One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) (6 page)

“Perhaps you can still show me how grateful you are…” he said suggestively, bending his head to nuzzle her neck. But she didn’t respond to him as he hoped.

“They’re coming back!” she said, the panic creeping back into her voice. With one strong heave, she pushed Jonathan aside and dashed off, her hooded figure already blending into the crowd by the time he had recovered his balance.

He made a move to go after her, but stopped himself, remembering almost too late about his promise to Lorena. There was a reason he came to Ravenhearth and it wasn’t to chase after runaway wenches. He ran his hand through his hair, and let out one long breath. He was just about done collecting the information he needed and then he could return to Airndale, and get back to his real purpose.

CHAPTER 6

From where Rowena stood, she could see the distant rolling green hills and the farm fields that dotted the landscape. The sound of trickling water could be heard coming from the woods. And of course, if she looked behind her, there was the castle, large and looming over everything.

A group of young people as well as a horse and cart containing a young family passed her on the road. Rowena bowed her head, and pulled the hood down further in case anyone recognized her. But no one looked at her direction. They were far too busy with their flirting and bantering to notice one small hooded figure walking alone on the road.

She reached the town border without further incident.

Things were quieter at the fringes of town, although she could hear the faint sprinkling of music off in the distance. The sound was light and merry — far from how she felt at the moment. In a relatively short span, her life had become complicated. And now her encounter with the stranger made things confusing as well.

The sound of scattered chatter coming out of the woods caught her attention. It was obvious some people preferred to spend the holiday within the solitude of the woods rather than the jostle of the town. After the events that transpired, Rowena needed a place of solitude to ease her turbulent thoughts. Sitting among trees always calmed her spirit. On impulse, she allowed herself to follow the tempting sounds, veering off the road and picking her way through a worn path that led into the thicket. One branch after another snagged her cowl so she drew the hood down, leaving her head bare.

Off to the left was a group of young girls who were gathering early spring berries at the edge of the forest. When she approached, they stopped what they were doing and whispered to one another. Rowena swallowed, and felt a sudden urge to turn around and go back the way she came. But she forced her feet to move as she didn’t want to bring undue attention to herself. She stifled a groan when one of the girls broke free from her friends and advanced toward her. She was about six years old and the smallest of the group. “Are you Lady Rowena?” she asked nervously.

Rowena let out a laugh, although it sounded false even to her own ears. Speaking in a light, cheerful tone, she replied, “Nay, I am not Lady Rowena. Are these the clothes that the noble lady would wear?” The little girl shook her head as she took in the tattered homespun tunic. Rowena shrugged. “I could only wish that I had owned her fine clothes.”

The girl looked crestfallen. “My sisters said that Lady Rowena is very beautiful and has raven hair that shines even in the dark.” She paused, and looked up at Rowena. “I thought that you looked like her.”

Rowena shook her head. “You are mistaken,” she said.

Afraid of more questioning, she didn’t wait to hear the little girl’s response and moved quickly away. Children had an uncanny ability to see through disguises and if she tarried any longer, they would no doubt see through hers.

After a while, Rowena slowed her movements when the chatter faded and the only sound left was the rushing stream and occasional bird cry. She continued down the worn path, following the sounds of the stream and almost tripped when she caught sight of a couple in an embrace so passionate that she could feel the heat radiating from them.

The direction of her thoughts caused her to blush yet try as she might, she couldn’t look away. Was that how she looked when her lips were locked with the man she met in the alley?

Unfortunately the sound of twigs snapping underneath her feet gave her away. The couple jumped apart as if they had been caught in the middle of a crime. But they relaxed their guard when they saw it was only her. The man placed his arm around the woman and they watched her as she scrambled past them.

Rowena placed her hands on her flaming face. Perhaps going into the woods wasn’t such a good idea after all, she thought.

She felt relieved when she finally reached the water’s edge. The trees thinned and the shrubs took over as if competing for space on the lush forest floor. There were no people around as far as she could detect.

Rowena held onto a nearby shrub, and dipped her hands in the running stream before bringing the cooling water to her face.

She stepped back, and allowed herself to take in the quiet beauty that surrounded her. The crickets made their own music and every now and then she could hear a small animal scampering about in the underbrush. The sounds of the rustling leaves, the rushing water, and the sweet birdsongs overhead caused the tension in her shoulders to slowly dissipate.

She took in a deep breath, and pushed away her troubles from her mind. It felt good to be out of the castle, to breathe in the fresh damp smell of early spring.

Rocks of various sizes scattered along the small stream and Rowena found a large one to sit on. She lay her cloak down on it and sat, watching as the sun rays cascaded down and bounced off the water.

Untying the small bundle of food at her hip, she took out a small piece of bread and began to nibble on it.

Now that she was truly alone, she permitted her thoughts to wander to the stranger in town. Who was this man?

He had an undeniable bold masculinity that exuded from every pore in his body. The way he moved, the way he carried himself bespoke of an ingrained confidence that even she could sense. Yet this attitude was usually found in a lord or a knight, not a traveling merchant who was down on his luck, if the tattered, ill fitting clothing were any indication.

He wasn’t a handsome man in a classic sense, she mused. She couldn’t tell too much about his features because his beard obscured most of his countenance. The thing she did remember was the long scar on his face, and his expressive brown eyes. Right before their lips touched, she saw a flicker of something in their depths, something that set alarms ringing in her head, warning her that she was getting in over her head. But by that time she was past the point of no return, and then Derrik was almost upon her. She had no other choice but to kiss the stranger, right?

Rowena traced her fingers on her lips, marveling that they were still tingling. But it was all in her head, another part of her argued. She had never been kissed before so of course she was feeling new and strange sensations. She couldn’t explain the turbulent feelings she was experiencing, nor did she care to explore her wanton response to his kiss.

She shook her head as if to free her thoughts of the stranger and twisted her lips in disgust. Here she was daydreaming about the man when she should be mapping out a way to get to Whitshire. Rowena put the rest of the bread back into the pouch, her appetite suddenly gone.

Her plans didn’t seem as solid now that the day was beginning to wane. There was no way she could walk to Whitshire without getting lost and the prospect of sleeping alone in the woods frightened her.

She looked up in the sky to see how much time she had left but the tree branches above obscured her view of the sun. She never went anywhere without an escort, and the dire warnings about the Folmort robbers made her shudder, even though a dagger hung off her belt, and she had the sufficient skills to defend herself. “Men can be brutal,” Ava had always told her. And Rowena believed her because she saw the terrible injuries that men inflicted upon each other, whether they were knights or common men. Some of them, she knew were unlucky to be alive.

The sound of animals scampering behind her jerked her from her thoughts. With her heart at her throat, she turned around, almost afraid to find out what was disturbing the peace. Instead of a gang of outlaws, she saw her father’s men approaching.

She released her breath, relieved that it was only them. “How did you find me?” Rowena demanded. She stood on top of the rock, facing Jared and Derrik.

“It wasn’t that hard,” Derrik said sarcastically. “You left a trial that even the blind cat in town could follow. You gave us a fine chase, Rowena. Now ‘tis best that we go home. You’ve wasted enough of our time today.”

“I do not care that your day is wasted,” she said, her tone haughty. Any gladness she felt at seeing them disappeared in an instant. “I did not ask you to follow me.”

“Come, my lady,” Jared said. ‘Tis prudent that we return to the castle before it gets dark.”

“I shall not be going back with you,” Rowena said. She folded her arms across her chest, daring them to question her.

“You are mad, Rowena!” Derrik bellowed. He walked up to her as if he intended to give her a shake, to drive some sense into her. “You made us chase you all over town and then you put yourself in danger by going into the woods alone. Don’t you know what happens to women who wander away by themselves? By God, Rowena, there are cutthroats and thieves lurking about, especially on a holiday like this. What were you thinking?”

He reached over to pull her down from the rock, but she slapped his hands away in her fury.

“Nay, I do not know,” she said, gritting her teeth and trying hard to rein in her temper. “And I do not care.”

“What?” Derrik asked looking as stunned as if she clubbed him over the head with a fallen log. “Did you hear what she said, Uncle?”

“Come down from the rock, my lady,” Jared said, looking tired.

Rowena glared at Derrik and then at Jared. “Nay,” she said again, louder. She felt the anger surging in her chest. “I am not mad, and I am not in any danger. There will be a new mistress at Ravenhearth soon and I shall hardly be missed.” She took a steadying breath. “And besides, I am no longer a child. As you can see no harm has befallen me. Just direct me to Whitshire so I can visit my lady aunt. That is all I ask. You can return to the castle and tell Father that you were unable to find me.”

“I’m afraid that would not be possible, my lady,” Jared said.

“It takes three day to travel to Whitshire by horse,” Derrik interjected. “Need I remind you that you don’t have a horse, and there’s no way you can get there by foot, especially now when the sun will be setting in a few hours. Someone should beat some sense into you to even think about going to Whitshire on your own.” He clenched his fists as if he was the one who wanted to do the beating.

Rowena raised her own fists in a fighting stance. “You would not dare touch me,” she said, her voice cold. “I still remember the martial lessons that Sir Jared taught us. Touch me and I will remind you how sorry you will be after I punch your nose and watch it bleed.”

Rowena felt a sense of satisfaction when she saw his face turn red.

“That was a long time ago, Rowena. You caught me unawares then. I promise you now, I’m bigger and stronger I —”

“That’s enough, children,” Jared interrupted, his voice sounding weary as if he had aged thirty years just from listening to their squabble. He walked over to her and extended a hand for her to come off the rock. “Your father is waiting for us, my lady. And I’m afraid he’s not pleased.”

CHAPTER 7

Jonathan sat on Storm, gazing at the castle in the distance as if it were the last place on earth that he wanted to reach. At one time it held happy memories, but no longer. All that remained was a cold, empty shell atop a hill, looking as if it was a part of the landscape that didn’t belong.

If it wasn’t for Amelia’s killer, he would never have willingly returned to his childhood home.

He fingered the blood red cloth — a piece of his father’s heraldic flag. The Grey Knight sent it to him, somehow knowing that it would lead him here.

Gareth and the rest of his men gathered beside him.

“Do you think he’s at Blackburn?” Gareth asked, his tone quiet as if speaking any louder would scare away the man that they had been pursuing for over a decade. “I would love it if he’s there. Then I can get my hands on him and let him experience first hand how much pain there is when a knife slits across his throat.”

“You will have to wait in line to avenge your brother,” Jonathan said, tucking the cloth into his belt. “But nay, I don’t think he’s at Blackburn. ‘Twould be too easy. He wants me here. I just don’t know why yet.”

He grabbed hold of the reins and urged Storm forward, as if speaking of his enemy somehow energized him and spurred him into action. “We ride,” he shouted, pointing to the castle.

Gareth and the rest of the men followed their leader, thundering across the rocky plains to the drawbridge.

A bored looking porter let them through the gatehouse, barely glancing at the coat-of-arms imprinted on their surcoats.

Jonathan exchanged looks with Gareth. His father was obsessed with protecting his fortress. Even if allies were at his door and expected, he made them wait, just to flaunt his strength and military power. Such carelessness and neglect seemed out of character for him.

When he entered the courtyard, the atmosphere seemed subdued as if a lingering fear hung in the air. A handful of servants walked through the cobblestone, their heads bent as if an unseen enemy enslaved them into his service. They looked up when they heard the horses’ hooves clattering across the near empty courtyard, but they soon bent their head again, and continued with their tasks.

Then as if his horse read his mind, Storm whinnied and tossed his mane. Jonathan laid a hand on the side of his powerful neck, and gave the horse a gentle pat. “I know, Storm,” he said quietly. “I can feel it too.” The spotted gray warhorse calmed at his touch. They had been companions for many years, fighting in battles and tournaments and he trusted Storm’s instincts as much as he trusted his own.