The Gorgon (26 page)

"He did not kill her, you
know," her voice was barely audible. "B-Bose's wife died in
childbirth. You mustn't believe what you've heard about him. He's quite
wonderful and I do believe he shall make a fine husband."

Ian's expression softened
somewhat, knowing that she believed in the hulking knight's innocence with all
her heart. Ian's opinion was much like Stephan's; he was having a difficult
time dispelling four years of rumors regarding the king's former captain. But
from what he had witnessed this day between his sister and the mysterious
knight, he was coming to think otherwise.

He smiled faintly. "As you
say, love. But if you do not let me go, I may never get the chance to prove my
belief in your convictions of your future husband."

Summer watched her brother go,
immediately engaging his father in conversation with a firm manner and steady
voice. Bose looked to Ian as well, an element of surprise across his scarred
face as the middle du Bonne brother leapt his support.

Duncan Kerry tugged again and
this time Summer did not resist; all would be well with Ian supporting her
cause. He was intelligent and tactful and Edward would have a difficult time
spurning the reasoning of the two determined men planted before him; in fact,
Summer was relying heavily upon her father's known weak-willed nature.

For once, it would be an advantage.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

The floor was filled with gay
revelers by the time Duncan guided Summer onto the smooth stone. The ballad was
light and quick and Duncan immediately took her into his arms at a proper
distance and began whirling her across the room.

The organized dance had taken her
to the far end of the room, well away from the head table. As the music flowed
through the stale air of the packed hall, Summer was startled when Duncan let
her go and another body took his place. Only when a voracious arm went about
her improperly did she look up from her feet, coming face to face with small
blue eyes and a field of pock-marked skin.

"Greetings, my lady,"
Breck sneered into Summer's surprised expression, his green-tinged teeth
emitting a foul odor. "My brother has indicated his fatigue and has
graciously allowed me to finish his dance."

Shocked and disgusted, Summer
yanked herself free of Breck's grasp, bumping into another woman in the
process. Though she should have apologized to the well-dressed lady, she could
only focus on staying clear of Breck's lecherous company.

"I-I…," swallowing
hard, she backed away, narrowly avoiding another dancer as Breck advanced.
"I am also fatigued. I am sure there is another lady who would b-be happy
to dance with you."

"I do not want to dance with
another lady," Breck insisted seductively. "I want to dance with you.
The most beautiful woman in the entire room."

Summer succeeded in backing out
of the group of revelers without further collision, nearly tripping over a
chair flanking the crowded floor when she finally directed herself clear. She
was well across the room from her assigned table and well away from those who
would protect her from Breck's advance. Quickly noting that she was on her own
until she could move within sight of the head table, she sought to steady her
nerves.

"I do not wish to dance, Sir
B-Breck," she said as firmly as she could manage. "If you will excuse
me, Sir B-Bose and my brothers await."

She moved to evade him but he put
out an arm, bracing it against a supporting beam and effectively blocking her
escape. Summer wrinkled her nose at the repugnant stench of body odor reeking
from the man's tunic, swallowing the bile in her throat as he smiled
lasciviously.

"Sir Bose and your brothers
have had the pleasure of your company all eve," he said. "'Twould be
polite of them to share you with your other admirers."

A glimmer of impatience took
hold. "I have no desire to be shared as if I were a c-common tart for the
taking," she said snappishly. "Move your arm and be quick about
it."

He cocked a red brow. "My,
my, how unfriendly. Mayhap if you came to know me better, your hostile attitude
would ease."

"I have no desire to know
you b-better. Move aside or I'll call a guard."

Breck's first reaction was to
flare; disobedience in a woman was intolerable and he banked the impulse to
slap her. Instead, he forced himself to calm for the sheer fact that if he
became angry, his goals would most certainly not be accomplished. Duncan had
brought the lady directly into his fold; it was now up to Breck to take
advantage of the situation.

"Forgive me if I seem
overbearing, my lady," his manner was calm and sorrowful. "'Tis just
that... well, the moment I saw you this morn in the lodges, I swore I had never
seen anything quite so beautiful. And I suppose my aggressive actions are
merely my emotional impulses gaining the better of my self- control. Truly, I
never meant to offend or harm. I would simply like to share a moment of your
time. Women don’t usually take easily to me; I am not a handsome man. I have
had to learn to be aggressive when dealing with women."

Summer listened to his speech. He
seemed quite sincere and, being a bit naïve when it came to conniving men, she
began to feel somewhat sorry for him. With a sigh, she eyed him closely;
indeed, he was an ugly soul and Summer realized she had judged his character
based on his pocked appearance and her brother's ramblings. After she had heard
the horrid stories how the man had broken Stephan's wrist last year, it was
only natural that she considered Breck Kerry an individual to avoid.

Had she believed her brothers'
tales of Bose's murderous instincts, she would have never come to know the man
with the golden heart and gentle nature. Aye, her brothers had been wrong about
Bose. Mayhap they were wrong about Breck, too.

"Very well," she said
quietly. "I am rather thirsty and I suppose we could share a c-conversation
as I refresh myself."

Breck looked pleasantly
surprised. Not merely surprised, shocked. Swallowing his astonishment, his arm
dropped from Summer's path.

"I... God's Blood, I suppose
we could sit at my table. I'll have a steward fetch wine immediately," as
Summer moved hesitantly in the indicated direction, a brief glimpse of the
courtyard beyond the open hall doors captured Breck's attention and he stopped
her, his wickedly clever mind moving into the realm of more private, intimate
surroundings.
By all means, man, get her alone!

  "Wait, my lady," he
grasped her gently on the arm. "It is rather warm in the hall. Mayhap a
walk in the night air would refresh you more than a goblet of tepid wine?"

Summer gazed to the yawning
entry, the landscape beyond bathed in silver light. Drinking wine with the man
in a room full of guests was one matter, but strolling alone with him in the
moonlight was entirely another and her attempt to make amends for her
judgmental attitude was fading fast. Even if the man truly possessed a heart of
gold beneath his unattractive facade, he was stinky and aggressive and she
simply did not like him. In the light or in the dark.

"I think not, my lord,"
she said truthfully. "I would share a goblet of wine and t-then return to
my table."

Breck, however, would not be so
easily dissuaded. "Come along, my lady," he grasped her arm firmly, pulling
her toward the portal. "A walk beneath the stars will do wonders for your
fatigue. We could even stroll to the stables and take a look at my charger. My
father had him shipped all the way from Italy."

Summer tried to pull away from
him, but his grip was tight. Whether or not she was willing, Breck seemed to be
leading her directly for the exit. "I do not like horses, my lord. And I
am entirely too exhausted to walk about the courtyard. P-Please, can we
sit?"

Breck appeared not to hear her.
He continued to drag her across the floor, oblivious to her attempts to break
his grip. His boney fingers were bruising the tender flesh of her upper arm and
Summer looked in the direction of the head table in desperation; she could
scarcely see the end of it though the crowd, but noting that Bose's wicked
mother-in-law apparently had a bird's-eye view of her situation. She swore she
saw the woman smile.

Summer's slippers scuffed the
stone as Breck pulled her through the opening and into the ghostly light. In
the dusty bailey there were several crews of sentries and Summer's panic faded
somewhat; should there be any true aggression on Breck's part, all she need do
is scream for assistance. Therefore, she sharply yanked her arm free of the
zealous knight's grasp.

"Unhand me," she said
irritably, straightening her mussed gown. "I told you that I did not wish
to walk with you."

Breck's face was hauntingly ugly
beneath the moonglow. "I...I did not mean to offend. Oft times, ladies say
no when in fact they mean the opposite. It is simply a matter of making a firm
decision on the lady's behalf."

Summer's expression was lined
with annoyance. "When I declined your invitation, I meant it. I w-would
return to the hall this instant."

"But...."

"
Now
."

Breck eyed her, laboring to keep
his irritation at bay. Defiant women went against the natural course of the
universe and it was a struggle not to punish her for her rebellious demand. In
lieu of physical retaliation, he settled for mental instead. It was far more
painful if done correctly.

"Return you to de
Moray?" he asked softly, with bitter amusement. "God's Blood, I
cannot believe your father has allowed the man to pursue you given his
reputation and dark history."

Summer immediately bristled.
"I'll not hear you r-repeat the slanderous lies within my presence, for
they are untrue."

Breck's expression washed with a
good deal of forced pity. "I have been on the tournament circuit six
years, my lady, well before the arrival of Bose de Moray. I have known the man
since his appearance and I can only say that I have seen nothing to refute the
common hearsay. Suffice it to say that Sir Bose carries a frightening
reputation toward man and woman alike."

Breck's aggressive actions
forgotten, Summer found herself outraged by his accusations. Unwilling to
tolerate his slander, her small fists rested angrily on her hips.

"His reputation is the
result of his mother-in-law's demented sense of vengeance and nothing more. Her
daughter, B-Bose's wife, died in childbirth and the woman somehow b-blames him
for the incident. He did not kill her, Sir Breck. He loved her."

Breck's gaze held even. "So
he has told you. What did you expect? Did you truly believe he would tell you
the truth of the matter, considering his interest in you?"

Summer's jaw went slack with
fury. "How dare you say such terrible things! Clearly, you d-do not know
him at all!"

"I have known him longer
than you have," Breck was enjoying her anger. "I have seen him in
action all of these years, Lady Summer. I have seen his moods and tactics and
his interaction with others. Believe me when I say that the Bose de Moray you
know is not the true man beneath. Certainly, I am only concerned with your
safety."

Summer's breathing gained pace,
her fury spreading like the ripples on the surface of a pond. Of course she did
not believe the knight's lies for one moment. But for the fact that he was
continuing to spout his defamation, she was growing increasingly agitated and
her stammering began to worsen.

"You have n-no such
concerns," she hissed, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment and rage.
"You are a selfish, p-petty man and I'll have nothing more to d-do with
you."

She turned sharply on her heel as
Breck reached out, snatching her by the arm. Summer gasped as pain cut though
her tender limb, his strong fingers biting into her upper arm. But far more
than the pain, the fact that Breck had managed to pull her against his
silk-clad chest disturbed her deeply.

"Listen to me well,
beautiful lady," his foul breath was in her face, gagging her. "My concern
is indeed for your welfare. Why else do you think I would risk de Moray's wrath
by seeking to be alone with you? Truly, it was the only way I could attempt to
convince you of his cloaking evil. You must understand that he will do or say
anything to gain your trust and you must be aware of his tactics."

"As will you, I am
sure," her voice was as quiet as it was spiteful. "Release me this m-moment
or you will deeply regret your actions."

Breck continued to stare at her,
his eyes sharp and glittering. "What will it take to convince you, my
lady? Your own death?"

She tried to pull away but he
would not release her. Angry, fearful and exhausted, she attempted to slap at
him but he effectively quelled her weak attempts. When she continued to
struggle, he shook her brutally to cease her squirming.

"Answer me," he hissed,
his even tone vanished. "What will it take to convince you of de Moray's
evil?"

"H i's not evil," she
grunted, wincing at fierceness of his grip. "His mother-in-law is evil the
one for spreading such lies. And you are evil for b-believing them."