The Dark Lady (8 page)

Van just shook his head.

Richard saw the stubborn set in the boy’s jaw and tried another question. “Tell me about the dream.”

Van just shook his head.

Richard wrapped an arm around his quivering shoulders. “You know you can trust me, right?”

“
Yes,” Van said quietly and then added, “With most things.”

Richard felt a stab of pain at that, but understood nonetheless. There were some things that were private no matter how much you trusted someone. He tightened his grip on the shoulders that had finally stopped shaking. “You can tell me anything you need to.”

Van reluctantly told him that his father wanted to kill him. When asked why, he hesitated then shook his head, spraying Richard with droplets of frigid water. When Van spoke it was so quietly that Richard had to drop his head down to hear him.

“
I do not know,” he whispered. “I just know I have to avoid him at all costs.”

***

Richard was pulled back to the present when the warm grasp of Van’s hand fell away from his wrist.

Richard drew his own hand away and heaved in a heavy breath. He released it in a deep sigh, ignoring the sharp pain that exploded in his chest as if the breath itself had grabbed onto his heart in an attempt to remain safe inside.

Richard felt the tears of loss swell behind his eyes and did not trust himself to speak. He looked questioningly at Van, saw only a stubborn determination and unending pride. Knowing his liege was too proud to accept sympathy he bowed low and turned away without a backwards glance.

Van watched with a heavy heart as Richard walked out of sight. Careful not to look at the shape under the white sheet, she pulled off her helm. Laying it on the end of the bed, she made her way to the motionless girl.

Van slapped her face gently as she said, “Come on. Look at me.” The girl lay still. “Wake up now.”

Van just grinned and shook her head. The girl obviously wanted to play this game until Van gave up and left her. That would not happen. Van chuckled.

“
I am too stubborn for that,” she said softly. Then she slapped her harder. The girl opened her eyes in shock, screamed, and began to swing her fists into Van’s heavy armor.

“
Let me go,” she shouted. The blonde-haired girl twisted and fought. Her dress began to rise up her milky white thighs. “Get off me.”

“
Stop. All you are doing is hurting yourself.” Van grabbed her arms and, throwing them above the girl’s head, she encircled both delicate wrists with one hand. The girl continued to kick and scream. As her legs flailed, Van lost her balance and she fell between the now bared thighs.

Van threw a glove covered hand over the girl’s mouth to stop the incessant screams. She leaned close, her angry breath caressing the girl’s trembling cheek. “Stop. You have two choices. One, you can shut the hell up, sit, and talk to me calmly or—”

The girl’s sharp cries rose, cutting Van off in mid thought as the girl began to wildly kick her legs. Her high pitched squall slashed persistently at Van’s twisted and frayed nerves. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She did not want to scare this girl, but she knew from vast experience that sometimes violence was the best way to get through to an overwrought female. She opened her eyes and smiled with deadly calm.

“
Or...Option two,” she said, keeping her voice calm. She pushed herself farther between the girl’s open legs. The pretty blonde froze, her eyes opening wide, as Van felt herself come to a stop at the junction of the girl’s thighs. Van pushed away the guilt at the horror in her gaze.

“
I can always stay here, between your soft white thighs.” Van’s voice took on a seductive whisper. She arched one eyebrow and gave her a grin that said she was through playing.

The girl calmed and Van was impressed by the effort she had put forth to do so. Van removed her hand from the trembling lips and waited.

“
I’m calm, just get off.”

Van pushed herself halfway off and stopped. Still between her trembling legs, Van ran a hand along her thigh to check the scratches left by the rough mail. The girl tensed beneath her touch. “Nothing is bleeding. I don’t think it will turn infectious, but my armor did scratch you. Dr. Burgess will take a look at it later.”

Van pulled down the girl’s brown woolen dress as she rose. She lowered herself to the pallet, but remained alert in case the girl decided to run. “What is your name?”

“
Amy Devant.” The girl’s voice was just above a squeak—a terrified squeak.

“
Devant? Are you a relation of Dorothy Devant?” Dorothy had worked as her mother’s day maid ever since she was ten and had gone to live at the castle to train. She had seen Dorothy occasionally over the last three years when she had come home to visit.

Pain shadowed the girl’s face and a tear streaked down her cheek. “She was my mother.”

Van reached for her thin, trembling hand. “Was? What happened?”

“
She passed away last month, from a lung infection.” Amy stared at Van with the same shocked look that she always witnessed when someone first saw her.

Van knew the only blemish on her face was the long scar that ran along her right cheek. She also knew that everyone thought the same thing, but no one except the stupid would actually say it. They thought that it was a pretty face, too pretty for a Knight with the wicked reputation she had.

Of course, that prettiness was the main reason she had turned out the way she had. Her too feminine face had always been seen as sign of weakness and an easy target for the boys she had grown up with. It was a difference that had forced her to fight to prove herself and to build a reputation.

Van raised her brow questioningly “I did not know that Dorothy had a daughter.”

“
My mother wanted it that way. She had me hide when you would visit.” Her voice was smoother now, not as scared.

Van let out a short bark of laughter that caused Amy to cringe in fear. “I am sure your mother was only looking out for you when she kept you hidden from me. Did my mother tell you about me?”

“
She said that, no matter your reputation, you were a person of honor. That I was to trust you—I am sorry about the pitch fork, I was frightened. My mother always warned me against you. She said you were...a monster.” Amy looked apologetic as she spoke. All the fear had gone from her eyes. A great sadness had replaced it.

“
Do you have family, someone to take care of you?” Van twisted her neck first one way then the other, emitting loud pops and cracks as she did so. Her eyes were heavy and stung painfully with unshed tears and lack of sleep.

Amy only shook her head.

Van’s shredded nerves were on the verge of snapping under the strain of what her life had become. She had been concerned for quite some time of how she would continue her ruse as a man, but now that she no longer needed to portray the knight, her concerns were compounded.

Eolian was a bigger threat to her as a woman than he had ever been to her as a man. To add to her troubles, she still felt responsible for her men and worried how they would fare without her.

“
How old are you?” she asked the girl and grimaced at the weary tone in her own voice. She rubbed her temples momentarily as the pain bounced sharply behind her eyes.

Van did not know how to accomplish all that was necessary. A knight or not, she was still responsible for many women and several children. She had no idea how she was going to take care of her responsibilities and carry out her mother’s dying wish.

“
I am seventeen,” Amy said quietly.

Van let her hands drop from her temples and glanced back at her.

Amy wrapped her arms around herself and looked down. She shrugged slightly and when she began to speak again it was in a small timid voice. “Nay, I do not have any other family. After my mother died, Lady Patricia took care of me. Now I have no one.” Tears slipped from her reddened eyes, cutting a streak down the dust on her trembling face.

Van’s gaze moved across the room, avoiding her mother’s bed.

“
Maxwell Enoch said he would marry me.”

Van’s gaze shot back to Amy, anger clouding her vision momentarily.

“
Now I will have to accept,” Amy squeaked and the tears came hard then, unbidden, rough sobs that tore from her throat.

Van’s fingers tightened into fists until her knuckles were white and her weariness forgotten. Maxwell Enoch was a monster of a man. He had gone through three young wives as it was. There was rumor that he had killed them as he had grown tired of them, just to move on to a newer, sometimes younger bride. She was not about to turn over this innocent girl to him.

Van took a deep breath and tried to ignore the sound of tears beside her so that she could weigh her options. As the Dark Knight she would have made her one of her mistresses, as she had the other girls she had rescued, but things were not that easy now.

She could still take her as a mistress. There was still money set aside for her women and their young ones, but it would not last long and she had to plan for a time when the gold ran out. She took a deep breath, held it, and closed her eyes. One more mistress would only deplete it that much sooner.

She released a deep sigh and opened her eyes to the dimly lit room. A room she was surprised to find that she was not going to miss.

She shook her head slowly. There was a second option available to her now, but it was not without risk.

She could take Amy with her, but she was reluctant to take this option.

She was unsure of her ability to protect Amy. There were men, like Eolian and the ones under him, who would give anything to know who she really was. If they found out she was the Dark Knight, then everyone around her, as well as her women and their children, would be in danger.

A deep breath shuddered through her. There was more than Amy’s safety, there was her own as well. If Amy turned out to be untrustworthy...could she trust her secrets to a girl she just met?

Amy sniffled loudly and the cracking sobs cut through Van’s head like a sword.

“
You need to get yourself together,” Van growled in irritation. She had never had tolerance for emotional outbursts. Nevertheless, she reached across and laid a comforting hand the Amy’s trembling thigh. Anything to get her to stop, Van thought impatiently as Amy took her hand in a tight grip.

Amy’s tears slowly began to ease and then finally stopped. She looked toward the mound on the bed. “I loved her.”

Van’s gaze turned toward the bed without really seeing it. She took a slow breath and growled softly to herself.

She would need a maid for two reasons. Her soon-to-be husband would expect one and more importantly she had no idea what to do as a woman. Her experience with women was limited to whores and barmaids, the only women comfortable being around rowdy knights.

She laughed bitterly. She was sure her betrothed would not appreciate her acting like either.

She could hire a maid once she was a woman again, but that would not help her become a proper woman. She needed help and unfortunately that meant confiding in someone.

Van turned her gaze fixedly back to Amy. She stared at her for so long that Amy dropped her head shyly. There were few choices for Van at this time and she decided reluctantly that she would place her trust in Amy and do everything in her power to protect her.

“
You will not marry any man you do not want to marry. You were in my mother’s care and now you are in mine. If you give me your trust, I will take care of you.”

Amy’s head came back up and she regarded Van intently. Whatever she had seen in Van’s eyes must have convinced her of Van’s sincerity, because she smiled. “Thank you, Sir Burgess, I trust you.” Amy tightened her grip on her hand and glanced at the bed once more. “Patricia told me that I could. She said you would take care of everything.”

Amy’s brows furrowed and her concerned gaze lit on Van’s face. Van raised a black brow and waited curiously to see what questions had come to her. “What if the woman you are supposed to marry does not want me around?”

Van grinned at her. She pulled her hand out from under Amy’s and patted her thigh as one would pat a child who had asked an obvious question. The young woman was innocent, not knowing that the men had all the say, women had none. Well, most women—she intended to have a lot of say.

“
First, you will call me Van. I will tell my new betrothed that you will be coming. There will be no argument.” She knew that her new husband-to-be would not care if she brought her own day maid, would, in fact, expect it. This removed two problems at once. “Go to your bed chamber, and get some rest. I will let you know of the arrangements to be made.”

***

Her mother’s funeral began close to sunset. The men had crowded around the small grave site as the preacher said his prayers. He kept looking nervously at the multitude of warriors who stood respectfully at attention.

Van stood next to the grave with Richard on one side and Amy, dressed all in black including a black veil covering her face, on the other.

As the sun sank down behind the tall trees her mother was lowered into the ground in a sweet smelling cedar box. Van’s breath threatened to quit on her. Her heart felt heavy and empty. She now had nothing. No mother, no men, no Dark Knight. She did not hear a word the preacher said as he recited the final prayers. She didn’t even notice when he walked away, she just knew he was gone.