Authors: Dawn Chandler
She had been his wife for over a year. When did she practice to stay in such shape?
Her ringing voice put him quickly on the offensive. “Men, what is your lord’s first rule of battle.”
The men all spoke in unison, their voice clearly ringing though the lists. “Never underestimate your enemy.”
He attacked.
The men circled them unsure of what to do. The battle raged until both combatants were slick with sweat.
Van sliced through his chain mail with a slow sweep of her sharpened sword and Peter returned the blow with a bruising shot to her ribs.
With a grunt of pain she doubled over. Peter knew she would not surrender to him, and he caught the hilt of her sword, ripping it from her hands. It skidded across the meadow tearing a swatch through the grass. He lifted the sword to her throat to show he had won.
His heart fell into his stomach as Van spun toward him and the deadly sharp edge of his sword scratched the skin of her throat, a trickle of blood ran down her dark, tanned skin.
Horrified he thought to withdraw his sword and beg her forgiveness. That was until he felt a sharp pain in his abdomen. Looking down his eyes widened in disbelief.
Through the rent in his mail she had slipped her dagger, the very one he had given her, its jeweled hilt sparkling in the warm sunlight. The cold steel had pierced his skin, not enough to be lethal, but enough to know it was there.
She smiled, no, she grinned that same devil-may-care grin that still tormented him. “Shall we call it a draw, my lord husband?”
Unfortunately, it was then that he noticed more blood than the small trickle on her exposed neck. The shot to her ribs had torn through her mail, and was now bleeding.
He dropped his sword tip to the ground and took a step toward her with a question on his lips.
Her soft whisper stopped him more than the dagger that had somehow found its way from his waist to his neck. “You were not about to ask me if I was all right in front of your men, now would you have been, Dragon Knight?”
When he shook his head no, she smiled up at him with such love and adoration that it took all the control he had not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her—and be damned who saw it.
His control may not have been enough to keep him from her arms, but her arrogant words were. “You do know, my lord, that the only reason I did not take your head on the many occasions you gave me was because you are my husband and I love you, right?”
His laughter rang out across the lists. “And you know that the only reason you got those occasions was because I went easy on you, because I love you, my lady wife.”
He watched her retrieve her sword, but instead of sheathing it she pointed it to the assemblage. Her smile was gone, the knight back.
The growl was directed to Mavis, who now stood looking at her with awe. “Anytime you want to lose that wagging tongue of yours to my blade, just call me Vanessa once again.” Her eyes swept the men. “That goes for anyone.”
He watched in pride as she sheathed her weapon and mounted Damien, who had stood calmly while steel rang around him. She faltered slightly and Peter forced himself not to help her.
He had to see to her wound, but he would not embarrass her again. He smiled, walking to his horse.
“
I shall return soon, I need to take care of something,” he said ignoring the warning scowl she sent at him. “I do have one sword she will not fight if I use it on her.”
Her face flushed red with embarrassment and she kicked Damien into a gallop.
She had made it to the castle and her bed chambers before he arrived. Miceal met him at the door. “She says you are not allowed to enter in your armor.”
“
Why? So she has a better shot with that bloody dagger?” Even as he grumbled he quickly allowed Miceal to assist him. Telling him to bring some hot water and fresh bandages, he entered her room.
She stood naked before him, her back to him. The first thing he noticed was the gash across her ribs she was dabbing at with a linen cloth. He had done this to her.
He tried to ignore her naked breasts and backside as well as his painful arousal and tried to push her onto the bed. “Sit, I need to clean you, to see if you need stitching. It may hurt. I am so sorry. Can you forgive me for—”
Her lips stopped his words as she wrapped her arms around him pulling him onto the bed. He fell between her spread legs.
“
What are you doing? You are bleeding. I have to see to you. We cannot—” He groaned deeply as her swift hands released him from his braies.
***
Peter quickly pulled himself from his memories before he hardened and embarrassed himself before his men. He looked at them and shook his head, pacing before them.
They had stopped their struggling and now stood watching him, a look of growing concern spreading across their faces. He smiled and thought to make them sweat a little longer.
Peter remembered scolding Van for her stupidity, had scolded her with zeal with every stitch he put in her side. But from that day on she was at the lists, in full gear. She not only watched the men but fully participated in the training of the boys, as well as practicing with the men.
When the men at arms had left her wanting more and bored, she would seek out her husband. She did so in such a charming way that he had never turned her down.
She would sway her hips up to him, look up through her long lashes, and smile so sweetly it almost made him forget himself. She would wink at him and say, unfortunately loud enough for all to hear. “I will go easy on you, my love, as not to tire you for when you want to sheath your sword later.”
He blushed now as he thought about it.
When she could not draw him to the lists to practice because he had other things to do, she would wait along his route to ambush him. Leaping onto him, or knocking him from his horse. He had bloodied her nose more than once. He had growled at her once. “You cannot keep doing this. I am going to hurt you. I have to assume you are an enemy, I cannot let my guard down.”
Her response, spoken with a slight pouting of her lips, was, “If you ever let it down, I would be disappointed, and no longer feel the challenge of besting you.”
He didn’t try to dissuade her again, but he got his own revenge on the few occasions he could outsmart her.
Things had changed much for him in the three years he had been married. He had gone from thinking a woman didn’t have a decent opinion, to relying heavily on his sometimes sweet, sometimes angry, but always volatile wife’s suggestions.
Now he went to her first when he had a dilemma. She was clever, stubborn and extremely intelligent.
His thoughts were drawn back to the problem before him as Grant cursed the arrogant and stubborn Raymond who had once again began to struggle. Peter had moved to intercede when Raymond stopped struggling and all the men stared.
He cursed loudly as he saw what they were seeing.
Coming awkwardly toward them, stopping every few steps to grab her swollen and massive stomach, was his beautiful wife. Her pregnancy, the reason she had been forbidden to come to the lists, was well into its final stages. “Speaking of stubborn,” he said irritably as he started toward her.
The boys were released as the two knights that had held them stepped toward their lady, concern thick in their eyes. The men, pages, and squires watched as Lady Van leaned heavily on the massive frame of Verges.
Peter paused and watched as Verges shook his head vigorously, once, and then twice. Whatever it was, she seemed to be insisting on obedience.
It did not look good and, if Peter knew his wife, more than likely it would be worse for him.
Verges supported her, her trembling frame leaning heavily in his embrace. Panic set in as Peter took in the pain contorting her face. Labor had begun. “Verges, what is the meaning of this? She should not be here in her condition.” His voice was edged with anger and fear.
“
I am so sorry, my lord. This was not my idea.” Verges released her, pulling Peter into a massive and painful bear hug. As the men came forward, the big warrior called a halt to the rescue by placing his dagger to Peter’s throat.
All swords drew forth with an ear ringing chime, steel slipping from the tight leather scabbards. A deep sigh came from Verges.
“
I am sorry, my lord,” he repeated.
Van, taking first Verges’s sword and then Peter’s, walked toward Raymond, no sign of the pain or the labor that had plagued her only moments ago. It had been a trick, Peter thought.
“
So sorry, my lord,” Verges repeated.
“
Stop saying that and let me loose. She will be hurt.” He struggled in vain, helpless to do anything but watch. “What is she doing?” he asked, but he already knew.
Van had told him that Raymond would always think himself above everyone until someone showed him differently, but she had agreed he could not just throw Daniel at him.
He cursed himself for not realizing she had told him last night of her plans. She had said, “He needs to be beaten by someone unexpected, not one he would think a challenge, but it has to be someone of experience.”
He had just laughed, saying Raymond would be well prepared for anyone with skill. He remembered her knowing smile. When suspicion had started to bud in his mind, she had kissed it away.
He had been wrong. And he was angry at her for her distracting him, for her ability to do so. “Verges, she will be hurt. What if he hurts the baby?”
“
She, at least, has chain mail under her gown. It is long and is some protection for the child.” His voice was a mere whisper. “I am sorry, my lord, I must do as she says. I do not believe she will be hurt.” His voice shook with uncertainty. He then added with conviction. “Besides, if it looks as if she may be even slightly fatigued, I will release you, no matter her anger at me for doing so.”
“
I know,” Peter said and ceased his struggles. “I also know I am going to beat her as soon as she has that baby. It cannot protect her much longer. Yes, as soon as she has the child, I will blister her sweet little bottom till she cannot sit. This is too much. She is taking years off my life.”
Van looked across the boys and recognized Raymond on sight. She had dealt with his kind often enough to know the look.
She threw Peter’s sword to the sixteen year old boy. He reached up and grabbed it. She smiled. “You are Donlay. I have heard about you.”
“
I am. Who are you?” he snarled at her. “Are you the wife of that menacing giant who hit me within an hour of meeting me?” He sent a scathing scowl toward Verges. “I am the son of the Duke of Blightly and you do not know who you are messing with.”
There was a look of surprise as the heavy sword came down at him without a word. His reflexes brought his up, steel sparking against steel.
Much to her disappointment, there would be no playing with this mouse as she would have liked to. That would risk the baby, and she would not do that. She knew she had to end it quickly.
She swung hard against him. He was quick with his returning thrusts, but not quick enough. She watched with a growing grin as he began to take on a panicked, harried look.
Less than a dozen swift swings on her part left him struggling for breath and looking confused at how he could possibly be losing. One more swing took the sword out of his hand, flinging it to the grass beyond them.
Van lunged toward him quickly bringing the deadly tip of the long blade to his throat. Off balance, Raymond fell.
Van smiled.
With a bewildered Raymond lying on the ground, sword still at his throat, Van looked around the group of awe-eyed boys. She ignored the angry looks from the men-at-arms and the knights.
They all looked ready to take a switch to her, Verges included. There was nothing she could do about that now. She had to finish it.
She cringed, thinking of Verges’ anger when he found out that her pains of labor had not been falsified for show as she had claimed.
Her deep, graveled growl echoed as she shouted, pointing the sword at the assembled company. “What is the first rule of battle?” She fought nausea and a quickly passing light-headedness.
Everyone responded. “Never underestimate your opponent.”
Turning the sword back to the embarrassed boy sprawled on the ground, she posed the same question to him. She got the same answer.
“
Never underestimate your opponent,” she repeated, her voice loud and strong, the pain hidden for now, but not for long.
She motioned for Raymond to rise. He swiftly complied. Pointing her weapon at the assembly her voice faltered as her abdomen rippled, pain driving through it.
“
Never! Whether it be a known enemy.”
Her sword swung to Verges. “A loyal friend.”
Her searching sword found Daniel. “A smaller combatant.”
She thrust the sword into the soft earth, the hilt quivering. “Or a very pregnant woman.”
A soft wave of her delicate hand and Verges released his prisoner. Peter was to her side in a moment. “Are you stupid, or do you just not care about our child?” Despite the anger in his voice his hands were gentle as he caressed her stomach. The roughness of the chain mail caught at his fingers.