The Commander's Desire (7 page)

She gripped the reins tighter. “What is it,
boy?”

The Commander cantered to a stop beside her.
Sweat glistened on the black’s coat. Before he could say a word,
two men on horseback appeared over the rise. Both were bearded; one
was blond and scruffy, and the other was raven-haired. They bore
the crest of her palace. And full armor.

The Commander edged forward. In that instant,
her enemy transformed before her eyes. His face hardened into a
formidable mask, and his countenance stiffened, projecting a
forceful, threatening aggression. His hand rested on the hilt of
his sword.

Trepidation leaped. She had never met the
Commander in battle before, although she had seen him at a
distance. A distance she would prefer to keep, even now.

“
Get behind me,
Elwytha.”

“
They won’t harm
me.”

“
Get
behind
me, Elwytha!” His voice cracked
like thunder.

Still, Elwytha refused to comply. These were
her brother’s men. They owed her their allegiance. She spoke
directly to them. “Why do you trespass here, upon the Prince’s
land?”

One curled his lip. “Already, you pledge
allegiance to the enemy?”

“
I ride through the woods,”
she returned, easily donning her regal, authoritative tone. “State
your purpose.”

The blond one urged his horse closer. Unease
slid through Elwytha, though she refused to show it. At her side,
the Commander gripped his sword handle, although the blade was
still sheathed.

Her brother’s man edged still nearer, so now
his horse sidled next to her own. He grinned at her. “The King
wishes to parlay a message to you.”

Something was wrong. Elwytha felt it, deep in
her spirit. In the same instant, she noted the man’s hand on his
dagger, and the sword at his side. Quicker than thought, she
relieved him of the sword, backing her horse up at the same
time.

The blade in her hand flashed in the sun
streaming through the quiet trees. “Speak your message and be
gone.”

The man’s hand tightened on the dagger, but
it relaxed when he saw that the Commander had unsheathed his sword,
too. The blond man bowed his head slightly to Elwytha. Only the
twist to his mouth proved his servitude a lie. “The King agrees to
your match. He will attend your nuptials, two weeks hence.”

Elwytha’s eyes narrowed. “Give thanks to my
brother for the message.”

“
I shall.”

Beneath her, Sir Duke moved restlessly. She
soothed his neck with her free hand.

“
My sword?” said her
brother’s warrior.

Elwytha flung it, far over his head, into the
wood. It landed, quivering, in a tree trunk. Exactly where she had
wished it to stick.

“
Godspeed,” she
said.

With a barely disguised snarl, the man and
his companion rode to retrieve the sword. With one last, backward
look of rage, both galloped in the direction of Castle Cor na
Gaeth.

Elwytha’s heart beat rapidly. What had that
been about? The two men plotted trouble; she sensed it. But trouble
for whom?

The Commander resheathed his sword and edged
his horse alongside hers. He gripped her reins in one great fist.
Still frowning, she gave him her attention.

The gray eyes looked silver, and as
threatening as his steel sword. “You do not listen well.”

“
Those were my brother’s
men. I can handle them.”

“
They meant ill.”

Her eyes traced the path the men had just
taken. “Verily, you are correct,” she agreed. “But I cannot guess
their true purpose.”

The mutilated brow frowned deeply. “Can you
not?”

Was he accusing her of treachery? Unmerited
indignation swelled. Never mind if it was true; but not yet. She
met his steel gray eyes. “Nay. We have peace, do we not?”

“
Peace until the blade
turns,” he agreed in a quiet, warning rumble.

Gaze steady, she offered him a small smile.
“You distrust me?”

“
I am no fool, Elwytha. I
know where your true loyalties lie.”

A thread of alarm shot through her. She
willfully quenched it. “I am your betrothed. That is my word to
you.” Never mind that she didn’t actually intend to wed him. For
now, she was betrothed.

“
A match I know you fully
despise.”

How could she deny that? “Yes.”

“
Yet you did not try to slay
me with his sword. Why not?”

The idea had never crossed her mind.
Bewildered, she suggested, “For peace? Further, I did not trust
them.”

“
Yet you trusted
me.”

She frowned. “No.” And then she admitted, “I
knew you would not harm me.”

“
You chose my side over
theirs,” he pressed.

The treachery she planned against him twisted
in her heart, stinging her with guilt. “I choose my brother’s peace
treaty. That is where my true loyalty lies,” she told him. And that
was the truth.

He nodded, his eyes measuring her. “Yes. Come
with me. I have a stop I wish to make.”

Chapter
Four

This time, Elwytha
contented herself
with following the black
horse.

Her brother’s treacherous peace plan gnawed
more deeply at her conscience as she rode. She lied to both the
Commander and the Prince now, pretending peace. She plotted to kill
the Commander. After making that final, murderous choice, could she
ever go back? Or would she relinquish part of her soul forever to
the dark side? Could she ever again be as pure and true of heart as
Richard had accused her?

These thoughts troubled her as she followed
the Commander’s warrior-clad person. True, he was a murderer. But
could that truth prove treachery a virtue?

Elwytha did not know. And when the Commander
slowed before a small, deserted church, fear filled her.

Was this a sign from God that she needed to
repent?

The Commander tied his reins to a tree and
slowly, Elwytha did likewise. She followed him inside, and saw that
the chapel must still be used on occasion. Candles dotted tables
near the altar. A few burned even now. The floor looked swept, and
the pews clean.

The Commander knelt his great form before the
altar.

“
Why are you here?” Elwytha
asked. Perhaps it was rude to interrupt, but it didn’t stop her.
“Verily, I know why you
need
to be here. I’m just surprised you
are.”

“
Perhaps God will show mercy
for my soul,” he murmured. After a long moment elapsed, he asked,
“How many men have you killed, Elwytha?”

She stiffened. “Princesses do not see battle.
Besides, war is not the same as cold-blooded murder.” She spat this
last at his back.

The Commander remained silent, and after more
long moments he crossed himself and stood. “I am ready to go.”

“
But you haven’t asked a
priest for forgiveness.” She looked around. “If there is
one.”

The Commander moved toward the door. “My soul
is too black for a priest to help.”

At least he acknowledged this truth.

“
Then why come?”

“
I feel peace here,” he
rumbled, as though impatient. “Are you ready to go?”

“
I would light a candle.”
She lit one for her dead brother and said a short prayer. Strange,
but she, too, felt peace in the deserted chapel. As if God was
near. As if it was not too late for her own soul. On impulse, she
turned back, knelt, and prayed penance for her many unspoken
misdeeds. Then she hesitated, wondering if she could ask
forgiveness for a sin she hadn’t yet committed.

But it would not be murder. All of a sudden,
in the quiet peace of the chapel, she recognized this truth. She
could not stab him in the back. That would be wrong. She would be
no better than Thor’s murderer. She shuddered. Never could she sink
to such depravity.

A challenge then, face to face. He would be a
formidable foe. Of this, she had no doubt. But she knew her own
skills. She would win the battle. With her three daggers she could
fell any man.

Still, treachery was treachery. She plotted
to kill him.

Elwytha felt no better as she followed the
Commander out of the chapel. Her brother deserved vengeance for his
wrongful death, she told herself. Justice had to be served. It was
the only right way.

Elwytha said little for the remainder of the
morning’s ride. Thankfully, her betrothed was a man of few words,
so the basic niceties of social chatter were spared her. Instead,
she wrestled alone with her troublesome thoughts.

* * * * *

After the ride, Elwytha’s stomach rumbled.
She had no wish to eat in the hall with the Commander and his
knaves, however. The evening meal was torture enough to endure.
Mayhap the cook would allow her to sup in the kitchen. At home
she’d made friends with the cook at an early age. Elwytha liked
kitchens; especially their warmth and delicious smells. She felt at
home there, and already she missed that warmth and friendliness.
Was it too much to hope that she might find a small measure of that
comfort here?

In the stone-flagged kitchen, a plump woman
with a cloud of gray hair busily stirred a pot. It smelled of
soup.

“
Hello. I’m
Elwytha.”

“
Land alive.” The woman
dropped her spoon, startled. She retrieved it and set on a table.
“Well, so you are.” She wiped her hands on her apron and
approached. “I’m Mary, the cook. Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.” A
question lurked in her eyes. Why was an enemy princess in her
kitchen?

“
I would like to eat lunch
in here, if you don’t mind,” Elwytha said. “I feel uncomfortable in
the hall with the uncouth…” She stopped, perceiving it may be
unwise to disparage men the cook had likely known for years. “I
would be no trouble.”

“
Of course you wouldn’t.
Sit,” Mary invited. “I’ve fresh bread and cheese. Would you like
fruit?”

“
Our cook at home shows me
where everything is. I can serve myself.”

“
Certainly not!” Mary looked
affronted. “Not in my kitchen, you won’t.” She bustled to the
larder. “Would you like honey?”

“
Just bread with butter is
fine.” Elwytha sat at the table which Mary had strewn with various
pans filled with meat, chopped onions, and other vegetables. She
must be in the midst of preparing for dinner. “Don’t you have
help?” she asked. Cooking for hundreds of men, she knew, entailed
lots of work.

“
Of course. They’re eating
lunch now.” Mary gave a merry laugh and set a trencher before her.
“No rest for the cook.”

“
Thank you.” The food tasted
like ambrosia. She was famished.

Mary had returned to the stove now. “You’re
to marry the Commander, are you? If you don’t mind my nosy
questions.”

“
No. Of course I don’t
mind,” Elwytha smiled with gratitude. She was eager to make a
friend in this enemy palace, and the cook seemed inclined to be
friendly to her. “And yes,” she pressed her lips together, unable
to hide her feelings, “I am to marry the Commander.”

Mary cast her a keen glance. “He’s a fine
lad, is our Commander.”

Doubtlessly, she would think so. He had led
the enemy castle to many victories—against her warriors. “He is a
great warrior,” she reluctantly allowed.

The cook’s attention returned to the pot she
stirred, but now her lips looked tight. Disapproving? Or was the
pot merely difficult to stir? Elwytha felt anxious to retain the
friendship they had begun to build. “I’ll have much time in the
next two weeks to learn to know the Commander as you do,” she said,
in an effort to be conciliatory.

Mary smiled a little, then. “He does look
fearsome, doesn’t he? I know that can be off putting. How is your
food?”

“
Delicious. As was the meal
last night.”

Mary smiled, further pleased. “Don’t worry
about the Commander. He treats all with justice. He will treat you
the same way, but a warning.… He’s not so kind to those who cross
him.”

A shiver went through Elwytha. As she
intended to cross him. Mary could not know this, and yet the
warning pierced Elwytha’s heart. Not that she would listen, of
course. The Commander had committed a crime of his own, and she
would mete justice to him.

“
Thank you for lunch. May I
come again tomorrow?” Elwytha stood.

“
I’d be offended if you
didn’t,” the cook returned cheerily.

With a smile, Elwytha left her new friend.
She noticed the Commander as she crossed the dining hall. He headed
for her, obviously intending to intersect her path.

Elwytha quickened her steps to flee, but it
was a useless endeavor.

“
Where do you go in such a
hurry?” he asked in his deep voice when he reached her
side.

“
Why do you torture me
anon?” Elwytha asked, annoyed. She should have stayed in the peace
of the kitchen still longer. “I wish to escape you. We spent all
morning together.” She strode faster toward the door that led to
the courtyard outside.

“
I wish to spend more time
with you.”

Elwytha rolled her eyes as she burst into the
glorious sunshine. “Why, pray tell?” she demanded. “It pleases you
to torture me. Tell me the truth.”

“
I would introduce you to my
men. And make you familiar with the courtyard,” he returned
calmly.