A Knight of Honor (37 page)

But that was the problem.
 
The wanting.
 
She didn’t know what she wanted from Slane.
 
And she didn’t know if, when she figured it out, he would be able to give it to her.
 
But she knew she had to find out.
 
She had to know what it was about him that made her feel so... so much like a woman.

She rose to her feet and moved with determination to the door, throwing it wide.
 
She was avenging Jared’s death, after all.

Taylor stalked down the empty hallway, hurrying before she lost her nerve.
 
Slane was paying for her food and board, after all.

She reached for the door handle to Slane’s room and almost pulled back, afraid.
 
Her heart pounded furiously in her chest.
 
Afraid of --

I’m not afraid, she told herself.
 
Of anything.
 
She shoved the door open and stepped into the dark room.
 
She heard the rustle of movement and then the familiar swoosh of a sword being drawn.
 
In the torchlight spilling into the room from the hallway outside, Taylor saw the polished blade pointing at her throat.
 
But somehow that didn’t frighten her as much as facing the blue eyes shimmering in the darkness.

She wet her lips.
 
“I’m staying with you,” she announced.

After a long moment, the sword lowered from her neck, dipping back down into the darkness whence it came.
 
The room was as silent as a chapel.

“I’ll accompany you to Castle Donovan,” she clarified, wondering if he had heard her.
 
Finally, she took a step backward before turning away from him and leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

***

Slane dropped heavily onto the bed completely and utterly stunned, staring at the door.
 
Had that been Taylor who had just stormed in here, announcing she was going to Castle Donovan?
 
Or had he finally fallen asleep and dreamed it?
 
A glorious, wonderful dream.

No, she had had a change of heart.
 
She was going to Castle Donovan after all!

But why the sudden change of heart? he wondered.
 
What was in it for her?
 
She did nothing if there was not some profit to be made.
 
But he quickly realized with a widening grin that it didn’t really matter what her motives were now.
 
She was going with him!
 
She would be safe with him.
 
No mercenaries would capture her.
 
Corydon’s men would never get their hands on her.
 
Suddenly, his sense of jubilation died and was quickly replaced by doubt.

But she was also coming to Castle Donovan to be with Richard.
 
To be his brother’s betrothed.

A strange sense of melancholy filled him at the thought of her being Richard’s wife.
 
He couldn’t imagine it.
 
Richard would never tolerate her sarcasm.
 
He would never appreciate her wit.
 
He would never see her beauty.
 
Like Elizabeth, Richard would see the mercenary, the wild hair, the callused hands.
 
He would never see the way the blue streaks highlighted that rich hair; nor would he appreciate the skill with which she wielded her weapon.
 
No.
 
Richard would view her sarcasm as disrespect, her humor as insolence.
 
Slane scowled.
 
Was he delivering her to safety?
 
Or was he putting her in greater jeopardy than she was already in?

He should tell her.
 
He should tell her the real reason why he sought her.
 
He had told her a portion of the truth.
 
But not the entire story.
 
Not the part about her father betrothing her to his brother.

His gaze lifted to the door.
 
But if he told her, she would never go to Castle Donovan with him.
 
She would never be safe.

***

Taylor sat in the common room with her back to the hearth, watching the shadows cast by the flickering flames dance over the walls around her own dark silhouette.
 
She couldn’t help but wonder if she had done the right thing in staying with Slane.
 
She shrugged to herself.
 
What was done was done.

The sudden hiss of the fire burning behind her woke her from the hypnotic trance of the twisting shadows on the wall.
 
She pushed the blanket from her shoulders and wrapped her hand around her mug of ale.
 
She started to raise it to her mouth and froze.
 
How could she hope to compete with Elizabeth?
 
Compete?
 
She wasn’t trying to compete!
 
She finished bringing the cup to her lips and drained it.
 
Her emotions were all a jumble inside her.
 
She had to work them out.
 
She had to sort out what she was feeling.
 
But how could she do that when so many of the feelings were new?
 

Taylor rose and turned -- only to find a man with a twisted nose and dark eyes standing before her.
 
Over his shoulder, she saw another man a foot behind him.

Taylor stepped to the side to move around him, but the man moved to block her path.
 
She was in no mood to deal with this and briefly thought of kneeing him in the groin.
 
But she was sure Slane wouldn’t approve.
 
“Pardon me,” she murmured and again attempted to step around him.

Again, he blocked her path, and this time his friend moved up beside him.
 
“We saw ya over here and thought ya might like some company,” he all but drooled.

Taylor clenched her teeth.
 
“No, thank you,” she replied.

“Ah, manners,” the twisted-nosed one said.

“Ya can tell she wasn’t bred in the streets,” the friend added.

“I’m afraid we insist,” the twisted-nosed one said, grinning.

So much for pleasantries, Taylor thought.
 
Sarcasm curled her lip.
 
“What you two gentlemen don’t understand is that I don’t keep company with the likes of you.”

“What’s wrong with us?” the twisted-nosed one asked.

“You should bathe more often,” she advised.

“Are ya insulting us?” the friend wondered.

“No,” she lied.
 
“I’m just trying to give some friendly advice.”

“You’re givin’ us advice?” the friend asked.
 
“Let me give you some.
 
Keep your big mouth closed and yer pretty legs spread.
 
Hey, Simon?”

The man called Simon chuckled deep in his throat.

Taylor’s eyes narrowed slightly.
 
She planted her legs wider apart.
 
“Like this?” she wondered innocently.

“Wider,” Simon coaxed.

“You mean this wide?” Taylor swung her leg up and into Simon’s chest.

As Simon flew backward from the force of Taylor’s kick, the friendly man dived for her, but she easily sidestepped the rush, pulling her mug out of his path.
 
He crashed into a table behind her.
 
“I’m afraid I don’t do requests,” she said, placing her foot on Simon’s throat.

She caught a quick movement on the stairs and glanced up.
 
Like a dark angel, he appeared, a shadowed visage emerging from the blackness.
 
“Slane,” she whispered, just before Simon’s friend’s fist connected with her jaw, sending her spinning to her hands and knees, her mug flying through the air, its contents spilling across the wooden floor.

Taylor watched from the floor as Slane’s sword whistled to life, slashing through the air, striking flesh, spilling blood.
 
It only took a moment before the two men lay dead at his feet.

The innkeeper and his daughter had scrambled away to safety once the fighting began, so now only Slane stood near the lifeless husks of the two thugs.
 
He clutched the sword tightly in his hands until his knuckles turned to alabaster.

Then Slane spit on the corpses.

Taylor slowly rose to her feet as he grabbed a rag from a nearby table and wiped his sword clean, re-sheathing it once its silver surface shone again.
 
He turned a murderous gaze to Taylor and she almost flinched, but kept her composure.

“Are you all right?”
 
His words were gentle, in stark contrast to the lethal look in his eyes.

Taylor nodded.

Slane rose to his full height and turned to face the innkeeper and his daughter as they peered out from the kitchen doorway.
 
He pointed at Taylor.
 
“This woman is with me.
 
If I even see you or your patrons looking at her the wrong way, you’ll get the same lesson I gave that scum.”

Shocked at the intensity of his rage, Taylor lifted a hand, absently rubbing her cheek.
 
In his own strange way, she supposed he had just defended her honor... if she had any left.
 
She approached Slane, surveying the carnage.
 
“I could have handled them myself, you know,” she said.
 
“And they might still be alive.”

“They deserved no less than they got,” Slane replied.
 
He closed his eyes.
 
After a long moment he slowly opened them.
 
He put his fingers to her cheek and Taylor felt her heartbeat quicken at his touch.
 
In his deep blue eyes, she saw his anger, concern, and apology.

Taylor grinned.
 
“I’ve had worse.”

Slane smiled gently.
 
“That you have.”
 
He glanced at the innkeeper and his daughter huddled together.
 
When he turned back to her, Taylor knew as Slane did that they couldn’t stay here any longer.

“It’s time to move on,” he announced quietly.

“And just when I was beginning to like this place,” she murmured.

“Get your bag and I’ll pay what we owe,” Slane said, “and a few extra coins to take care of those slugs.”
 
He jerked his head at the two dead bodies on the floor.

Taylor nodded and moved to the stairs.
 
She knew they had to leave.
 
Word would get out and quickly, of a woman and a man, both wielding weapons.
 
Corydon would send men.
 
And she couldn’t fight to her full capacity yet.
 
Not the way she used to.
 
Her side still ached from the swordplay with Slane.

By the time she returned with her belongings, their bill was paid and Slane was climbing the stairs to collect his things.
 
“Hey, Slane,” Taylor called up to him.
 
Slane turned to glance at her over his shoulder.
 
“Life would be pretty damn boring without me, don’t you think?”