THE WARLORD (5 page)

Kenric and Fitz Alan quickly assessed the situation and decided the chances were good that the patrol didn't know of Tess's disappearance. The band was riding north, probably returning from a courier mission to
London. Kenric guided their horses to the side of the road and slowed to a walk. He'd wrapped Tess securely beneath his cloak to shield her from the biting wind, but quickly threw the edges over his shoulders where the garment wouldn't be in the way of his sword arm.

"Wake up, Tess."

The words were softly spoken, but Tess responded to the urgency in Kenric's voice and the sudden tension in his body. She quickly pushed aside the lingering grogginess, knowing instinctively that something was wrong. Kenric leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"A MacLeith patrol is approaching but I doubt they know you are missing. They ride from the south. Keep your face covered and do not let go of my waist no matter what happens."

Before she could nod in agreement, Kenric lifted her from his lap and swung her around to seat her behind his back. She pulled her hood low, wrapped her trembling arms around her husband's waist, and began to pray.

The soldiers approached quickly, but slowed to meet the travelers.
The sound of hooves, the jingle of harnesses, and creaking of leather faded until there was silence, interrupted again as a horse nickered, answered by another.

"Greetings," their leader called out. He was a coarse, insolent-looking man with a full, bushy beard that seemed an attempt to make up for his thinning hair. His gaze shifted between the two knights, his gaze plainly curious. "What brings honest men out on such a miserably cold day?"

"We travel from Revensforth to Montague," Fitz Alan
lied
glibly, a look of utter sincerity in his warm brown eyes. He rubbed the dark stubble of his own emerging beard. "Baron Montague has returned from the king's wars and 'tis rumored he seeks warriors to replace those lost in battle. My cousin and I have fulfilled our service to Baron Revensforth, and hope to enlist our services with Montague."

The leader's small eyes traveled slowly over the mercenary knights. His horse pawed the ground nervously, as if awaiting a decision. A bad sign, that. A skittish horse was often the sign of a nervous master. The man grunted and nodded toward the road.

"We travel to Remmington. The road is clear ahead?"

"Aye," Fitz Alan answered. "We've met with no trouble."

"Then I'll bid you good day." The soldier began to turn his horse aside,
then
stopped. He leaned sideways in the saddle, trying to get a closer look at Tess. When that failed, he turned his attention to Kenric.

" 'Tis
doubtful Montague will accept your sword if you are burdened with a wench. Is she valuable enough to risk your livelihood?"

"She is my wife," Kenric replied with a shrug. "She'll earn her keep."

The soldier nodded, but made no move to leave. His hooded gaze shifted from Kenric to Fitz Alan, then back again to Kenric. Both recognized the telling action. He was sizing up his opponents.

"My men and I have had a long, cold ride from
London." The soldier didn't take his eyes from Kenric, but one hand flexed on the hilt of his sword. "A good week has passed since any of us had a woman to warm our loins." The soldier gave an almost imperceptible signal and his men drew their swords. Crossing his arms across the high pommel of his saddle, he leaned forward, grinning unpleasantly at Kenric. "Perhaps your woman could earn her keep on the king's road as well."

The man's grin turned evil, but then it faded when neither man moved a muscle. Kenric and Fitz Alan just stared at him.

"Of course we'd pay you for her services." His horse began to paw the ground in earnest and he straightened in the saddle.

Kenric drew his sword so fast that the soldier barely had time to flinch before the blade found his neck. The other men watched in disbelief as their leader toppled from his horse and those lost moments cost two more their lives. The soldiers quickly fell into the spirit of the battle, splitting their numbers to attack the two knights separately. Yet they soon regretted their dead leader's hasty challenge.

Kenric and his horse worked as though joined together, but Tess felt as if she'd grabbed hold of a lightning bolt.
Or a warrior in battle.
Keeping her grip around Kenric's waist was a near impossible task, requiring her full attention. Each time his sword lashed out she could feel the bone-jarring blows in her own body, the force nearly jolting her off the horse. She couldn't imagine what it was like to be on the receiving end of those blows.

Kenric and Fitz Alan set about their job with the methodical precision of seasoned fighters. The dense woods guarded their backs and they kept their horses' rumps close enough to provide additional protection while allowing ample room to wield their swords. Though the two warriors traveled without their heavy shields, they evened the odds by wielding a sword in each hand, one to thrust and one to parry.

" 'Tis
the Remmington bitch!" one of the soldiers cried out when Tess's hood fell back. "Kill him! He has the girl!"

Kenric took advantage of the distraction to drive his sword into two more soldiers. Fitz Alan wasn't as lucky and brought down only one, but the Scots were half their original number.

One of Fitz Alan's foes tried to surprise Kenric by attacking from the right. He was unsuccessful, but kept Kenric distracted long enough for another to move past the baron's blades to his unprotected left side. Three men attacked Kenric with a vengeance while the fourth worked on separating Tess from the baron's waist. The task was made more difficult by Kenric's broadsword, falling every other blow on the man's battered shield.

The soldier became desperate when one of his comrades fell in the frontal attack. He let go of his shield and lunged forward to wrap his arm around Tess's neck, giving one mighty tug. She surprised him by going so willingly that they both fell backward off their horses. Sprawled out flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him, the soldier opened his eyes to find an enraged angel looming overhead.

"Do not move."

Tess held the blade of a needle-sharp dagger at the soldier's neck, but she didn't notice his hand inching toward the sword he'd dropped in the fall. The man kept shifting his eyes nervously to one side, so Tess turned the point of the knife to rest against his throat, intending to prick him just once to hold his attention. He brought the hilt of his sword down on her head at the same instant. The blow was ill-aimed, causing more surprise than pain, but the force of his attack knocked Tess forward. Her knife slid forward into his neck with sickening ease, right up to the hilt.

Tess threw herself off the wounded man with a pained gasp, as if she'd been burned. She scrambled backward on the cold ground to a safe distance and stared at the fallen soldier, morbidly fascinated by the sight. Blood was everywhere, gushing from his neck like a macabre fountain. Anyone who lost that much blood shouldn't be alive, but she could still hear his gasping, gurgling breaths. Strangely enough, the man didn't try to tend the injury. One hand clutched the sword to his
chest,
the other hand lay useless above his head, twitching every so often.

The tortured breathing finally stopped and his skin quickly turned as pale and hard as wax, his lips a vivid blue. She wouldn't have recognized him now as the same man who attacked her. Tess slowly leaned forward and pulled the bloodied plaid over the death mask, too stunned to say a prayer for his soul. She stood up and walked a few paces toward the woods, trying to block the ugly sight from memory. She didn't see the other soldiers fall, or Kenric's quick but frantic search for her.

"I told you not to let go!" Kenric bellowed as he leaped from his horse. He grabbed Tess by the shoulders and dragged her around to face him. "You let go on purpose!"

She didn't flinch or show any other emotion while her husband shouted in her face, but her eyes filled with tears.

Kenric couldn't remember the last time he'd yelled at anyone, much less a woman. His anger was always as cold and chilling as steel, his displeasure communicated in low, deadly tones that were much more effective than a raised voice. That his wife could have no idea how truly furious he was only served to make him angrier.

"He had me by the neck," Tess whispered. Her voice rose shakily as she placed her hands on Kenric's arms to steady herself. "If I'd held on he would have pulled you off balance, giving an advantage to the others attacking from the front."

"Never disobey me again!" Kenric shouted, completely ignoring her flimsy explanation. He couldn't resist the urge to shake Tess just once before wrapping her in a tight bear hug. His heart was still racing from the unfamiliar fear he'd experienced when she was pulled away from his side, knowing she was unprotected, completely vulnerable. He'd fought with a demon's rage then, quickly dispatching the fools who'd threatened to take what was his.

"Hush now," he said gruffly. Tess was weeping all over him.
God, how he hated a woman's tears.
But he didn't seem to mind stroking her hair, finding it just as soft and silky as he knew it would be. The scent of spring flowers drifted across his senses and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the fanciful notion. "There's no need to cry. You're safe now."

She mumbled something against his chest. Kenric lifted her chin and waited for her to look at him. He marveled that the woman could remain so appealing through tears. "What did you say?"

"I said, I always felt safe."
Tess sniffed loudly, looking disgruntled. "A fine wife I'd be if I didn't trust my husband to keep me safe."

Kenric almost smiled at the flash of fire in his little wife's eyes. A good sign, that. The tears would soon dry.

Tess began to cry with renewed gusto, her tearful vow broken by small sobs. "But I will try… very hard… to obey your orders in the future."

"They're all dead," Fitz Alan informed them cheerfully, cleaning his bloodied sword on a fallen soldier's plaid.

"Best we ride," Kenric replied over Tess's head. "I'll feel better once we reach our first camp."

"At least there were only twelve of them," Fitz Alan commented. He tossed the plaid aside then led the horses to the road and prepared to mount.

"I am thankful for your help with the one after my lady," Kenric told his vassal as he guided Tess toward the animals. "The others kept me well occupied."

Fitz Alan halted with one foot in the stirrup, a strange expression on his face, "i did not kill him."

Both men stared at each other then slowly turned their suspicious gazes to Tess. She kept her head bowed, wiping her eyes with the cuff of one sleeve. Kenric nodded toward the soldier in question and Fitz Alan moved quickly to stand over the man, using the tip of his sword to draw the plaid away. The soldier's eyes were wide open, but they stared sightlessly at the gray sky. The plaid caught for a moment then pulled free, revealing the small dagger embedded in the man's neck. Kenric recognized the jewel-encrusted knife immediately as the one Tess wore on her belt. He'd first noticed the dagger at the abbey, impressed by the hilt's intricate workmanship. Now he was impressed with its target.

"She's killed him," Fitz Alan muttered.

Kenric pulled the knife free and shook his head, unable to imagine his delicate wife stabbing a man in the neck. Yet the evidence proved she was quite capable of defending herself.

" 'Twas
an accident," Tess said earnestly. Kenric took his eyes from the dead man long enough to look at her. She could tell from the incredulous expression on his face that he wasn't about to believe her. Of course, who could blame him?
A blade in the shoulder or belly, maybe.
But straight through a man's throat? That did seem a bit deliberate. She turned to Fitz Alan, hoping he would be more understanding. Fitz Alan was looking at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"You two are a fine pair to give me judgment," she snapped. She crossed her arms indignantly,
then
swept one arm out to indicate the carnage surrounding them. "Thank goodness your own hands remain unsoiled."

Kenric and Fitz Alan exchanged a confused look.

"My lady," Fitz Alan began apologetically. "We did not think—"

"Aye, that much is obvious," she muttered. Her arms were crossed again and she scowled fiercely at the knights, even as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.
" 'Tis
cruel of you both to make me feel worse than I did already about taking a man's life. One of you would have killed him sooner or later, so the result is the same. Now that I think on the matter, one of you should have taken care of the infidel before I was forced to the foul deed. Thanks to you two, I now have the sin of murder on my soul."

She turned her back on the men and walked to the baron's warhorse while Kenric motioned to Fitz Alan, warning him not to laugh. He followed the order with difficulty, but couldn't hide his broad smile.

No one said a word as Kenric lifted Tess into the saddle and mounted behind her. He pulled his heavy fur cloak forward to provide a warm cocoon and tucked her snugly against his chest before sharing an exasperated smile with Fitz Alan.

Tess sighed and closed her eyes. She didn't care what her husband thought of her. She didn't. Yet she knew this was surely the worst day of her life and it was not yet midday.