Malcolm'S Honor (Historical, 519) Page 8

  It was doubly difficult to place her hand in his. She felt the calluses first, for there were many of them, rough and ridged from wielding a sword, and then the sizzling heat as his fingers closed around hers.

  “We leave for Evenbough without delay.” He refused to look at her as he crossed the room with his long-legged stride, keeping her hard at his side. He tugged her down one corridor after another. The strength in his arms bound her to him more thoroughly than dungeon chains.

  Caradoc’s words taunted her. Think of how brutal his mating would be. Malcolm’s strength was thrice hers. And there was no escape as he pulled her into the grayness of a cloudy morning. Wind flapped the hem of her gown against her ankles. Malcolm barked orders as he went, but did not release her. He held her tight, as if he expected her to escape to make further plans with Caradoc.

  “Ian!” Malcolm’s voice boomed through the bailey, where knights gathered on horseback and carts were piled full of gifts from Edward. “Ian, I am pleased to see you among my men.”

  A handsome warrior broke through the crowd. The smile on his thin mouth looked shallow. “I would be nowhere else, my lord.”

  Such flattery. Elin turned her back on it. Anger burned in her chest. At least I am not married to Caradoc. If she thought it over and over again, then perchance it would make the panic disappear.

  “Your lady’s horse.” Ian presented a white palfrey. “Shall I assist her?”

  “I need no assistance.” What did she look like? A woman too feebleminded to mount a horse? Elin swung herself up, adjusting the hem of her ragged dress. She needed no aid from a friend of le Farouche.

  Malcolm caught hold of the mare’s bit. “I am pleased to see you are eager to head home.”

  Home. Her stomach fell to her knees. She sealed her lips tightly, knowing the king watched. She knew she’d been granted a miracle this day, being found innocent of her father’s crimes and escaping a hard fate as Caradoc’s wife. But what would become of her now?

  Her gaze fastened on the man who now controlled her fate. Astride his great stallion, he towered at her side. Sunshine glittered off his armor and emphasized the stunning width of his shoulders. “We’ve a hard ride ahead, and I expect no trouble from you, Wife.”

  Fie, but she still did not like his tone. It took all her willpower to look away from his masculine beauty and summon a cordial manner. “I am naught but obedient.”

  “I’m well aware of your character.” He released her palfrey’s bit, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. “I well know you are capable of great deceit. Your life has been spared this day, but do not think I argued for it.”

  It did not surprise her. “I rather suspected you did not know Edward’s intentions. You looked ready to burst a vein during our vows.”

  “Aye, I married you because I will not deny my king any request. I am a knight, and I’ll always be so, regardless of a title.” His gaze traveled over the bustling courtyard. “Edward in his wisdom has granted me a hundred knights, and I have retained as many.”

  “Two hundred knights. You fear me that much?”

  “I’m not blind to your flaws or your skill with a dagger.” Wry humor played along the curve of his mouth. “’Tis my opinion you should learn obedience, and so I will teach you. Even if I need the protection of every last one of my knights.”

  “Obedience?” How she hated that word. ’Twas what her father claimed he’d taught her, when all he’d done was inflict abuse. “What do you want? A syrupy, mewling wife who preens all day? Who hangs on your big strong arm? Whose greatest achievement is cowering in the corner?”

  “Aye, but the king gave me you.” That flicker of a smile broadened.

  “Fie! Stop teasing me.” In truth, she wasn’t certain if he teased.

  Malcolm’s hand caught hers, and the brief connection felt as searing as a brand. “Edward married me to a traitor’s daughter, a woman with suspicious connections to Caradoc, a man I believe wants Edward’s throne. Tell me what you two plotted today in the hall, and I’ll not punish you.”

  “What? You think me guilty?” His insult came like a blow to her stomach. She put her hand there, wondering who else thought the same.

  “If you do not tell me now, and I discover your treachery later,” he threatened, “then the fury you’ve seen thus far will be naught in comparison.”

  Fie, but he was no better than Caradoc. Hopelessness battered her heart. “It takes a big strong coward of a knight to threaten an unarmed woman. But fear not, le Farouche, if I were to plot against you, I would never seek Caradoc as my ally.”

  “Plot against me, and you will pay.” He let his threat linger.

  She shivered. This man who distrusted her and expected her to betray him had complete control of her life. Hatred grew in her heart as she watched him ride to lead the knights, so certain of his superiority.

  The wind turned cold, and rain scented the air. They rode two miles ere the first drop fell, but it was not cold enough to cool her fury.

  Malcolm could taste the danger like wine upon his tongue and hear it like the flicker of the wind in his ears. He rode at the lead, his senses honed, and trusted the instincts that had served him well.

  Men were out there, he had no doubt, even if he could not hear man or beast hidden within the woods. Gray rain fell in heavy sheets from sky to earth, diminishing his view of the long road ahead.

  Bandits, mayhap. Thieves lying in wait. There were many valuable treasures in the carts, gifts from the king, and not just weapons. He heeded his instincts and remained vigilant.

  Evening slipped away and there was still no sign of attack. Malcolm did not like the eerie feeling of danger, however, so they rode without a break until the rain stopped and midnight neared. Only once had he turned in his saddle, to see Elin glaring at him, riding alongside Giles, who watched her with suspicion. The knight had not forgiven her for the poisoning.

  “Do you feel it, too?” Ian rode close.

  “Aye. We’re being watched.”

  “An ambush, then?”

  “Worse.” Bandits would wait in the road for a traveler, hide, then strike. They would not follow this long. “Edward said he sent Caradoc straight to Ravenwood, under armed guard.”

  “I saw him leave with Sir Matlock and Duncan the Brave.” Ian, too, kept his gaze vigilant.

  “Fine knights.” And steadfastly loyal to Edward. That gave Malcolm some consolation. He’d prefer not to have a second battle with Edward’s nephew. “Mayhap I have made other enemies.”

  “’Tis certain.” Elin spoke up, riding at his flank. “But I would wager my freedom that Caradoc’s men are the ones who wait to attack.”

  Suspicion clamped hard around his guts. “You admit knowledge of his plans?”

  “I admit to knowing his vindictive nature.”

  His teeth clacked as he clamped his jaw shut. She could feel his anger like the hot lick of a flame. Though the waxing moon was hidden behind low clouds, the veil of night did not seem to touch Malcolm.

  He rode ahead of her, gleaming in the dark, as lethal as the sword at his hip. And still his displeasure lingered. He did not like taking her as his wife.

  Good. Then perchance they need not make this marriage real, after all. If she worked with him against any threat from Caradoc, then mayhap he would let her go. Her heart warmed with embers of hope.

  “There!” Malcolm’s voice rose with a call to arms the same instant the clouds above parted and the heavens illuminated the approaching enemy.

  Elin heard the strike of hooves upon the rocky road, the rasp of steel unsheathed and the terrifying blood cries of warriors launching into battle. Her palfrey shifted beneath her, suddenly nervous. She tightened the reins, putting pressure on the bit. All around her, the night came alive with moving shadows in the forms of lunging men and beasts.

  “Death to you, le Farouche!” A threat rang above the noises of battle.

  “And to you, villain,” the great knight answered, without
a fleck of fear in his voice.

  Well, she was afraid. Steel swords rang with each impact, and sparks flared. The faint flicker briefly illuminated Malcolm’s face. Hard as stone he was. And astride his giant destrier, he fought two men who challenged him. He blocked two blows and then felled one enemy with a swift, skilled strike.

  Elin saw Giles, practically at her elbow, lift his sword against two men. She spied a third villain approach, intending to run him through from behind. Giles’s attention was focused on the two he fought. He could not see the danger! She dropped to the ground, cursing her own foolishness. Her fingers crept along the earth and seized a good-size rock. She aimed and threw. Stone struck steel with a clang, and Elin watched as the villain toppled from his horse and hit the ground with a thud.

  Victory bubbled through her chest. She’d done it. She’d stopped him.

  Then he climbed to his feet. His gaze fastened on her like an arrow finding its target. He swore viciously, and Elin saw him raise his sword, mighty with rage. “Why, ’twas a woman who felled me!”

  Panic gripped her. Her hand flew to her girdle, but her scabbard was empty. Malcolm had taken all her daggers.

  “I’ll teach you a lesson, vile wench, a lesson you’ll never forget.”

  By the saints, he meant to kill her. Desperation gripped her. She spied an abandoned sword on the ground and ran to grab it. Her fingers fitted around the hilt, and she swung the heavy blade upward.

  It met his sword, so forcefully the impact ricocheted up the bones of her arm and into her shoulder socket. Pain seized her muscles, but anger drove her further. She thrust, her weapon crashing against his with more bone-bending pain.

  “What demon are you that attacks a woman?” she demanded as she deflected another lethal blow. “You’re but a cowardly speck of—”

  “Fight me, swine!” Malcolm’s demand rang in the air, vast and powerful, her unlikely angel of deliverance. “Elin, mount up and save yourself.”

  “Nay, he is mine to fight!” She could not stomach the idea of simply giving up.

  But ’twas Malcolm’s blade that met the villain’s weapon, and Malcolm who stepped forward to protect her from the sharp sword. Steel clashed once and then again. The ground rumbled beneath her feet with each strike. She felt Malcolm’s muscles strain as if they were her own, and witnessed his power as he breached the villain’s defenses. The killer fell with a blow to the neck.

  Elin covered her eyes, but the sight of the gruesome victory remained etched on her lids. As she trembled, the eerie calm of the night enfolded her.

  “Are you all right, dove?” Malcolm’s hand curled around hers, as if to steal the sword from her grip.

  She pulled away, retaining her weapon. “I’m not injured.”

  “’Twas not what I meant.” How kind he sounded, not at all like a man without heart. “You’ve not experienced battle, warrior trained though you may be.”

  She knew better than to trust a man feigning kindness. “My brother taught me.”

  “Peter? Aye, he wielded the fastest sword I’d ever seen, save for mine.” Malcolm’s gloved hand found her shoulder, but his touch was gentle this time and not imprisoning. “If Peter taught you swordplay, then you could not have had a better teacher.”

  Her throat ached. “You knew my brother?”

  “Aye. We fought together alongside Edward.” That kindness deepened and almost seemed real. “Peter fell not two months after we arrived in the Outremer. I received a sword in the back for trying to save his life.”

  Grief still ached within, and she bowed her chin. “I did not know.”

  “I do not brag about my good deeds, few as they are.” He turned, and the moment was gone.

  “Are there any serious injuries?” he demanded. When none answered, he grabbed Elin’s mare by the bit. “Then we ride. I sense trouble in the air. These were no thieves, but men paid to intercept us.”

  “How do you know?” Ian demanded. He strode easily through the crowd, winded and limping. “Attacks like these are common enough to those who travel at night.”

  “Aye, but these are not desperate men. Look at the quality of their armor. The last bandits I met wore no chain mail, and carried cheap swords, not finely crafted ones.” Malcolm offered Elin his hand. “Mount up.”

  She slid the sword into her leather girdle, but he caught her hand. “Nay, dove. Not with the sword.”

  How did she say she would feel safer with a weapon at her side? “’Twill help the next time I need to save Giles’s life.”

  Men chuckled at that, and Giles took some teasing.

  “Silence.” Malcolm lifted one hand.

  She could not breathe as heartbeats passed. Would he take even this small comfort from her?

  He shook his head. “Fine. I’ll allow you to carry it when we ride. But do not mistake my intentions, Wife. I do not trust you.”

  “Nor do I trust you.” She mounted, refusing his aid.

  Malcolm disliked the defiance in her voice. At least the dove was honest. Many women had lied to him, and so often, he began to think it was all they were capable of. And yet Elin seemed different from all the rest.

  Moonlight basked in her luxurious hair, making it glint like the rarest of metals. He could not deny the attraction. His fingers ached to touch that luminous silk and to know its sweet, rich texture. His blood heated as he remembered the feel of her hand in his.

  Edward did not know what he did in arranging this marriage.

  Feeling the heavy weight of exhaustion, Malcolm mounted up. A cold wind chilled the sweat on his face and on the back of his neck.

  He was tired, aye, how he was tired. And his duty to his king, the most important yet, had just begun.

  Malcolm headed his stallion north toward Evenbough, following the sky’s brightest star.

  “Your lady is some warrior.” Ian sidled close after a long, vigilant silence. “I have never seen a female swing a blade like that.”

  “It surprised me as well.” Malcolm looked over his shoulder to check on his bride. She sat in the saddle, washed in starlight that made her look soft and new. Less like the defiant hellcat and more a delicate noblewoman. How tired she seemed. She might have some amount of a warrior’s strength, but she was no seasoned knight.

  He came to a decision. “We shall make camp there, near that stream. Set up guards to watch the perimeter.”

  Ian cleared his throat. “But you said we would not stop until we reached Evenbough.”

  Malcolm bit his lip to keep from chastising Ian. Or mayhap to keep from admitting the truth. “Lady Elin saved Giles from being run through from behind. If she needs rest, I will give it to her.”

  “Remember that the last time she performed a good deed she poisoned you and your men.”

  “I am no wooden-pated fool.” Agitated, Malcolm dismounted and caught hold of the mare’s bit. If Elin were all traitor, he’d know how to deal with her. But she was softness and frailty, too. And she’d shown remarkable courage fighting that mercenary dog.

  Elin, half-asleep, was startled awake. Her hand flew to the sword’s hilt and panic gripped her.

  “Hold, maiden warrior.” Malcolm covered her fingers with his, hoping to calm her. “You are in no danger from me.”

  She blinked, and that moment of vulnerability was gone. Her chin lifted, and her defenses were back in place. “You’re my husband, the most dangerous man of all.”

  “Nay, I’m merely the most dangerous knight.”

  “My point exactly. ’Tis why I need my sword.”

  By the saints, she was a prickly female. But there was no mistaking the pool of fear in her eyes. And although her fear drove her, it did not rule her.

  He admired her for that. “Not many females would heft such a heavy sword at a trained killer.”

  “My own sword is much lighter, and with it I am lightning quick. Father made me leave it at home.” The wind caressed her rich tresses, and they fluttered against the curve of her face.

&nbs
p; ’Twas hard not to notice that beautiful face. “You swing a blade the way Peter did, left-handed and mean.”

  “You do remember him. It seems as if he’s been gone forever.” Sadness touched her, and she no longer looked defiant, but gentle like the morning. Affection softened her countenance.

  He was glad there was softness in this woman. “A man never forgets the friends he fights with, nor his failure to save their lives. Come.” He took her arm. “’Tis time to rest. And to give me your sword.”

  She dropped to the ground. “I’ll need it for defense.”

  “From what?” He gestured at the men making a camp. “My knights? They would not dare touch you for fear of my wrath. A thief? My men will not allow one near the camp. That only leaves me, and upon my honor I’ll not sleep with you this night. I intend to stand guard over my men.”

  She gazed up at him, her eyes curious. “Do you ever sleep?”

  He chuckled. He could not remember when he’d last slept a full night. “Not soundly, or I would find a sword in my back, for all the enemies I’ve made, or for all those who want what I’ve earned.”

  “’Tis easy to see why you’ve made many enemies.” She walked among the men busily attending to their work. She moved like a goddess and barely touched the ground.

  “Your blade, Elin.”

  Resignation punctuated her sigh as she handed over the elaborate sword.

  The weight of it surprised him. ’Twas as heavy as his own, and yet she’d swung it well. “How sore is your arm?”

  “Not at all.” She headed toward the fire, leaving him behind.

  He grabbed his bedroll from the packhorse, all the while keeping his gaze upon his wife. She warmed herself before the flames and, thinking he did not watch her, rubbed her left shoulder. She was such a fragile thing. She had such a fragile arm. The fight with the mercenary had caused her some injury and she didn’t trust him enough to admit it.

  His chest tightened. By the rood! He did feel the smallest amount of warmth toward that treacherous female.