The Dark Lady (53 page)

Someone had seen the child before they had hidden it away from him. It was said to look like Eolian. That had infuriated him more. He could not allow someone else’s child to live, especially not one that might resemble him.

The Dark Knight had claimed the child and it was said that he had fathered many. The men around Eolian in the cramped room jumped when he barked out a bray of laughter.

A father of many...he was a woman. His laughter continued until he was gasping for breath.

When he got control of himself, he looked at Ryan, as the nervous man cleared his throat.

“
You want to say something else?” Eolian asked still unsure if he now wanted to kill him. Ryan might come to some use, he mused.

Ryan took a deep breath and nodded. “That information was free, but I have more. I would like a reward for the rest, my lord.”

“
Well, what is it and what do you want?” He assumed the man wanted money, he always did, money and power, like every other short sighted man.

“
Lady Vanessa is very attached to her small day maid, my lord.” Ryan shifted uneasily and glanced over his shoulder at Verges.

Eolian enjoyed having Verges around, he loved the fear the giant man bestowed on people. It made it easier to accomplish a lot more.

Ryan drew his gaze back to Eolian’s and continued. His voice shook. “Amy Devant. Vanessa loves her and would be devastated should anything happen to her.” He grinned. “Would do anything to get her back.”

Eolian was surprised he offered the information without agreeing on the price. He could smell the brandy on him, but thought it more than the liquor.

“
I would like Amy after you have the Dark Knight, my lord.” A lustful grin spread across his thin lips. “I would have already had her, but Lady Vanessa stopped me from taking her.”

Eolian smiled at the venom spewing from the angry words. He knew it was more than the girl. It was the fact that Van had nearly killed him, humiliating him in front of all the men.

He decided he would allow Ryan his revenge. He grinned widely and wondered what Ryan saw in that grin as the man cringed.

Aye, he would allow Ryan to have whatever was left of the girl after he had persuaded Van to tell him where Melinda and his child were.

Eolian knew now without a doubt that it was his son. He had wondered over the years if the child was a result of their nights together, before she was stolen from him. He truly loved her, or at least he thought he did.

Now it did not matter. He would have his child and when he was through with Melinda Dawson she would wish she was dead.

He laughed and waved the men away.

When the door was shut behind them, he smiled into the dark corner. “Did you hear that, my dear?”

Rebeka stepped from the shadows, feeling an excitement thrum through her, and walked to his side. Running her fingers though his dirty, black hair she smiled. “Aye, my lord, I could almost feel sorry for Peter.” She began to laugh. “Can you imagine how devastated he must be to have married a knight?”

“
You will help me, will you not?” He pulled her onto his lap, tearing open the front of her dress, buttons flying as he exposed the milky white smoothness of her large breasts. She gasped lightly and let her head fall back.

Her breasts and ribs were marred by bruises, both old and fading, and new and painful.

“
Aye, my lord.” She enjoyed the gentle pain he inflicted on her more than the controlled love making Peter had shown her.

Peter was too gentle, always in full control of himself, too boring as a lover. He always seemed to be so worried he would offend her or hurt her, that it wasn’t fun. She pitied his wife, who if he ever made love to her again, would endure the silent and gentle love making he provided.

“
I need you to go back to him. Nay, don’t look at me like that.” His fingers dug deep into her tender flesh, releasing a hiss of pleasure, her nipples rising in response. “I need a distraction. He will keep his distance from her as he tries to sort things out, I would guarantee it.”

He took the hard little pebble into his teeth, biting gently at first, to tease. Then harder, leaving teeth imprints on the reddened flesh. She could think of nothing but the sweet jolts of pain that surged through her breasts and settled deep between her thighs.

He spoke to her between lips that rubbed across her tight hard nipple. “Things will be in upheaval for a while and, to make sure of that, you will be there.”

He threw her to the ground. She landed with a cry of pain on the hard cold dirt floor. He rose slowly from his chair and walked toward her. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. He opened his braies as he stepped over her. Her eyes widened and she cringed in a mixture of fear and delight.

“
You will not go tonight, for they will be too upset now. Plus I have need of you.” His voice was thick, his eyes wide, wild, and dangerous.

She shivered in anticipation. Not just from the thought of the love making, but of the devilish revenge she would bestow on both of the ones who had humiliated her. Especially that giant woman warrior.

She began to laugh. Soon her laughter turned to screams.

***

Verges reined in his horse as soon as he was out of sight of the camp. His mind whirled. He knew if he sent a warning to Van she would prevent them from taking Amy.

He could not allow that to happen. This might be the only chance they would have at defeating Eolian. Verges could use the distractions to his advantage and if they worked it right they had a good chance.

He would be the one to retrieve Amy, even if Eolian had other plans. He would make sure nothing happened to the young woman. If he could get her here safely, and keep her safe, everything else would hopefully fall into place.

He would send a message to Van after they had taken Amy. He trusted her to make plans on her end. He would have to make some on his. All they would need is a distraction long enough to allow Peter and his men to arrive.

He snorted. She would have to get away without Peter following right behind, because if they could not take Eolian by surprise, it would not work. There was a lot riding on luck and Verges knew their chances were slim.

In the distance he could hear the violent love making coming from the shelter. He hardened and closed his eyes.

It had been too long since he was with a woman. He grunted and reeled his horse around galloping back toward the camp. In the midst of the men were always women—slaves taken from their homes to be cooks and harlots to the men.

He spotted one small woman and pulled alongside her. She looked up at him with a mixture of revulsion and fear. That look went straight through his heart.

Anger swirled through him. He reached down and yanked her onto his horse.

“
Please, leave me be.” She began to fight him. He pressed her face into his thigh and turned back toward the trees.

He had never taken one of these women, not wanting to anger Eolian. He was too large in all ways and he would hurt them. Now he no longer cared if he angered Eolian or not. No matter how things worked out, he did not believe he would be under the hand of Eolian much longer.

“
Let me loose.” Her muffled screams sounded against his leg, her hot breath seeping through his rough sewn pants.

“
I will when I am through with you.” He yanked hard on the reins and his stallion reared as he slid to a stop.

Verges slid to the ground with her in his arms. He laid her gently to the ground and dropped on top of her bracing himself on his arms so as not to hurt her badly.

She began to struggle. He forced her tattered gown up and spread her trembling thighs with his knees. “Don’t fight me and I will try not to hurt you.”

She fell still, but as he freed himself and his large shaft fell hard against her she stiffened.

He slid inside her as carefully as he could, caressing her breast as he did so. She began to squirm, her face clouding with pain. He slid in and out gently and controlled, but knew he was hurting her. It pained him to do so, but it had been so long.

Tears slid down her face and she began to fight.

He increased his speed to get it over with for her as quickly as possible and wished he could give her pleasure.

She struggled but did not truly being to fight until he tried to kiss her.

She gagged and turned her head away to keep his kisses from finding her lips. She pressed her hands against his face to shove him away and began to scream. She called him a monster, a vile deformed pig, and an evil disgusting ogre. She begged him not to soil her.

It angered him, and more, it hurt.

Hurt because this woman gave herself to the vile men that made up this army and yet he was not good enough for her.

He knew who and what he was, but he didn’t know how to change it. He was who he was because of the circumstances of his birth. He had been ridiculed and abused all his life and he was not about to allow it from this whore.

Wrapping his hand around her long and delicate throat, he gave enough pressure to stop her screams while leaving just enough slack to allow some breath. Her face began to turn a dark shade of pink.

Her mouth opened in a gasp to get air and he clamped his lips onto hers, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

Closing his eyes to the pain of who he had become, he rammed into her harder and faster. He knew he was too large for her, knew he was damaging her, but he closed his mind to anything but the pleasure that ran through his loins.

Someday he hoped things might be different for him, but for now, he just felt lost.

CHAPTER 25

Peter stood off to the side and watched as the men threw themselves into the mock battles, swords slamming hard into others. Practice was more violent than usual, but Peter understood why. The men’s minds were not on their training.

The second time that blood was unnecessarily drawn, Peter called a halt, screaming at the men to go home. He watched the men walk despondently back toward the castle. They looked weary and confused and he felt the same.

Peter mounted Jackal. When Grant moved toward him, he waved him off and made his way to the thick woods.

He paid no attention to the direction he went. Head down and hands loose, he gave the massive stallion his head.

Confused by the lack of direction, and absent of the controlling grip that always led him, Jackal balked, momentarily stopping in the dark, coolness of the woods. Peter allowed him to stand as he wished and then lost himself in confused thoughts.

He could feel the rhythmic movements when Jackal once more began to walk. Peter paid no attention to where his stallion’s slow gait took him.

All he could see in his troubled heart was that young boy who leaned over him. He could almost feel his hand running along Van’s smooth, warm cheek. Over and over Peter’s voice sounded deep in his consciousness. “You are beautiful.”

Then the soft laugh that had haunted him for three long years echoed through his mind.

“
Lord Lawston?”

The deep voice drew him out of his misery. He looked around confused at his surroundings.

“
Peter?” He glanced down and was taken aback to see Van’s father.

Sending a scathing look at his mount, he muttered. “Thanks, just what I need today.”

“
Excuse me, my boy?” Matthew took the reins as Peter dismounted and handed them to a tall redheaded groom.

“
Nothing.” It was probably a good thing that he had arrived here. Somehow Matthew would find out about his daughter. Peter did not want to be the one to tell him, but it would be better coming from him than someone else. “I need to talk to you. It is important.” He looked up at the castle. “The wife and kids are not here yet, are they?”

“
Nay, but I am glad you are here.” Matthew grasped his forearm and shook it in greeting. “I wanted to ask you about Vanessa. I sent up for her not long ago and she had already left. On foot.” He dropped his hand, a look of eager hopefulness crossing his face.

“
She made it home early this morning.” Peter cringed at the thought of her homecoming.

“
Very good.” Matthew’s face relaxed and he waved his hand dismissively at a waiting groom. “I was preparing to send a message to make sure she had arrived safely.”

Peter watched the groom lead Jackal toward the stall and asked, without turning to face Van’s father, “Can we talk inside, maybe over a large brandy, or perhaps three?”

Matthew chuckled without amusement and when Peter glanced at him he noted that his face looked drawn and worried once again.

Matthew felt a tightness in his gut as they mounted the stairs. It increased at the pained and turbulent look on the rugged face of his son-in-law. Whatever he wanted to tell him would not be good and Matthew was not sure he wanted to hear it.

In the library, with a stout brandy in hand, Peter led him to the two chairs the farthest away from the window. Matthew took it as a bad omen, as if the young man did not want to expose whatever he held in his heart to the brightness of the day. Perhaps afraid it would bring it to life.