The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3) (33 page)

Read The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3) Online

Authors: Kathryn Le Veque

Tags: #Medieval, #Fiction, #Romance

BOOK: The Iron Knight (The De Russe Legacy Book 3)
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Whatever the case, she was heading for the hall and she didn’t notice that de Fey and l’Evereux were heading for the hall, as well. Their paths were about to cross about twenty feet from the main entry to the hall. By the time she realized the du Ponte knights were near her, it was too late.

De Fey reached out a big hand and grabbed Sophina, snatching her by the wrist and nearly pulling her arm off in the process. Sophina let out a scream but l’Evereux was quickly at her other side, his nasty-looking dirk poking her in the ribs.

“Silence, my lady,” de Fey said steadily. “You will come with us.”

Sophina, startled and terrified that she seemed to have been taken prisoner in Lucien’s bailey, tried to pull away. “Let me go,” she demanded. “Let me go, I say! Release me!”

L’Evereux jabbed her with the tip of the dirk and she yelped, for the poke broke through her garment and scratched her tender skin. “Ouch!” she gasped, trying to pull away from the dagger. “Stop! Let me go!”

De Fey shifted his grip from her wrist to her arm and Sophina yelped as his fingers bit in to her tender flesh. “Listen to me well, lady,” he hissed in her ear. “I will not let you go. You are du Ponte’s property and now we shall return to Gillingham. If you fight, my comrade on your other side will make sure you experience a good deal of pain. You will bleed to death before de Russe can save you. Do you comprehend?”

Cold fear rushed through Sophina as she realized that was not some inane temporary plan. She looked up at de Fey, terror and recognition filling her features.

“You,” she breathed. “You came to Thruxton Castle. You were at the head of du Ponte’s escort.”

De Fey nodded. “Indeed, I was,” he said. “You should not have run away from the carriage.”

Sophina was outraged at his suggestion. “You and your men fled,” she said hotly. “Sir Lucien saved me and my daughter. I did not ‘flee’. Had I remained at the carriage, God only knows what would have happened to me and my child.”

De Fey prepared to reply but movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned swiftly to see one of de Russe’s knights bearing down on them and he quickly turned so that Sophina was in front of him, like a shield. Even though l’Evereux had a dagger pointed at her, de Fey threw his arm around her neck. The message was clear.

Come closer and she dies.

“Go no further,” he commanded the knight. “One more step and I shall snap her neck.”

Gabriel came to a halt, struggling not to show the concern he felt to see Lady de Gournay in the grip of a du Ponte knight. His heart sank;
damnation!
Had he been so ignorant of the movement of du Ponte’s men that he permitted the woman to come to harm? Slowly, he raised his hands to show that he was not armed.

“I will not come any closer,” he said. “Why are you doing this?”

De Fey’s gaze lingered on the very tall knight for a moment, contemplating his answer, before turning to l’Evereux.

“Cover my back,” he muttered. “Make sure no one comes up behind me.”

L’Evereux did as he was told. He moved to stand behind de Fey, his back to de Fey’s to protect the man’s rear. Meanwhile, de Fey returned his attention to Gabriel.

“Go inside and get de Russe,” he said. “Bring both him and du Ponte out here. Do it now.”

Gabriel didn’t like to be pushed around. He hated for someone to have the upper hand on him. His bright blue eyes glared at de Fey.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

De Fey wouldn’t be sucked into a conversation with him. “Do as I say. Go get your master.”

Gabriel sighed faintly. “You have no idea the fierceness of the wrath you are about to incur.”

“I will not tell you again.”

Gabriel didn’t want to push him, not when he held the lady’s neck in such a precarious position. With a lingering look at de Fey, as if to emphasize to the man how very much trouble he was about to face, he turned away and headed to the great hall.

Sophina, meanwhile, didn’t say a word. She remembered these men, as they had been part of her escort to Gillingham, but neither one of them had hardly said a word to her the entire trip. She didn’t even know their names. When their escort had been ambushed, the pair, and the other du Ponte soldiers, had simply run off. Whoever these men were, they were unscrupulous and cowardly, but she wouldn’t tell them that with a big arm across her neck. She didn’t want to have her neck snapped in a fit of rage. She had a great deal to live for.

She very much wanted to see her daughter grow up and marry and have children of her own. She very much wanted to become Lady de Russe and spend her life coming to know a remarkable man. Perhaps there would even be children for them in the future. She’d never really thought about having more children but she would be more than happy to provide Lucien with a son or two. What a lovely family that would be.

Thinking thoughts of Lucien and their future together kept her calm with a man threatening to snap her neck, but when Lucien suddenly emerged from the great hall, his features edged with disbelief, she could feel her composure slipping. She didn’t like that look of desperation in his eye.

Before Lucien could speak, du Ponte spilled out behind him. The man’s voice rose in glee, blotting out everything else.

“Ah!” du Ponte said. “I see we no longer have an issue to discuss, de Russe. My men have claimed what is rightfully mine.”

Lucien was struggling not to rush du Ponte. He was fairly sure he could get to the man and twist his head off but he wasn’t entirely sure he could do it before du Ponte’s men broke Sophina’s neck. Wild, murderous thoughts like that raced through his mind but he forced them away, killing them. He couldn’t risk Sophina just to satisfy his rage. Therefore, he simply stared at the man holding Sophina without making eye contact with her; to do so would surely destroy his composure.

“This is how you repay my hospitality?” he asked. “By taking one of my guests hostage?”

Du Ponte wouldn’t let de Fey answer. He made sure to put himself between de Fey and Lucien. He wasn’t entirely certain that de Russe wouldn’t try to physically wrest the woman from his knight. Therefore, he put himself in between Lucien and his knights and began ushering his men in the direction of the gatehouse.

“I have what I came for, de Russe,” he said, his manner quite glib. He threw up his hands, grinning. “I will take what rightfully belongs to me and I shall leave. I am sorry to have troubled you.”

Lucien was following, flanked by de Bretagne. He was trying so very hard not to show any weakness, any fury, but inside he was spilling over. He was frightened and he was furious, so much so that his hands were shaking. Having never faced a situation like this before, personally, it was very difficult for him to control himself.

“So you walk out during the course of a bargain?” he asked, realizing his voice was trembling. “I offered you a great deal of money for your marriage contract, du Ponte. Are you telling me that you do not need the money?”

Du Ponte’s smirk faded somewhat. It was true that de Russe had offered him a more than fair price for Lady de Gournay and it was further true that du Ponte wanted the money. To be honest, he probably wanted the money more but he simply couldn’t resist having the upper hand on de Russe. He had something that de Russe very badly wanted; this man, lauded by the king, a man that soldiers and nobles alike called The Iron Knight for his durability in battle. Du Ponte knew there was never any way he could possibly best de Russe in battle.

The only way he could do it was to take what the man wanted.

De Russe had tried to gain the upper hand with him, the righteous bastard, which was what made this particular incident so sweet – de Russe had been trying for a very long time to bring du Ponte to justice, to tie him to the outlaws in the area, knowing that du Ponte had a connection with them. The man had tried to ruin his livelihood. That being the case, du Ponte was going to punish him now. Punish him for every bit of slander he’d ever spoken against him.

Now, de Russe was going to pay.


You
made the offer,” de Ponte said. “I never accepted. I never hinted that I would accept. I told you that I wanted my property returned and here she is, now safe with my own men. I do not know how she came into their possession and I do not care, but I do know this – if you do not let us pass from Spelthorne unmolested, I can promise you that the lady will not live to see the sun set. Is that what you wish?”

Lucien wasn’t sure if du Ponte was bluffing but he couldn’t take the chance. He also couldn’t let the man leave his castle. If he did, he was afraid he would never see Sophina again. Already, it was killing him to watch that brute of a knight drag her across the bailey as she struggled against the arm across her neck. As he watched her in the fight for her life, he realized he was going to have to make the most difficult decision of his life. He could try to free her, but he might not be able to before du Ponte’s man killed her.

It was that very thought that was tearing him apart.

“Nay,” he said steadily. “But hear me now; let her go and I will give you everything I own – my coinage, my horses, my property – everything. The dukedom of Exeter will be mine upon my father’s death and I will even provide you with ten thousand
deniers
annually from that until your death. I can make you a very rich man, du Ponte. All I ask is that you give me the lady, unharmed.”

Du Ponte liked the sound of that. He truly did. To have all that de Russe owned plus ten thousand a year? That was an astonishing amount of wealth. It was enough for him to actually consider it. He knew that de Russe was a man of his word; men like him were insipid in their belief in honor. He knew, no matter if it cost him everything, that de Russe would stick to the bargain.

“Very well,” he said. “I will consider it. I am going to take the lady with me back to Gillingham and you may bring all of your wealth, your horses, and everything you own to Gillingham as well. Only when I have everything of yours will I even consider turning the lady over to you. Until then, she stays with me.”

They were nearing the gatehouse now as Lucien’s entire army turned out to see du Ponte and his two knights dragging Lady de Gournay to the gatehouse. They were pulling her awkwardly so it was difficult for her keep her footing. She gripped the arm around her neck so she would not accidentally kill herself by tripping. It was a rather harrowing scene with de Russe following closely, a desperate look on his face.

The Iron Knight wasn’t one to show emotion. He never had been. He had weathered whatever God and men had thrown at him and he’d always come through. But at this moment, he was showing his humanity in all things. One small lady had managed to do that to him. It was a sorrowful thing to watch.

“Wait,” Lucien said as they moved through the gatehouse. “Please… just wait. Do not take her. Stay here and, by morning, I will have everything that I promised for you to take with you back to Gillingham. I swear it, du Ponte. Just… do not leave with her. Stay here and no one will harm you.”

“Nay, Lucien!” Sophina finally found her voice. She couldn’t stand to hear what du Ponte was doing to Lucien. She simply couldn’t let the man give up everything for her. “Do not give him anything! Please! There must be another way. You must keep your wealth!”

De Fey gave her a squeeze to silence her and she yelped. Lucien nearly came apart. He could feel a hand on him, begging him not to charge. It was de Bretagne but he didn’t turn to look; all he knew was that someone, someone who cared, was trying to prevent him from doing something foolish.

God, he very much wanted to do something foolish.

He wanted to kill.

They were entering the undercarriage of the gatehouse when suddenly, a body came flying out of the guard’s room, plowing into l’Evereux and taking the man down. De Fey lurched, trying to keep Sophina in his grip as Colton, massive dagger in hand, planted the blade squarely in l’Evereux’s chest.

Sophina screamed; du Ponte screamed. Even Lucien bellowed, telling Colton to cease, terrified that de Fey was going to snap Sophina’s neck on the spot. But Colton, faster and more agile than any man alive, leapt up and rammed the same dagger into de Fey’s thigh. The man howled and released his grip on Sophina, but du Ponte was closer to her than Lucien was. As de Fey staggered and fell, an enormous blade in his leg, du Ponte grabbed Sophina by the hair and pulled her up against him, his hand to her throat.

“Cease!” he roared. “One more move and I will kill her! Do you hear me?
One more move and she dies!”

Lucien threw up his hands. “Colton!” he bellowed. “Stop!”

Colton was in battle mode. He had just ripped the blade from de Fey’s leg and kicked the man to the ground when Lucien screamed at him. He was fully prepared to use the blade on du Ponte. In fact, he had the dagger in his hand and was making stabbing motions in du Ponte’s direction. But Lucien’s panicked cry had him hesitating, going against his natural battle instinct. He was going to kill du Ponte. That was his goal. But when he saw the way the man was holding Sophina’s neck, he could see that it would only be by sheer luck for him to kill du Ponte before he killed Sophina.

He was sure he would be fast enough to complete the job in order to save her.

“Drop the dagger, Colton,” Lucien half-commanded, half-begged. “Please… drop it.”

Colton couldn’t seem to do it. He had a difficult time lowering his hand but dropping the blade was another matter. “Lucien…,” he hissed.

“Drop it.
Please.

Colton grunted, unhappy and still very much in battle mode. He’d been emerging from the vault, having just left a screaming Holderness, when he saw what was happening in the bailey. He saw du Ponte’s men dragging Sophina across the dirt, holding her captive, and he had been positive that if he took the knights out, Lucien would handle du Ponte. But it hadn’t worked that way. Now, there was one dead knight, one wounded knight, and du Ponte still had the lady. Gloriously frustrated, Colton growled and threw the knife away, out into the bailey.

“Colton,” Lucien said hoarsely. “Come away from there. Get back behind me.”

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