A VOW TO KEEP (The Vengeance Trilogy) (5 page)

Alyna had been filled with trepidation. As far as she knew, her father had met with no one, save Lord Tegmont. That meeting had simply been regarding the narrow forested border their holdings shared, hadn’t it?

“Lord Tegmont has offered for you.”

Alyna’s stomach turned. “What? But his wife died less than a fortnight ago.”

An expression flashed across his face that she didn’t understand. “All the more reason for him to marry again.”

“Father, are you certain a match with him is wise?”

He rubbed a hand over his face as though weary. “Aye. This is a complicated arrangement.” Something in his voice sounded less than convincing, but he waved a hand at her in dismissal.

She gathered her courage in one deep breath. “Truth be told, I do not feel Lord Tegmont and I would suit.”

“Your feelings do not matter. You’re no longer needed here.”

His words struck her heart. She’d tried so hard for so many years for him to need her, to want her, to love her. But each attempt he had thrust aside. He simply didn’t care for her. This match proved it. “I beg you to reconsider.”

He laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. “Reconsider? That is not possible.” He shook his head, his gaze focused on some point over her shoulder. “Sometimes the desires of a few must be set aside for a greater cause.”

“What ‘greater cause’ would that be?”

Her father’s gaze pierced her. Never before had she questioned him. Now she had little to lose. After a long pause, he simply sighed. “You and I will both be forever bound to Tegmont.”

“But, Father–”

“And don’t think you’ll take that bastard with you either. Tegmont doesn’t need some other man’s child hanging on your skirts while he tries to fill your belly with his own.” He emphasized his order by pointing his finger at her, a habit of his she’d grown to detest.

She’d tried to discuss the matter with him several times after that, but to no avail. Nor had he explained his words. Now, all the plans she’d made to flee had changed. But she would not lose hope.

As they rode into the night, she realized events could be much worse. She could be on her way to marry Lord Tegmont. She said a prayer of thanks and reminded herself to count her blessings.

***

Royce felt Alyna’s form sag against him yet again. This time, she stayed in place, her body at last giving up the fight to remain awake. He put his arms around her and the boy, readjusting her position slightly to one more safe and comfortable. Her hair was soft and smooth and smelled of some sort of flower. He sniffed again, but couldn’t determine what the fragrance was.

Her pleas for her servants had nearly undone him. If she’d begged him one more time, he might’ve relented and allowed her to return to Montvue. Logically, he’d known he couldn’t risk it. If she’d gone back into the manor, she might not have found it as easy as she thought to escape with her servants. Then he’d have had to go in after her. No, it had definitely not been worth the risk.

But logic aside, he’d felt...otherwise. Something about her pulled at him. She was a strong, beautiful woman. Resourceful, too, he thought, as he touched his cheek where her basket had left its mark. Her son was as well. They’d given him more of a fight than he’d bargained for. He’d been astonished to learn she had a son, and he’d be willing to bet Lord Blackwell would feel the same. That must mean she’d been married before, but what had happened to her husband?

Someday, she’d thank him for taking her with him. Aye, he thought. She’d be grateful to him. Though she might not realize it yet, he and her grandfather had just saved her from a miserable life. Perhaps even death, for it was said by some that his uncle had murdered his first three wives for failing to produce an heir.

He regretted having to use Alyna to aid him to fulfill his vow of vengeance. But now she’d be free to find some other lord to marry, one that would make her happy for he knew Tegmont would not. He wondered if she cared for his uncle. They’d surely met on more than one occasion because of the proximity of their estates. His uncle was said to be pleasant to look upon and had aged well. The thought of any sort of affection between this beautiful lady and his traitorous uncle made his stomach turn. Hopefully, the match was not one of love, at least not on her part.

As for his uncle, the more he desired Lady Alyna, the more pain he’d feel when he discovered she was no longer his. That put a smile on Royce’s face.

***

Alyna shifted restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position on the horse. Nicholas’s form had listed to one side and caused her arm to go numb. She wriggled again, but realized it was no use. The knight who’d taken her was not a comfortable pillow. The surcoat covering his chain mail gave no protection from the metal links. She thought about straightening, but Royce’s form, mail-clad as it was, provided warmth and support she was grateful for. By the look of the moon, several hours had passed. Her stomach growled. Or was that his?

“We will stop for a rest soon, my lady.” His voice was deep and rumbled through his chest.

Alyna nodded. The farther they traveled, the sooner they’d get to her grandfather’s. She closed her eyes and sighed, her heart heavy.

She would not complain, though she longed to. She was stiff, both from the cold and her position on the horse. She was thirsty, but didn’t want to ask for a drink. She was hungry, as she hadn’t yet had supper.

She smoothed Nicholas’s hair, wondering how he’d come to be in the woods with her. Had he sensed she was in trouble? Perhaps he was showing signs of second sight as Mistress Myranda had promised. He’d said some odd things of late, but she’d put it down to the imagination of a child.

The near miss of having to leave Nicholas behind made her ill. And that was exactly the reason she could not marry Lord Tegmont. She would never consider a life without Nicholas. It wouldn’t be worth living. She needed him as much as he needed her.

The moon seemed brighter than before and now she could tell the horse followed a narrow path. The destrier showed no sign of tiring, even with the burden of three on its back, nor did the knight who guided it. Did a knight such as Royce name his horse? She shook her head at her fanciful thoughts.

“What is it?” Royce asked.

“Nothing of import.” She shifted again and heard him grunt in response. “My apologies. Did I hurt you?”

“Nay.”

His voice sounded very odd. She sighed and wiggled her numb bottom. She felt a strange combination of restlessness and tiredness. It was going to be a long night. “How long have you known my grandfather?” Alyna asked.

“Several years.”

She waited, but he said nothing more. It appeared as though she’d have to drag every last word from him. “How did you meet him?”

“At a jousting match.” He paused, then added, “In Normandy.”

She’d known her grandfather had left England soon after her mother’s death at the king’s bidding. Royce and her grandfather had both traveled far beyond England’s shores. She could only imagine the different places and people they’d seen.

There had been many times over the years when she’d wished her grandfather would return to England and come to take her away, at least for a time. Though she didn’t know him well, her mother had told her stories of him. He sounded so very different from her own father.

Her feelings for her father were complicated. At times she resented that he’d lived when her mother had died. Then guilt would take over, and she was certain God would punish her for her wicked thoughts. Other times, she thought that if she could be a better daughter and work harder, he would love her.

“It seems as if all this would have been much simpler if Grandfather had come to Montvue. Why didn’t he?”

“We did not think your father would take kindly to a visit from him.”

Alyna had to admit that was true. Her father’s relationship with her grandfather had ended poorly upon her mother’s death. “In my message to him, I suggested I’d meet him at a place of his choosing.”

“He did not receive a message from you.”

Alyna turned her head to look at Sir Royce, careful not to jostle Nicholas. “What do you mean?”

He frowned. “He did not receive any message from you.”

She studied the knight’s expression, unsure why he would say such a thing. “Of course he received it. My messenger confirmed he presented it to someone at the keep.”

“Nay, my lady. We would’ve been given the message.”

“But then how did you know to come? How did Grandfather learn of my betrothal?”

“Lord Blackwell learned of it when he returned to England. He decided it best to speak with you, and the only way to do so was to have you come to Northe Castle for a visit.”

A visit, Alyna thought as she turned back around. Was that how her grandfather intended to explain her absence to her father? If she had any voice in the matter, she would not be returning to Montvue.

She wondered what her grandfather would say to her. There must be something about the betrothal that had caused him to send Sir Royce to fetch her if it hadn’t been her message. Perhaps he’d be able to explain her father’s words about her marriage being part of a “greater cause”. Or should she even mention her father’s strange comments? Could she trust her grandfather?

“He’s a good man, your grandfather.”

Alyna smiled, comforted. Mayhap the knight wasn’t much for conversation, but he’d said the right thing this time.

CHAPTER THREE

“
Mugwort
is said to protect against bad visions,

but in truth, I have seen no evidence of this.”

Lady Catherine’s Herbal Journal

Alyna opened her eyes and saw a stretch of pale blue sky between tall evergreens. A squirrel chattered above them as if annoyed by their presence. She looked around, confused as to why she’d woken up outside.

Then she remembered.

The frost-covered ground had seeped into her bones despite the pallet of furs Sir Royce had provided. The tip of her nose tingled from the cold. A glance to her side showed the knight slept an arm’s length away. Nicholas lay sound asleep between them covered with a fur, his warm form tucked against hers. A touch on his soft hair reassured her.

She barely remembered stopping for a rest. She’d been exhausted and not much help in getting Nicholas off the horse and settled for the night. Sir Royce had taken good care of them. The thought made her warm inside. Her captor was very considerate now that he had her where he wanted her.

The trees were too thick to allow her to see the sun, but a closer look at the delicate blue of the sky indicated it was early morning. She stretched and nearly groaned at her sore muscles. How could sitting on a horse cause every part of her body to hurt so? She glared at the steed where it stood nearby, but the large gray beast paid her no mind.

She had no idea where they were or which way was home. Nothing looked familiar. She prayed that Charles and Enid weren’t suffering at the hands of her father. With luck, she’d be able to send a message to them on the morrow.

Frustrated, she frowned at the man who’d foiled her plans and caused her this worry. His eyes remained closed, so she took the opportunity to study him. He lay on his side facing her on the hard ground, still in his chain mail, his head cradled on his bent arm. He was close enough that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted.

If she dared.

Her midsection did a long, slow roll at the temptation. Now that she could see him clearly in the light of day, she realized how attractive he was. He exuded strength and power even while he slept. His sandy brown hair was streaked from the sun and brushed the top of the mail that covered his broad shoulders. A scrape marred his cheek. She and Nicholas had certainly not made his task easy.

A few scars marked his face, but they did not detract from his appeal. His nose was straight, his brows a strong slash above his eyes, his expression serious even in sleep. Long, dark lashes, which many women would give an arm for, emphasized eyes the color of a gray winter sky.