A Knight of Honor (12 page)

And now he was gone.

Slowly, her sobs lessened.
 
She wiped her eyes and her nose and looked up.
 
Slane was there, watching her with gentle eyes, his golden hair waving slightly in a soft breeze.
 
And Taylor realized suddenly that his arms were around her, holding her.

And she liked it.

Slane lowered his arms, letting them slide down hers.
 
A strange tremor raced through Taylor’s body, startling her.
 
She stepped back, away from him.

A cold wind slid between them and Taylor lifted her hand to swipe at a lock of hair that had blown before her face.

Slane’s gaze dropped to her wrist.
 
“You’re hurt,” he said softly.

Taylor looked down to see the dark black and blue marks marring her skin, the large bump that had appeared.
 
She realized she must have struck something in the wagon.
 
The pain erupted from her wrist as she laid eyes on it, as if her body just realized that it had been wounded, but she shook her head.
 
“It’s nothing,” she murmured.
 
And then more aches started to surface, dull throbs that seemed to cover her entire body.

Slane took her hand, his blue eyes drawn to her wrist.

Taylor followed his gaze.
 
But it wasn’t her bruised skin she was looking at.
 
It was the tender way in which Slane held her.
 
His large fingers engulfed her hand, shielding it, holding it carefully.
 
Her fingers wrapped around his thumb.
 
“Does it hurt?” he wondered.

A crooked smile formed on her lips.
 
“Only when I move it,” she said.

“You can move it?”

“Only if I want to feel some pain.”

Slane put his hands on her shoulders to ease her to the ground.
 
Taylor let him tend her.
 
She let him move her wrist tentatively.
 
She knew it wasn’t broken.
 
But she liked the way he touched her, the gentleness and concern he bestowed upon her.

For a moment, she wasn’t the hunted woman.
 
For a moment, he wasn’t the hunter.
 
They were just a man and a woman.

“How long have you known him?” Slane wondered, not raising his eyes to hers.

“Eight years,” she answered.
 
He lifted his gaze to lock eyes with hers and Taylor read the surprise there.
 
She smiled humorlessly.
 
“We left the castle together.”

He bent his head over her wrist again.
 
“He taught you to fight?”

“Jared said there were two ways we could make a living.
 
Fighting or prostitution.” Taylor watched the distaste curl Slane’s lips.
 
“He said he couldn’t bear to see me doing that.
 
So he taught me to fight.”

Slane turned her hand over to inspect her palm.
 
He ran his forefinger over the calluses across her knuckles and near her thumb.
 
“You shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“It was my choice.”

“Why didn’t you return to the castle?” Slane asked.

“After what Father did?” Taylor snorted.
 
“I never want to see him again.”

“He wants to see you.”

Taylor froze.
 
After all this time, he finally wondered what his daughter was up to!
 
A sudden longing surged inside her breast.
 
To return home to the friends she had left there, the lands she had loved.
 
But then the image of her father danced mockingly over the serene scene.
 
She had tried to prepare herself for this moment, but now that it stared her in the face, she felt nothing but bitterness.
 
She yanked her hand from Slane’s grasp.
 
“So that’s why you came after me.”
 
Why did she feel so betrayed?

“He’s old.
 
He wants to make amends,” Slane defended.

“He wants to have an heir,” she retorted and shot to her feet.
 
“Well, you can forget it, because I am not going back.”

“You won’t see him?
 
You won’t speak to him?” Slane demanded, rising after her.

“I have nothing to say to him.”

“He’s your father, for the love of God!
 
If he wants to see you again you have a duty, an obligation –”

“This is good advice from a man who didn’t listen to his father,” Taylor retorted.

Surprise rocked Slane and he straightened.

“Oh, I know, all right.
 
I know all about how your father wanted you to become a priest.
 
But you ran away to your...
 
was it your uncle’s castle?”

Slane crossed his arms, staring at her through chilly blue eyes.

An icy smile slid over Taylor’s lips.
 
“And instead you trained to become a knight.
 
Against your father’s wishes.
 
You’re a fine one to tell me to listen to my father.”

“This is different,” Slane said stubbornly.

“How so?”

“I had a calling.
 
And it wasn’t to be a priest.”

“I have a calling, too.”
 
She turned her back on him.
 
“And it’s not to see my father again.”

Slane grabbed her arm, halting her movement.
 
“Where will you go?
 
What do you think you will do?
 
A lone woman in this world?
 
You’ll be killed at the first inn you stop at. Or maybe on the road to the inn.”

Taylor pulled her arm away from him.
 
“I survived this long.”

“You had Jared,” Slane snapped.

His barb stung her.
 
She stood absolutely still, warring with her anger and her loss for a long moment, staring up into his hard blue eyes.

“You have nowhere to go,” Slane replied in a softer tone.
 
“Come with me.”

She knew he was right.
 
She had to decide on a course of action, figure out where she was going.
 
But her mind refused to focus.
 
It refused to think of anyone except for Jared.
 
And large blue, comforting eyes.

“You can travel with me safely until you decide what you want to do.”

Taylor turned her head to the empty shadows of the woods.
 
“You’ll be heading for Sullivan lands.”
 
Her words were half statement, half question.

“Yes,” Slane said.

Taylor felt a growing sense of anxiety in the pit of her stomach.
 
She didn’t know what to do.
 
If Jared had been there, they could have talked about it.
 
But he wasn’t there.
 
And he never would be again.

And it was all her fault.
 
Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes again, but she quickly fought them back.

“I’ll pay your way,” Slane coaxed.

The statement jarred her.
 
Pay?
 
Laughter bubbled in her closing throat.
 
“With what?” she asked.
 
“Your gold is in your room at the inn.”

Slane frowned, turning to look back in the direction they had just come from.

Taylor could almost see the silent curse on his lips.
 
Humor and tears battled for control of her body.

Slane turned a questioning stare to her.

She removed a heavy pouch of coins from her waistband.
 
When Slane’s eyes widened incredulously, she broke out in laughter even as tears ran over her cheeks.

“That’s mine!” Slane exclaimed.

“I lifted it from your room,” she admitted.
 
And then the laughter was gone and sorrow engulfed her like the hand of a giant crushing her in its palm.
 
It was her fault.
 
Jared had known.
 
He had the foresight to know not to return.
 
But she had insisted they find Slane.
 
And now her stubbornness had killed the only man she had ever called friend.
 
She had thought to ease Jared’s worry with a fat pouch of coin.
 
Instead, she held the pouch in a shaking hand, with no one to present it to except its rightful owner.

Slane stepped forward and Taylor thought he would take her memorial from her.
 
He reached out, but it wasn’t the pouch he took.
 
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace.

She stiffened for a moment, resisting his comfort.
 
But she couldn’t withstand her agony, her loss.
 
It encompassed her body, sending her into fits of grief.
 
She slumped against him and followed him to a nearby outcropping of rocks.

Exhausted, Taylor let Slane pull her down to the ground between a sheltering pine and a large rock.

The bag of coin lay on the ground near their feet, forgotten.

S
lane stared down at Taylor as she slept cushioned against his body, his arm around her.
 
He didn’t think a herd of thundering horses could awaken her now.
 
He stroked her hairline again, running his fingertips over her smooth skin, marveling that the bruises had so completely disappeared and left such smooth, untainted skin in their wake.
 
Her lips were not swollen and distorted any longer, but rather perfect in their symmetry, full, and sensual.
 
He had a sudden desire to touch them.

Horrified at the direction his thoughts were heading, Slane quickly eased her to the ground and stood away from her.
 
She groaned softly and curled into the warmth his body had left on the ground.
 
God’s blood! he thought.
 
What am I thinking?
 
I have to think about Elizabeth.
 
Waiting for me.
 
Yes, Elizabeth.
 
He ran a hand over his eyes, trying to wipe the fatigue from them.
 
I must be tired and confused.

But he found his gaze returning to Taylor.
 
If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t be in this mess, he thought.
 
I found her.
 
I brought her into this hell of running from Corydon’s men, of losing her friend.

Slane paced, raking his hand through his golden hair.
 
If he hadn’t found her, then it would have clearly been someone else.
 
And she was better off with him than with a mercenary seeking the reward his brother had put out for her!
 
Slane was sure every mercenary this side of France was looking for her.

The sun rose steadily over the horizon, the sky lightening with the coming dawn.
 
Slane knew they would have to move on soon.
 
They couldn’t put enough distance between themselves and Corydon.
 
A hundred miles was too little.
 
Still, he was reluctant to wake her.