The Warrior Knight and the Widow Page 5

  Since she’d been acting as steward it had become a place where she was respected and loved in equal measure. She had swept away years of bad management and created a safe place where the people flourished. She might have been under threat from the likes of Copsi, but she had known that her tenants would rather lay down their lives than let her be taken by a man whose reputation was every bit as unpleasant as their previous lord.

  She folded her hands in front of her. She hadn’t wanted them to do that, knowing that her father could send men to protect them from the threat of invasion. She had to keep reminding herself that this was why she was going to her father’s castle. She wanted to protect her people and he was the man who could help her do it. She might have to put up with him suggesting she should marry again, but she was a far stronger woman than the sixteen-year-old girl who had married Lord Swein.

  She’d been raised knowing that it was her duty to make a good alliance through an advantageous marriage and she had accepted it. She’d married the elderly Lord Swein not with any excitement but with a feeling of pride that she was helping her father’s dynastic ambitions. Aligning Swein’s lands to her father’s had given the Earl a reach far greater than any of his peers—and, as she’d later found out, helped him win a strategic battle against his old enemy Lord Copsi.

  Their marriage had been childless—which in the early years had been a source of pain to her. She’d been so desperate to please her husband and provide him with the heir he wanted so badly. She’d also wanted a child for herself. A child who would have helped stave off the loneliness she’d felt so far away from home.

  Later, when she’d come to fear and despise her husband, she had felt glad she hadn’t brought any of his children into the world. There was no doubt in her mind that Swein would have beaten his small son if he had displeased his father in any way. He’d had no compunction about beating her, no matter how small the infraction. She couldn’t have borne it if she’d brought a vulnerable child into their volatile world.

  Now she was glad that there was nothing left to remind her of him. She’d had all trace of him swept from the castle the day he had died. His clothes had been burned and his golden jewels melted down and handed out as coins for the tenants who had suffered so badly under his management.

  As part of her marriage agreement, after the death of her husband, the land and the castle now belonged to her father—the infamous Earl of Ogmore. But Lord Swein had been ill for four long years prior to his death, and lazy before that. Ellena had taken on the management of the estate and she was good at it. She was not going to give that up—even if it meant going against her formidable sire.

  She had hoped that her father would see the prosperity of Castle Swein and leave her to run things. He benefitted from her careful management, after all. Her mourning period had passed and her father had left her alone. She’d begun to believe that he would allow her the unusual honour of running the castle herself. But she’d been mistaken.

  Two envoys had come before Braedan. Both of them had tried to persuade her to return to her father’s lands. He’d had offers of marriage for her and he wanted to consider with her who would be the most suitable match. Those envoys had been easy to evade. A little bit of gentle manipulation and they had returned to her father’s lands without her.

  She stood abruptly from her chair and began to pace around the small room.

  If only her father hadn’t sent Braedan.

  As soon as she’d seen him approaching Castle Swein astride his giant horse she’d known he was going to be a daunting foe. He dwarfed her own soldiers, and as he’d strode through the corridors people had scuttled out of his way—scared, perhaps, by his reputation, or even by the way he looked as if he’d fought a thousand battles.

  As for her, she wasn’t frightened of him as such. His dark eyes did send a thrill through her whenever he fixed her with his piercing stare, but for the most part she didn’t think he would hurt her. He was an honourable man beneath his gruff and slightly menacing exterior—nothing like her vile husband, who’d dressed in the finest clothes and never looked as if he would lift a hand to hurt anyone.

  Looks could be deceiving.

  She tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against the wood. In the distance she could hear the sounds of people talking and laughing in the taproom. It was a normal day for them. She could probably stroll among them almost unnoticed and no one would stop her if she walked out and left the building.

  But if she made a run for it now how far would she get? And, more importantly, who would catch her?

  Braedan’s wrath might be bad, but marriage to Copsi would be worse. And besides, Braedan was right. She did have to negotiate with her father at some point. Surely once he could see how well she was managing the running of Castle Swein by herself he would stop this ridiculous notion that she needed to remarry.

  She moved away from the door and sat back down at the table, before standing up again and making another circuit of the room. Doing nothing felt unnatural; she was used to constantly being needed by someone—either to solve a conflict or make a decision.

  She began to pace back and forth.

  She jumped when a knock finally sounded on the door.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Braedan’s muffled voice.

  She opened the door cautiously and he waited patiently while she checked he was alone. When she was sure, she pulled the door fully open and let him in.

  In his hands he carried two bowls of stew. The scent of the meat and herbs hit her as he passed and her stomach growled in response. He set the bowls on the table and handed her a cup of wine. She took a long sip and felt the fruity liquid rush over her tongue.

  ‘Is Stoirm all right?’ she asked as they both settled at the table.

  ‘He’s going to need a long rest,’ said Braedan as he picked up a spoon and began to eat.

  Ellena’s appetite fled at the news and she pushed the bowl away from her.

  ‘What are we going to do in the meantime?’ she asked.

  Braedan kept his concentration on the meal in front of him. ‘We’ll have to get a room here.’

  Ellena half stood and then sank down again. ‘Two rooms,’ she clarified.

  ‘Do you have any coins on you?’ he asked gruffly.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then it will be one room.’

  He went on spooning the food into his mouth. Ellena waited for him to say something else, but when he didn’t she picked up her own spoon and tried a small mouthful.

  The dark meat melted on her tongue. She took a bigger spoonful, this time adding some of the thick, rich sauce. Her appetite resurfaced and she began shovelling the food in.

  ‘Won’t it be obvious?’ she asked when she was nearly halfway through her meal. ‘I mean, Copsi’s men will be looking for a man and a woman travelling through here. We’re probably the only ones to arrive today, and on a horse that is clearly exhausted. They’ll know exactly where to find us and we’ll be easy to catch.’

  Braedan scraped around the edge of his bowl with his spoon and then settled it back on the table.

  ‘We’ll take the room for this afternoon only and take it in turns to rest. We’ll leave once night has fallen. The bridge is only accessible from the village and I’ve paid the landlord a hefty amount to inform me if there are any other strangers around. If there is any sign that someone is on the bridge we shall leave the village and cross at the next point.’

  Resting separately sounded good to Ellena. At least she wouldn’t be expected to share a bed with Braedan, but still... They were going to be in a room together, alone, with a large bed in it. Would he...?

  She shuddered and dropped her spoon.

  ‘Lady Swein?’

  She looked up and met his steady gaze.

  ‘You have nothing to fear from me. I will keep you safe.’

  She nodde
d, even though her heart stuttered in fear—or in some other emotion she couldn’t identify.

  She picked up her spoon and forced the rest of her meal down. Although she was no longer hungry, she didn’t know when she would next get to eat.

  Despite his reassuring words, she was trembling as he ushered her into the bedchamber and locked the door behind them. The room wasn’t large. A dressing table stood under the thin window and two sitting chairs were arranged in front of the unlit fire. And, just as she’d feared, a large bed took up most of the space.

  What man wouldn’t think of bedding with such a large reminder in front of him? And there would be nothing she could do to stop him if that was what he decided to do; experience had taught her that.

  ‘If you’re cold I will ask the landlord to light the fire,’ said Braedan, dropping his satchel onto the dressing table.

  ‘I’m quite warm, thank you,’ said Ellena, keeping her back to the door and staying as far away from him as she could manage in the confined space.

  ‘But you’re shivering,’ he said, gesturing to her arms, which wouldn’t stop shaking.

  She unwound Aldith’s cloak and wrapped it tightly around her body. ‘I’m fine.’

  Braedan watched her as he took off his weaponry and laid it next to his satchel. He began to unstrap his chain mail. Each piece thudded to the ground as he dropped it.

  Her shaking intensified. Why was he undressing?

  ‘Is it me?’ he asked quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor in front of him, where the pile of discarded metal lay.

  Even without the protective suit he was still alarmingly large.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, startled.

  ‘People are frightened of me because of this.’ He gestured to his face. ‘I’ve been told my scars make me appear less than human. Some people find it hard to be in close proximity to me.’

  His gaze flicked up to her face and then back down to the floor.

  ‘No,’ she said, taking a step towards him, her arm outstretched, her fear briefly forgotten. ‘Whoever told you that needs to be whipped. You look as human as the next person.’

  He smiled briefly, but kept his gaze to the floor. This was a side of him she’d not seen before. She doubted he let many people see that he felt vulnerable about his appearance. Her heart ached a little for him.

  It was true, his scars made him different from other people, but he was still an attractive man. She had noticed the way women’s eyes followed his impressive body when he entered travelling inns on their journey, so she was not the only woman who noticed the way he looked. But just because she could appreciate him, it didn’t mean that she wanted to lie with him.

  She was never going to do that with a man ever again.

  ‘I...you see...it’s not...’ She cleared her throat. She owed him the truth—and who knew? Perhaps it would avoid any awkward misunderstanding between them. ‘Some widows have a reputation for being loose with their favours.’ She gestured to the bed. ‘I’m not one of them.’

  To her surprise, his face flooded with colour, the redness of his skin emphasising the white of his scars.

  ‘It hadn’t crossed my mind that you were, my lady. You take first rest. I will keep watch.’

  He gestured to the bed and then turned away from her, pushing the table towards the door and pulling up one of the chairs. He opened the shutter slightly and sat down, resting his forearms on his legs. Not once did he glance in her direction.

  Ellena shrugged off her cloak and crawled onto the bed in a sea of misery. She’d embarrassed them both completely unnecessarily. Of course he wasn’t interested in her—only men who wanted an alliance with her father ever had been.

  With her long, thin body her brothers had often likened her to a young sapling. Lord Swein had often told her she reminded him of a boy and that he was only lying with her to get an heir.

  Like most men, Braedan probably preferred women with a chest. And really that shouldn’t matter—she didn’t want him to have those sorts of thoughts about her, because it meant he would leave her alone, but really... Couldn’t he have at least pretended not to be horrified by the idea?

  She turned onto her side, facing away from him. She pulled the covers over her and squeezed her eyes tightly shut, thinking that sleep would be impossible...

  But it was dark when Braedan woke her.

  ‘Is it my turn to take watch?’ she mumbled.

  ‘No, it’s time to leave.’

  She sat bolt upright.

  ‘You were supposed to rest,’ she said, shocked that she’d slept so deeply with a man in the room.

  ‘I am used to staying awake for days at a time. There is not much sleep on the battlefield. You needed the rest more than I did.’

  ‘I am not weak,’ she protested, struggling out from under the bed covers.

  ‘I know you are not, but I am more used to it. Come on. We must go.’

  He waited while she straightened her clothes and pulled her cloak on. His chain mail was already in place.

  ‘Did you see anything suspicious while you were watching the street?’ she asked quietly as he moved towards the door.

  ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘Not much is going on outside tonight but we must still be vigilant.’

  He slowly unlatched the door and stepped out into the corridor. When he was satisfied there was no one around he gestured for her to follow him. She caught a hint of his outdoor woodsy scent as she stepped in close behind him, quietly following him down the corridor.

  A stair creaked beneath them and they both froze. But the taproom remained quiet and they continued on their way.

  Ellena shivered as they stepped into a small courtyard at the back of the tavern. She pulled her cloak tighter around her. The temperature had dropped since their morning flight along the river’s edge, but at least it wasn’t raining.

  The light of the half-moon cast eerie shadows around the yard as they made their way to the stables. Stoirm nickered softly at their approach. Ellena rubbed his nose as Braedan tied his saddlebags to the horse’s side.

  Ellena followed as he led Stoirm out of his stall and into the courtyard. He gestured that they should take the horse onto the main thoroughfare before getting on and she nodded her understanding.

  She was glad they didn’t have to speak. Her stomach curled in embarrassment every time she thought about what she’d said to him before falling asleep. She stumbled over a stone and suddenly gasped. In her misery, she’d completely forgotten about the others. Why hadn’t his men caught them up yet? Were they all dead?

  ‘What is it?’ Braedan’s voice rumbled close to her ear.

  ‘What about everyone we left behind earlier?’ she whispered. ‘Should we wait for them?’

  ‘No. If they survived their meeting with Copsi’s men then they will have tried to draw them off in a direction away from us. We’ll meet them at the castle.’ He paused. ‘Hopefully just before we reach the castle,’ he clarified.

  He didn’t have to explain why. The scandal of the two of them arriving at the castle together would ruin her reputation completely.

  He seemed so sure his men were still alive, but was he just telling her that to relax her? They’d be safer in greater numbers, so surely it would be better to backtrack and find his men.

  He helped her into the saddle and then swung up behind her. She tried to lean forward, away from the warmth of his body, but the soft leather made her slide towards him until she was resting between his hard legs again. She hated it that her body enjoyed the sensation.

  ‘We’re going to ride quietly through the village,’ he murmured over her hair, ‘and then we’ll race across the bridge. On the other side we’ll head straight to the edge of the forest. If anyone’s watching us we’ll lose them in there.’

  She nodded against his chest and breathed deeply, tryi
ng to relax. Every time they passed a deep shadow her fists tightened as she imagined someone leaping out to grab her from the dark. Behind her, Braedan stayed alert.

  The streets of the village were deserted and there was only the noise of the houses creaking under the wind as they made their way to the edge of the settlement. The muscles in her neck gradually relaxed the further they travelled; they were going to make it.

  ‘I think we’re being followed,’ said Braedan quietly.

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ she said, gripping the pommel tightly.

  He brought Stoirm to a halt. ‘Listen.’

  She heard the faint thud of a large animal walking, before it too stilled.

  ‘Do you think it’s a horse?’ she asked quietly.

  He nodded. ‘At least two, I think.’

  She turned slightly to look at him. He was concentrating fiercely on the horizon, his jaw locked and his dark eyes blazing. He seemed to reach a decision.

  ‘Hold on!’ he called, and he set Stoirm into a fast gallop.

  Stoirm thundered onto the bridge. Ellena heard a faint cry of surprise behind them before all sound was drowned out by her pounding heartbeat. She hadn’t realised that the river would be so far below them, or that the crossing would be so long.

  They were only halfway across when she realised they were being followed.

  Ellena had a second to be terrified before arrows filled the air around them. She screamed as one grazed her cloak.

  Braedan pulled her tightly towards him, protecting her with his body, but he didn’t slow.

  ‘Why are they shooting arrows at us?’ she yelled. ‘I thought Copsi wanted to marry me.’

  ‘It’s me they’re trying to kill, not you,’ he shouted back.

  Ellena clutched the pommel in front of her, her hands slippery with sweat.

  ‘If something happens to me,’ he yelled over the rush of water and the stomping of hoof beats, ‘keep riding.’

  She opened her mouth in a silent scream.