A Knight of Honor (38 page)

A
fter a full day of traveling, Taylor was grateful to finally get off her horse.
 
She tethered her steed to a tree near a stream and arched her back, reveling in being able to stretch.
 
She had grown soft sitting at the inn.
 
She needed more exercise to work her muscles.

She turned her eyes to the slight hill before her.
 
They were drawing closer to Castle Donovan.
 
And as they drew nearer, her uneasiness grew stronger.

Taylor cast Slane a glance.
 
He was patting his steed as it drank from the stream.
 
The sun was setting and the fading golden light seemed to be stretching its fingers to touch him one last time.
 
Taylor was captivated by the reined power in his hand as he ran it over the horse’s neck.
 
She had seen him wield a sword with unabashed strength, but to see him do something as simple as pat his horse took her unaware.
 
She found her gaze traveling the length of his body, from his strong shoulders to his slim waist, to the leggings curved so lovingly over the muscles in his thighs.

Suddenly, he turned and locked eyes with Taylor.
 
She blanched and then whirled to stare at the clearing to their right.
 
She felt heat suffuse her cheeks and quickly moved into the clearing, toward the slight hill that edged it, away from Slane.

When she topped the rise, she felt her stomach drop.
 
There before her stretched the most beautiful lands she had ever seen.
 
Vales of trees dotted the green pastures.
 
Rolling hills filled the landscape, lush green grass carpeting their mounds.
 
A sparkling blue lake peeked from behind one of the slopes.

God’s blood, she thought, I didn’t realize we were so close.
 
She felt tension knot her shoulders as a tidal wave of memories crashed about her.

“Taylor?”

At Slane’s voice, she jumped and turned to face him.

The grin that he had approached her with disappeared as concern furrowed his brows.
 
“Are you all right?”

“We’re coming to Sullivan lands,” she said with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

Slane nodded.
 
“You knew we had to go through them to get to Castle Donovan.”

Taylor turned back to the lands that stretched before her.
 
She had known, yes.
 
But somehow she hadn’t been prepared.
 
For years she had avoided these lands, steered clear of anything to do with them, refused to take any work that would even bring her close to them.
 
And now, standing on the threshold of her old home, she felt a fierce anxiety seize her.
 
She had to get away from these lands, from these painful, haunting memories.

She turned to do just that and came face-to-face with Slane.

Gently, but firmly, he set his hands on her shoulders.
 
“It’s all right, Taylor,” he soothed in a rich, melodic voice.

Taylor wet her lips and looked around as if at any moment her father’s men would spring forth from the surrounding trees and spirit her back to Sullivan Castle.

Slane cupped her chin and forced her to look at him, to look deep into his eyes.
 
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered.
 
“I promise.”

His touch, his sincere look, calmed her, but his words erased her fear.
 
He was a man who lived by his word.
 
His oath.
 
His honor.
 
She knew he meant what he said.
 
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

His arms swept around her, encompassing her in the safety of his embrace.

Smoke and flames, hazy memories lingered at the edges of her mind.
 
Taylor turned her head to the side, resting her cheek on his shoulder.
 
Tears burned her eyes from the smoky cloud of those remembered flames.
 
She fought the images, fought them back, refusing to see them again.
 
Refusing to acknowledge their effect on her.
 
Those memories were long gone now.
 
It was over.

She broke away from Slane’s embrace, moving away from the comfort and healing it offered, down the rise toward the horses.

“Taylor!” Slane called.

She halted, but didn’t turn.
 
Her insides trembled for his touch, his comfort.
 
She was afraid to turn.
 
She was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to resist the lure and solace he offered.
 
She was afraid of him... of falling in love with him.

“Smoke!”

She whirled to find him pointing toward Sullivan lands.
 
Memories of smoke and fire resurfaced instantly in her mind’s eye.
 
She began to shake.
 
It couldn’t be.
 
There couldn’t be smoke.
 
There couldn’t be fire.
 
That had happened years ago.
 
Trembling, she turned her back on him.
 
“I don’t care,” she announced coldly.

“You don’t care?”
 
His large strides brought him to her side as she reached the horses.
 
“Maybe you think you don’t.
 
But you really do.
 
This is your home!”

“It used to be,” she snapped.
 
“But it’s not anymore.”

“But you’re the heir!
 
Your father – ”

“I don’t give a damn about my father!” Taylor hollered.
 
“Not after what he did.”

Slane’s scowl deepened.
 
He moved to his horse and pulled himself up into the saddle.
 
“Someone might need help,” he said as if that were all the explanation he need give.

Taylor’s angry glare clashed with Slane’s furious stare.
 
Finally, he reined in his horse and spurred the animal toward the rise.

Taylor watched him go, small puffs of dust kicking up from the horse’s hooves as he sped away.
 
Then his form disappeared over the hill, and anger boiled in her veins.
 
Who the hell did he think he was?
 
Going off to rescue every damned person in trouble.
 
What if it was a trap!
 
It would serve him right!
 
Then where would his damned honor be?

She stared after him for a long moment.
 
“Damn,” she muttered and swung herself onto her horse.

The moon was high in the sky when Taylor finally caught up with Slane just outside of the village.
 
But Slane sitting eerily motionless in his saddle wasn’t what caught her attention.
 
It was the village.
 
All around her the houses lay in crumbled blackened ruin, victims of the fire’s deadly wrath.
 
Smoke still smoldered from most of the buildings.
 
She sat there, blank, amazed, and very shaken.
 
Her hands convulsively tightened around the horse’s reins.

Slane urged his horse slowly on through the main street of the village.

Without a sign from Taylor, her horse moved forward.
 
Waves of trepidation swept through her as her gaze focused on the skeletal remains of one smoldering ruin... the house that Mrs. Muelder had lived in.
 
She had made the best apple tart in the lands, and Taylor used to come see the old woman every day in the summer to get a taste.

Taylor tore her gaze away from the burnt-out shell, and locked on Farmer George’s house.
 
Smoke rising from a charred, blackened beam swirled into a ray of moonlight.
 
Long ago, Taylor had sat in that very room of the house, playing damsel in distress with Farmer George’s son, Jeffrey.

She ripped her stare away only to find her gaze centering on the DeLuca house.
 
Her friend Julie had lived there.
 
God, she hadn’t thought of her for...

Her horse drew closer to the still glowing rubble of the DeLuca house.
 
Julie used to come to the castle with her mother who worked in the kitchens.
 
She and Julie used to spy on the knights and pick their favorite as they jousted, pretending they jousted for their honor.
 
Julie...

Taylor’s horse halted.
 
The animal pawed the ground skittishly, sending ash into the air.
 
Heat radiated from the shell of the home in waves.

A tortured dullness swept Taylor up in disbelief.
 
What had happened?
 
All around her was destruction.
 
The village lay in smoking ruin, burned to ashes.
 
The smoke stung her nostrils, its choking scent closing her throat.
 
She wiped at her nose, desperate to rid it of the foul stench.

Her eyes scanned the streets for any survivors.
 
But there were no signs of living people, no moans of the wounded.

There was only intense heat and an occasional crack of a burning piece of wood.

Unnerved, she pulled back from the blackened frame and her horse followed her command, backing away, tossing its head as if in objection to the sights reaching its eyes.

Suddenly, a charred beam splintered in two and crashed to the ground, sending a shower of glowing embers into the night sky.
 
With a jolt, Taylor realized where she was, and desperate to escape, she spurred her horse.
 
With a slight rear, the horse lurched forward down the road, racing past the ravished remnants of what used to be a thriving village.

As she raced forward, Sullivan Castle loomed before her, silently beckoning her with its lowered drawbridge.
 
The arrow loops were empty, now just vacant slits in the castle’s walls, looking more like knife wounds sliced into the stone than the defensive windows they were supposed to be.
 
Once a vibrant center of life, she knew the castle was now a barren monument to the dead.

Taylor’s gaze immediately settled on something dangling over the castle walls.
 
She pulled back on the reins, bringing her horse to a halt.
 
Beneath her, the animal pranced nervously.
 
As she looked closer at the thing hanging from the wall, she realized she was looking at a human form.
 
It was a man.
 
A man dangling from a rope, hanging by his arms, the rope binding his wrists rising up the castle wall to disappear over its edge.
 
Every instinct inside Taylor told her to run.
 
To get out of the village, away from the castle.
 
But she couldn’t take her eyes from him.
 
His clothing was in tatters, hanging in shreds on his body.
 
His graying hair hung in sickly strands across his face.
 
Suddenly, the man turned his head, groaning loudly.

Taylor heard the sound of hooves coming closer.
 
“I’ll cut him down,” she heard Slane say from beside her.

Taylor swiveled her head to see Slane moving his horse over the lowered drawbridge and heading into the open gates of the castle.
 
She turned back to the man, swinging her leg over her horse to dismount.
 
She approached him, squinting.
 
There was something about him.
 
Something familiar.

The man groaned again, tossing his head.
 
The damp strands of his hair clung to the blood on his face.
 
There were slashes all over his body; his skin was dirtied with ash and soot.
 
He had been tortured, she was sure.
 
But by whom?

Suddenly, the man fell to the ground.
 
He landed hard and fell forward onto his stomach.
 
Taylor glanced up to see Slane looking down at her from atop the castle wall.
 
He grimaced and turned away.
 
Taylor shifted her gaze back to the fallen man and approached him.
 
He was badly beaten and there was no telling how long he had hung there.