Hannah Howell (21 page)

Revan yanked his sword free of the man he had just fought and killed. He turned and found himself face to face with a sweating Fergus Thurkettle. The man had used his hirelings as shields, pushing them between him and his enemies. There were none left now. Revan smiled. It might not be an easy fight, but he was confident that he would win it. Thurkettle had let others do his fighting for him for too long. Even the man’s fear and will to live could not replace the skills he had let rot over the years.

“Ye have the chance to surrender now, Thurkettle,” Revan said, his sense of honor forcing him to make the offer.

“Surrender and face a crueler death at the hands of James himself? That is no choice at all.”

“ ’Tis the only one ye will get.”

“Then I will die or live where I stand.”

“Ye will die.”

Thurkettle’s first swing was easily blocked. Revan was not surprised, however, when the man’s skill quickly grew less abrupt and ill thought out. Thurkettle had to have been a good swordsman once, or he would not have lived so many years. It was not long, though, before the man began to sweat badly and breathe heavily. Thurkettle was not in fighting trim anymore, and that would quickly prove to be fatal. Revan swallowed the savage urge to play with the man.

The end came a moment later. Thurkettle stumbled badly as he tried to avoid Revan’s sword thrust. Revan’s sword cut deeply into the man’s soft stomach. It was not until Thurkettle collapsed, his hand clutching at his gaping wound, that Revan realized Silvio, Tomas, and the others were standing around watching him. He was grateful they had stood back and left Thurkettle to him. Glancing at the small knot of prisoners, Revan frowned. One was missing.

“Where is Brenda? The woman?” he demanded.

“Havena seen her since ye and this bastard began to fight,” answered Tomas.

“She was here only a moment ago. I could hear her screeching.”

“Does it matter?”

“It could. She is no better than her father.”

“Ye think she has gone after Tess?” Silvio asked, a little anxiously.

“I feel sure that she has—either to use her to bargain with or to seek revenge. Wait,” he called when Tomas and Silvio both bolted toward the door. “Brenda will be expecting us to rush down there. She probably
wants
us to.”

“And what do ye suggest we do? Wait until she tires of the game?”

“Nay, we must play it out, but it need not be by her rules.”

Revan strode over to a wall where a number of weapons were hung in grim decoration. He took down a savage-looking hunting crossbow. Grimly he fitted a bolt into the weapon.

“What do ye need this for?” Tomas asked. “Ye have a sword.”

“I doubt Brenda will allow me near enough to put that weapon to use. I need something that will allow me to cut her down from a distance if she forces my hand.”

“Ye can throw your dagger.”

“My aim with a dagger isna true, I fear. This is better. Much better. If it can bring down a deer, it can bring down Brenda Thurkettle. I just pray she doesna force me to it. I have no stomach for killing a woman—even that traitorous whore.”

“Ye mean to go alone,” said Silvio.

“Aye. It might give some chance of surprise. I just believe that one man going to face the woman is the only way to do it, the safest. If a lot of us rush down there . . .”

“She could act hastily,” Silvio finished. “Go and God be with you.”

As he hurried toward the narrow stairway that led to the dungeons, Revan prayed that God was with him. He felt in need of such divine aid. Brenda was cornered. The woman had to know that escape was now impossible and that her chances of being excused from the charge of treason were slim. That made the woman especially dangerous. He prayed that he was not rushing to Tess’s rescue only to watch her die.

 

 

“Someone’s coming.” Brenda tensed and peered toward the darkened stairs.

“Ye are letting your fear make ye hear things,” Tess lied, for she had heard the soft scrape of a boot against stone.

“I dinna think so. ’Tis quiet now, which means that the battle is over. Someone is coming to find you.” Brenda smiled briefly at Tess and pressed her sword point a little harder against Tess’s stomach. “I shall make this victory a very sour one, indeed.”

Tess winced as the cold stone wall scraped the skin on her back when she tried to pull back some more. She tensed when Revan stepped out of the shadows holding a hunting crossbow. Although fear for her own life still held her tightly in its grip, she felt joyous relief at seeing him alive and unhurt. She prayed it would not be her last sight of him.

“Step away from her, Brenda,” Revan ordered, struggling to keep his voice soft and calm.

“Nay, I think not.”

“Ye can gain nothing from hurting Tess now. Your father has lost. He is dead, most of his followers dead or captured. This will buy ye neither time nor mercy. ’Twill only add murder to your crimes.”

“A person can only be hanged once. But then, a traitor isna hanged. He is gutted like a pig for market.” She drew her sword point across Tess’s quivering stomach. “Contessa betrayed us. I should execute her as a traitor.”

As he raised the crossbow to aim it directly at Brenda, Revan hoped Tess still had the wit to try and help herself. Despite her bonds, Tess still had some ability to move. She could twist her body out of the way. Brenda still might be able to stab her, but if Tess moved at the right moment, the wound did not need to be fatal. He could not tell Tess what to do, however, without alerting Brenda. A trickle of cold sweat wended its way down his spine, and he shivered.

“Put the sword down, Brenda, or your well-used body will be sheltering this arrow.”

“Ye would kill a woman? The great gallant Sir Halyard? Nay, ye havena the stomach for it.”

Brenda laughed, and Halyard could not believe his luck. The woman relaxed ever so slightly as she mocked him, easing the press of her sword against Tess. He fired, nearly cheering with relief when Tessa twisted her body away from Brenda’s weapon, but winced as his arrow found its mark in the woman’s body.

Tess cried out softly as Brenda thrust the sword toward her. She contorted her body to avoid having that steel blade bury itself in her stomach, but she felt it cut into her side. Brenda screamed as Revan’s arrow plunged through her chest so swiftly and deeply the point protruded out of her back. For one brief instant Tess held Brenda’s gaze and trembled. In her cousin’s eyes there was no sign of fear or regret, only fury and hatred. Tess sagged in her chains when Brenda collapsed onto the floor, her sightless gaze fixed upon the mildewed ceiling.

Revan threw aside his crossbow and yanked the keys from the lock in the door. He hurried over to Tess and pushed Brenda’s body out of the way. The moment he freed Tess from the chains that had once held him, she fell into his arms. He cursed as he caught her and felt the blood from the wound on her side.

“How bad is it?” he asked, unable to see anything in the dim, insufficient light cast by a few torches.

“A flesh wound,” she answered as he picked her up in his arms. “Her sword but tried to make my waist a wee bit smaller.” She looked down at Brenda’s body. “She
is
dead?”

“Aye. I am sorry.”

“There is no need to be. She chose her path. She would have killed me just as she had threatened to. Aye, and ye as well if ye had continued to hesitate. She was her father’s daughter.”

After gently holding Tess close for a moment, Revan touched a kiss to her bruised mouth. “They have treated ye poorly. Do ye have any other wounds?” Although Tess did not act or look as if she had been raped, Revan could still hear MacKinnon’s vile words. He needed Tess to reassure him that the man had lied.

“Nay, a wee bit bruised and saddle sore, but aside from this nicking Brenda just gave me, naught else.”

“Ye werena mishandled on the journey here?”

“Ah, ye fear I have been abused. Nay, MacKinnon talked of rape, but Dermott told him to wait, that there wasna time for it. He also feared how much it might cost them if ye or my kinsmen caught them. He convinced MacKinnon it was wiser to rein in his lusts until I was in Thurkettle’s hands.”

He kissed her again, relief adding a hint of ferocity to the kiss, then started toward the stairs. “We will have this wound seen to.”

“The battle is won, then?”

“Aye, and with little cost to ourselves. Not many of Thurkettle’s men felt inclined to die for him.”

“What of the ones who took me before—Thomas and the others?”

“Dead. As is MacKinnon, Dermott, and Thurkettle. They chose to die with a sword in their hand rather than face the gibbet or worse. They chose us to be their executioners.”

“I think that was what Brenda was doing as well. She had no intention of surrendering or being taken prisoner.”

Holding her close against his chest, Revan nodded.

“Their ending was more merciful than they deserved.”

The moment they emerged from the dungeons, Tess found herself submerged in the care of her relatives. They all sought assurances that she was all right even as they tended to the wound in her side. It was decided that they would spend the rest of the night where they were and leave for Donnbraigh in the morning. Despite being separated from Revan, Tess was relieved when she was taken to her bedchamber. It was nice to be fussed over, but she was tired.

She was barely settled into the bed when Revan strode into the room. With exhaustion weighting her eyelids, she watched as he prepared for bed. His armor was gone and his hair was wet. It was obvious that he had taken a bath while she was being cleaned and dressed. When he slid into bed beside her, she cautiously curled up in his arms, needing to be near him, but not wishing to antagonize her wound.

“Will this make it hard for ye to reach the king in time to fight at his side?” she asked.

“Nay.” Revan smoothed his hand up and down her arm, aching to make love to her yet knowing it would have to wait. “However, it will be a close-run race.”

“Ye will win it—the race and the battle. Ye will fight at the king’s side and defeat the traitors.”

“Aye. I feel we will. And when that is done, I ride back to marry you.”

“Aye. To marry me.” She closed her eyes and held him a little closer, for she knew now that the only right thing to do, the only thing she could do because she loved him so much, was to set him free.

“Come away from that window, child.”

Tess sighed and turned to smile at her aunt Kirsten. Silvio’s wife watched her closely while kneading the bread dough. Cousin Isabella’s little house was filled to the brim with the wives of the Delgado-Comyn men. Tess loved them all, but she was also heartily sick of the constant company.

After leaving Thurkettle’s keep, it had taken them three days to get back to Donnbraigh. Tess would have felt guilty except that she had not been the only wounded one they had had to move slowly for. Then there had been a week of recovery at Donnbraigh amidst frantic preparations for battle. Messages flew back and forth between Donnbraigh and the King’s supporters, including the assurance that Simon had spoken to the King, relaying all of his information and successfully convincing their leige of Revan’s innocence. Her wound healed enough for them to travel to her cousin Isabella’s—ten miles north of Arkinholm, where the opposing armies gathered. After a day of rest her wound had been healed enough for her and Revan to make love, but there had been no opportunity for privacy.

She had wanted to spend one long night making love with Revan before he rode off to war. Instead, they had to settle for a hurried coupling in Isabella’s small orchard. While it had been gloriously fevered and frantic, it had not been the long romantic interlude she had craved. She had to smile, though, when she recalled how nearly every other woman waving at her man as he had ridden off to battle had looked as flushed and rumpled as she had.

“Your staring out that window hour after hour willna bring him home any sooner, lass,” Meghan, Tomas’s very pregnant wife, said as she tucked a loose curl of red hair back under her kerchief.

“I ken it.” Tess walked over to the table and joined in the kneading of the bread dough. “ ’Tis just that they have been gone nearly a week. I keep thinking I might see or hear something.”

“From ten miles away?” Kirsten shook her head, then smiled, her green eyes soft with understanding. “ ’Tis clear ye have lived a blessed life, child, and havena learned how it is when your man rides off to fight.”

“There must have been some battle during my eighteen years upon this earth.”

“Mayhaps not since ye were of an age to remember,” Kirsten said. “Ye can never ken how long they will be gone, dearling. Nay, nor how much fighting they may have to do or how long the battle might last.”

“A wee bit of common sense should have told me that. It does sometimes. Then I think that it must be over and wonder where they all are. I fear I also thought that all this cooking was because ye expected them to return.”

“Well, aye, we do a wee bit,” Kirsten said. “ ’Tis also a way to keep busy, which one must do at such times. If they do return we shall have a very fine feast waiting for them. If not, we will send it to their camp.”

Meghan laughed. “Which we have done several times. Tomas said there are always men trying to join them simply because they are always so well provisioned. Soldiers always have more stomach than food to fill it.”

“Oh. Do ye think I should send something to Revan, then?”

“Ye will be,” replied Kirsten. “He is in the Delgado-Comyn camp.”

“But his family fights for the king. Surely he would be with them.” She saw the way the women looked at her and realized why—her uncle Silvio would keep Revan close at hand, as he had done since their arrival at Donnbraigh. “Humph. And they say they arena holding a sword in his back.”

“They arena holding one, simply ensuring that he doesna get too shy or nervous and bolt,” said Meghan.

“Revan wouldna ken what shy is if it leapt up and bit his nose clean off. I have never seen him nervous, either.”

“Ye will see it when he kneels at the altar,” said Isabella.

Tess looked at her aging cousin, who peeled apples brought out of storage, apples as wrinkled as her still nimble hands. “Nay, what I will see is that cursed honor and duty he holds so dear.”

“Ye canna fault a man for holding such virtues.” Isabella neatly chopped up the apple she had just peeled and, after tossing the pieces in a large pot, got another wizened apple out of the basket at her feet.

“Child, what troubles you?” asked Kirsten. “The way ye act toward your young knight tells me ye want him for your husband, yet ye talk about the forthcoming wedding as if it were some curse, not a blessing.”

“I fear it could well be a curse and a fatal one—at least to my heart and mayhaps my soul.”

Tess glanced toward the other women sharing the large main room of the house. They were intent upon their stitchery and gossip as they sat in a compact circle near the fireplace. She then looked at the three women sharing the table with her. It was risky to tell them what she thought—but she needed to talk the matter over with someone. Here were three women—young, middle-aged, and old—who were all sensible and willing to listen. The temptation was too much to resist.

“Can ye all keep a confidence?” All three quickly nodded, and Tess sighed. “I will understand if ye feel pressed to break this one. In truth, ’twould be unfair to swear you to silence ere I told you this, and I willna pain us all by begging for secrecy afterward.”

“I believe I speak for all of us when I swear I willna break the confidence without much thought and consideration for you,” Kirsten said, and Isabella and Meghan nodded.

“Thank ye. ’Tis about my forthcoming marriage.”

“Phew, there is a surprise,” murmured Isabella.

“I am glad, in a way, that Revan has been forced to spend so much time in the company of my kinsmen.” Tess eyed her elder cousin with fond annoyance. “It has allowed him to see that my tongue isna born of perversity and a dislike for him, but is my birthright. Might I say what I wish to now?”

“Do continue, lassie.”

“How kind.” She grew serious again, frowning at the dough she worked with her hands. “I think it would be a grave error to go through with this marriage.”

“Then ye shouldna have let the lad lift your skirts,” snapped Isabella. “What is the matter? Doesna he do the job well enough to suit you?”

Although she could feel the heat of a blush upon her cheeks, Tess scowled at her white-haired cousin. “He does the job very well, thank ye kindly. In truth, I suspect he does the job better than most, although I couldna judge that as well as ye might, ye old corbie.”

“Aye, I would be able to judge. I have had my share of fine stalwart lads. Why, I recall—”

“Oh, hush up, Isabella,” said Kirsten. “We dinna need to hear about your scandalous past now. Tess wishes to speak of important matters. Go on, Tessa. If she interrupts again, we shall stuff one of her own apples into her toothless mouth.”

It took Tess a moment to subdue the urge to smile. Things had changed in the last five years, yet they had remained the same. Isabella still snapped at everyone and tried to tell anyone who would sit still a moment about her licentious youth, while everyone else still snapped back at the woman. It all sounded so contentious to an outsider, but there was no disrespect and there was an abundance of love. She knew she could unburden herself to these women without fear.

“Why would it be such a grave error, dearling?” Kirsten pressed.

“Because I am an heiress and he is a poor knight with naught but honor and a good sword arm.”

“The Halyards are a good family. I never heard that they were particularly poor, either.”

“They arena. Revan is. He has no coin and no land and no hope of gaining any through his family. ’Tis the same problem many a younger son wrestles with.”

“Then he should be well pleased with your dowry. I dinna accuse him of bedding you to gain it, but we ken that ’tis more than he could have gained in the usual way of things. A lass with your fortune would have been kept well out of his reach. Ye dinna fear that he weds you to gain that fortune, do ye?”

“Nay. The truth of the matter is that he
didna
want to wed me
because
of my fortune.”

“I fear I dinna understand.”

“It took me a while. Revan has what most would consider a very odd opinion. He sees wedding a lass for gain as naught but the act of a whore. He swore he wouldna gain his land or the coin in his pocket through marriage. If he canna get such things with his own wits and skill, then he will live without them.”

“A very noble attitude,” murmured Kirsten.

“Aye, but still odd. Dinna deny it. I could hear the confusion in your voice. Men dinna understand him, either. ’Tis a point of pride with him, Aunt. He admitted as much to me, for I sensed his reluctance when Uncle Silvio first said we were to be married and I pressed him for the reason for it. It sorely stings his pride to be seen as one who profits through marriage, to have both land and coin brought to the marriage by the wife whilst he brings naught. I suppose he feels—well—bought.”

“Foolishness. He will put that aside, child. Dinna worry on it.”

“Aye,” agreed Isabella. “No man has died from having his pride pinched a wee bit.”

Tess sighed. “I ken that. ’Twill be far more than a pinch, I fear. He doesna ken the whole truth. When we first escaped Thurkettle and were hiding in that cave, he and I pondered the reasons why Thurkettle should want to kill me. Besides the need to silence me there was the chance of gain. That would explain the attempts made upon my life whilst I was living with Thurkettle. So, Revan asked if I had any fortune, and I said I did, but I lied about how much.”

“Oh, Tessa.” Kirsten reached across the table to pat Tessa’s hand, raising a tiny cloud of flour dust. “What did ye tell him?”

“That I had a few thousand riders and a little land here and in Spain.” She grimaced when all three women just stared at her. “At that time I didna ken him well and didna want him to ken what I was worth. ’Tis hard to explain. It isna that I feared he would do me any harm or the like. I just didna want to tell him then.”

“And ye havena told him since then?”

“Nay, Aunt. The matter was never discussed again.”

“Silvio didna tell him?”

“I think he believes that Revan kens it all already. Revan was the first one to mention my fortune. He told uncle of how Thurkettle had tried to kill me before there was a need to stop me from telling what I learned. It wasna discussed after that. ’Twas also shortly after that that I learned of his feelings concerning wedding an heiress. I couldna tell him then.”

“Nay, I can well understand that. Unfortunately, ye must tell him sometime. He has to be told.”

“Have ye made any plans, Tess?” Meghan asked.

“Well, first I tried to think of some solution to the problem, of some way to soothe his pride.”

“There is none,” muttered Isabella. “Not unless ye make yourself as poor as he is.”

“I did think about that, but I canna do it. ’Tis not really my choice to make. The land and the money is for those yet to come as well. And such a gesture would bring its own problems. Revan would always wonder if I regretted it, if I resented him for all I had to give up. And if the children were to discover what I had done, they could resent it. Aye, especially if we remained poor. I myself might even grow to resent it for many reasons—when there wasna enough to eat or no pretty gowns for my daughter.” She shrugged. “ ’Tis so hard to explain, but I feel certain that it wouldna solve the problem. It would just change it.

“However, if I keep my fortune and wed Revan, there will also be problems. ’Twill shatter his pride when he discovers just how much of a dowry I have, a dowry so large he couldna hope to match it. Stripped of his pride, he will grow to hate me. That will kill me. Little by little, as I watch him turn against me, I will die inside.”

“Ye love him a great deal,” Kirsten murmured.

“More than is probably wise. ’Tis what prods me to the decision I have finally made. I must set him free.”

“But the family willna allow that,” Meghan said.

“If I can get him away from this vast family, I feel that, in time, I can convince Uncle Silvio that it was for the best. Revan would need to stay out of their reach for only a wee while. I feel certain ’tis the only way either Revan or I can be at least content. Well, he will be. I must release him. Do ye understand what I am trying to say?”

“Aye,” said Isabella. “Ye must let the lad go. Ye are right about that.”

“Isabella!” cried Kirsten, then hastily lowered her voice when the other women glanced their way. “She has bedded the man.”

“So? That willna ruin her for all time. Wedding a man whom she loves, but who will slowly turn on her, will do just what she says it will do—kill her inside. Ye can steal a lot from a man and it willna matter very much, just cause a few wee times of anger and hurt. However, ye canna strip a man of all of his pride and expect him to still care for you. That lad will grow to hate her just as she says he will.”

“Mayhaps it isna as bad as ye say,” said Meghan. “The size of your fortune may not matter at all.”

“It will, Meghan. He is uncomfortable with what he thinks I have. But, he can see the chance of matching it or at least coming near to matching it. The true amount is a goal he will see as far beyond his reach. Aye, and if the king grants me all that Thurkettle has left, ’twill be even worse. I dinna think it would help if he loved me, either.”

Tess smiled sadly at the three women. “Now ye ken it all and ken why I didna want to force ye to swear to silence.”

“Aye, but we didna help you very much,” Kirsten said and sighed.

“Aye, ye did. The looks upon your faces, the concern behind your words, told me that I am justified in what I fear would happen if I marry Revan. I felt sure of my decision, yet there lingered a small part of me that feared I was throwing away any chance of happiness. Talking with you has finally silenced that wee contradictory voice.”

“But how will ye do it? Revan is kept under a very close watch, friendly as that guard is.”