A Knight of Honor (32 page)

What had she expected?
 
She certainly didn’t want to see Elizabeth.
 
And she knew that Slane was doing everything in his power to stay away from her.

“Can I get ya something?”

Taylor glanced up to see the innkeeper.
 
Rollins was his name, she remembered.
 
She gave him a small grin.
 
“An ale,” she said.
 
She heard his footsteps disappear into the rear of the inn.

Taylor rested her chin against the back of the chair.
 
She didn’t need anyone.
 
She could survive by herself.
 
Then why did she feel such loneliness inside her?

Something rubbed against her leg and she looked down.
 
A calico cat turned to brush against her leg again.

A feeling of desolation swept through her and she reached down to stroke the cat’s fur.
 
I don’t need anyone, she stubbornly told herself.
 
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
 
And stop thinking about him.

“There she is,” Taylor heard a woman’s voice whisper.
 
Her hand froze and the cat dashed away.

Two sets of footsteps moved toward her.
 
Her jaw clenched and her eyelids drooped as the familiar disdain washed over her, shielding her heart.

“Slane was worried about you when he found your room empty,” Elizabeth said to Taylor’s back.

Taylor couldn’t look at them together.
 
The image of Slane kissing Elizabeth’s cheek surged to the front of her memory, and no matter how hard she tried to push it aside, it stubbornly remained embedded in her mind’s eye.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Slane said.
 
“Not this soon.”

The timbre of his voice sent tremors through her body.
 
Taylor tried to ignore them, but a part of her heart was crumbling.

After a long moment of awkward silence, Elizabeth asked, “How are you feeling?”

Taylor didn’t answer.
 
How could she respond when she would feel better dead?

“You are looking better,” Elizabeth observed.
 
“Now all we need to do is give your hair a proper washing and you’ll be quite an attractive girl.
 
Won’t she, Slane?”

There was no response, but Taylor could feel Slane’s gaze on her back.

“I’m certain Richard will find you most delightful,” Elizabeth continued.
 
Taylor swore she heard contempt in the other woman’s voice.

What difference would it make what Richard thought of her?
 
All she wanted was to join forces with him and kill Corydon.
 
For Jared.
 
Taylor stood and turned, sweeping her eyes over the couple.
 
They were perfect.
 
A knight in shining armor and his lady.
 
Her stomach turned over.
 
They belonged together.
 
There was no room for an outcast mercenary.

Her eyes locked on Slane’s, and she thought she saw a shimmer of sympathy there before he averted his gaze to Elizabeth.

For a moment, silence settled over them like a storm cloud moving in front of the sun.
 
Unease speared the quiet like lightning.

Finally, Taylor brushed past Slane and hurried up the stairs, preferring her chilly room to any company.
 
She knew she couldn’t stay here.
 
Every day she stayed, she destroyed more of herself.
 
She had never cared about too much in her life; so why should it hurt so much to see Slane kissing Elizabeth?
 
She shouldn’t care two coins about him.
 
She shouldn’t give a damn what he thought or whom he kissed.

But somehow she did.

She moved into her room and sat on the bed.
 
She would leave; she must.
 
Even if it meant facing another Magnus Gale.
 
But her wound was still not healed; it ached and throbbed even now.
 
She couldn’t travel yet.
 
The jarring movements of a horse might very well rip the stitches wide open.

The door opened.
 
“Taylor?”

Taylor looked up, and the vision of Slane standing in the doorway, outlined by the dancing light from the hallway torch, made her unguarded heart stop beating.
 
The torchlight swept over his blond hair and painted the tip of his sword gold.
 
Then he shut the door behind him, sealing himself in the darkness.
 
In her darkness.

She reached for the sack on the table beside her bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“You should be more concerned about your betrothed.”

“You said you’d stay until your wounds are healed.”

She raised her eyes to lock with his.
 
“Some wounds won’t heal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Taylor stood up, her eyes searching his face.
 
But the darkness in her room hid his expression from her.
 
She lit the candle on the table, careful to keep her fingers well away from the flame, and turned to look at him.
 
“It means that, if I stay any longer, one of us will be hurt.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” he replied, whirling away from her.

“Slane,” she shook her head.
 
“I can’t stay.”

“Why?” he asked.

Taylor gave a snort of laughter.
 
“Because I don’t like Elizabeth,” she answered.
 
“And I don’t think she likes me.”

“Elizabeth?”
 
Slane turned back to her, surprised.
 
“She’s gentle, kind, beautiful.
 
What don’t you like about her?”

Taylor leaned against the table with a sigh.
 
“I don’t like her because she’s gentle, kind, and beautiful.”
 
She watched anger deepen the lines near his eyebrows.

“Don’t mock me,” he warned.

“I’m not,” Taylor said.

“If you leave, you’ll be hunted down like an animal.
 
You know what Magnus did to you.
 
I couldn’t bear to see someone else hurt you.”

Taylor stared hard at him.
 
His blue eyes sparkled with sincerity.
 
Didn’t he realize how much he was hurting her?

“Taylor.”
 
He grabbed her wrist.
 
“Do you want to be shackled and dragged to Castle Donovan by some heartless mercenary?”

She glanced at his hand about her wrist.
 
“No,” she murmured.
 
“Nor by a heartless noble.”

Slane dropped her arm as if she had burned him.
 
“I’m not heartless.”

“But you wish you were.”
 
He frowned and she continued.
 
“You can’t even look at me with Elizabeth standing beside you.”

Slane looked away from her, his fists clenching.
 
She studied his back with intense eyes, as if trying to memorize every detail about him.
 
As if trying to...
 
To what?
 
There was no hope for them.
 
There could be no future for them.
 
And she didn’t want one, she told herself firmly as a lump rose in her throat and tears burned in her eyes.

Taylor sat on the bed, the wound at her side beginning to flare again.
 
She looked down at her entwined hands.
 
Why couldn’t he just let her go?
 
Why couldn’t he be rational?
 
Why...?

Slane knelt before her, grabbing her arm tightly, forcing her to look into his eyes.
 
“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then let me go,” she begged.

“I can’t.”

“Don’t you realize what you’re condemning us to?”

“I’m not condemning you.
 
I’m saving you.”
 
His grip eased.

She stared into his confused blue eyes, wishing... wishing she had never met him.
 
Wishing her father had never wanted to make amends.
 
How could she live at Castle Donovan seeing Slane happy with a beautiful wife?
 
She might as well be burned at the stake.

“I am your friend,” Slane said decisively.

Friends?
 
Is that all, we are? she wondered silently.
 
Then why did it feel as if he was ripping out her heart and dashing it to the floor, stabbing it with the sharp edge of his blade?
 
Bitterness consumed her.
 
How dare he make her feel this way?
 
“No,” she said and it came out as a growl.
 
She ripped her wrist free of his grip.
 
“You’re not my friend.
 
We’ll never be friends.
 
So just go back to your little wench.
 
I don’t need your protection.
 
I don’t need anything from you.”

Slane rose up before her, towering above her like a statue.
 
“I am bound by my oath.
 
I pledged to bring you to Richard.
 
And I will.”

A sudden suspicion started to form in her thoughts.
 
Why had he made a pledge to bring her to his brother?
 
Why did Richard need to have her at Castle Donovan?
 
Maybe my father is there, she thought, waiting for me, knowing that I’ll refuse to see him.

But then the suspicion drifted away as Slane’s deep blue gaze reached into her mind, clouding her thoughts.

Fool, she thought.
 
Fool.
 
You used to be such a practical woman.
 
With a few looks from those deep eyes you‘re nothing but mud in his hands.
 
She hugged her elbows, shaking her head, her body trembling.

Slane stared down at her for a long moment, unmoving.

Her back stiffened, but she didn’t lift her eyes to him.
 
She chuckled and it came out like a strangled laugh.
 
“Don’t worry, Slane,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm and tears.
 
“I won’t die.”

There was a long moment before she heard his footsteps move away and the creak of the door before it closed.

Taylor stood for a moment, unmoving, letting the anguish of being such a fool wash over her.
 
Then she pressed her face into the pillow and sobbed...

***

Slane stood with his hand on the doorknob, listening to Taylor’s sobs.
 
It took every ounce of willpower he had not to throw open the door and take her in his arms and whisper soothing words to her.

“Slane?”

He raised his eyes to see Elizabeth, worry etched in her brow.
 
For a long moment, he just stared at her.
 
His fingers wouldn’t release the handle of the door.
 
“She wants to leave,” he whispered, and he was surprised at how broken his voice sounded.

Elizabeth laid a soft hand on his arm.
 
“Then by all means let her.”