The Lady of Fairhaven (33 page)

Reluctantly, Luke pulled away. His body shook with desire, but his warrior’s training fixed an unreadable expression on his face. His hands pushed lightly forcing distance between his lust hardened loins and her soft pliant curves.

Surprised, Gillian searched his eyes, mouth, and set of his jaw for some sign of his feelings, but Luke carefully pushed them safely out of view. Until he settled their future, he promised himself that he would not hurt his ladylove, and making love to her now would dishonor her. With so little self-control, he was fighting a losing battle where his cravings for her were concerned. He was able to defeat the most formidable foe, but would he ever be in control where this woman was concerned?

Gillian eyes widened with surprise when the embrace she had been lost in, ended abruptly leaving her only with a bereft feeling. A sharp intake of breath rapidly sucked into her lungs, now closed off by convulsive sobs barely controlled by immense effort. Tears stung her eyes and her gaze dropped immediately down to her hands. She backed away as if pricked by needles.

Luke turned and angrily marched toward the window. He would be damned if she would see the weakness she wrought in his heavily armored discipline. His mind had to be stronger than their bodies. His body stiffened with a new resolve.

Her mind affirmed her worst fears. She had once again forced her attentions upon Luke. She had obviously made him uncomfortable. Would she ever cease to be so brazen? It was just as she suspected. He had no wish to be with her. No matter what anyone said about her being too weak to go out, she had to leave - and leave now. She could never face Luke again. It was too cruel a punishment.

Gillian walked toward the chamber door with her well-composed calm firmly in place. In an amazing display of composure, Gillian’s hand wavered only slightly as it lifted the latch releasing the door. Upon hearing the bolt disengage, Luke turned to watch Gillian depart.

She was safely out of view and the tears began to stream down her cheeks. She clutched at her kirtle lifting it out of the way, and ran as fast as she dared down the stairway and out the main door of the great hall. In no time at all she had reached the safety of the stable.

The beautiful Buttercup pawed the hay in her stall. The mare’s velvet nose nudged her as she fitted the bridle over the animal’s head. Gillian’s head rested against the patient beast.

“
May I assist you, My Lady,” asked one of the stable boys.

Gillian flinched but caught herself. “Thank you, yes,” Gillian replied. She was hoping to depart before Luke could catch up with her.

“
Do I need to saddle any destriers for your escort?” the young boy inquired.

“
It will not be necessary. I am only going to the village,” she said.

The boy nodded and in a moment, her horse was saddled and ready. As Gillian stepped up to mount Buttercup a pair of strong hands grasped her tiny waist. The hands propelled her up into her saddle. She spun around fearful it was Luke. The motion almost unseated her.

When her scream finally made it past the lump that had blocked all air and sound, it was weak. The large knight that had taken her captive stood touching her. Out of the paralyzing fear that rendered her motionless, a sense of determination poured through her.

“
You!” she said breathlessly, unable to draw in a full draught of air.

“
We meet again, fair lady,” the knight said. A broad smile flashed for her. “I hope you might forgive me for our first encounter.”

“
Forgive you?” Gillian cried. “I think not. Why are you here?”

“
I am loyal to your uncle, my lady,” the knight replied. “It is by his wishes that I am here.”

“
No!” she screamed. “You cannot be. My uncle would not-.“ Her words ceased as the reality of her situation came into view. Her eyes widened with horror.

The knight reached forward to snatch a hold of her horse’s bridle. She slapped hard with the reigns against the knight’s face. The leather straps stung close to his eye and he closed it long enough for Gillian to command the horse into motion. At the same time, Buttercup reared in protest. Hooves scraped through thin air as the mare screamed in alarm. Gillian hung on to Buttercup’s mane and neck. At last, her beautiful mare’s front feet landed solidly onto the hardened earth of the stable floor.

The crack of the reigns and the fear of the horse’s hooves pushed the knight a step back, but he still had hold of the reigns.

“
Unhand my horse!” she yelled as she slapped his face once again. The knight let go just as she kicked the palfrey in the flank. Horse and rider lurched toward the open stable door.

Luke had gathered enough sense to begin a search for Gillian. Upon hearing Gillian’s alarmed cries from the other side of the bailey; he rushed toward the opening of the stable. He was followed by several concerned knights practicing in the yard. Buttercup’s headlong rush for freedom nearly knocked the Luke and the others off their feet. All the men leaped out of the horse’s path as it barreled along toward them. Luke saw the terror in Gillian’s face and heard her cries as she clung desperately to her mare.

His hand instinctively reached up to grab the reigns, but the speed of the horse and his unyielding chain mail made a quick grab impossible. Only his hand brushed against Gillian’s thigh as she raced past. She screamed in terror.

Buttercup dashed outside and across the slippery cobblestones of the courtyard with Gillian holding on for dear life.

“
John, get Storm saddled. And hurry!” Luke commanded. He had only seen Gillian so afraid once. It was when he released her from the dungeon. He turned to the large knight and glared. “What is amiss here?” Luke bellowed. His dark gaze roamed from the knight to the stable boy. Neither spoke nor moved.

Luke read the cold fear written on the lad’s face. The knight held the hilt of his sword firmly; ready to draw it for combat if need be. Anxious to saddle up Storm and follow after Gillian, he knew he had little choice but to stay and fight.

Luke drew his sword from its scabbard. The knight followed his lead. Both men already donned in fighting garb, squared off.

“
What did you do to the Lady, Gillian,” Luke hissed. He circled the big man as he waited for the reply.

The other knight smiled a crooked thin smile and matched his adversary’s moves step for step. “I did nothing, sir, except I lifted her to her horse.”

Luke looked at the boy and said, “Now tell me what I need to know.”

“
This knight frightened Lady Gillian by his presence alone,” the stable boy blurted out. As she spoke the boy kept a wary eye on the strange knight. “He reached out and grabbed her horse. He asked her to forgive him for their first meeting.”

“
You were the knight who struck my father down,” Luke growled. His anger flared dangerously.

The tall knight nodded. His destiny was already sealed, and he could only hope to win an advantage by filling his opponent with fear and doubt.

“
And you abducted two innocent women,” Luke said in a voice wrought with fury.

“
You use strong words, knight,” the knight declared. “Only combat will determine the truth of it.”

The defending knight struck out first and Luke parried. A gathering of knights circled around the pair as the knight struck again and Luke countered, lunging and dodging each other’s forceful blows.

But after the first few blows, Luke had figured his opponent’s weaknesses. The fight only lasted a few more moments.

He allowed the large night to swing hard, but instead of blocking the mighty stroke, he stepped back, allowing the blade to narrowly miss his chest. The force caused the night to overstep slightly. Luke brought his own sword up and across the back of the man’s head, splitting it almost in half.

Without giving the man a backward glance, Luke ordered Storm to be brought forward. He ordered a dozen men to accompany him while a handful of men were left behind to clean up the remains of the fallen knight.

Buttercup raced wildly through the villeins and knights waiting to move in through the main city gate, past the portcullis, then across the sweet grassy meadow. Gillian could feel her mare’s strong muscles contract under her legs and next to her cheek. Buttercup attempted to run along the edge of the woods, but Gillian's efforts forced the mare to enter the forest path. Soon they would be hidden in the dense cover of the forest where she had tried hiding before.

New waves of convulsive sobs tore out of her still tight lungs. So many memories dashed through her mind. Threats and betrayals by her family drove a piercing pain deep in her heart. Fears of being hurt or rejected flared intensely. At the moment, no one could be counted as a friend. Luke was honorable and trustworthy, but her love for him was splitting her heart apart. How could she safely say that he truly cared. It seemed clear that he cared little for her. Every time they became close, he found some way to put distance between them. That could not be the action of a man in love. She wasn’t sure any more whether men could really love at all.

The fact that her captor was roaming freely through Fairhaven justly intensified the dreaded darkness that was engulfing her mind. She had to hide. Soon, it would be too dark for anyone to find her in the forest. Although her skills at surviving in the woods were improving, they were still lacking. And again she had fled with nothing more than the clothes on her back.

Gillian nudged Buttercup through the thickets along the trail. Utterly drained of all strength by her fright then wild flight into the woods had left Gillian wondering how much farther she could travel. She knew she would have to return to Fairhaven, but feared doing so. She decided it might be safe for her to return as far as t village. From there she could send word that she was all right.

Buttercup was drenched with frothing foam. The beast was breathing hard as Gillian walked the animal along the narrow path. She was determined to find the stream from which Buttercup could drink. She had the advantage of knowing these woods very well.

After a short time Gillian spied a meadow with a brook running through it. She allowed Buttercup to drink her fill then tied her to a tree branch where she was partially hidden by the forest. Being alone sent a shiver through her flesh. This had to be the most foolish thing she had ever done in her life. But any sense of reason fled when she saw the giant in the stable.

During the long lonely hours imprisoned in the dungeon, she had mourned the loss of her husband and her best friend, Dog. But being so totally on her own now frightened her. She wished Dog could still be at her side to protect her from the dangers of the forest and her own silly fears.

She denied the urge to curl in a ball and cry her heart out. In a short while her emotions had run their course, and before the coal blackness of the night engulfed her, she drifted off to a deep but intense sleep.

Luke prayed he would find her before darkness fell, but the last light of day was waning. His path was only built on conjecture, but a villain said he had seen a horse and rider enter the woods along this very path. The urge to shake the information from the man had been powerful. Nearly frantic with worry, Luke urged Storm onward.

The men following in escort searched for an area suitable to bed down for the night. Luke had ordered them to make camp. He would travel on alone and would not rest until he found her. If he should locate her along the trail he would return to camp if possible.

It was not long before the evening shadows made it nearly impossible to find any trail. Fearing his own riding might destroy any trace of Gillian’s trail Luke decided to turn back. But from the forest, a horse’s whinny called out through the dark. Just ahead, bathed in the only patch of sunlight left in the forest, was Buttercup. Her squared off teeth snatched clumps of grass then chewed noisily on each tuft.

As Luke searched the dark for Gillian, a hiccup turned his attention to a mound a few feet away, hidden in the darkness. Luke rushed to Gillian’s side. He touched her body and felt the cold shiver through her.

Quickly, Luke started a fire near the place where Gillian slept. All thoughts of returning to camp vanished. He would be with her alone. It might give him a chance to explain his unpardonable behavior.

As soon as the warmth of the fire reached Gillian, she turned and unconsciously inched her way toward it. Luke gathered pine needles to soften the ground and lifted Gillian gently onto the mat of forest material. Although her eyes remained closed he could see the streaks of tears running down her cheeks. With his finger, Luke brushed a tear droplet from her face.

Gillian flinched and her hands brushed furiously over her breasts and waist. Whimpering, she said, “Get them off me. Oh please get them off me.”

Luke’s teeth ground tightly together and his hand brushed through the thick strands of his hair in frustration and anger. Could he but kill that knave of a knight once again, he would gain some modicum of pleasure from it.

Later that evening, after seeing to the horses, Luke settled in behind Gillian and pulled her body close to his. She moaned her delight, but in an instant she rose up from the natural pallet of needles and leaves and walked barefoot away from the fire.

Startled by her actions, Luke sat watching.

“
Gillian you must rest. I am with you. I will not leave you alone,” Luke whispered in her ear.