The Lady and the Knight (Highland Brides) (2 page)

His voice had faded nearly to silence, his thoughts rambling.

"I will leave then, my lord, if there is nothing else," said Boden.

"There is something else," said the duke. He paused, still staring out the window. "Lady Sara.

What of her? Surely I cannot bring her here, flaunt her under Elizabeth's nose. Had I known her years ago I would have wed for love instead of for gain. Then surely I would have felt no need to stray to another's bed. My heirs would be legitimate. My line ensured. My happiness complete."

Lord Haldane's fingers curled on the deep blue blanket that covered his bed. "But I did not meet her until two years ago—on the eve of her wedding to William's son Stephen. I had already taken vows with Lady Elizabeth, but I knew immediately. Sara was meant to be mine—the fairest flower in all of Scotland, she was, dressed in her red plaid with her hair bright as gold," he murmured.

"Stephen never knew what he had in her. He cared more for his hunting, for his ale. Twas just that he die by the hunt." His fingers curled into a tight fist. "Twould that I had not been there. But I could not keep myself away. Like a besotted fool I would travel to Baileywood just to catch a glimpse of her, to spend a few minutes in her company."

The wind gusted outside, scraping a branch against the stone wall.

"He was never worthy of her," Haldane whispered. "Love personified she is. Like sunlight in my hand." His palm fell open as if he imagined his fingers against her flesh. For a moment he closed his eyes. "With Stephen gone and a decent mourning time behind her, she could be mine. Not only in the flesh, but in name also. Surely she deserves better than she had, and I could give her all she desires if only..."

Boden cleared his throat, wanting to hear no more. Twas neither his place nor his wish to listen to his lord's innermost thoughts.

"My apologies," said the duke, drawing himself from his reverie and raising his voice. "I have too much to occupy my mind and too little to occupy my hands these days." He scowled, remembering their conversation. "Twill be a long journey for you, Boden. But at least this mission will surely involve no bloodshed. Still, I am loathe to send you so soon after that trouble with the Welsh. How is your knee?"

"Tis fine, my lord."

The duke watched him for a moment, then grinned, looking more like the powerful duke Boden had served for so long. "Had you used your crossbow on the brigand your words might well be true."

"He was but a farmer with a scythe," Boden reminded him.

"Tis a well-known fact that when taxes are due a tight-fisted Welshman can do more damage with simple farming implements than most men can do with a cannon and battering ram. I would have thought you'd learned that from your first encounter with the Welsh."

Boden tilted his head in concession to his lord's words. "I fear I am a slow learner, Your Grace."

Haldane watched him closely. "But had you learned it earlier you would not have changed your course. Tis one of the reasons I send you now, Boden. I can trust you not to spill blood unless a battle is unavoidable. Perhaps Caroline's fear is well warranted. But I do not think so. Either way, you are not one to look for trouble."

Hardly that, Boden thought dryly. "For one good reason only," he said. "I find I rarely spill another's blood without forfeiting some of my own."

Haldane smiled. "I've known you too long to believe you and need you too much to argue," he said. "I merely ask that you do this task for me."

Boden nodded. "I will see your babe and his mother safely to Cinderhall, my lord. If that is all...?"

"And the Lady Sara," Haldane said.

Boden tensed. Was he to escort both of the duke's mistresses to the same abode? That seemed neither prudent nor healthy. He had met Caroline, and she didn't seem the type to appreciate competition. "Sara?" Boden asked, pretending he hadn't heard Haldane's murmurings from only minutes before.

"Aye. She is Caroline's companion."

Boden forced his expression to remain stoic. Lord Haldane had always had a selection of mistresses, but thus far Boden had never been asked to become involved with any of them. And he preferred it that way, for he was not good at resisting temptation.

"She and Caroline became aquainted at Baileywood before Stephen's death," the duke explained. "Sara journeyed to London to be at her friend's side during my son's birth. She has not left since. Strong on loyalty is my Sara."

"So you would have me bring her to Cinderhall with the mother and child?"

"For the time being. You must afford her every courtesy, see to her every need until I can do so in person." He paused. The wind gusted. "For in truth, Boden, it is she I cherish above all others."

Boden glanced toward the door, hoping the duke's wife was well out of hearing. Theirs was no more than a marriage of convenience of course, but surely there was no reason for the duchess to know her husband had bedded not just one, but both of the women he had sent to London. Certainly Lady Elizabeth had known enough pain with the stillborn death of her children.

"Do you understand my words, sir?"

"I do, my lord," said Boden, turning his attention back to the duke.

"Good," said Haldane, his tone becoming brusque. "There is none other I would send in your stead."

"My thanks for your faith in me. I will try not to disappoint you, my lord."

The duke smiled. "You are like a son to me."

Boden's eyebrows rose. This was indeed a day of surprises. The duke had never been short of women he cared for, but words of sentiment for his knights were few and far between.

Haldane laughed out loud. "I am neither as young nor as healthy as I once was. I have no wish to die with things left unsaid."

"You must not speak like that," Boden said. The duke of Rosenhurst had as many faults as the next man, but in a score of years, he had never been unfair to Boden. Twas a fact for which Boden would be eternally grateful. Worry coursed through him as he stepped toward the bed. "Tis not your time to die, my lord."

Haldane smiled again. "Are you certain or are you but hopeful?" he asked.

"I am both."

"Well spoken." Haldane reached up to clasp Boden's

hand. "You have my thanks for agreeing to go."

"You failed to tell me I had a choice."

Haldane chuckled and released his hand. "Return the lady safely to my side, Sir Blackblade, and you will be justly rewarded."

Boden nodded, not for a moment doubting of whom Haldane spoke. Then he left. The hallway down which Boden hurried was lit by a single sconce.

"Sir Blackblade."

Boden turned quickly at the quiet voice. "My lady."

Lady Elizabeth rushed toward him, her white nightrail billowing behind her. Boden took a cautious step backward. Never did Elizabeth realize her allure. It was no different now it seemed, because she reached for his hand with both of hers. They felt warm and soft as rose petals against his.

"He is sending you away," she said, her voice breathless.

"Aye, my lady."

"Please do not go."

Boden stared in open surprise. Much younger than her husband, she was both beautiful and regal. But now she had abandoned her lofty demeanor. Her dark hair was unbound, making her look young and innocent. Gone was her costly gown, replaced by this touchable bit of linen, as if she'd just left her bed.

"I've had a frightful dream and I worry for your life," she continued, leaning closer.

"My life?" he asked. She smelled of lavender and sweet wine. He was not a man accustomed to the company of women, but one thought stood out clearly in his mind—she was his lord's wife, regardless of the duke's philandering.

"Aye, good sir," she said. "My husband does not sometimes realize your worth, I think. You are the best of his knights. And though I know..." She paused, her eyes very sad. "I know he is not always faithful to me.

But he is still my husband, and I would have what is best for him."

"What do you mean?"

"I fear for his life,'' she said, her voice sounding urgent. "He is not strong these days. And London is such a far way. What if you do not return in time."

"Lady, you shouldn't speak of such things."

"But I must," she said, squeezing his hand imploringly. "You must not leave him now. Won't you come to my chambers and discuss this with me at the least?"

Her chambers! He may not be accustomed to the company of women, but at least he knew the limitations of his self-control, and that was far beyond them.

"I... I must not," he said, and pulling his hand from her grasp, rushed away.

Boden's hurried journey to London had been long and fruitless, for when he'd arrived at Holly House, he'd been told that the women for whom he searched were gone.

Gone! It had taken all of Boden's control not to shake the little servant that elevated his nose as if Boden's scent of fermenting horse sweat somehow offended his sensibilities. Gone where?

The ladies had not deigned to share that information with
Mm,
the house servant replied. And it was not his job to ask, but only to see the packing done well and efficiently.

Packing?

Yes, for a long and arduous journey, judging by the lady's demands. Caroline had been well spooked after the brigands broke into the house, though her personal guards had bested the villains and secured the house.

Boden shifted his weight in the saddle as he mulled over his thoughts. It had been five days since he'd left London and he hadn't had a decent meal since. The sun shifted irrevocably toward the horizon, reminding him he would go to bed hungry again. He wasn't one to complain, but his arse hurt.

It looked like it might rain again.

His knee still ached from its meeting with the Welshman's scythe. He had a headache, he was weary to the bone, and his chain mail was beginning to rust.

Beneath him, the dapple-gray destrier called Mettle cocked a hip and heaved a martyred sigh.

Theirs had
been
a long and arduous journey, and they were ready for it to end. But as of yet Boden had found no trace of the mistress or her entourage, though he had followed every available lead.

They were heading north, that much he knew, and though he would like to believe they were returning to Lord Haldane under their own power, Boden's luck had never been what one might call colossal. Thus, here he was, in the midst of nowhere, trying to imagine what had happened to the women for whom he searched.

Dusk was settling softly around him. Twould be another night spent on the soggy earth, and while that fate was not unusual, neither was it much appreciated. There would be little reason to hurry to his bed tonight. So he would follow Caroline's trail and hope to shorten his quest before morning.

Mettle stepped forward at a touch of Boden's spurs. Daylight slipped away, fading to a pearlescent luster. Quiet pervaded the earth, disturbed only by Mettle's solid footfalls against the dirt road. They rounded a corner, but suddenly the stallion stopped abruptly. His dark-tipped ears flicked forward above the black metal champfrein that armored his head.

Boden nudged him. The horse remained immobile but for a twitch of his tensed muscles.

"Tis no time for one of your moods," Boden murmured. He pricked the stallion's sides again.

Mettle shook his head in irritation, but finally moved forward, his gait trappy and jarring now, his huge body tense.

They'd not gone more than ten rods when Boden saw the scrap of crimson cloth. It was draped messily over a branch. But in a moment he saw that the fabric was not intended to be red. No, it was blood that made it so.

Bile rose in Boden's throat. Sweet sainted Mary, please, not more death, he prayed. But his pleas went unanswered, for not thirty feet into the woods, he found the first bloated body.

Boden closed his eyes for a moment, willing this to be a nightmare. But it was not, and there was nothing he could do but force himself to dismount and face the truth. His legs felt wooden as he approached the corpse. Memories of a dozen past battles haunted him—sightless eyes, torn limbs, the wails of the wounded.

But this was worse still, for this was a woman. Caroline. His lord's mistress. He remembered how Haldane had spoken of her freshness, her innocence. The thought twisted his insides into a painful knot, forcing out the contents of his stomach.

He wretched and wretched again, then stumbled backward, ready to run away like the coward he was. But the next body was only a few yards away. It was a man. His shirt and boots were gone and his chest grotesquely swollen.

The next corpse was that of another woman. It lay just outside a collapsed tent. A red plaid shawl was twisted about her. Her blond hair was matted with blood and her face half gone. Boden's stomach lurched viciously, but now only bile spewed. It was bitter and galling, and accompanied by the wild ferocity that had seen through dozens of nightmarish battles.

A ferocity that would exact justice—and take lives.

Sara whimpered in her sleep. Lord Haldane was going to kill her. She knew it, but she couldn't move, couldn't escape. And suddenly his face changed, darkening, hardening into one she had never seen. His wicked grin was a white slash against his granite features and in his hand he held the hilt of a sword entwined with the image of a black snake. The blade rose. Terror welled up inside her. She couldn't die. Not now. She screamed, and awoke with a start, still gripping the dragon pendant that hung from her neck.

Bracken rustled beneath her. Beside her, the feeding gourd and pouch still hung from her belt.

Glancing up, she saw that the sun hung low in the sky. Inside his makeshift sling against Sara's breast, Caroline's child bumped to awareness. Thomas, sweet Thomas. Sara stroked his head, assuring herself he was safe as she collected her thoughts. It was only a dream—just another of the eerie nightmares that visited her of late.

Where was she?

She glanced about, steadying her breathing and remembering.

It had been Sara's idea to return to the Highlands. They would be safe there, she'd told Caroline. But the journey north had been anything but safe.