Claire Delacroix (17 page)

The very idea was infuriating.

Luc ignored the tiny voice reminding him of the innocence he had sensed in the lady’s response.

Perhaps she only toyed with him, Luc insisted to himself. Noblewomen were known to do as much for their own entertainment.
And how much, truly, did he know of the workings of a woman’s mind?

Precious little.

Which had suited Luc well enough every day of his life and would suit him well enough now. Yet even that resolution did naught to alleviate Luc’s uncommonly foul mood.

He simply could not shake the memory of the knight Ruarke falling to one knee before a blushing Brianna.

’Twas like a cursed bard’s tale and Luc already knew the lady’s fondness for such whimsy. What he could not fathom was why it troubled him so. Whether she cared for Ruarke or romance had naught to do with him. Indeed, if Brianna were busy with Tullymullagh’s champion, she would cease to pester Luc.

The prospect of that was markedly flat.

And so ’twas that Luc was thoroughly relieved by the interruption when the ostler Denis came bustling across the orchard, his features lined with concern.

Brianna had barely crossed the threshold to the kitchens and taken a deep breath of the warm scent of yeast when she realized the room was unnaturally quiet. Cook fired a glance of trepidation toward the new arrivals and ’twas not an expression that suited his amiable features well.

It had naught to do with the prospect of their thieving bread.

“What …?” was all Ruarke managed to say before Brianna realized the reason for the strained atmosphere.

Gavin was standing over Uther, what looked to be a sheet of parchment clutched in his fist. The mercenary’s face was ruddy with indignation, a blue vein throbbed in his temple as he shook the list. “You all mean to cheat me!” he roared. “The ledgers are rife with errors!”

Uther cleared his throat. “Sir,”—’twas clear he believed
he used the term loosely—“I can only, once more, give you my assurances that the inventory was fastidiously executed—”

“ ’Twill be you who is fastidiously executed,” Gavin retorted. Uther paled but held his ground as Gavin shook the list beneath the man’s nose. “This keep is of such a size that there cannot be such a shortage of sugar and spice. ’Tis inconceivable that the salt alone could have sunk to such minuscule levels.”

He leaned closer to the older man but Uther did not back away. Gavin’s voice dropped to a hiss. “I would suggest it would be best for your health to find the errant inventory.”

How dare he threaten Uther! Brianna made to step forward and protest this treatment of her father’s loyal servant, but the scrape of steel on steel interrupted her.

Ruarke stepped past her, swung his blade high and pointed it at Tullymullagh’s new lord. “And I would suggest it prudent to your own survival to treat this household with respect.”

The room fell as still as a tomb.

Gavin pivoted leisurely and his eyes narrowed as he assessed the new arrivals. He did not draw his own blade, his gaze almost insulting as it raked over Ruarke. He seemed to gauge the knight’s ability with his eyes alone.

Then Gavin arched a brow and his voice dropped dangerously low. “Who is this man so bold that he enters my own keep carrying a blade unpledged to my hand?”

Ruarke straightened proudly. “I am Ruarke de Rossiers, the—”

“The so-called champion of Tullymullagh,” Gavin completed with a smirk. “Your arrival is somewhat less than timely.”

From her vantage point, Brianna could see the flush of red
that suffused the back of Ruarke’s neck, though his manner did not change. “I had errands abroad.”

“Aye, I know well enough of your
errands
,” Gavin sneered. He smiled in a most unfriendly manner. “As well as how thoroughly they failed. Make no mistake, Ruarke de Rossiers, your ride to the high king to plead his aid for Tullymullagh has been duly noted.”

Brianna inhaled sharply, but Ruarke did not seem to so much as breathe. Gavin sauntered across the kitchen toward them, the stiffness of his lamed leg seeming worse than Brianna had noted before. He paused just beyond Ruarke’s reach with the blade and cast a scornful glance at the sword.

“An heirloom blade?” he asked conversationally.

Brianna felt rather than saw Ruarke ease slightly. “My sire’s own and his before him,” he declared with evident pride. “It has been in our family these nine generations.”

With lightning speed, Gavin drew his blade and slashed at Ruarke’s own. The two swords clanged together with terrific force. ’Twas clear Gavin’s blow was ferociously strong.

And Ruarke was evidently caught by surprise, both by the blow and its savagery. He cried out as the hilt was fairly torn from his hand and Brianna caught her breath when Ruarke’s sword clattered to the ground.

Gavin spat upon it, then sheathed his own blade.

The kitchen help had collectively taken a step back. Belatedly, Brianna saw that Ruarke’s sword had been slightly bent.

“And not fine Toledo steel for all its age,” Gavin said coldly. “A man is only as good as his weaponry, chevalier, and sentiment has never served a warrior well.” He snapped his fingers and his cowed squire scurried to fetch Ruarke’s fallen blade.

Ruarke stood so straight that Brianna knew he must be mortified.

Gavin threw the parchment in Uther’s direction, then fixed the Cook with an equally quelling eye. “You might find it
prudent
to lend your assistance in the steward’s recalculation of the inventory.”

“Aye, my lord!” Cook bowed low, all his scullery boys and maids bowing and scraping in turn.

A fleeting smile graced Gavin’s features, then he turned back to Ruarke and sobered. “On your knees, chevalier. Your excuse for a blade will be pledged to my hand before you stand upon your feet in this keep again.”

Every eye widened in the place. Brianna’s hands went cold. Her father’s champion could not be pledged to Gavin!

“Ruarke, do not do it!” she whispered.

Gavin lifted his gaze to hers and smirked. “No knight survives within this keep without cleaving to me and me alone. And I will not suffer a potential enemy to leave alive. Make your choice, Ruarke de Rossiers.”

Brianna’s heart sank with the certainty that Gavin meant his words.

Ruarke took a deep breath, then glanced back to Brianna. “Forgive me,” he said quietly.

Brianna was shocked as Ruarke turned his back upon her and reluctantly dropped to his knees. Though she knew the knight had little choice, still she felt betrayed by his seemingly quick agreement.

Then she felt guilty for daring to judge him. Ruarke’s life hung in the balance, after all! What else could he have done?

With a lump in her throat, Brianna watched as Ruarke bowed his head and lifted his hands, palms pressed together, to the new lord of Tullymullagh, prepared to make his oath.

But Gavin did not step forward.

“Nay.” Gavin eyed the expectant knight, clearly enjoying his submission, then shook his head. “ ’Twill not be that
simple for you, chevalier. I would know for certain the depths of your commitment—and would have all within Tullymullagh witness your change of allegiance.” He snapped his fingers again. “Follow me. Upon your knees,
sir
.”

Gavin left no time for argument, pivoting upon his heel and limping from the kitchens with surprising speed.

And Ruarke, a bold, successful, powerful knight, followed the man destined to be his new liege lord, crawling on his knees.

’Twas a far cry from the homecoming Ruarke had envisioned for himself. He was humiliated beyond all else, shuffling through the deadened herbs cast across the floor of the great hall.

’Twas no circumstance for a knight and Ruarke quietly seethed with the indignity of it all. How
dare
this man, this creature who was no more than an exalted mercenary, set out to embarrass the likes of Ruarke! How dare this excuse for a lord insult his betters!

Yet there was no question of leaving Tullymullagh. And remaining, alive, at least, meant submitting to Gavin Fitzgerald.

No matter how lethal the blow to Ruarke’s pride.

Everyone within the keep had come to watch his humbling, it seemed to Ruarke, and he hated Gavin Fitzgerald with a newfound and considerably more personal passion. Ruarke slanted a baleful glance to his tormentor and caught the smile playing upon Gavin’s lips.

Aye, the new lord of Tullymullagh knew well enough what he did. Ruarke gritted his teeth. He would not consider the ruin of his chausses, the scratches to the fine leather of his new boots.

Fact was, he had sorely underestimated this new foe.

And Ruarke had some recalculating to do. He could only hope that he lived long enough to have that chance.

Gavin turned his steps toward the dais. The burly Welsh ruffian propped himself up in the high chair of Tullymullagh and Ruarke shuffled to a halt before that man’s feet.

The bile rose in Ruarke’s throat at the travesty of what he was compelled to do. There was no other man in all of Christendom to whom Ruarke would like less as a liege lord.

But he had seen the gleam in Gavin’s eye when he made his threat. This was a man who had killed oft before and thought naught of repeating the deed.

And Ruarke de Rossiers had no intention of dying when he had so much for which to live. No mere pledge was going to stand in the way of all he had envisioned.

’Twas only words, yet those words would let him live.

One day, vengeance would be his own.

Ruarke bowed his head, before Gavin could see the rebellion in his eyes. He lifted his hands once more, praying the appalling deed would at least be completed quickly. Gavin’s calloused palms closed immediately around Ruarke’s own, as though he too were anxious for this pledge to be made.

Ruarke pledged himself to Gavin by the age old formula. He closed his eyes as Gavin kissed first one of his cheeks, then the other, bracing himself against the man’s powerful odor. Ruarke bit down on his certainty that he had sworn his blade to a man no better than a barbarian.

“Kiss my boot.”

Ruarke blinked, certain he could not have heard aright. He glanced up and Gavin smiled a cold smile down from his perch. “I bade you kiss my boot, oh noble knight. I would see that your heart follows your words.”

The hall fell into astonished silence. Ruarke eyed the boot in question and fought against his urge to flee this charade.

But ’twould serve him naught to irk Tullymullagh’s new lord. And he had already granted his word before dozens of witnesses. Likely this last humiliation would satisfy Gavin.

Ruarke gritted his teeth, leaned forward, and brushed his lips just barely across the toe of one heavy black leather boot.

And was stunned when Gavin kicked him right in the jaw.

Pain exploded in Ruarke’s face, the assembly gasped in unison, and the knight fell backward into the rushes, dazed.

“Nay!” Brianna cried from a distance. “Do not hurt him!”

“I shall do what I will with any enemy within my walls,” Gavin retorted as Ruarke caught his breath.

Before he could collect himself, two men seized his arms and Gavin came to stand over him. Ruarke struggled for freedom, but to no avail.

Gavin leaned close to Ruarke. “I did not care for your reluctance in this, chevalier,” he purred. “And it seems to me that your heart is not at one with your words at all.” Gavin glanced at the men holding Ruarke’s arms. “Strip him of his weaponry and cast him in the dungeons. His own company should convince him of the bounty of my hand.”

Anger flashed within Ruarke. Never had he been treated so disgustingly in all of his life! ’Twas unjust! ’Twas wrong! He would not go willingly into the dungeons, like some common criminal!

“You cannot do this!” Ruarke bellowed before he could stop himself. “I am the champion of Tullymullagh! I am a knight and not to be shamed in this way!”

Gavin’s lips twisted in a sneer as he leaned close to Ruarke’s face. “Precisely,” he whispered. “And that is why I will break you before I let you stride freely through this keep.”

Ruarke spat in the barbarian’s eye.

Gavin did not miss a beat before backhanding the knight so hard that Ruarke’s breath was stolen away. The knight sagged in his captor’s arms as another kick landed in his gut and his face was pummelled.