Queen Of Knights (3 page)

Without thinking, Gwendolyn dove for the shortsword.  As her fingers closed around its hilt, she rolled in a perfect somersault, landing lightly on her feet to face the remaining two men.  She watched them shake themselves free of the haunting image of eagle and man fighting on the ground and saw their expressions turn fiercer as they advanced toward her.

She held the sword in front of her, moving it smoothly, loosening her wrists and preparing to fight.  She knew she was outnumbered and inexperienced, but the singing in her blood bid her to challenge.

A slow smile spread on her lips as her gaze followed, instinctively, not the men’s footsteps, but their eyes.  Closer they moved, their swords raised above them, trying to frighten the tall, golden-haired woman.  Then the first cried out and he lunged toward her.

Gwendolyn expected the attack and, as he came at her, she spun under the man’s blade
,
her own sword’s tip biting into his shoulder.

<><><>

Sir Miles De
l
ong
,
Earl of Radstock, Knigh
t
of the Realm, and military advisor to King R
i
chard the First, stared at the ground, looking for signs of those he sought.

The filtered sun glinted from the dark chain maille covering his arms as be squinted in an effort to locate the trail
. 
He, with his two squires, twin brothers named Arthur and James, had been riding since sunrise to catch the three men whom he had found to be thieves.  Miles knew they were near; he could feel it with every sense he possessed.

“Here, Sir Mi
l
es! The trees are marked
.
” Miles turned his charger and looked in the direction to which Arthur pointed.  On the bole of one large oak was a gouge made by a man in passing.  Miles rode to the tree and looked down.  His eyes, the deep green of
t
he ocean, examined the mark minutely.  He bent and stretched a hand out to graze the scratch, and it came away with fresh sap between thumb and forefinger.

“C
l
ose,” he said.  His word was followed by the screeching of a large bird.  Snapping his head up, Mi
l
es saw a golden eagle diving toward a not-too-distant spot in the forest.  The eagle disappeared.  Suddenly a horrible shrieking echoed.  “Come,” Miles ordered the two boys.

The squires jumped on their horses and fol
l
owed their
l
ord.

When Miles neared the spot he had fixed in his m
i
nd, the sounds of fighting came to his ears.  Drawing his longsword
,
Miles spurred his mount onward.  The trees flew by in a blurring of speed as he came nearer to the scene of battle.  One moment he was deep in the forest, the next in an open glade.  Reining in the horse, Miles
l
ooked about.

He froze in the saddle at the sight that greeted his eyes.

Before him, on the ground, was one of the three men he hunted.  The man was still.  A golden eagle
—
its claws buried within his face
—
stood victor atop him.  Then Miles’s eyes flew toward the fighters.  His breath exploded as he watched the tallest woman he had ever seen do battle with the two others he sought
. 
She was naked
,
her long blonde hair flying wildly about as she parried and fought the renegade men-at- arms
. 
Time seemed to come to a halt.  Miles saw the woman perfectly
—
the satiny sheen of her skin and the muscular perfection of her body lent a magnificent gracefulness to her moves.  She was doing well, his military mind noted, but she also showed signs of inexperience by failing to take advantage of openings.

With a cry of rage, Miles charged the three figures just as his two squires broke from the forest.  Miles rode at one of the men, his sword circling his head as he closed in
. 
From the comer of his eye, he saw the woman’s startled expression when he cut down one of her foes.

Reining in the charger, Miles wheeled him around and bore down on the other man.  The man, Arrant by name, saw his death coming and began to run
. 
Miles smiled as the woman swung her sword at his retreating back, barely missing him, and then laughed as the frightened thief ran into the knife point of James, twin brother of Arthur
. 
The man stopped, and his shortsword fell from his fingers while James’s knife held him at bay.

Quickly, Miles dismounted and went to where Gwendolyn had dropped her clothes to the ground.  He picked them up and walked to her; admiration reflected in his eyes.  She stood proudly, unheeding of her nakedness as her full breasts rose and fell from her labors.  She gazed directly into his eyes, and as he came closer he could only think of the beauty of a morning sky
. 
Looking into her eyes, Miles held up the burgundy tunic for the woman to step into.

Dropping the sword, Gwendolyn took one step toward the knight and turned.  He wrapped her in her tunic, and as her hands closed the material she turned to face him.  Their eyes locked again, and Gwendolyn felt her blood begin to race anew
. 
The depth of his eyes was bottomless, and the strong, angular cut of his chin was commanding.  His prominent cheekbones added to the power that was in his face.  Dark, almost black hair fell to his shoulders, framing his deeply tanned face.  His full lips held only a faint trace of smile, and a flash of white teeth showed between them

Miles turned from the woman to face his squires
. 
“Take him and fetch the men.  I will await you here.” A moment later the twins, along with the sole survivor of the trio, disappeared from the grass that surrounded the Pool of Pendragon.

Gwendolyn wi
l
led her heart to slow and her breath to return to normal as she faced the knight.  She had yet to take her eyes from him, and from the fact that this man was the first she did not look down upon, he must be at least three inches taller than she.

“Thank you
,
Sir Knight, for your gallantry.  I daresay, if you had not arrived when you did, it would have taken me a bit longer to fin
i
sh the two
.
”

Miles cou
l
d not believe his ears as he listened to the words she spoke, but in his heart, he heard not the words, but the bravery and the spirit which filled them.

“Perhaps, yet I think you lack the experience to have finished them
. 
But we shall never know
,
and for that I am grateful
. 
I would not want to have seen you, if your valiant effort had failed.”

“I would not have failed, but again, Sir Knight, you have my thanks, and my debt
,
” she said as she curtsied to him.  “And whom do I have the honor of being saved by?” Gwendolyn asked with a smile.

“Forgive me, but my manners have always been a poor second to my sword.  Permit me, I am Miles Delong,” he sa
i
d with a slight bow
.

“Sir Miles? Earl of Radstock?”

“The same, I fear,” he replied with a smile.

“From the tales I have heard, Sir Miles, you fear little
.
”

“And you?”

“Forg
i
ve me
. 
I am Gwend
o
lyn Kildrake.’

“Sir Hughes’s daughte
r?
”
asked Mi
l
es, a frown creasing his forehead
. 
Word had r
each
ed Miles, several years ago, that Hughes’s daughter had died.

“His granddaughter, Sir Miles.  Daughter of Gwyneth, who was wife to Guy of Halsbred,’ she explained.

“Of course!” Miles exclaimed, a smile erasing his frown as he looked at her.  Her height should have told him who she was.  Miles had heard of Gwendolyn Kildrake; his mother had told him the tale ten years ago, when he was fifteen, and word of Sir Guy’s death had reached their lands.  Rumors had flown, and Miles had heard of the strange affair of Lady Halsbred’s return to her father’s lands.  When he asked about it at the table one night, a gale of laughter had followed his question, and many explanations had flown across the boards.  Bu
t
later, his mother had told him that Gwyneth, her distant, fourth cousin, had given birth to a daughter, eight years to the day of Mi
l
es’s own birth, and that the child was not the daughter of Sir Guy
. 
His mother
,
gentle soul that she had been, spoke only good of Gwyneth, and advised him not to listen to unfounded rumors.  Then, almost four years ago, when Miles was fighting with Richard in Normandy, word had come of Gwyneth’s death, followed by other tales of her strange daughter, a blonde-haired girl, beautiful but overly
t
all

Wh
i
le Miles recal
l
ed these facts, his eyes cont
i
nued to trace the lines of Gwendolyn
’
s face until she turned and moved to the rest of her discarded clothing
. 
Silently he watched as she completed dressing.  When the
l
eather girdle had been buckled, securing her tunic, and her jewe
l
ed knife returned to its sheath, Gwendolyn moved toward the eagle which now stood a
l
ongside its conquered victim
.

He watched the tal
l
, golden
-
haired woman kneel and extend her arm
. 
It was then he noticed a leather binding covering her right wrist
. 
And she flies an eagle,
he thought when the bird climbed onto her arm.

Gwendolyn felt a surge of warmth when Valkyrie stepped onto his leather perch, grasping her wrist in a light, but secure hold.  She looked into the eagle
’
s amber eyes and smiled.  “Thank you, my friend,” she said to him as she stroked his chest.  She turned and, with a deep breath, lowered her arm
. 
With a fluid, graceful, and practiced motion, Gwendolyn swung her arm upward
. 
The eagle left its perch, arched down and
,
as its wide feathered wings spread, began to lif
t
toward the treetops
.

Gwendolyn watched her friend, which was how she thought of the eagle, fly skyward.  Behind her, she heard Miles’s voice.

“You’ve trained him well
. 
I’ve never seen an eagle that is gentler than a hawk
.
” Gwendolyn spun to face the knight
.

“I’ve not trained him at a
l
l.  He comes with me by his own choice,” she informed him.

“I would expect nothing else from one such as you,” he said.  “My men will be here shortly
. 
I would see you safely home.”

“My thanks, Sir Miles, but I would see myself home.  I have many things to do today, and returning to Kildrake Castle before the sun is down, is not one of them,” she said as she bent and retrieved her cape.

Miles watched her carefully.  He had never met a woman who carried herself so well., who emanated such strength and power, yet did so without conscious effort
. 
He knew she spoke truthfully, and was not trying to hide anything.  Suddenly Miles knew something else also
. 
Now that he had met her, he knew he would never be satisfied with another woman.  In that moment, Miles Delong made up his mind to marry Gwendolyn Kildrake.

Gwendolyn watched as Miles accepted her words and moved closer to her
. 
She saw his eyes change and noted the tightening around his mouth.  She realized her heart was beating madly within her chest as his gaze swept across her face.

“Gwendolyn Kildrake, granddaughter of Hughes, are you betrothed?”

“Yes,” she whispered through the knot that had suddenly formed in her throat.  She turned from him and walked to the black mare that had stood so patiently waiting
. 
Before reaching the mare, she felt Miles’s hand stopping her and pulling her around to face him.  She tried to ignore the hot throbbing just beneath her skin as she faced him.

“Do you have feelings for your betrothed?” he asked, his green eyes boring relentlessly into her lighter blue ones.

She tried to form some evasive answer, but the words would not leave her tongue.  Slowly, she shook her head.

“I have no choice.  The bargain was made shortly after my mother’s death.  I am to marry Morgan of Guildswood, by summer’s end
.
”