The Gorgon (41 page)

Stephan was amazingly calm. The
more the situation came to light, the more resigned he became and he ran his
fingers through his blond hair, thinking. "Well enough after the pounding
he took at your brother's hands. But more importantly than Morgan's health,
Breck has gone to retrieve Bose and return him to Dorset to face charges of
thievery. At this moment, my brothers and I ride to aid Bose. Unless you are
God, I doubt there is anything you can do to prevent the trial that is sure to
follow."

Duncan snorted, without humor.
"Sometimes I wish I were God. Were I God, I could banish my brother to
Hades and never have to worry about him ever again. Even if I were the king, I
could...."

Stephan suddenly slapped his
thigh, cleaving Duncan's sentence. "Of course! Damnation, I should have
realized...what you said!
Henry!
"

Duncan looked to him curiously.
"What about him?"

Stephan sought to explain.
"Bose used to be young Henry's Captain of the Guard. Bose himself said
that Henry was very fond of him and quite sorry to see him quit his post."
Quickly, he turned to Duncan, jabbing a gloved finger at the man. "Do you
truly wish to help?"

Duncan nodded hesitantly. "Then
ride to London immediately,” Stephan told him. “Ride to Henry and tell him of
the situation and plead for him to intervene. With Bose's very life at stake,
surely the king cannot refuse."

The excitement was catching.
"I'll go," Duncan said, his pale cheeks gaining a measure of color as
he realized his destiny to be at hand. “I will go to London and seek the king,
I swear it.”

"Good lad," Stephan
slapped him on the back, feeling a genuine seed of hope where moments before
there had lingered not a solitary grain. "Leave this instant. If you ride
hard with scarcely a stop, you can make it by tomorrow eve. Stay no more than a
day, for that leaves us very little time to preserve my brother-in-law's
life."

Duncan eyed Stephan
questioningly. "Your brother-in-law?"

Stephan nodded, steering the young
knight in the direction of his partially-collapsed camp. "If all went
according to plan, Bose married my sister last night."

Duncan was visibly surprised.
"And how would you know this?"

Stephan smiled. "Because I
helped them to elope. Surely you did not believe I would see my sister married
to a man who broke my wrist. Now, off with you. The entire situation depends
upon your speed and persuasion, Duncan. Make me proud."

Make me proud
. Breck had never uttered such
encouraging words and more than ever, Duncan was determined to do his very best
for the sake of all concerned. Were it not for his brother, none of this would
have happened. He needed to make restitution for the Kerry name.

"I will, Stephan," his
voice was quiet. "I promise, I shall not fail."

Stephan met the soft green eyes,
feeling a good deal of trust and compassion for the younger brother of a most
evil warrior. And if the man's eyes were a window to his soul, Stephan could
see that the soul was as clear as a bottomless mountain lake.

"I know," slapping him
on the shoulder once more, he turned in the direction of Chaldon's stables.
"Ride hard, Duncan. At this moment, I am bound for Ravendark to make sure
your brother doesn't do anything foolish to my sister and her new husband
should he be fortunate enough to ensnare them. If a trial is imminent, I'll
delay as best I can."

Duncan had never run so fast in
his entire life.

***

Three miles out of Ravendark,
Summer found the day to be bright and lovely. Leaving Salisbury at dawn, she
had been surprised that Dag had not seen them off; Bose, too, had seemed
concerned with his cousin's lack of appearance but refrained from voicing his
distress. The necessary marriage documents had await him and that was the only
true matter of import.

So they pushed onward, traveling
through the dark, misty morn as Summer slumbered lightly against her husband's
armored chest. When the sun exploded upon the wide horizon and burned away the
lingering haze, Lady de Moray found herself roused for the coming day by a husband
weary of riding alone and silent as his wife dozed the time away.

Refreshed and free of the
sneezing that had plagued her most of the night, Summer was unperturbed that
Bose had aroused her to a clear morning and spent most of her time observing
the scenery as soft conversation flowed.

"This is my property,"
Bose said from behind her, his visor raised and his stubbled face vigilant.
"My men and I hunt in these woods constantly."

"Hunt?" Summer frowned.
"What do you hunt? My b-brothers like to hunt, but I forbid them to kill
anything precious or sweet."

He cocked an eyebrow. "That
leaves very little choice."

She grinned, turning to face him.
"Untrue. You have my permission to kill wild boar or opossum or skunk. But
I forbid you to kill rabbit or deer."

"I like to kill deer."

"No longer. Sate your blood
lust on a useless, ugly animal."

"Like Breck?"

Summer laughed. "We shall
d-display his head above our hearth and throw the rest of the carcass to the
dogs."

He grinned. "How barbaric,
Lady de Moray. I like the idea very much."

She continued to smile, touching
his scarred cheek. "'Twould be justice well served. Speaking of the Devil,
how are your stitches."

"Itching," he grumbled,
putting his fingers to his scalp as if she had reminded him of his discomfort.
"I must wash my hair tonight of the sweat and dirt so that the wound does
not fester."

"I cleaned it well enough so
that is s-should not become infected," she said, catching sight of the
delicate black sutures. After a moment, her gaze trailed to the three parallel
scars that ran along his cheek, touching the thick, puckered skin. "I
doubt the scar will be worse that these. How did you acquire them?"

"Margot," he replied
without hesitation. "She did this to me on the day I learned of Lora's
death. 'Twas her way of expressing her grief, I suppose, raking her nails
across my face in anguish."

Summer's pleasant expression
vanished, her eyes taking on a distinct countenance of horror. "Good Lord,
Bose... she
scratched
you? I believed you to have encountered a wild
animal or... or a terrible weapon of some kind. D-Do you mean to tell me that a
frail old woman rent these scars across your face?"

He nodded faintly, kissing her
hand when it came close to his lips. "She did. And I let her." When
Summer's appalled expression focused inquisitively on his onyx-black eyes, he
found he could hardly hold her gaze. "'Tis difficult to explain. It was as
if I welcomed the pain, as if somehow I was accepting punishment for Lora's
death. Accepting judgment for what I had done."

Summer's features softened.
"We've had this discussion b-before," she said quietly. "You did
not kill Lora. 'Twas God's will that she perished in childbirth and you must
come to realize that."

He merely shrugged and looked
away, but Summer would not be put off so easily. Her intelligent mind began to
work. "Tell me, Bose; if C-Chaldon was under attack and I asked you to
help defend her, would you do it?"

"Without hesitation. 'Tis my
duty, as your husband."

"And you would do it
gladly?"

"Of course."

Summer cocked her head. "And
if you were killed, would it be my fault for asking you to fight?"

He could see where she was
leading and he shut his mouth, refusing to answer her until she grasped his
chin and forced him to look at her. Eye to eye, his stubborn stance melted in
the wake of her searing golden gaze.

"Nay, love. It would not be
your fault."

She cocked a well-defined brow.
"But I asked it of you."

He sighed, knowing the answer she
was expecting. "And I complied willingly."

She smiled. So did he. Gently,
she kissed his smooth lips. "You see? Lora was willing to make the
attempt, knowing it was her duty in life. And her attempt failed, but it had
nothing to do with you."

He held her gaze a moment,
sighing heavily and with great emotion. Grasping the back of her head with his
free hand, he kissed her until she squealed. "You are far too wise for
your own good, Lady de Moray," he murmured against her lips. "I
realize that I will never be able to win an argument against you."

Summer smiled and his kissed her teeth.
"Never," she agreed. "Your days of domination are ended."

Exhaling with contentment, Summer
turned to face forward on the charger once again, eager to reach Ravendark and
commence her new life. For certain, she had never felt so completely satisfied
or needed, as a wife should be; the world that had eluded her grasp was finally
hers for the taking and she was eager to know the progression of her newly
content existence. Around her waist, Bose's arm tightened and she smiled,
patting his gloved hand. He was anxious to reach his fortress, too, for more
reasons than she could grasp.

"Do you s-suppose your
knights are waiting for us?" she asked.

"If they left Chaldon when
we did, undoubtedly," Bose could nearly see the tip of his northern turret
in the distance. "In fact, I should have expected to meet a welcoming
party by now."

Summer looked about, the heavy
clusters of foliage and endless meadows beyond. "We are still a good
distance out," she offered helpfully, noting Bose appeared somewhat
perturbed when she turned to look at him. "T-Tell me, husband; what are
Ravendark's sundry functions?"

Bose answered even though he was
still on the lookout for his knights.. "Aside from the fortune I have
built on the tournament circuit, Ravendark has three small herds of cattle.  We
do adequately well selling beeves and hide."

"No textiles or sheep?"

"This isn't Yorkshire,
Summer," he said with a faint smile. "The Wiltshire countryside is
fairly devoid of lush lands and soil. But there is enough to sustain the cattle
and whatever flocks the villiens cultivate."

She pondered his statement a
moment, indeed noticing the chalky downs that covered the Wiltshire landscape.
"S-Surely with all of this land, Ravendark can be made far more profitable
by increasing her herds and expanding her interests. Have you ever given
thought to raising goat for their milk and cheese?"

He raised an eyebrow, amused.
"You mentioned that your father's steward schooled you in basic learning.
Am I now to be the recipient of your grand knowledge of profit and
fortune?"

She laughed softly. "I
t-took over all stewardship duties when Kermit passed away last winter and I am
rather proud of the fact that Chaldon has never run more smoothly. I can do the
same for Ravendark too."

He nodded faintly, knowing she
was an intelligent and educated woman but truly having no idea how deeply the
vein of knowledge ran. Instead of feeling threatened by her mind as most men
would have been, the idea of his brilliant wife taking charge of Ravendark and
her holdings pleased him immensely. She pleased him immensely.

"I would be very interested
in any and all ideas you might have on the subject, Lady de Moray."

Resting against her husband's
mighty chest armor, Summer was flattered by his declaration of confidence; not
all men were acceptant of a woman whose intellectual education neared their
own.

"We make a good deal of
cheese at Chaldon," she continued on thoughtfully. "Mayhap we could
use the milk f-from your cattle to mass-produce cheese and sell it. If we make
enough money, mayhap you can leave the tournament circuit altogether."

"And help you make
cheese?"

She nodded, feeling his soft
chuckle against her ear. "Blue V-Vinny cheese is delicious. It's
indigenous to Dorset, you know. Why, the entire province is famous for its
blue-veined cheese and…."

In the quieting trees flanking
the dirt trail, a branch snapped loudly and Bose suddenly stiffened in the
saddle, interrupting his wife's prattle as his entire body tensed with
anticipation. He was already moving for his sword when the bleak foliage
surrounding the roadway suddenly came alive with men on horseback, shouting and
whooping in a most terrifying manner.

Summer shrieked, instinctively
covering her face protectively as Bose deftly collected his shield, throwing it
up in front of his wife in an effort to protect her from the onslaught. But the
destrier startled as the roar turned deafening, rearing on its hind legs in
fear. With both hands occupied, Bose had no chance to grab her as she fell to
the dusty road in a heap.

"Summer!" he cried,
using an impassioned tone she had never heard before. "Hurry, love, come
to me! Come to...!"

His desperate plea was cut short
as several men rushed him, bombarding him with their swords and battleaxes.
Summer shrieked again, laboring to regain her footing as massive hooves
threatened to crush her. Stumbling away from the action, she fell to her knees
on the damp grass, ugly green stains ground deep into the fabric. She barely
had a chance to regain her balance and her breath when gloved hands were
grabbing harshly at her wrist.