The Dark Lady (52 page)

He dropped beside Anna’s bed and grasped her hand. Anna smiled weakly and began to cry.

He looked up at Van with widened eyes. “Did I hurt her?” He tried to let go of her hand, but Anna held on tight.

“
No, but you both must wait out in the hall.” She gestured to Gary. “Take him.”

Douglas reluctantly released her hand and put his hand on Gary’s arm.

“
I am staying. I do not want to leave my sister with...” He stopped, but he looked at Van.

Anna smiled up at him. “I love you and I trust her.”

Gary looked at her and then at Van. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then released it. “I know of the Dark Knight...of you.” He began, but then shook his head. “You hid it well, and revealed yourself in order to avenge my sister. I know you love her and I trust you as well.” With that he walked out and Douglas shut the door behind them.

They washed and cleaned the young girl up, her sobs soon slowing and then stopping altogether. There was tearing but nothing that needed stitches and for that Van was grateful, but she knew she would not be so lucky.

Van sat in one of the chairs by the small window where the light was best to allow Amy to examine her arm. Anna pulled herself from the bed and sat silently beside the chair Van perched on and held her hand.

“
Van, it’s deep.” Amy sounded a lot like she might lose what little breakfast she had eaten.

“
I know.” Van said calmly. She looked down at the wide scared eyes of the young girl at her feet. “Anna, will you be all right in here, or would you like to leave?”

She shook her head. She would stay.

Turning to her little day maid, Van smiled, a weak try at one. “Get Gary and your sewing kit.”

Carrying a small sewing kit Gary walked into the room, followed closely by Douglas. Van sat, one sleeve torn completely off her dress, still as a stone.

Gary said nothing as he walked to her. He glanced toward the bloody water in the night basin beside the bed. His eyes clouded, but he remained silent.

Amy walked in with a fresh basin full of hot water. Gary took it carefully and cleansed the cut on Van’s arm. “I have to clean it well or it will become infected.”

He refused to look at her face, at anything except the wound.

“
Do it then.” She sat still as he splashed a liberal amount of brandy onto the wound. She felt him wince as she took a quick intake of breath and tightened in pain. She clenched her teeth until her jaw popped audibly. Anna jumped at the sound.

Van closed her eyes and let her mind wander as he quickly began to stitch her arm. Her mind took her to the last time she had been stitched. To the nights she had held Peter’s hand in the privacy of the tent. To the way she had caressed his hair and his face and kissed his cheek gently as he lay unconscious. She had confessed her love to him late into one of those nights and he had moaned lightly in response.

“
I’ll bandage it up, and then you should get some sleep.”

She looked over at Gary’s pale face and felt a moment of concern. “Are you all right?” She asked, and then was startled when he laughed.

“
Aye, it is you who are not,” he said with a shake of his head.

“
Will you stay in here, please, milady?” Anna asked quietly as Gary helped her to her feet.

Van was reluctant to leave her side and, knowing that Peter was still in the lists with the men, she agreed to stay. She crawled into the small bed beside her.

Van watched the small group of people that looked to one another nervously. Gary smiled at his sister as he settled into a chair at the foot of the bed. Douglas sat gently on floor and took Anna’s foot in his massive hand. Van smiled as Amy crawled into the bed on the other side of Anna.

Van slipped into a restless sleep with Anna’s head lying on her shoulder, Van’s good arm wrapped protectively around her.

CHAPTER 24

Ryan clung to the rocking neck of a stolen horse and tried his best to ignore his rolling stomach and pounding head. Gregory rode slightly behind him after having been yelled at earlier to leave him alone.

They were making their way to where Ryan hoped Eolian still remained. Silence, broken only by the steady thrum of the hooves pounding into the soft ground, followed them through the clear, cool night.

They had spent the day at the Doveslane Inn, to rest and acquire the horses. Gregory had taken a serving wench, a round yet willing red head, Annette, up the stairs. Ryan had been too absorbed in thought for such a distraction.

He had sat drinking and nursing his demolished pride with the sour brandy that they served. He had stayed at the dirty table until night had fallen.

Now he held tightly to his pilfered ride and knew he had drank much too heavily. He hoped to stay seated through this short trip, but he thought his chances slim as his head reeled.

As he rode, feeling every dip and swerve the animal made, he became lost in his own mind and memories.

He could see Anna, the soft spoken girl, too manageable. Too cooperative, he thought sourly. He had not really wanted her.

What he wanted was that fiery little thing Devon was always around. Amy had spirit and would always put up a fight.

When they had first arrived he had wanted Lady Vanessa, but he knew he could never attain her. Then as he had watched her with her husband he knew she had too much spirit for his liking.

He loved them to fight, but what he enjoyed more was the fear.

Lady Vanessa would never show fear, and now he understood why. He growled deeply in his throat as he thought of the humiliation she had put him through.

He pushed her from his clouded mind and drew his thoughts back to Amy. Vanessa may not show fear, but Amy did. She had fight and a spirit that would take a long time to break, but she was afraid of him.

He smiled when he thought of the night he had pinned Amy to the wall. Her well-endowed breasts pressing into his chest. He had hardened painfully at the terror in her eyes as she had fought him.

His smile fell away.

Vanessa had shown up then, pulling him off. He had thought he would die there, but Amy had saved him, just as that twit of a child, Anna, had done a short time ago.

Amy had begged for her to stop, telling her it wasn’t worth it. He replayed the look of anguish in the coal black eyes. Whoever she was, Vanessa, the lady, or Van, the knight, one thing was sure, she loved Amy. He had known it without a doubt when she had said, “If you are all right and you will not cry anymore.”

He had heard the concern and the caring in her soft voice.

His distracted mind registered movement among the shadows, but his drunken reflexes were nonexistent. The large bay mare he rode was pulled to a stop as a massive chunk of the surrounding shadows detached itself from the trees, grasping the reins.

Gregory’s horse bumped into the rump of his and she reared up. He gasped loudly and almost tumbled from the horse. He looked around him dazed and then looked down at the man holding his reins.

“
Damn, Verges. You scared me, and it was more than your looks this time.” He laughed at his own wit, but the big man didn’t smile, didn’t even acknowledge he had spoken. Ryan’s laugh turned to a deep scowl.

“
What are you doing here? We heard there was some commotion at the castle.” Verges did not wait for a response, just began leading the horse away.

Ryan snarled at him. He hated Verges. He did not trust him and he feared him. What he feared the most was that he knew Verges hated him as well.

Verges led them deep into the surrounding woods through twists and turns that soon had Ryan lost and confused.

Ryan asked where they were. There was no answer. He asked if Verges was sure he knew where they were in the dark. No answer. Verges did not respond to any of his questions, just continued to lead them farther into the darkness.

Blackness was all Ryan could see. He put his hand in front of him, bumping his dirty fingers into his nose before realizing they were there.

Taking a deep breath, Ryan forced himself to keep silent, letting his eyes drift shut. He felt the horse rocking beneath him and could hear the soft crunching of leaves from beneath the horse’s hooves. Then everything faded as blackness took him.

“
Get down, you lush, and get in there.” Ryan’s eyes snapped open and he grabbed the horse’s mane to keep from tumbling off backwards.

They had stopped next to a small shanty. The door stood open throwing light onto the horses and the riders.

Ryan took a deep breath to steady himself. The cool air rumbled through his stomach and threatened to expel what little contents it contained. He dropped shakily to the ground and trembled. It was not from the chill of the night.

He was terrified of Eolian Montgomery, had been since long before actually coming into his service. Not one to allow even the slightest slip, it was said that the Knight of Fear would behead you as soon as look at you. It was proven several times in front of Ryan and he was beginning to wonder if it was a bad idea to drink first.

He shook his head gently to clear it, but it only blurred his vision further. He swayed. A large hand shoved into the center of his back, propelling him toward the waiting, open door.

Ryan’s feet stumbled across branches and sticks and he almost fell. He swung his arms and to his amazement kept his feet beneath him. Fear began to swim frantically through his veins, pushing the brandy from his pores in a sour smelling sweat.

His mind began to focus as a deep rumbling of dread sobered him. He stepped through the door with Gregory right on his heels. He could hear Gregory’s heavy breathing and feel the trembles that ran through his body when he brushed against him.

Eolian sat calmly in a chair in the center of the room. It was the only chair in the room Ryan saw as he looked around. He stood before him nervously and waited.

“
Why are you here?” Eolian asked him in a soft soothing voice that Ryan knew never portrayed his actual emotions. He sounded calm when he was raging with anger. The calmer he sounded, Ryan knew, the worse it was.

Ryan took a deep breath and told in detail the fight and Christopher’s death. The telling of it was difficult, especially with the rank breath of another who terrified him running across his neck. The room was small, but made smaller by the unearthly bulk that Verges possessed.

Ryan took another deep breath and smiled shakily. “She is more than just a good swordswoman. From the day she arrived, she wore her face thick with powder and has treated Richard and his men like they were her own.” He paused, but Eolian did not speak.

Ryan trembled with worry as he continued. “The battle washed the powder away.” He felt Verges shift behind him. “Her face is scarred deeply across the cheek, in the same place as the Dark Knight.”

Eolian had sat patiently waiting for Ryan to have his say and was sure it would be useless. He had thought he knew what this was about. Ryan was a dangerous man who had little brains to keep him out of trouble. Eolian was sure the stupid man had raped someone or killed someone and had been sent away.

That it was the lady of the castle who had sent him away was interesting but Eolian still planned to kill him when he was finished speaking.

Now that had changed. Now he was unsure if Ryan had brought him useful information or if Ryan’s imagination was running wild and making connections where there were none.

He looked down at his feet momentarily. The dirt floor beneath them was packed hard from years of use and even more years of sitting unused before that.

He glanced up past the sniveling man who trembled before him. The walls were twisted with age and weather, giving a slightly skewed vision, making one want to cock the head to the side to look at them. He fought the urge to do so.

His mind whirled with the possibilities. Could it be possible?

He went over what he knew of the Dark Knight. He was the son of a surgeon whom he looked nothing like. Although, he did look like the last husband of his mother. Exactly like Matthew Fordella. But Matthew had only had a daughter. A daughter who had mysteriously disappeared, Eolian thought sullenly.

His mind fought with the idea that the Dark Knight, the man who had defeated his armies and been a thorn in his ass since the brat had still been a squire, could possibly be a woman. His first thought had been self-serving and he had not allowed it to grow. He could not dwell on all the times he had been beaten by some mere girl.

He pushed those thoughts away knowing they would get him nowhere.

Instead, he went quickly through his dealings with the Dark Knight and, as they always did, his thoughts stopped on one small child: the small boy that Melinda Dawson had given birth to. He had searched for the boy, wanting nothing more to kill the child he had believed to be the Dark Knight’s.

His thoughts stuck on the fourteen year old girl he had wanted so badly. He had tried to buy Melinda from her father, but the stubborn man had refused. Eolian had threatened to kill him and had taken her anyway. Her father was unhappy, but he had not gone after her.

He had taken her every night until Van had stolen her from him. Van had claimed the child as his own, and Eolian had searched for years for Melinda and her child to enact his revenge on them both.