A Knight of Honor (18 page)

Slane had a sudden desire to ease the blanket over her breasts, to gaze on their luscious, perfect peaks.

“It took you long enough,” she whispered.

Suddenly, his throat felt even drier.
 
“Did they...
 
hurt you?”

“Just my pride.”

Slane felt something move in his hand, and he glanced down to see that he still held her hand in his.
 
He knew he should let go of her now, but something in his stubborn fingers refused the command his mind had given them.

The green of her eyes shone through the tendrils that coiled around her face, blazing like hot emeralds sparkling in bright sunlight.
 
How could she stand there looking so beautiful after being viciously attacked? he wondered.
 
God’s blood!
 
She was almost glowing.
 
Didn’t she know what she was doing to him?
 
She knew.
 
Slane was sure of it.
 
The little vixen was trying to seduce him, to draw him away from his code, his oaths.

And it was working.
 
He quickly let go of her hand and took a step back, almost tripping over his own feet in his hurry.
 
“Yes, well...”
 
He cleared his throat as he shifted his gaze to Hugh.
 
“I’ll have the innkeeper remove these bodies and –”

She straightened up, and he could have sworn he saw something akin to fear cross her face before the familiar look of nonchalance entered her eyes.

Slane faltered.
 
Who knew what other men were looking for her?
 
He already knew Corydon was hunting her, and if this buffoon Hugh could enter her room so easily...
 
How could he just leave her on her own after all this?

How could he not?

“How did they get in?” Slane wondered.

Taylor shrugged and pulled the blanket up.
 
“They were here when I woke up.”

Slane felt a twinge of disappointment as she turned her back on him.
 
He wanted to keep looking at her beautiful face forever.

Gripping the blanket close to her chest, she looked imperious as she stepped over Hugh.
 
When she sat on the bed, it was as if she were a queen taking her royal throne.

“Did you lock the door?” he asked her.

“Do I look like a fool?”

No, he thought.
 
He knew she had locked the door.
 
He had reminded her to do so at least twice.
 
Then there was only one other answer, only one person who could have opened the door.
 
Or allowed it to be opened.
 
The innkeeper.
 
Slane turned to the door.

“Slane?”

He slowed his steps at the softness in her voice, not quite sure he had ever heard such hesitant uncertainty in her words before.

“Maybe you could...
 
stay for a little while,” she suggested.

Slane faltered.
 
“Stay?” he repeated.
 
Lord, how he wanted to.
 
But Elizabeth.
 
No.
 
Taylor was dangerous.
 
He couldn’t stay.
 
Not another moment.
 
“I can’t.”
 
A long silence stretched between them.
 
“You’ll be all right if you lock the door,” he urged, trying to reassure himself more than her.
 
When she didn’t reply, he looked over his shoulder at her...
 
and knew he shouldn’t have.

She sat with her back as straight as a board, her toes just barely touching the floor.
 
She held the blanket in a balled fist at her chest.
 
Her hair hung in dark waves around her shoulders, down her arms to her waist.
 
She was a damned goddess.

“Yes,” she whispered.
 
“I suppose you’re right.”

Slane took a deep breath.
 
He was glad she was being rational.
 
He was glad she could see his side of the dilemma.
 
He reached for the handle of the door, a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

“After all, we wouldn’t want to compromise your reputation.
 
It would be most dishonorable for you to spend more than five minutes in a room with the likes of me.
 
Why, what would those toothless farmers think of you?”

Slane’s shoulders slumped as her words stung him.
 
Because they were the truth or because they made a mockery of who he was?
 
Or was it both? he wondered.
 
Slane hesitated for a moment his sense of duty warring with his sense of right and wrong.
 
Then he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

***

Slane cleaned his sword in his room with a rag, sheathed it and then headed down the stairs.
 
His eyes took in everything: the empty room, the dying fire, the long shadows on the wall.
 
He was certain the man he had let live had long since fled the vicinity.
 
Finally, he spotted the innkeeper seated at a table near the back of the common room, his head slumped forward, resting on his chest.
 
As Slane moved over to him, he could see that the innkeeper’s eyes were closed.

So that’s how they managed to sneak by, Slane thought as he stopped before the man.
 
He was sleeping and they lifted the keys from him.
 
His outrage grew, simmering in his blood, ready to explode like an angry volcano.
 
When he thought about what could have happened to Taylor because of this fool...

“Sir, I am displeased with the service here,” Slane snarled in a clipped tone.

The innkeeper did not move.

Slane reached across the table and placed a firm hand on the innkeeper’s shoulder.
 
“Listen, you bloody fool –” he began, but stopped short as the man slumped forward, his face hitting the table.

Slane pulled back at the sight of the dagger protruding from the innkeeper’s back.
 
His gaze shifted up the stairs toward Taylor’s room.
 
What had he gotten himself into? he wondered.

S
lane spent the entire morning explaining to the Sheriff what had happened at the inn.
 
Taylor would have left their corpses to rot without saying a word to anyone.
 
But not Slane.
 
She doubted he could even conceive of such a thought.

As it was, Slane did all the talking.
 
The Sheriff never even bothered to ask her any questions.
 
Not one.
 
For that alone, she was grateful to Slane.
 
Then, finally, the Sheriff let them go on their way.
 
She and Slane set out for Edinbrook.

Now, after riding for hours, Taylor could see the town in the distance.
 
Nestled in the small valley that spread out below them, small thatched buildings budded from the landscape like tiny flowers, all of them encompassed by a stone wall.
 
Like a brooding overlord, the towering castle of Edinbrook loomed over the town from the east -- a stone-faced, stern parent looking down upon its innocent children.

She looked away from the castle, back to the town, and sighed quietly.
 
Another bed.
 
She could get used to traveling this way.
 
A smile curved her lips.

“You find the landscape pleasing?”

Taylor turned her gaze to Slane.
 
He rode beside her, his body gently rolling back and forth with the horse’s steps.
 
She shifted her gaze back to the hills.
 
A soft breeze floated to her and she inhaled the scent of the valley’s flowers.
 
“Not particularly.”

Slane scowled slightly.
 
“What did you take from Hugh to make him so angry?” he finally said.

Taylor’s gaze swept his face, his furrowed eyebrows, the set of his jaw.
 
He was used to having his questions answered -- that much was obvious from the expectant look in his eyes.
 
But it wasn’t just those clear blue eyes she saw.
 
It wasn’t just the anticipation of her response that lingered there.
 
It was his disapproval.
 
His judgment.
 
The way he had turned on her when she had cut Hugh.
 
She looked away from him.
 
“You wouldn’t believe me,” she answered.

“I always believe the truth,” he told her.

Taylor pursed her lips in thought.
 
She knew she could lie to him to save her own dishonorable reputation.
 
The last thing she wanted was for Slane to see her as some mercenary with a heart of gold.
 
Because she wasn’t that.
 
In fact, she was just the opposite.
 
But Slane wanted the truth.

“Hugh was a worthless bag of human filth.
 
He was probably out here looking for new flesh for his business.”

Slane nodded.
 
“A brothel.”

“No,” Taylor answered.
 
“Servitude.
 
Of course, if he couldn’t get his price from a lord or a knight or even a freeman, he’d turn to selling their bodies for a moment of sick pleasure.
 
He’d wear out the body and leave the woman on the street for the vultures.”
 
She’d seen him do it.
 
She’d seen him abandon a woman so used and hurt that she couldn’t defend herself against the ravages of the street.
 
It sickened Taylor.

“Are you saying... that you...”
 
Slane seemed shocked.

She turned her gaze to him in disbelief.
 
She had never whored a day in her life!
 
She sighed and shook her head.
 
“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me,” she murmured and spurred her horse on to a canter.
 
He would never understand her.
 
He could never see past the tough outer skin.
 
And she didn’t want him to.

Slane overrode her, catching her horse’s reins in his hand and bringing her mount to a halt.
 
“So you escaped?”

Taylor remembered the fighting and the screaming.
 
“Yes,” she said placatingly.
 
“We escaped.”
 
She didn’t have to mention the small girl Hugh had taken from her parents whom she and Jared had rescued.

“With Jared’s help.”

“I couldn’t have done it without him.”
 
Jared had fought beside her, protecting both the girl and Taylor’s back.

“And Hugh wanted you back?”

“Look, it was a long time ago.
 
Why don’t we just forget it?”
 
She smiled at him, but there was such pity in his large blue eyes that it made her angry.
 
“You fool,” she growled.
 
“It wasn’t me.
 
Hugh had stolen a gypsy girl from her mother.
 
Jared and I –”

“You rescued the girl?”

His incredulous tone made her even angrier.
 
“We were well paid,” she said.