A Knight of Honor (27 page)

A smile barely reached the corner of her lips, and her eyelids drooped closed again.

Slane returned to his vigil at the window, as if he might spot Taylor roaming the town, even though he knew she wouldn’t be there.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.
 
Slane turned to see his close friend, John Flynn, enter the room.
 
Slane rushed forward to greet John, grasping his arm in the customary greeting.
 
He’d wondered where John had gotten to; he was afraid this horrible plague had killed his friend.
 
But now, seeing John standing in the doorway, Slane knew he could leave to find Taylor and Elizabeth would be well cared for.

“Slane!” John greeted, a grim grin spreading across his features.
 
“I’m so glad you’ve finally arrived.”

His hazel eyes showed none of the easy happiness that Slane remembered.
 
He wore a sword strapped to his waist which was unusual, especially inside the safety of the castle walls.
 
His dark brown hair had been cut into a bowl shape, no doubt at Elizabeth’s urging.
 
She had been trying to get Slane to cut his hair into the latest fashion for the last six months.

“Elizabeth’s been calling for you,” John continued.
 
Warm hazel eyes stared hard at him.
 
“You did come back for Elizabeth, didn’t you?”

Slane looked away, unable to meet John’s eyes.
 
“I was escorting Taylor to Castle Donovan when –”

“You found Taylor Sullivan?” John asked, excitement in his voice.

Slane nodded.
 
“I also lost her.”

“What do you mean?”

“We had an argument and she left,” Slane admitted.

“Left?” John wondered.
 
“You didn’t bind her?”

“I’m not a barbarian,” Slane snapped.

“Maybe you should have,” John suggested.

“She is not a possession.
 
She is a woman.”

Elizabeth tossed her head, shifting in the bed, and Slane lifted his eyes to his betrothed.
 
When she settled again, he lowered his voice.
 
“Richard is wrong to do this to her.”

John shrugged.
 
“It’s not your choice to make.”

Slane grunted and turned away from John.
 
“Regardless, I have to go after her.”

“You can’t leave Elizabeth like this!” John said sternly.
 
“I don’t think she has the Black Death on her, but she’s quite ill nonetheless.”

Slane’s eyes shifted to Elizabeth.
 
She was so pale and helpless.
 
He groaned inwardly.
 
He knew he couldn’t leave Elizabeth’s side.
 
His responsibility was here.
 
With her.

“Someone else will find the Sullivan woman,” John soothed.
 
“Richard will have his betrothed.”

Slane’s eyes snapped back to John.
 
He seized his friend’s arm in a painful grip.
 
“You have to find her,” he told him urgently.
 
“You have to find her before someone else does.”

Confused, but reading the obvious desperation and insistence in his friend’s plea, John nodded his head.
 
“I’ll try.”

***

The next day, Slane sat in the Great Hall, staring into a mug of ale.
 
The large room was strangely empty, only the most loyal servants remaining behind to see to their lady.
 
And they weren’t numerous.
 
Slane could count them on one hand.
 
He cursed the deserters silently.
 
Elizabeth hadn’t needed them anyway.
 
The fever had finally broken the previous night, and now she was resting comfortably.
 
Slane knew she would make it.

He also knew that Taylor might not be so lucky.
 
She was out there among the sick, fighting for her life.
 
Alone.
 
He shot to his feet and began to pace, cursing his brother for this mission.

And what had happened to John?
 
He had sent him out a day ago and still had heard no word.
 
Had he sent his friend to his death?

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he heard footfalls and lifted his gaze to the double doors at the opposite end of the room.
 
John headed toward him.

Slane moved quickly toward his friend.
 
“Well?” he asked.
 
“Is she here?
 
Did you find her?”

John scowled and shook his head.
 
“I can find no trace of her.
 
No one’s seen her.
 
It’s as if she’s vanished.”

Slane sighed.
 
He knew well about her vanishing.
 
Too well.
 
What could she be thinking?
 
Where could she be headed?

“How is lady Elizabeth?” John asked.

Slane nodded.
 
“Much better.
 
The fever’s broken.
 
She’ll be fine.”

“Thank the Lord,” John sighed.

Slane knew he should feel lucky, but he didn’t.
 
He felt miserable and concerned.
 
“Have some ale,” he instructed.
 
“There’s a pot of porridge in the kitchen.
 
Help yourself.”
 
He continued past John toward the doors.

“Where are you going?” John demanded.

Slane hesitated for a moment.
 
With all his being, he wanted to pursue Taylor.
 
But he knew that was impossible.
 
“To see Elizabeth,” he said with a heavy heart.

***

Elizabeth opened her eyes.
 
The sunlight streamed into her room through the open shutters.
 
But something dark was blocking the sun from her eyes.
 
For a moment she thought it was John, but then her eyes adjusted to golden hair that hung in shimmering waves to thick shoulders and knew it was her beloved.
 
Her spirits soared and she felt almost like her old self once again.
 
She pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Slane turned from the window at her movement.
 
There was worry and a slight scowl to his brow, which seemed to vanish when he saw her sitting up in the bed.
 
He moved to her side and Elizabeth reached out a hand for him.

His large hand engulfed hers, sheltering it in warmth.
 
“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Better,” Elizabeth smiled.
 
“Now that you’re here.”

A troubled look clouded his blue eyes for a moment, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared.
 
He smiled at her, but Elizabeth could see the tension around the corners of his lips.
 
“Is something wrong?” she wondered.

“No,” he said.
 
“Everything will be fine now that you’re getting better.”
 
He patted her hand.

Elizabeth’s gaze dropped down to his hand.
 
He was patting her hand absently, as if his mind were on something else.
 
“Your search for that girl isn’t over yet is it?”

Slane withdrew his hand and stood.
 
“No,” he admitted.

Elizabeth felt a twinge of disappointment in her breast.
 
He was going to leave her again.
 
That was why he was acting so distracted.
 
She wished he didn’t have to spend all of his time in search of another woman, but she knew that was what his honor demanded.
 
And she would have him no other way.
 
“It’s all right, darling,” she tried to soothe him.
 
“Truly.”

He studied her for a moment.
 
Then he suddenly came forward and knelt at her bedside.
 
He took her hand into his and pressed his forehead against her wrists.
 
“Oh, Elizabeth,” he groaned, “I’m so sorry.”

She stroked his golden hair.
 
“You don’t have to be, Slane,” she murmured.

But Slane remained in his reverent position for a long time.
 
When he finally rose, his shoulders were squared, and there was determination in his voice.
 
“We leave for Castle Donovan in two days.”

S
lane reined his horse in outside the Queen’s Inn and quickly dismounted.
 
For three days, he had tried not to show his desperation and anxiety.
 
John had gone out one more time to search for Taylor.
 
But Slane knew that by then she would be long gone.

Now he turned to John and said, “Stay here with lady Elizabeth.
 
I will see if they have any rooms available.”

John nodded and Slane stepped into the inn.

The inn was a tide of bodies.
 
There would be no rooms tonight -- that much was obvious.
 
Slane doubted if there would even be any floor space come nightfall.
 
Even so, something made him stand in the doorway and sweep the inn’s large common room with his gaze.
 
She will not be here, Slane reminded himself.
 
But I will find her again.
 
This I vow.

Eyes full of fear caught his stare; eyes full of hopelessness turned away.
 
Men, women, children -- all running from an invisible enemy, not knowing where or when or whom it would strike.
 
I’m wasting my time here, Slane realized and started to turn back to the door.
 
That was when he caught a glimpse of something familiar.
 
A woman’s tunic.
 
A familiar set of leggings.
 
He turned back to the room.
 
She was sitting in the back, her unkempt hair shielding her face.
 
He moved forward and the crowd seemed to part for him.
 
She sat motionless, her hands folded on the wooden table, her hair hanging wild as if it hadn’t been combed for days.
 
Her tunic was ripped near her shoulder, and there was dried blood around it.
 
Her head and shoulders were slumped as if she were sleeping.
 
He could hardly believe his eyes, his luck!
 
“Taylor?” he wondered aloud.

“Hello,” she muttered.

The relief that had begun to course through him at finding her was instantly replaced by growing concern.
 
She had been hurt recently, and badly.
 
There were rips in her clothing, sword cuts -- he was sure of it.
 
And from the looks of the wounds, they hadn’t been cleaned properly.
 
“Taylor?” Slane repeated when she didn’t look up.
 
“You don’t look so good.”
 
A fierce protectiveness flared within him.
 
“Come on,” he said.
 
“I’m taking you with me.”