The Dark Knight (18 page)

“I would send a company of men with her,” she said.

“Would you really?” he drawled. “You would donate a company of armed men and a gentlewoman of good repute to three strangers to make a journey that would last at least a month, by the time your people return from London? That would also assume that you believed the story being told by the three strangers.” He shook his head. “ ’Tis much more likely your uncle would have all three thrown into the dungeon until he could send a messenger to wherever they came from to verify their story. What do you think would happen to us if we found ourselves in such a situation and a message were sent to Coleway?”

They both knew the answer. She would be returned to Coleway, and Sir Percival would be hung.

“You could remain as chaste as the most pious nun in England on this journey, and it will not matter. There will still be those who doubt your innocence.” The certainty of his words made it clear that he had already thought through the problem and saw no solution. “You are ruined as completely as if your aunt’s scheme had worked and we were found abed together at Coleway.”

She had to remind herself that he was not trying to be cruel. He was simply stating facts. No matter how she tried to deny the truth, he was right. She was ruined, her honor destroyed. No one would look at her the same way ever again. And all she had to show for her disgrace were a handful of kisses. Kisses that he regretted.

It did not ease her guilt to know that she was the one who had taken the first steps toward sin, that she had somehow seduced him. Her behavior would justify anyone’s doubts about her honor. Just two short days together and already she had kissed him. Two days! What would happen over the course of the many long weeks they would spend together?

The coming weeks stretched out in her mind, an agony of shameful longing and guilt. How long could she resist?

When they finally reached Wales, her father would have every right to doubt her honor. It was a fleeting thing.

“I had not thought this through,” she admitted, feeling dazed. “I thought of the servants who would accompany us in the baggage train, but I did not think of what would happen when we left without chaperones. You are right. We will not find a suitable chaperone before we reach London. My honor has already been compromised.” Another realization made her eyes widen with dread. “The Segraves! They can break the betrothal
contract once this becomes known. My father will be furious.”

“Your father knew your reputation would be ruined the moment you left Coleway without a chaperone.”

Of course he knew. And he had sent Sir Percival on this mission anyway.

There were growing rumors of rebellion in Wales, and other men with ambitions who would overlook any stain on her honor. Ruined or not, the Segraves would be foolish to release their claim and risk her falling into the hands of their rivals. Between an alliance with her father and her Welsh heritage, Faulke had sufficient motivation to accept her as soiled goods despite the insult to his own honor. From what she had learned of him, Faulke’s ambition far outweighed his ego. No, the marriage would go forward as intended, she decided.

And then what would happen to Sir Percival?

Regardless of his noble intent, regardless that he was here by his liege lord’s order, Sir Percival would be held responsible for her ruined reputation even if he never touched her again.

“Faulke Segrave will challenge you,” she whispered. A woman’s husband or betrothed was obligated to challenge the man responsible for her ruin, and such challenges almost always resulted in a death. Given Segrave’s ruthless reputation, she doubted it would be a fair fight. “My father must have known this when he sent you to Coleway.”

“Aye, he was aware of the consequences,” he said, “but once you are safe, I intend to leave Britain before Segrave can issue a challenge. I will not return.”

The news shouldn’t have come as a surprise, or cause an almost physical pain at her core. She had known since they met that it was unlikely she would ever see him again after her marriage. But there had always been
that slim possibility. She hadn’t realized how much she had clung to that faint thread of hope. A thread that had, in fact, never existed.

Once she was safely delivered to Weston, Percival would leave her. He would start a new life somewhere, likely with a large reward from her father, and she doubted he would ever think of her again. Rather than mourn his loss, she should be grateful that he would be safe from Faulke’s challenge. Perhaps in time … At the moment, she felt only pain. “Where will you go?”

“ ’Tis best if you do not know.”

Was it? She could not imagine living the rest of her life without knowing where he was, without knowing if he was safe. But what point would it serve to satisfy her curiosity? What point would there be to allow her heart to yearn for him more than it already did? No, he was right again. It would be best if he made a clean break from her life when the time came.

“We will have many weeks together before we part ways,” he said, as if he knew her thoughts. “You must learn to live for the moment, Avalene. These next few weeks could be the greatest adventure of your life. You will see much of the English countryside, visit the great city of London, and take your first journey by ship. You must follow my orders to help us make a safe journey, but otherwise you are bound by few rules. Certainly fewer rules than you have been bound by in the past or will be in the future.”

“There are always rules,” she said, although her voice sounded uncertain.

He shook his head. “That is one of the few benefits of a ruined reputation. The worst has already happened. You can do as you please.”

She studied the shadowed planes of his face in the
moonlight. “What, exactly, are you suggesting, Sir Percival?”

“Is it really so hard to guess?” he asked. “You must realize by now there is a certain … attraction between us. Once we are safe in London, what harm could there be in enjoying a few kisses on occasion?”

“They were wrong,” she breathed. Did he think she needed any encouragement to contemplate sin? She tried to remind herself that the attraction he felt for her was nothing more than lust, a surprising turn of events to be sure, but she must stop deluding herself into thinking his feelings ran as deep as hers. He had already made it clear that the kisses they shared meant far less to him than they did to her. How much deeper would her feelings run if they shared more kisses? “We were wrong.”

“Do you really think so?” he mused. He lifted one hand to indicate the darkened forest all around them. “As I said, this is not the time or place for a dalliance, but other opportunities will arise. We are already breaking most of the rules. What harm could there be in breaking a few more?”

What harm, indeed? Those were likely the words used on countless women as men led them to the edge of their downfall. She could almost see the vast emptiness below her, feel its pull. This is how women effected their own fall from grace; willingly, eagerly … stupidly.

“You know there is something between us,” he said in a low voice, in that tone she found most irresistible. “Do you have no wish to indulge yourself just a little, to know what it is like to be kissed by a man who wants you regardless of your dowry, or family connections, or your marriage prospects? A man who wants
you
and nothing else?”

Oh, he was good. She pressed her lips together before
she could say something stupid. Her sluggish voice of reason finally stirred to life.

“I do not think any more kisses would be a good idea.” Her voice held none of his smooth cadences. She sounded as if she had swallowed a frog. “In fact, I think it would be a good idea if I closed my eyes now and tried to get some sleep as you suggested.”

His lips curved upward. “As you wish, my lady.”

She pulled her hood up to give herself the illusion of privacy, even as she tried her best to think through everything he had said, everything he had implied, and everything he had proposed. It was almost too much to take in.

She was ruined. And all she could concentrate on was the fact that he had kissed her, and wanted to kiss her again. Amazing.

How different this journey would be if she had left Coleway with a full baggage train and a cadre of servants. It was unlikely they would have had occasion to speak more than once or twice a day, and the opportunity to kiss him never would have arisen. Their arrival at Weston would also be a far different homecoming than the one she had envisioned. What was her father thinking? Did he hope the Segraves would break the betrothal? Despite her conjecture, Faulke Segrave might not want her after he learned that she was traveling alone with a knight and his men for more than a month. If that happened … would her father allow her to wed the knight he had sent to ruin her?

The idea was as appealing as it was absurd. She quickly pushed it away. The impossible had already happened. Percival had admitted that he was attracted to her. He had kissed her. Lightning would not strike twice. Even with her ruined reputation, her father would never allow her to marry a poor, landless knight. If the
thought of a marriage beneath her rank had ever crossed his mind, he would have left her at Coleway to marry the steward.

It was Percival’s intent that confused her the most. He was perfect in so many ways, and yet there were things about him that she found surprising and a little disturbing. She had never expected him to speak to her so boldly, to suggest that there could be more between them than what had already happened. How easily he had set aside his honor. She had thought him so chivalrous. Even when he put an end to their kisses, she was certain he was trying to do the honorable thing, to follow his knight’s code even as he accused her of seducing him. But then he suggested they break even more of the rules. Why would he suggest such a thing?

The answer came to her in a flash. His honor was ruined as surely as her own. He would be forced to leave England when this journey ended. Until then, he was as free of the rules of propriety as she was, and they would both exist in this strange, lawless world until they reached her father’s fortress. She could kiss him as often as she wanted and it would make no difference to her reputation, or his. He could hold her as close as he wished, and everyone would assume he had done much worse. The price he would pay was exile.

She had been so caught up in trying to grasp the damage done to her reputation that she had not considered the damage done to his. His life would change even more than her own.

He had volunteered to rescue her, knowing the price to them both. She could not think of any other man who would have made such a sacrifice for a woman he had never met. He truly was the noblest man she had ever known.

Perhaps living in the moment was not such an outlandish
idea after all. As he said, the damage was already done. If he wanted to kiss her again … she would let him.

Her head jerked up and she realized that she had nearly fallen asleep. There was so much to think over, so much to consider, but her thoughts kept scattering. Already his warmth was seeping into her, chasing off the dampness of the night air. As he predicted, the lack of sleep had caught up with her and she felt herself drift again toward slumber.

Avalene opened her eyes to shadowy shades of daylight, surprised to realize it was no longer nighttime and she was no longer moving. Her gaze moved upward through the canopy of a willow tree. Long, trailing willow branches formed a living tent of green and gold all around her. The gently swaying switches carried the lingering scent of morning dew, but she remained dry and warm in her sheltered haven. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know the identity of the man who held her. Sir Percival’s familiar warmth and scent enveloped her.

Sometime during the night or early morning, Percival had managed to dismount without waking her and settled them both into this makeshift bed beneath the willow tree. They lay side by side, back to front, their bodies fitted tightly together in a position even more intimate than when they rode together. Her “pillow” was a solid male arm, and her blankets the soft wool of his cloak and hers. His other arm lay draped over her waist
as if to make certain she stayed close to him, even in sleep. Oddly enough, she felt no sense of shock or maidenly modesty at waking in his arms.

Later she would be annoyed at his presumption. Later she would think about the kisses they had shared the night before and the way she responded so readily to his tempting offers, in thought if not in deed. There would be plenty of time to fret over all of those worries in the next few weeks. For now she wanted nothing more than to relax in the warmth and comfort of his arms, luxuriate in the illusion that the rest of the world and its worries were very far away.

She turned to look over her shoulder but her head was tucked beneath his chin and she could see no more than his arm. Moving slowly, careful not to wake him, she turned her whole body until she faced him. His head rested upon a leather saddlebag and the windblown branches cast moving shadows across his face, giving the illusion of shifting expressions: a stern look that melted into smooth, boyish innocence. Then the shadows caught the angled features of a devastatingly handsome man.