Bride by Midnight (5 page)

Such simple plans for a normal life, but he’d never actually asked that pretty girl to marry him. Tonight—for the past couple of years, he admitted—he could barely remember her face. He realized, half drunk, that whatever it had been that he’d felt for that girl had died a natural death a long time ago, along with his plans for a simple life. In his heart everything had been replaced by his need for vengeance.

He’d forgotten the details of the pretty girl’s appearance, but he remembered Runa’s face in great detail. He remembered it too well. That moment when his little sister had seen him and no doubt wondered where he’d been, as she’d surely wondered why he hadn’t come to save her... He remembered. He’d been running, shouting, but he was too far away. She’d been surrounded by five men in sentinel uniforms and one who wore a long black cloak. Her hands had been bound in front of her as if she were a criminal. He remembered that second when their eyes met, right before Miron Volker’s sword pierced her body. He had not known Volker’s name then, he had just been the man in the black cloak. Runa had screamed Blade’s name. Only once. He had been looking his little sister in the eye when that sword plunged into her heart and sent her to the ground, boneless. Dead.

She’d been eleven years old.

Runa would likely not recognize him if she saw him now. She would turn away in fear from the man he had become. Physically, beneath the beard and the long hair, he was much the same as he had been, but inside he was too much like the men who had kidnapped and killed her. Men who would do anything to achieve their goals. Men who had no conscience, no honor. No heart.

He unconsciously fingered the scar beneath his tunic, the scar near his heart that reminded him of the near-killing wound Volker had delivered as Blade had rushed to his sister’s body.

The door to the tavern opened, and several heads turned to see who was joining the celebration. Blade felt a jolt of mild surprise when he recognized the woman he’d seen exiting the palace just that afternoon; the silly nit who had almost run him over on the way to her wedding. Had she lost her groom so soon? That did not bode well for the marriage. She closed the door behind her and glanced around the room, occasionally rising up on tiptoes and craning her neck. Yes, it looked as if she was searching for someone. She bit her lower lip and wrung her hands; it was painfully obvious that she did not belong here.

Not that any lost girl was his problem.

She took a deep breath and walked more deeply into the room. The tables were so close together that she sometimes had to turn sideways to carefully squeeze between the backs of two chairs. Her eyes landed on one young, clean-shaven boy, and she stopped, leaning down to speak to him. Her face was deadly serious, and yet the boy laughed. If that was her husband, she was in for a long and tiresome marriage. But she moved on to another table and another man. Blade took a long swig of whisky, then poured another glass from the bottle sitting on his table. The clink of glass on glass was loud, yet also soothing, somehow. Again there was harsh laughter, but this time, the gnarly red-haired man the woman attempted to pass didn’t allow her to move on.

Gnarly Red grabbed her hand; she yanked it away. He snatched at the fabric of her brown dress, and this time escape was not so easy for her. She slapped his hand, and all those at the table of rowdy farmers and tradesmen laughed. One of Red’s companions reached up and grabbed sloppily at the swell of her breast. She was openly offended, shocked by the outrageous behavior.

Blade sipped at his whisky. Well, what did she expect, coming into a place like this one all alone? Served her right. And where was her husband? What a wastrel he was, to allow his woman to wander the night. If
he
had been the pretty girl’s new husband and this was their wedding night, neither of them would be wasting a moment in this place. They would be in bed, sweating and sore and spent. A woman like this one put the painted ladies in the room to shame. Not that she would give the man he’d become the time of day.

In a haughty voice touched with a fear she could not disguise, she demanded that Red release her, a demand that was once again met with raucous laughter, as well as an indelicate suggestion. There was stark terror on her face now, terror so fresh and real that Blade turned away from it. This was not his fight. He had a mission of his own, a purpose, and it wasn’t in his nature to go about rescuing damsels in distress. Especially if she happened to be a foolish damsel who should have known to remain in the safety of her own home after dark.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girl being pulled awkwardly onto Red’s lap. She immediately tried—unsuccessfully—to stand and step away. Though she tried again and again to escape, the fellow who hung onto her was too strong.

“I’m simply looking for a proper husband,” she said, and though she tried to sound calm, there was fear in her voice. “
You
will not do.”

By now everyone in the tavern was watching the scene unfold.

“If you need a husband. I’ll be glad to fill the position!” one old man shouted.

“You’ve already got a wife,” his friend said loudly. “And you haven’t filled
anything
in years!”

More laughter, louder this time.

“I’ll marry you!” a drunken man in the back of the tavern yelled. His words slurred. “Come sit on my lap, lovey, and we’ll talk about it.”

More men joined in.

“I’ll be your husband, but first I’ll need to make sure you’ll be a proper wife, if you know what I mean.”

“I have no coin, but my cock is mighty, or so I have been told.”

Blade was compelled to look at the woman’s face once more. She no longer attempted to appear collected. She was terrified, and growing more so with every ribald suggestion.

“This was a mistake,” she said, raising her shaking voice to be heard above the roar. “Just... just let me go and I’ll leave.”

Blade sighed. The way some of these wastrels were looking at her, if she left the tavern on her own she wouldn’t get far.

“What if I don’t want to let you go?” the red-haired man who had captured her said, loudly enough for the entire assemblage to hear.

“Please.” Her voice was too soft for Blade to hear, though he could read her lips well enough.

Red pinched her, and she squealed. He grabbed her breast with a dirty hand, and she screamed, now fighting even more ardently to escape. And then her captor began to slowly pull up her skirt.

“Someone help me,” the lost bride cried as she fought back ineffectually with soft white hands. “Please, help!”

Blade pushed his chair back and slowly stood. “Well, fuck.”

***

Her heart thundered and her vision blurred and grew gray at the edges. She’d been a fool to come here. All she wanted was to escape, to breathe fresh air and run home and hide in her bed. Nightmares were better than this.

God help me!
She would happily join a nunnery, Lyssa thought as she slapped away the hands that groped at her, even if she did have to take a vow of silence. She would much prefer to be alone and forever silent than to pass another moment in this horrible man’s company. Was that her destiny? To be forever alone?

Not so long ago a life without companionship had seemed the worst possible outcome, but as she desperately struggled in an attempt to escape, she knew there was something much worse than loneliness. Joining a nunnery would free her father from the burden of her care for a lifetime, and it would give her a purpose. It wasn’t a purpose which had appealed to her until now, but she’d do anything to escape from this tavern without harm. Besides, there wasn’t a suitable husband in the lot! She would gladly cut off all her hair, wear scratchy and unattractive clothing, and pass her every waking hour caring for the less fortunate. It was that or
become
one of the less fortunate.

Yes, there were worse fates than being alone.

“Let her go.”

Lyssa’s head snapped around. The man standing behind her had approached soundlessly, or else she had been too terrified to hear anything beyond the men’s crude suggestions and her own heartbeat. Whatever the reason, she’d had no idea he was there until he spoke.

“Why should I?” the man who held her asked with a grin, once more revealing his lack of dental hygiene in the gaps where teeth should’ve been.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to kill you,” the newly arrived man said calmly.

He wore a sentinel’s uniform but carried no sword. His only weapon was a small knife, which remained seated in its sheath at his belt. A big man, he stood more than a head taller than she.
Much
more. His shoulders were broad, his hands large and his legs long. She had not realized sentinels could be so unkempt. She was shocked that the emperor allowed such lack of care among his men. The sentinel’s black beard was shaggy and had not been trimmed in quite some time—if ever. His hair, black as night, was tangled and long, and in need of a good washing. It looked as if it had never seen a comb. He looked... wild.

But it was his eyes that held her attention. Given his coloring, they should have been as black as his hair, or at least a deep brown, but instead they were a brilliant blue. A brilliant blue that appeared to be without emotion of any kind. Cold as ice, they were. He threatened to kill the man who restrained her with as much heat as he might ask for a glass of ale, and yet she had no doubt that he would do as he said.

The man he spoke to must have recognized that just as she did. He released her suddenly, and as she leapt to her feet he gave her a shove that sent her reeling into the unkempt sentinel. “Take her, then. There’s no need for you to look at me that way. I was just having a bit of fun.”

Lyssa fell against the sentinel’s chest. He caught her with one arm, righting her quickly and then releasing her. The crude suggestions had stopped. The tavern patrons returned to their private conversations, glancing now and then toward her and her rescuer.

She never should have come to a tavern looking for a husband, but at this hour and with time being of the essence, what other choice did she have?

“Will you see me home?” she asked the bearded man who had saved her. She’d come here on her own, but now she was terrified of stepping into the night without an escort.

“Why should I?” he asked, not even bothering to look at her.

“I’ll pay you,” she said softly. “Gold coin.” She didn’t have much in the way of savings, but the sentinel could have it all if he would just get her out of here.

He turned his head then and stared down at her with those arresting eyes. That was when she realized that she’d met him before, outside the palace on this very afternoon. Well, they hadn’t
met
, exactly, but she’d almost run him down. He’d stared at her just this way for a split second.

“I don’t need coin.”

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m afraid to go out there by myself.”

He grabbed her arm too tightly and guided her toward the exit without even a hint of gentleness. “You were not afraid when you came here on your own,” he said, his tone accusing. He was annoyed with her, though nothing that had happened was her fault. Not really. “What were you thinking? That new husband of yours should give you a good thrashing.”

“I don’t have a new husband,” she said sharply as the sentinel pushed through the door and all but dragged her onto the street. How did he know that today was supposed to be her wedding day? The rush of fresh, cool air was a delight after the crush of unwashed bodies in the crowded tavern, and she took a long, deep breath. It didn’t matter how he knew; he did. “And if I did have a husband, he would not dare to thrash me.”

“I heard you mention a wedding just a few hours ago. What happened?”

Lyssa lifted her chin. There was her explanation, then. He’d overheard her mention the wedding on the street, and had remembered. “What happened is none of your business.” As if she wasn’t humiliated enough already!

“What were you doing in there?” he asked angrily.

She pursed her lips, reluctant to tell the sentinel that she’d walked into the tavern in search of a husband. Her plan sounded so foolish, now.

He leaned in, too close, “And don’t tell me that’s none of my business, because I just left a half-full bottle of whisky sitting on a table in order to save your silly ass.”

Silly? She was many things, and she was not perfect, but... silly? She took a deep breath but declined to offer an argument. She had bigger problems than what a strange man thought of her.

Hmm. Was he a strange and
unmarried
man? What did she have to lose? She’d reached rock bottom, searching an establishment like this one for a mate—however temporary that mate might be. And unkempt as he was, the sentinel did possess at least a modicum of decency. “I need a husband, and it must be done by midnight or else I will never wed.” There was so little time left that she was almost resigned to the nunnery.
Almost
.

She looked up and squinted, trying to see beyond the awful beard to the man beyond, not that it mattered. He was younger than she’d first thought, and beyond the hair and eyes he might be pleasant-looking. At least he had all his teeth, as far as she could tell. He had the other patrons of the tavern beat hands down, as he had been the only one to come to her aid in a time of crisis. If there had been other sentinels present they might have assisted as well, but he had been alone.

Still, he had to possess some admirable qualities beneath all that hair.

“Are you married?” she asked.

There wasn’t much light on the street, just the glow from a streetlamp and a bit of a moon, but she was sure she saw a flash of emotion of some sort in his eyes. “No,” he responded.

“The life of a sentinel is very precarious, I imagine.” They didn’t make much in the way of pay, but she thought that fact would be too indelicate to mention. “Have you ever given any thought to marrying?”

“None.”

“Oh.” She glanced around the deserted street. She hadn’t been afraid on her way to the tavern, but now it seemed that danger waited around every corner. A shiver ran down her spine. The night was too much like her nightmares, dark and fathomless and lonely. She pushed that thought away, forcing herself to focus on the urgent matter at hand. “What if it wasn’t a real marriage at all, but rather a favor for a new friend?”