A Knight of Honor (42 page)

Corydon swung and Slane sidestepped, barely avoiding the sharp blade.
 
He had to concentrate on the battle before him, not on Taylor’s escape.
 
He focused his effort and his gaze on Corydon.
 
If only he could get the sword from Corydon somehow.

Corydon feinted left and swung right.
 
Slane easily avoided the move.
 
Slane dodged the blows until Corydon arced one toward his head.
 
Slane stepped into the swing and grabbed Corydon’s wrist, stopping the strike mid-swing.

Slane held Corydon off, his muscles aching and straining against Corydon’s pushing.
 
Suddenly, Corydon slammed his foot down on Slane’s bare toes.
 
Slane grimaced and shoved off Corydon’s arm, backing quickly away from him, doing his best to ignore the flaring pain in his foot.

He glared at Corydon’s dark face.
 
His toes pounded with agony, but Slane pushed the pain from his mind.
 
That had hardly been honorable.

And then an idea formed in his mind.
 
An idea that bordered on dishonor.
 
He remembered the move that had won Taylor victory over him in their battle.

Slane managed to avoid Corydon’s swings until just the right moment, until Corydon thrust at his chest.
 
Slane pretended to stumble as he backed away from the blow, falling to the ground on his bottom.

Corydon lifted his sword high over his head for the finishing blow.
 
Slane pivoted on the ball of his foot, lashing out with his opposite leg.
 
But instead of swiping Corydon’s leg cleanly and neatly from beneath him, as Taylor had done to him, his foot slammed into Corydon’s knees, toppling him like a tree...
 
straight for him!

As he fell, Corydon managed to point the tip of his sword downward toward Slane, but his aim was slightly off, and the tip dug into the earth a mere inch from Slane’s face.
 
Corydon’s weight pushed the weapon deep into the ground.

Slane raised his fist and punched Corydon in the face, and then the stomach.
 
When Corydon rolled off of him, Slane shot to his feet, pulling at the sword to free it.
 
But it was firmly lodged in the earth.

Corydon caught him from behind, wrapping his arms around Slane’s shoulders, pulling him from the sword.
 
He spun Slane around and delivered two blows to his stomach.
 
Pain exploded through his gut and Slane doubled over.
 
When Corydon followed with a stunning blow to his face, Slane fell like a rock.

But he recovered quickly, pushing himself from the ground, shaking his head, trying to clear his vision.
 
When his eyes focused, he saw Corydon trying to pull the sword from the ground.
 
He was moving it back and forth like a saw in his attempt to free it from the earth’s clutches.

Slane struggled to his feet and dove at Corydon, shoving him from the weapon.
 
When Corydon turned, Slane plowed two blows into his face, followed by an upper cut to his chin, which sent the noble sprawling.

Slane turned and pulled hard at the sword.
 
It slid reluctantly from its sheath in the earth.
 
Slane whirled just in time to find Corydon throwing himself at him.
 
The outstretched blade greeted Corydon, impaling him through the stomach.

Slane stood for a long moment, staring at his enemy.
 
He gripped the sword tightly, watching as disbelief spread across Corydon’s face.
 
After a moment, Slane stepped back, releasing the handle of the sword.

Corydon’s hands convulsed around the handle of the blade lodged deep in his abdomen.
 
He glanced down at the sword once and then back at Slane.
 
He fell forward to his knees, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Slane looked up, over Corydon’s head, to see relief in Taylor’s eyes.
 
He lifted a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his own mouth as he stepped around Corydon to join her.

“Kill them,” Corydon ordered in a ragged voice.
 
“Kill them both.”
 
Corydon pitched forward to the ground and then was still.

The archers lifted their bows and pointed their deadly arrows at Slane and Taylor.

T
he archers pulled the strings taut, taking aim.
 
Slane grabbed Taylor’s arm and pulled her behind him, preparing to take the first barrage of arrows.

Suddenly, shouts echoed from the forest behind the archers!
 
The bowmen turned in time to see a garrison of riders erupt from the depths of the forest, brandishing swords.
 
The riders swept through the archers, cutting them down like weeds.

Slane quickly scanned the field to see more than one of the archers still taking aim, still intent on fulfilling their master’s last order.
 
He pulled Taylor down, dragging her to the ground, covering her with his body.
 
Several arrows whooshed overhead.

Beneath him, he could feel the ground tremble with the pounding of hooves and booted feet.
 
All around them, Slane heard the thunderous roar of horses, shouts of dying men, the clang of an arrow striking chain mail.
 
A smattering of dirt splashed into his face and he glanced up to see the shaft of an arrow embedded in the ground not five inches from his cheek.

Taylor squirmed beneath him, but he refused to let her rise until he knew what was happening.
 
He lifted his head, his gaze scanning the riders in the distance.
 
A few had broken off from the main group to chase the remaining archers, who were fleeing toward the cover of the forest.
 
The rest of the riders were engaging several black-clad fighters.

Slane pushed himself up, allowing Taylor to rise.
 
She climbed to her feet, brushing long strands of hair from her eyes.
 
“Who is it?” she wondered.

Slane didn’t answer.
 
He knew their colors well.
 
He actually knew some of the men, recognizing them as they came closer.
 
He stood as one of the riders moved forward and approached him.

The large warhorse pawed the ground before Slane, clumps of dirt spraying Slane’s bare feet.
 
Slane gazed up into the rider’s black eyes.
 
But the rider’s gaze was not on Slane; it was on Taylor.
 
“Is this her?” the rider asked.

Slane’s gaze remained on the rider, narrowing at the way the rider’s gaze swept Taylor with unbridled lust.
 
“Yes, Richard.
 
This is Taylor,” he said, an obvious distaste twisting his lips.

Finally, the rider’s stare shifted to Slane.
 
“Well done, brother,” Richard acknowledged.
 
“With this deed, you are released from service to me.”

Slane felt Taylor’s look snap to him.
 
But he didn’t dare acknowledge her right now.
 
He would explain things to her later.
 
He would make everything right again.
 
“How did you find us?” Slane asked Richard.

“Elizabeth had the forethought to tell me you might be in danger,” Richard explained, stilling the prancing horse beneath him.
 
“As soon as I knew where you were coming from, I rode out to greet you.”

Slane grunted.
 
More likely rode out to lay claim to Taylor, he thought.

“And it seems lucky that I did,” Richard said, gazing around at the carnage in the clearing.

“Yes,” Slane acquiesced.
 
“It was, indeed, lucky.”
 
He shifted his stare to his brother.
 
“Corydon is dead.”

“Dead?” Richard asked, shocked.

“Yes,” Slane said without any emotion.
 
He felt dead inside now that Richard was here.
 
Now that his brother would take Taylor from him.
 
“I defeated him in battle.”

“This is turning out to be a most wondrous day,” Richard said happily.
 
“Well done, brother.
 
We shall have a feast upon returning to Castle Donovan.
 
To celebrate your triumph.”
 
His gaze shifted to Taylor, his eyes small and dark, like a snake’s.
 
“And mine.”
 
He held out a hand to Taylor.

Something close to panic swept through Slane.

Taylor stepped away from the outstretched hand, and Richard’s jovial expression immediately turned dark.

Slane knew his brother was used to women obeying him without question.
 
He stepped forward.
 
“She has her own horse to ride,” Slane defended.

“Oh?” Richard wondered, his gaze searching the clearing.
 
“Where?
 
Where is her horse?”

Slane cast a glance at Taylor.
 
She was staring at him with such complete desolation that he felt it in his soul.
 
He wanted to take her into his arms and whisk her away.
 
Instead, he pointed to his steed in the distance.
 
“There,” he said.

Richard looked at him with disappointment and Slane felt a feeling of victory surge inside him.
 
“Very well,” Richard said.
 
“She may ride her own steed.”

Slane turned his back on his brother, hiding Taylor from his view.
 
“Go with him,” he whispered, hoping that this once she wouldn’t object.

She lifted her lids to reveal those luminescent gems shimmering with uncertainty.

“I’ll speak with you later at the castle,” Slane promised, brushing her chin with his forefinger.
 
He was rewarded with a transformation.
 
Her eyes lit with tenderness and a grin splashed across her full lips.
 
She nodded and stepped around Slane, moving toward the horse in the distance.
 
Slane watched her with growing anxiety as she took the reins of the horse and pulled herself up.

When Slane turned around, his gaze met the suspicious eyes of his brother.
 
Slane raised himself up to his full height, meeting his brother’s stare.
 
He knew that he could no longer fight the feelings he had for Taylor.
 
They were stronger than he was.
 
And quite frankly, he didn’t want to fight them.
 
Now he simply had to set things right.
 
He had lost no honor yet.

***

Castle Donovan rose before Taylor like a mountain of stone erupting from the earth.
 
A strange, unsettling feeling wavered through her as she shifted her gaze to Richard.
 
He was staring at her, as he had been the entire ride to Castle Donovan.
 
A feeling of entrapment strangled her like a rope every time she looked at him.
 
She didn’t like him.
 
She didn’t like his dark, shifty eyes or his abrupt manner and curtness with those around him.
 
No, she did not like him.
 
Not one bit.
 
Why, he didn’t even look like Slane!

She glanced over her shoulder, hoping to see Slane, but there was no sign of him.
 
She still felt a flush of excitement when she thought of his kisses, his touches, the tender way he had made love to her.
 
She looked forward to feeling his skin pressed to hers again, feeling his lips against hers.
 
And that was the one opportunity Castle Donovan offered to her.
 
To be with Slane.
 
She refused to think of what the future might hold.
 
She refused to think beyond Castle Donovan... for now.