Her Rogue Knight (2 page)

“So they think she is at least part Fey. And what happens when they discover they took the wrong sister? Never mind the stupidity of their legend,” Gemma asked, rising to her feet.

“The Beltane fires will burn in six days’ time,” Sir William said.

“What does that mean to us?” Gemma asked, turning to her father.

Abraham’s eyes once again filled with tears. Sir William watched as they began to fall, and Mary came to hold Abraham’s hand, her expression expectant, almost pleading, as she looked to Sir William.

“I’m sorry, Abraham,” Sir William said. “They likely headed west to the altar there. She has six days before the ceremony takes place.”

“Where? What altar? What ceremony?” Gemma asked, frantic now as she looked from one man to the other.

“Sir William,” Abraham said, rising to his feet and pushing Mary’s hand away. He pulled himself up to his full height as Gemma watched, his demeanor changing, the father she’d not seen in many years returning.

Sir William turned to him, waiting. His expression told Gemma he had some idea what Abraham was about to say.

“I’m an old man. Mercenaries have come before, and they will come again. They will take what they can and destroy what they cannot take.” He faltered for a moment but regained control over himself. “I cannot protect my family, my daughters, any longer.”

Sir William exhaled, and Gemma could almost see the battle within his mind.

“Father?” she asked, her eyes on Sir William.

He ignored her and took a step toward Sir William. “I don’t have much by way of dowry. My land is poor and no longer what it was. I am an old man, and I have only daughters.” His voice broke at that. “Bring Alys back home to me, and I will give you Gemma’s hand in marriage. You will inherit all that is mine.”

“What? No!” Gemma yelled, her mouth falling open, not understanding this sudden change of events.

“Hush, child,” Abraham said to her, his gaze never leaving Sir William’s, who now stood staring at him, his expression even more serious than it had been moments ago. Abraham reached out a hand to Sir William’s sleeve. “I beg you,” he said. “You know as well as I what they plan to do to my daughter.”

“Father, no,” Gemma protested, her own eyes filling with tears.

Sir William straightened, growing even bigger if that were possible. “I will leave at first light,” he said. “I will bring your daughter back.” He turned to Gemma whose eyes grew wide as they looked at this rugged, gruff man with  new understanding. “We will speak of the rest upon my return.”

They would
not
speak of the rest upon his return, Gemma determined, but there was something more important to consider now.

“I’m not waiting for first light,” she interjected.

Sir William’s tone was just a little different now when he addressed her directly. “You don’t have to wait for anything. You’ll be staying home with your father. This is not a task for a girl.”

“I’m not a girl, and you don’t get to tell me what to do,” she said, squaring her shoulders even though it made little difference next to this giant of a man.

She could see the effort it took for him to hold his tongue.

“Gemma,” Abraham said, sounding tired. “Sir William is right. This is not something for a young lady. You do not know the evil you will go against.”

“Young lady?” she shook her head. She took a step toward the door and turned her attention to Sir William. “She’s not
your
sister. What do
you
care anyway? I will not be married off as a bribe. I will never be married,” she said, walking to the door. “I’m old enough and capable enough to take care of my family.”

“And stubborn enough,” Sir William added.

“Gemma!” Abraham said sharply, halting her step.

She kept her gaze on Sir William’s now burning eyes.

“Apologize. Now,” Abraham said.

Her lip tightened, and she narrowed her eyes, fisting her hands. “I’m sorry, Father,” she said, her eyes still on Sir William’s face but unable to read his expression.

“Daughter…” Abraham began, but Sir William cut him off.

“It’s all right, Abraham. She is a young girl, afraid for her sister’s safety. No apology is necessary,” he said, his now steely blue eyes boring into hers, challenging her. He turned to Abraham. “Is there something I can take so that Alys will know to trust me once I have found her?”

“You’re very sure of yourself,” Gemma said. “Father, I am going now. You do not need to give him anything or make any promises you will be unable to keep.”

“
I
apologize for my daughter, Sir William.” Abraham raised his hand, twisting the ring with the family crest from his finger until he pulled it off. “Take this. She will know it is from me. I have no money to give you, only a few coins, but if it comes to that, you can use the ring to buy her back.”

William reached out and took the ring, looking it over before pressing it onto his own finger. “This will do. I need no money. I will have her back as soon as I can.”

“You cannot give him your ring! What if we never see him again?” Gemma broke in.

“Go to your room, child.”

“No!”

“Now!” Abraham demanded, raising his voice in a way he hadn’t in years.

“I’ll take my leave and prepare for the journey,” Sir William said, ignoring her altogether and bowing his head to Abraham.

“I thank you, Sir William,” Abraham said.

Sir William didn’t smile but walked out the door.

“I can’t believe you just gave him your ring, not to mention what you promised! We don’t even know the man. He is a recluse, a hermit. He could be a criminal, no better than those men who took Alys.”

“His heart is pure,” Abraham said, watching as the door closed behind Sir William before turning to Gemma. He reached out a hand to take hers. “Open your eyes, child. See what is true. You have your mother’s magic—you simply must open your eyes.” He squeezed her hand. “As well as your heart.”

“There is no magic, Father,” she spat in familiar anger, walking out the door just in time to catch Sir William as he mounted his horse.

“Sir William,” she called out, the words sounding bitter.

He turned.

She covered the few steps between them. “That ring belongs to my family. It’s the last thing of any value that my father owns,” she said, her voice more an angry hiss than anything else.

“I understand, and I shall bring your sister and it back to him. Go back inside to your father. He needs you now.”

“I won’t marry you.”

He ignored that. “Go inside.”

“At least let me come with you. You cannot stand against all those men alone.”

“No, it’s too dangerous for you.” He then spoke more slowly, as if she were hard of understanding. “Go back inside. Your father needs you now.”

“You’re going to lose the trail if you wait,” she said. “We have to go now.”

“There is no ‘we’. The men are headed west. I know that as well as their destination. It’s useless to go after them without first preparing. I will be of no use to your sister if I do not do that.”

Frustrated, she turned away and walked back into the house. She heard him mutter something under his breath but didn’t look back. Instead, she listened to the sound of the horse’s hooves as Sir William rode off.

Chapter Two

As soon as night had fallen, Gemma climbed out of her bedroom window. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and secured her bow and arrows along with two apples inside Morning Glory’s saddlebag. She then mounted and trotted off into the woods in the direction the men had gone earlier that day.

The night was cool as it usually was this time of year, and she was grateful for it. The light of the stars guided her through the dense wood, but she worried that it would become thicker and much darker soon.

Sir William had said they had headed west, so she went in that direction, guided by her own senses for the moment. She had borrowed the last of her father’s coins—well, borrowed without his knowledge or permission. She slid her hand into her pocket and touched them, feeling a pang of guilt before turning to the path ahead of her. Alys’ life was more important than any amount of money and any material thing.

Sir William had said they had six days and that the ceremony would be held on the night of the Beltane fires. What ceremony he spoke of, she had no idea. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She touched a hand to the slightly raised birthmark behind her ear. She had some idea.

Before her mother had died, she had told stories. Strange, wonderful, magical stories that enthralled Gemma. She would sit for hours listening at her mother’s feet, staring up into her beautiful face and her strange eyes. Gemma had inherited her mother’s eyes, although they were tempered slightly by her father’s darker ones. Hers were more golden, while her mother’s had been more green.

She recalled the tales she had been told. She could retell them herself and had done so to her sister, but that had been years ago. Alys had been just a baby then and remembered none of it.

The day of Alys’ birth had been the day of her mother’s death. Gemma’s lip quivered, and her eyes grew hot with tears at the memory. She’d seen her one last time that day, holding the still-bloody baby, the cord still in place connecting daughter to mother. She remembered her first thought, the feeling inside her when she had been led into the birthing room. She had looked at the baby, her sister, but what had drawn her attention was the cord itself. It still connected this new being to
her
mother. Jealousy had erupted inside Gemma, an energy that made her body tingle, her muscles tighten, her heart fall like a boulder to her stomach.

Her mother had called out her name then, and Gemma had turned her eyes to her mother’s, knowing her mother knew what she felt. Her mother’s bright eyes usually shone. But that day when Gemma had looked into them, she’d gasped, shuddering as if the devil had laid a hand upon her shoulder.

“Come here, Gemma,” her mother had said, her voice weak as she held out her hand.

Gemma had stared for a long time, her feet still, as if planted where she stood. Tears had begun to fall from her eyes, and if her father hadn’t know it before, he had known then by looking at her that her mother would not survive this birth. His own tears had come quietly, his hand large and protective on his wife’s shoulder, but unable to shield or protect her against that final death.

Slowly, she had walked to her mother. She had placed her trembling hand inside her mother’s weaker one.

“Mother,” she’d managed, her body rocking with emotion.

“Daughter.”

She had not said more, but while they had remained as they were, their eyes locked on one another, and Gemma had heard everything, had seen everything, all without a sound, all within an instant: her mother’s thoughts, her dreams, her fears, her loves, her losses and her regrets.

“You will always be my first. No one and nothing can take that away,” her mother had said, releasing her hand to touch her face. A small shadow of a smile had played on her mother’s lips. “Love your sister as I have loved you.”

Gemma had broken then. It was the end; her mother was moments from death, and she knew it. And as soon as they had cut the cord that connected her sister to her mother, she had passed. Without a sigh, without a gasp or even an exhale of breath; nothing at all. She had simply closed her eyes and passed.

The nurse had collected the child as Gemma had fallen across her mother’s still form and howled. Since that night, Gemma had been the protector of Alys—that and Alys’ mother, her sister, and her only friend.

A sound brought her back to the present, and Gemma gasped, startled. She touched the blade strapped to her upper arm as she looked around the thick, dark wood, but she saw nothing. It had likely been an animal. She was alone, tired and cold, and more than a little uncertain.

She rode on a while longer until the path ahead of her disappeared fully in the thick growth of the forest and no more star light penetrated the dense cover of trees. She dismounted, listening to the sounds of insects and other creatures of the night. Clearing a spot just a few feet away, she sat down on the cool, damp earth, pulling her hood over her head. She slipped the blade from its sheath on her arm and closed both hands over it. Leaning her back against a tree and making herself as small as possible, she allowed her eyes to close.

* * *

Sir William rode as if the devil himself were after him. The girl was stubborn, and she was going to get herself hurt or worse. Abraham had sent a boy to his cottage before daybreak once he had realized she had run off after her sister. She had taken the last of his coins and left a letter in their place explaining her plan—which was no plan—and explaining that she did not trust this stranger, this old, weak man, to rescue her sister.

Old, weak man
. William shook his head, fuming. He was no old man. Older than her, yes, but no old man. He was barely fifteen years her senior. And he was certainly not weak. But best to show the headstrong girl rather than tell her. He would now have to find and return her to her father’s house before heading out once more to find the kidnapped child. He only hoped this wouldn’t cost him too much precious time. The moon would be full in six days. He had an idea where they would take Alys, and he could be there in four days if he rode hard. But he would have to take paths less traveled and keep himself well hidden. That would cost him time, time perhaps the child did not have.

He slowed his horse as the path split and grew more dense. He dismounted and looked around. Finding the way with the freshest tracks, he walked his horse by the reins. At least she had chosen the correct direction. She was an archeress; he had seen her with her kill more than a few times. But who knew what her sense of direction would be like here in the unfamiliar and dark wood, especially at nighttime.

Once he was certain this was the path she had taken, he mounted his horse once more and rode at a slightly slower pace, his eyes scanning the wood as the sun made its way up into the sky. The image of her emerging naked from the river yesterday formed in his mind, and his cock immediately stirred. Although he had watched her before, he had never seen her bathe. She had thought she’d been alone, but that was just one more reason she shouldn’t be out here on her own now. She thought herself stronger than she was, but this was not a woman’s place. Abraham’s proposition had taken him by surprise, although it made perfect sense. The man was old and had weakened so much in the five years Sir William had known him. He needed protection for his family, and his proposal left no doubt in Sir William’s mind that he had in fact recognized him upon their first meeting.