Claire Delacroix (24 page)

“The battle for it was brutal.”

“And yet more brutal was the price paid by those unfortunate souls living upon that land. Golden and brown of hue, they were unlike any folk I had seen before, yet they tilled and toiled much as those I knew well at Llanvelyn.”

Luc swallowed awkwardly. “I could not look upon them without thinking of Pyrs.”

Brianna did not fill the silence that stretched between them. She watched Luc closely, knowing she could barely imagine such an alien world. She knew little of battle, naught of what men faced on the field itself.

“Yet they were as chattel or dogs to the nobility sweeping through their lands.” Luc’s voice echoed with low outrage. “Those knights took anything they desired for their own with no care for what damage they left in their wake.
Anything
.”

Brianna did not know what to say. She could barely imagine the horror of what Luc had witnessed, yet she saw in his eyes that he recalled every detail. She realized suddenly how very sheltered her life had been, at least until two months past.

Luc shoved a hand through his hair. “In the eternity of those two years, I cannot list the crimes I witnessed. I cannot imagine how many bastards were left in the wake of those two armies.”

Brianna gasped. “Nay!”

“Aye. Homes were pillaged and churches defiled, goods stolen from people unfortunate enough to profess a different faith. Our troops left devastation in their wake.”

The bile rose in Brianna’s throat at the very thought. Indeed, when the minstrels sang of battle, ’twas a noble undertaking, but Luc’s recounting made the savagery most clear. His words conjured such a vivid image that Brianna knew he shared the truth.

Luc, after all, would not lie to her.

Luc’s lips tightened and his voice dropped low. “Yet, oddly enough, all the knights had taken the very same pledge of honor.” He flicked a glance to Brianna and she could only watch him.

“You may believe that we made our disagreement clear, though such argument was not welcome among our companions. After one particularly vicious brawl over the matter, Tyrell and I conceded that we could not change the ways of these marauding knights. We could but hie to our own moral code. Indeed, we were convinced that these Norman men, so long in Sicily that they no longer spoke or even looked as us, had lost the true way of knighthood.”

The conclusion made good sense to Brianna.

“I dare say we were relieved when the holdings in Ifriqiya were finally and irrevocably lost. There were rumblings of war upon our return to Sicily, for the Pope had implied the Holy Roman Empire was but a papal fief and Frederick Barbarossa was prepared to make his argument with bloodshed. But Tyrell’s sire had sent a missive, summoning him home.”

“And you went with Tyrell.”

“Aye.” Luc nodded. “We were both convinced that our dreams would be confirmed upon more familiar soil. We
believed Tyrell’s sire to be a man of honor and repute, and that beneath his hand, our vows would see their full glory.”

There was an undercurrent to Luc’s words that caught Brianna’s attention. “Do not tell me that you were wrong.”

Luc slanted a glance her way that spoke volumes and indeed, its steadiness chilled her heart.

But he did not immediately answer her question. “Imagine, if you will, our return to Tyrell’s home estate after nigh upon three years abroad. The entire keep turned out in festivity for the eldest son and heir. To them, Tyrell had gathered glory in his service, though I saw the shadow our experiences had cast into his eyes.

“His sire, though, saw naught of that. That great man raised a chalice in the hall that eve and drank the health of his returned son. He declared that Tyrell would lead his assault upon an acquisitive neighbor in dire need of a lesson.”

There was a tightness in Luc’s voice that made cold fingers clench around Brianna’s heart. His gaze was determinedly locked upon the orchard, but she glimpsed the brilliant sapphire hue of his eyes.

Luc cleared his throat deliberately, but did not look at her. His voice thrummed low, his words fell in haste. “ ’Twas uncommon cold that April, and the march to the keep took nigh on a week, all of it through chill rain. Naught could have dampened our spirits, though. When the fortress rose above us, silent and dark, Tyrell suspected ’twas virtually undefended.”

“He did not send spies?”

Luc’s gaze was deadly blue. “He believed his sire had ensured this would be an easy victory, a homecoming
gift
for his heir.”

Brianna raised a hand to her lips, suddenly fearing the
outcome of this tale. She held Luc’s gaze for a moment, then he continued, again in that low monotone.

“On the eve of our assault, the rain turned cold and driving. ’Twas slick on the roadway, the horses lost their footing, the men were coated with ice. The wet soaked through the leather of our gloves and nigh froze our fingers, the very wind had a bite. By the time we stormed the gates, our troops were sorely weakened by the cold.

“But we took the gates and it seemed then that Tyrell would be victorious. We surged triumphantly into the bailey, knowing the keep was virtually our own, and stepped into a baited trap.”

Brianna gasped, but Luc continued grimly. “There were hundreds of men waiting in the shadows, many times our small force, many battles more seasoned. My steed was hacked from beneath me before I saw the fullness of our peril. I was on my feet alone and facing attack from all sides.

“In a heartbeat, the bailey was ankle-deep in blood and rain, the surviving horses had bolted and fled in terror. I spotted Tyrell just as a wicked swipe of a mercenary’s blade slashed his belly open. I ran to defend him, but ’twas too late.”

Luc closed his eyes and paled slightly at the memory. “ ’Twas too late. His own innards spilled from between his own fingers as Tyrell caught at the wound. He was yet aware of all around him, he knew what he held, that was the true horror of it all.”

A lump rose in Brianna’s throat, Luc’s words stealing her very breath away. She could not imagine how she might have faced such a challenge.

Luc swallowed heavily and clearly fought to keep his voice dispassionate. “I held him while he died, I tried to grant him some dignity amidst such chaos. Suddenly he
cried out, I thought in pain, but too late I realized it had been a warning. The hilt of a sword was cracked over my head, I saw my own blood flow, and then naught.”

Luc sighed and his eyes narrowed. “I awakened outside the walls, amidst the carcasses of all those who had ridden with us.” He took a steadying breath, his gaze clouded with memories. “ ’Twas cursed cold. Beside me lay Tyrell, who never would jest again.”

Brianna bit her lip, knowing that this man would take the loss of such a friend even harder than most.

“I could not leave him there,” Luc confessed with a shake of his head. “I could not do him such disservice. He was my friend, my partner, my companion. So, beneath the eagle eye of the keep’s sentry, I lifted Tyrell onto my shoulders and began the long walk to his sire’s gates. They let me go, I know not why.”

He fell silent and Brianna ached for what Luc had endured.

A moment later, she dared to touch his sleeve. “They must have wanted your lord to know what had transpired,” she suggested softly.

Luc’s expression turned yet more grim. “That man never doubted the outcome.”

Brianna frowned. “But why? I do not understand. Surely he must have been devastated by the loss of his heir?”

Luc’s lips twisted and his words were cold. “On the contrary, he informed me that he had yet two more blooded sons to call his own.”

Brianna was horrified. “He could not have known the battle would be lost!”

“Aye, his manner made me believe as much. Indeed, he was quite delighted that the loss of Tyrell had won him the seal of a prosperous monastery.”

“I do not understand.”

Luc pursed his lips. “Tyrell’s sire was a strategist beyond all. I am convinced that he knew all along that his forces would lose this fight. But he had a hankering for a prosperous monastery endowed by that other lord, one that nearly bordered upon his own holdings. And he guessed that if his eldest son—his heir, no less—marched to attack the other lord’s keep, ’twould provide a fitting distraction for his real intent. He dispatched six mercenaries to claim the monastery while the lord defended his keep. ’Twas an easy victory and Tyrell’s sire won precisely what he desired.”

Brianna gasped. “He deliberately sacrificed his
son
to win property?”

Luc merely held her gaze, challenging Brianna to believe that such cruelty was possible.

“But that is barbaric!”

“He told me that ’twas good I had returned Tyrell because he could now fittingly bury his son at this monastery,” Luc confided with disapproval. “He openly gloated how Tyrell’s popularity would no doubt increase the offerings made in the chapel there.”

Brianna gasped. “How appalling!”

Luc frowned and his words rang with mingled anger and disappointment. “ ’Twas then I understood that Tyrell and I had been mistaken. There was naught corrupted in the nobility of the south that has not similarly gone awry in the north. Nobility like our fathers took whatsoever they desired and cared naught for what it might cost another.”

Luc continued in an angry monotone. “That a man could cast aside his son for such a minute gain showed me that this was a world of which I wanted absolutely no part. ’Twas then I knew that the most honorable person I had ever known was the one who had raised me.” He flicked a telling glance at Brianna. “And Pyrs was common-born.”

“Was?”

“He died two years past.” The tightening of Luc’s lips revealed how strongly the man’s passing had affected him.

Brianna laid a hand on Luc’s arm. “I am sorry. He must have been a wondrous man.”

Luc smiled sadly and closed his fingers over Brianna’s own. “He was.”

She took a step closer, unable to resist the urge to console this strong man who asked so little of those around him. “And Tyrell, as well.”

Luc almost smiled as he met her gaze. “Aye.”

Brianna toyed with his fingers. “And you gave up your spurs?”

“I put them aside, as I put aside all the trappings of knighthood. My steed was gone, the rest was quickly consigned to a trunk in Llanvelyn’s storeroom.” Luc frowned. “But ’twas the
sword
I pledged never to hold within my hand again. ’Twas the blade of a knight, after all, that was responsible for all the wickedness I had witnessed.”

Luc’s gaze bored into Brianna’s, the hue of his eyes an unearthly blue. “A knightly blade grants a man the opportunity to take more than his due, to slaughter any who defy him, to wreak carnage in his wake. A sword is a weapon I will
never
wield again. I left that life, I abandoned my blade, and I will not return to it.”

Brianna suddenly recalled another detail. “And your blade was a gift from Tyrell’s sire.”

Luc nodded once. “A taint ’twill never shake. I will never do him the honor of holding it within my grip again.”

“But,” Brianna frowned. “Surely you do not need to cast all aside?”

“Do you suggest that I break my pledge?” Luc’s tone was frosty.

Brianna flushed for she knew well enough that that was
out of the question. Indeed, Luc’s determination to keep his word was one trait she admired about him.

“Nay, of course not. I know you would not do as much.” His manner eased slightly, even as Brianna fought to find some way to explain herself. “But surely you could find some compromise!”

Luc stared at her for a moment, then abruptly shook his head.

When he finally met her gaze, she was relieved to see a glimmer of humor lurking there. “You seem most concerned about my prospects, my lady,” he mused and she had the distinct sense that Luc was deliberately changing the subject.

She had no chance to wonder at that, though, for Luc took a smooth step closer and Brianna knew better than to trust the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Do you show such interest in all who come Tullymullagh’s way?”

Brianna flushed scarlet. She took a hasty step backward.

“And it seems to me that you have asked a number of questions this morn,” Luc continued, a wicked glint in his eye. “Shall we tally them?”

“Nay!” Brianna danced away. She was certain she should protest, even if the prospect of Luc collecting his due made her catch her breath. “They did not count!”

Luc frowned with mock severity. “They
all
count, my lady,” he insisted. “ ’Twas our wager, after all.” He paused and folded his arms across his chest. “Unless
you
plan to break your pledge?”

Brianna barely bit back a chuckle. Truly the man let her escape with naught.

And she liked that very much.

“One kiss,” she suggested.

Luc’s dark brows shot skyward. “At least four,” he retorted, then counted on his fingers again. “You asked after
Ismay in the stables, the location of Montvieux, the reason I was squired there, why Rowan travelled with Margaux—”

“That was no question!” Brianna darted toward Luc, shaking an indignant finger. “I took care to make that a comment alone!”

Luc grinned. “Oh, I am not at all certain it sounded as such, my lady.” He shook his head solemnly. “Nay, not at all.” He winked quickly then began to count again. “Let me see. You also asked of Gavin’s gift for my knighting, what happened to Tyrell …” Luc glanced up at her with twinkling eyes. “I should think that four kisses would be a bargain you would leap to accept.”

“You!” Brianna sputtered momentarily. “You are audacious beyond all!”

“And you called me your favorite,” Luc clicked his tongue, then his smile broadened. “Four, or shall we continue to count?”

“Oh!” Brianna paced a few feet beyond Luc, wondering how she would survive four of his kisses in short order, then pivoted to face him anew. She lifted her chin as though undaunted by the prospect and braced herself for a sensory assault.

In truth, her heart was already hammering wildly; she was not precisely certain she was losing this negotiation.

“Four, then,” she declared. “I accept your terms.”