed
in one horrifying moment.
 
Out of the
mist, like a surreal demon, came Bordeleaux, who had been at the base of the
scaffold when the chaos broke out.
 
He
had been watching everything, moving in Roane’s direction to stop the man from
fleeing when he saw the lady emerge from the rain.
 
She had been calling Roane’s name and the
more Bordeleaux looked at her, the more he recognized her from Kinlet
Castle.
 
He had married the woman to the
bounty hunter, remembering how she had wept through the entire ceremony.
 
But now she was here. Somehow, someway, she
had come for Roane. Bordeleaux was convinced the woman was behind his
prisoner’s escape. He could not let that happen.
 

He had to stop it.

Bordeleaux reached Alisanne before Roane was able to get
close.
 
With a slender, wicked-looking
dirk in one hand, he grabbed Alisanne and put the dirk against her torso, the
threat and implication obvious.
 
He wound
his fingers in her hair, listening to her scream in pain.
 
It was empowering. He yanked again and she
screamed louder.
 
With his screaming
captive, he faced Roane.

“Another step and she dies!” he cried. “Throw down your weapon, de
Garr! Tell your men to throw down their weapons or I will kill the lady right
in front of your eyes!”

Roane came to such a sudden halt that he skidded on the slippery
ground and went down on one knee.
  
There
was utter, complete horror to his expression and the broadsword in his hand
clattered to the mud.
 

“Nay!” he gasped. “Do not hurt her, I beg you!”

Alisanne was terrified and overwhelmingly disappointed at having
been caught by the evil bastard who had spent three years pursuing Roane. She
could hardly believe it.
 
Out of sheer
fright, she began to fight and twist, feeling the sharp dirk poking at her
side.

“Let me go!” she demanded, struggling to pull away.
 
“Let me go, I say!”

Bordeleaux was distracted with her fight.
 
She was surprisingly strong and he yanked on
her hair to force her to stop, but Alisanne wouldn’t back down.
 
She screamed when he pulled her hair but then
she tried to kick him.

“Cease!” Bordeleaux commanded her. “Do you hear me? Stop it or I
shall gore you, I swear it!”

Alisanne was crazed with fight.
 
She managed to twist around in his arms and grab at him with clawed
hands.
 
The first thing she came into
contact with was his hair and she pulled as hard as she could.

Bordeleaux yelled in pain and the dirk was dislodged by the lady’s
flying elbows.
 
As soon as the dirk fell
away, Roane rushed the pair, tackling Bordeleaux.
 
They went hurtling to the ground, as did
Alisanne because Bordeleaux still had his hand wound up in her dark locks.
 
She screamed in fright and pain as she was
pulled to the ground and the men began to fight.

Hands, many of them, were reaching down, trying to free her from
Bordeleaux’s grasp.
 
Roane was on top of
the man, one hand around his neck as the other hand grasped the wrist that held
on to Alisanne, squeezing so hard that he heard bones crack.
 
Bordeleaux screamed in pain and his grip
loosened, enough for Bowen to pull Alisanne free.
 
Bowen thrust her at his men for safekeeping
as he swooped in to assist his brother.

But Roane needed no assistance.
 
He had Bordeleaux exactly where he wanted him, his hands wrapped around
the man’s neck and squeezing the life from him.
 
Three long years of persecution, of pain and fear, were finding a
release as he choked the priest to death.
 

It was the moment he had dreamed of during all of those lonely
days and months and years he had spent isolated, fearing for his life, praying
he would have the opportunity to end his torment once and for all.
 
At this moment, his torment was very close to
being over. But before Bordeleaux lost consciousness completely, Roane had a
few things to say to the man.

“For every pain, every fear, and every moment of despair you
caused me, you will feel my wrath until the end,” he seethed. “For every false
accusation, you will breathe a little less. For everything you took from me –
my dignity, my reputation, my possessions, and my honor, your eyes will dim and
you will draw your last breath by my hand.
 
When you meet God, as you shortly will, I am certain he knows of every
horror you have committed against me and against Mankind in general.
 
Men such as you are the antithesis of reason
and goodness. You are an evil abomination, and I thank God that my face is the
last one you will ever see upon this earth.
 
Look into my eyes and see how much I hate you.”

With that, he used both hands and crushed Bordeleaux’s
windpipe.
 
The neck bones cracked and
Bordeleaux’s panicked expression glazed over, gradually fading.
 
His body twitched and an odd exhale expended
from his lips, and as the rain fell and the lightning flashed, Father Tertious
Bordeleaux fell still.

Roane didn’t move; he kept his hands wrapped around the man’s neck
as if fearful of letting go, fearful the man would rise up again and once more
Roane would be on the run.
 
This had to
end and he would make sure of it.
 
He
squeezed and squeezed even when it was clear that Bordeleaux was dead.
  
Finally, Bowen bent over him.

“Roane,” he murmured hoarsely, his hands on Roane’s wrists. “He is
dead, Roane. Let go.”

Roane squeeze harder, feeling more snapping and grinding in
Bordeleaux’s neck.
 
“Not yet,” he
grunted. “Not yet.”

Alisanne, standing back with Bowen’s men, watched the scene with
shock and horror. The entire circumstance was horrific but one thing occurred
to her; it wasn’t over yet. Men were still fighting all around them and they
had to leave.
 
She was terrified that the
Hospitallers would capture Roane again so she rushed up to him, kneeling beside
him in the mud.
 
There were tears in her
eyes as she spoke.

“Roane,” she
whispered,
a soft hand on
his arm. “Please… let us leave.
 
We must
get out of here!”

Her soft and gentle voice seemed to break through his state.
 
His grip loosened and he looked at her, only
to notice almost immediately that her brilliant green eyes were not red and
crusty as they usually were. They were clear, as clear as he had ever seen
them. She looked radiant. His thoughts immediately shifted from Bordeleaux to Alisanne,
and his heart bloomed full with the joy of seeing her before him, safe and
sound.
 
He was overwhelmed with it.

“My beautiful lass,” he murmured, the hands that had so recently
been clutching Bordeleaux’s throat now moving to touch her face. He was
trembling. “Are you well?”

“Very well, my love.”

“Your eyes… they look so clear,” he said, awed. “Can you see me?”

Alisanne could see the happiness in his expression and she laughed
softly, tears of utter elation rolling down her cheeks.

“I can see you very well,” she assured him as he ran a quivering hand
over her forehead as if to make sure she was whole and healthy. “Albert’s uncle
healed my eyes. He is a wonderful healer. He has done so much for us, my love,
so very much.
  
There is so much to tell
you but we must leave here immediately.
 
Are you well enough to run?”

Roane stood up; he didn’t give Bordeleaux, lying dead in the mud,
another thought.
 
The man was dead and
that was all he cared about.
 
Now, he
could get on with his life and live without the fear that had haunted him for
three long years.
 
The force behind that
fear was at his feet. He had killed the fear; that was the way he saw it.
 
He had taken that fear and destroyed it.

“I am well enough to fly if you wish it,” he said, cupping her face
and taking a moment to gaze into those beautiful features.
 
All he could feel was the fluid warmth of
emotions that made his heart sing, loving her so much that it was difficult to
verbalize.
 
“I love you, Alisanne. You and
no other, for all time.”

Alisanne touched his face, watching him kiss her hand
reverently.
 
“And I, you,” she whispered
reverently.

They both heard Bowen sigh heavily beside them. “I hate to
interrupt this touching repartee, young lovers, but we must collect all those who
should not be left behind and desert this village,” he said, his hand on
Roane’s shoulder. “You two can have all the time in the world to tell each
other of your undying love once we’ve reached a safe haven.”

Alisanne and Roane turned to Bowen, who was looking rather serious.
 
Alisanne broke into a grin. “Greetings,
Bowen,” she said. “It is my greatest pleasure to finally make your
acquaintance.”

Bowen fought off a smile, seeing in that instant why his brother
was so mad about the truly lovely young woman. She was sweet and charming.

“And you also, my lady,” he said. Then he turned to his men. “Find
Joseph Ari and find that Hospitallers knight that was attempting to aid my
brother. He has an arrow in the shoulder so he should not be difficult to
miss.
 
Meanwhile, I am taking my brother
and his intended out of here. We shall meet up in Great Barr, so give the
retreat order and clear the men out. We have what we came for.”

A few of the men began moving to carry out his order but Alisanne
interrupted. “And my father?” she asked anxiously. “Please do not forget him.
Where is he?”

Roane cast his brother a long look and faintly shook his head before
grasping Alisanne by the arm, preparing to escort her out.
 
“We will never forget him,” he murmured,
avoiding her question and praying she didn’t press him at the moment. “Come
along, now. We must leave before I end up on the scaffold and you along with
me.”

It was evident by Roane’s expression that the lady’s father was
not to be recovered, at least by Bowen’s guess, so he sent his men about their
tasks as he grabbed his brother and, with the escort of a few armed men, began
dragging him along as they headed out of the square.
 
Roane had a strong grip on Alisanne, pulling
her with them as they ran.
 
Together, the
group of them raced through the rain and thunder, down the narrow avenues,
until they reached the outskirts of the village where several horses were
tucked away in a dense copse of trees.

There was no longer a sense of panic among them but the air of
urgency was still strong.
 
They still had
to get away, and get away quickly.
 
As
Roane and Bowen untethered the horses from the trees, a lanky figure in brown robes
emerged through the wet shrubbery.
 
The
men drew swords, startled by the appearance, but Alisanne could smell the
figure before she ever saw it.
 
She
turned with surprise to see Ovier coming through the leaves.
 
She gasped and ran to him.

“Ovier!” she cried. “Are you well?”

The old man nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her.
“Very well,” he said. “I thought, mayhap, I might find you and your lover out
here on the edge of town. It is a perfect place to gather, shielded from the
road. I see that my instincts were correct.”

Alisanne nodded eagerly. “We must leave now,” she said, her eyes
soft on the old man who had done so much for her.
 
He had, in every sense of the word, saved
her. He had given her hope again.
 
“Will
you come with us? I should like it very much if you would.”

Ovier patted her shoulder.
 
“Nay, my girl,” he said. “Although I will miss you a great deal, my
place is here. It is my home. But you must promise to send for me if you ever
need me; I will come.”

Alisanne was disappointed but she understood. “Of course I will,”
she said softly. “Thank you. For everything you have done for us, I thank you.”

“There is something familiar about you,” Roane ventured, interrupting
their tender conversation. “Weren’t you the one who threw the flaming
projectiles?”

Both Alisanne and Ovier turned to him. “I was indeed, my lord,”
Ovier replied. “A little something I learned whilst on Crusade in The Levant.”

Roane grinned. “A worthwhile acquisition,” he said. “You must also
be Albert’s uncle.”

“I am.”

“Then I owe you a great deal,” he said, his features softening.
“Alisanne tells me that you cured her eyes.
 
I have not yet learned how you accomplished such a thing but truly, it
is a miracle.
 
You have my undying
gratitude.”