A Knight of Honor (21 page)

She resisted at first, fighting the gesture of friendship.
 
But then she sighed and leaned into him heavily.

“I wish you luck with this crazy scheme of yours.
 
Whatever it is that you’re planning, I hope it turns out as you wish,” Alexander whispered.
 
But he knew it wouldn’t.
 
And he knew there was only one way to protect her.
 
His gaze shifted to Slane Donovan.

***

Slane pulled a loaf of bread from his saddlebags.
 
He had bought the loaf back in Sudbury, and the crust was now hard and flaky.
 
He broke off a small piece and raised it to his lips, turning to look for Taylor.
 
But the small chunk of bread never reached his mouth as he froze at the sight that greeted him.
 
Fury flamed through his body with every stroke of Alexander’s hand on Taylor’s back.

A nagging pain flared in Slane’s jaw, and he realized he was clenching it so tightly that his muscles ached.
 
Taylor rested her head against Alexander’s shoulder with all the familiarity of lovers.
 
With the ease she displayed around this man, he half expected her to be rolling in the grass with him by nightfall.

He whirled away from the troubling scene, and more, from his sudden impulse to bash this man’s face in.
 
He looked down to find his hands were clenched into fists, the bread smashed between them.

Disgusted with himself, he tossed the loaf away.
 
He should be thinking of Elizabeth, alone, waiting for him, instead of dwelling on another man touching Taylor.

He forced himself to walk calmly to the stream.
 
It wasn’t his concern what Taylor did with her life.
 
He had his own life to live.
 
Elizabeth.
 
He forced an image of her to the front of his mind, struggling to find it in his memory, shocked at how long it took to remember that she had large brown eyes.
 
Large brown eyes that would look at him with complete trust.
 
Over the course of the year, the unease between Elizabeth and himself had diminished.
 
Now they could sit in companionable company and even laugh together.
 
He remembered her soft little chuckles, the way her hand covered her mouth as she laughed, almost as if it had been unladylike to show any sign of amusement.
 
He missed her.
 
Yes, as one would miss a sister.

He glanced over his shoulder at Taylor and Alexander, catching a glimpse of them between the horses.
 
They had separated but still stood close.
 
Close enough for Alexander to reach out and caress her cheek.

Slane scowled.
 
What was Taylor doing to him?
 
It was the kiss, he told himself.
 
The lingering, ghostly taste of her lips.
 
He had to remember his duty.
 
He had to see her back to Castle Donovan.
 
Beyond that, she wasn’t his concern.

“Donovan?”

Slane turned to find Alexander standing beside him.
 
His jaw started to throb.

“This is as far as I ride,” Alexander told him.

Relief coursed through Slane so completely and intensely that he suddenly felt light-headed.
 
His hands opened; his jaw relaxed.
 
The muscles in his shoulders loosened.
 
All he could do was nod in response.

Alexander chuckled.
 
He cast a glance back at Taylor, and Slane followed his gaze.
 
She stood beneath a large maple tree, looking small and very vulnerable.
 
When Alexander returned his eyes to Slane, there was a hardness there.
 
“Sully’s been leaving scrolls behind for Corydon, inviting him to find her.”

“No!”

“It was one of the ways I found you so easily.
 
And rest assured that Corydon’s men are very close behind.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Slane said, casting a glance at Taylor.
 
She had seated herself beneath the tree, her knees drawn up to her chest.

Alexander shrugged.
 
“I found a letter in Sudbury and another at an inn between Sudbury and Edinbrook.”

“You’re lying,” Slane snarled.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed.
 
“If I were a lesser man, I’d have to challenge you for besmirching my good name.
 
Just keep an eye on her.”
 
He turned away from Slane, heading for his horse.

Why? Slane asked himself.
 
Why in heaven’s name would she do something like that?
 
It made no sense.
 
But what about Taylor Sullivan ever made sense?

T
aylor studied the thatched ceiling of the Village Inn in Trenton.
 
The candle burning beside her bed threw shadows up onto the ceiling.
 
Deep shadows.
 
Dark shadows.
 
Black shadows.
 
Black shadows that looked like men dressed in black robes.
 
The flames flickered, taunting her with shadows that stalked along the thatch, wielding their shadowy weapons as they hunted their prey.

Her anger had kept her awake well into the night, her determination fueling her mission.
 
Seeing Alexander, talking of Jared, had only served to re-ignite her rage.
 
Jared would be avenged.
 
She would see to that.
 
No matter what the cost to herself.
 
Or even to Slane if he stood in the way.

Slane.
 
Why did he leave her senses so muddled and confused?
 
Everything else seemed simple and clear.
 
Simple because there was only one thing: Avenge Jared.
 
That was all that mattered.
 
If I concentrate on that, then nothing else can interfere.

Finally, she rose from her bed, took a piece of parchment and a small container from her sack and settled down on the floor beside the bed.
 
She lifted her right hand and stared for a moment at the ring that encircled her finger.
 
Two crossed swords over an S.
 
The Sullivan crest.
 
Her mother’s ring.

Taylor plugged the small container with one finger and turned it upside down.
 
She carefully replaced it on the floor.
 
A large black circle now covered the tip of her index finger.
 
She carefully smeared the ink over the crest on the ring and then pressed the crest to the paper, giving it an official seal.
 
She wiped her finger and the ring on the blanket.

Then she rolled the parchment and stood, moving to the door.
 
She paused, listening for any sounds, but there was no noise.
 
Carefully, she opened the door and glanced down the hallway.
 
Slane’s door was closed, the hallway empty.

Taylor headed out of her room, quietly closing the door.
 
She moved into the common room, searching for the innkeeper.
 
She found the man fixing a broken chair leg.
 
His head was bent over his work, his bald head reflecting the dying firelight from the hearth.
 
He glanced up at her as she approached.

She held out the rolled parchment to him.
 
“If a lord named Corydon comes here, give this to him,” she instructed.
 
“Tell him it’s from Taylor Sullivan.”

The innkeeper lifted his gaze to lock with hers, then shifted it to the parchment.
 
He reached out to take the offered paper, but suddenly another, larger hand darted in and snatched it from Taylor’s fingers.

“I’ll take that.”

Taylor jumped and spun to find Slane standing behind her, the parchment firmly in his grip.
 
Her heart lurched in her chest.
 
She reached out to seize the scroll from his hand, but he deftly moved it out of her reach.

He unrolled the parchment and his blue eyes studied the paper for a long moment before rising to gleam at her.

She swallowed hard, every instinct in her body telling her to run, to escape the fury she could see burning in his gaze.
 
Instead, she lifted her head and boldly stared back at him.

His eyes never left hers as he told the innkeeper, “If you’ll excuse us.”

Taylor could hear the barely restrained anger in his voice.
 
Shivers of dread shot up her body.

With an understanding nod, the innkeeper set the chair aside and moved off down the hall.

Slane’s heated gaze bore into her.
 
He lowered his hand and she saw it clench around the parchment.
 
For one, wild moment, she thought he would strike her.
 
And he did, with his words.

“Are you mad?” he demanded in a hushed whisper.
 
“Do demons possess you?”

Oh, yes, demons possessed her.
 
But not the kind he meant.
 
Her chin rose a notch.

He lifted his clenched fist to hold the wadded parchment before her eyes.
 
“What is this all about?”

She opened her mouth to explain, but then stopped.
 
How could she tell him of her fierce determination to avenge Jared’s death?
 
Of her agony over losing him?
 
She had no intention of exposing herself to his ridicule.
 
She closed her mouth and moved to turn away.

Slane grabbed her arm in a brutal grip and dragged her deeper into the common room, closer to the hearth.
 
Her eyes shifted anxiously to the flames before she ripped free of Slane’s grip and moved away from the hearth toward the stairs.
 
Slane quickly followed, grabbing her arm to halt her.
 
“You will tell me what you intended with these letters.
 
Did you intend to betray me?”

Confusion flashed in her eyes.
 
Then she shook her head.
 
“I intended for Corydon to find me,” she admitted.

Slane’s eyes narrowed to mere glints of hot blue.
 
“He killed your friend.
 
Have you a wish to join Jared?”

Taylor’s gaze narrowed to match Slane’s.

He shook her arm.
 
“We were lucky last time to escape unscathed.
 
Jared was not so lucky.
 
He died protecting you!”

Her own guilt spoken on Slane’s lips drove a dagger into her heart.
 
Her vision suddenly blurred.

“He sacrificed his life for your freedom.
 
Well, I’m not going to give my life for you.”
 
He tossed the parchment to the floor and moved to step past her.
 
“You can play that game alone.”

“He knew the risks of traveling with me,” she snarled.
 
“He knew his life was in danger every day he spent with me.”

Slane whirled on her, his teeth ground tight.
 
“He was your friend!
 
And now you court his killer like some lover!
 
If Corydon knows where we’re headed, don’t you think he’ll do everything in his power to stop us?”