Claire Delacroix (48 page)

Brianna heard Luc call from behind her and stumbled in haste down the last of the stairs. She knew she fled the traitorous yearning of her heart to return to Luc.

How could he care naught for her?

Brianna reached the street and nearly fell on the frosted
cobblestones. She righted herself and fled toward the shadows of the tavern’s stable, intending to steal one of her own steeds.

But Brianna did not get that far. She barely rounded the corner of the house when someone snatched at her from a doorway.

Thieves!

A man’s hand clamped over her mouth, another hand pinned her arms to her waist. Brianna struggled, to no avail, and belatedly wished she had been more cautious.

“And good morning to you, Lady Brianna,” an appallingly familiar voice droned in her ear.

Brianna jumped and twisted—her captor was perfectly content to let her look. Her eyes widened in horror when that person smiled with cold malice.

And Brianna knew with dreadful certainty precisely who her father had met in the private chapel of Tullymullagh.

Just as she knew she would shortly share her sire’s fate.

L
uc swore with enthusiasm. He struggled to get into his chausses and boots, but every article of clothing seemed to fight his intent. His mind was yet fogged with sleep; his chemise was completely unhelpful.

And his wife was gone.

Luc fought to get the satchel around his neck and sling his tabard over all. Knowing that to leave anything in the chamber was to invite theft, he cast his cloak over his shoulders, grabbed up the remaining saddlebags, scanned the chamber, and set after his infuriated lady.

Not that he could blame Brianna for her response. Her guess was all wrong but Luc had not aided matters in the least.

Luc cursed himself up, down, and sideways as he slammed the door in his turn and stormed down the stairs. The lady had granted him a chance to pledge his love and he, he had been too much of a fool to give his feelings voice.

He had been so startled by Brianna’s own confession of love that it had taken a trio of heartbeats to realize he loved her in turn.

But by then, the lady had been gone.

Luc kicked open the door to the street. If anything happened
to Brianna, Luc would never forgive himself. ’Twas no consolation that the lady had a talent for casting caution to the winds and oft at her own expense.

Luc scanned the silent street to the left, the empty yard to the right. There was no sign of an enraged princess or even any echo of her passing.

But Brianna was a woman of good sense. She would head home to Tullymullagh, Luc was certain, and for that journey, she would need a steed. Luc strode for the stables in poor temper, never guessing what he would find when he flung open the door.

Ruarke de Rossiers stood behind Raphael, his hand clamped over Brianna’s mouth and a wicked blade held to her throat. Her satchel had fallen at her feet.

Luc froze and stared. The lady’s eyes were wide with terror but she appeared unhurt.

At least, as yet.

It seemed they had not fled the threat lurking at Tullymullagh, after all. And Luc had only himself to blame.

Ruarke smiled. “At last,” he purred. “I had feared you might not deign to join us, Lord of Tullymullagh.”

Luc stepped into the stables with a confidence he was far from feeling. He cast his saddlebags aside to have his hands free, should any opportunity to aid Brianna arise. When the door swung closed, there was naught but the glow of the dawn filtering through the boards to illuminate the space.

“You followed us,” Luc charged.

“Aye, but I could not be certain where you slumbered. At least,” Ruarke gave Brianna a shake and she glared at him, “not until this morn.”

“What do you want?” Luc asked silkily. He took a step forward, but Ruarke retreated, the knife moving too enthusiastically against Brianna’s throat for Luc’s taste.

He halted and waited, hoping Brianna did naught to provoke her captor.

“I want the Rose of Tullymullagh,” Ruarke declared boldly. “It should be mine. Connor had chosen me as his heir.”

“Brianna made her own choice of spouse,” Luc said softly, deliberately misunderstanding the other knight. “And our match is duly made.”

Ruarke snorted. “I care naught for the woman!” He dug the blade into the soft flesh of Brianna’s throat and could not completely muffle Brianna’s cry of pain. Luc dove forward, but Ruarke shook his head and drew the princess to her very toes. Luc could see that Brianna was trembling with fear.

He had to aid her!

“Make no mistake,” Ruarke purred. “She is a pretty enough prize, but the Rose is a finer one. And markedly less trouble. Give it to me, Luc, give to me my due and your bride
may
live.”

“The Rose of Tullymullagh is naught but a legend,” Luc argued, keeping his voice deliberately low and persuasive. “ ’Tis long gone.” He did not have the gem Ruarke claimed, yet somehow he had to see Brianna safe.

It seemed that Luc had few decent options.

“A lie!” Ruarke declared. “I know the Rose of Tullymullagh exists, just as I know it should be mine!”

“How can you be so certain?” Luc deliberately kept Ruarke talking in the hope that some path would become clear.

“I heard tell of it before Connor sent me abroad and then found an old compatriot who told me of it truly. He swore the old man would not be parted from the gem and that it must be hidden in the solar’s private chapel itself.”

Luc sauntered closer as he dared to speculate. “It must have been you I overheard in the stables.”

“Ah!” Ruarke’s eyes flashed. “You! You were the one who troubled this cursedly skittish beast?” Ruarke did not try to hide his scorn. “ ’Tis no marvel that misfits like you and he should find each other.” Raphael snorted and stamped, no less pleased to find this knight so close behind him again.

“But how could you have even been in the stables that night?” Luc asked calmly, determined to have all finally answered. “ ’Twas days before you arrived again at Tullymullagh.”

Ruarke laughed harshly. “I was there that night and several times before. Surely you do not imagine that I would sully myself with a deed as barbarous as warfare? I have my own good looks to assure, my steed’s health to care for, my new caparisons to preserve.”

He chuckled. “Nay, ’twas
perfect
when Connor sent me for aid, for I had the ideal excuse to remain abroad. In fact, I believe I may have given him the idea.” Ruarke’s eyes shone. “Yet I lingered nearby once I knew the prize I coveted was yet within those walls.”

Brianna took a deep breath, her eyes flashing with indignation. ’Twas clear she thought little of the performance of Tullymullagh’s pledged champion and Luc well recalled that there were many who had died in Gavin’s assault.

He deliberately played the simpleton, fighting for time to find some solution to his conundrum. “But how could you return unobserved?”

“Three unfinished sections of the wall are there, and wilderness on three sides of Tullymullagh.” Ruarke scoffed. “ ’Twas easy for a man with something between his ears.”

Luc arched a brow. “A man deserving of Connor’s prize?”

“Aye! The Rose of Tullymullagh is no mere pretty wench, but a gem that would see a man’s wealth assured for a
lifetime. I wanted it, I
deserved
it, as Connor’s chosen heir ’twas mine as much as Tullymullagh or his daughter.” Ruarke chuckled. “Though indeed, ’twas the only one of the lot I truly desired.”

Brianna gasped in outrage and struggled anew. Luc stepped forward, uncertain what Ruarke would do when his lips drew to such a cruel line.

But Brianna surprised them both.

Her eyes flashed, she abruptly lifted her heel and jammed it upward into the knight’s crotch. Ruarke’s eyes boggled, he staggered, Brianna jabbed an elbow in his ribs. Her wince revealed that Ruarke wore his chain mail, but in the same moment, Brianna slammed the top of her head against the underside of the knight’s jaw.

Ruarke bellowed in pain. “I bit my tongue!” he roared as Brianna broke free. Luc lunged forward, cursing the distance he had to cover in short time.

“Luc!” Brianna ran for Luc, but Ruarke snatched at her hair. He caught the end of Brianna’s braid, and she gasped. Luc was halfway across the stable, but Ruarke had plenty of time to backhand Brianna and send her sprawling into a stall.

The stable echoed with the sickening crack of Brianna’s head against the wood. Ruarke spat in the hay toward her limp form, then turned with a coldly confident smile that stopped Luc in his tracks.

“I will have the Rose now,” Ruarke invited.

Luc halted and blinked. “I do not have it.”

“You must!”

“I have never seen it nor laid a hand upon it.”

Brianna, to Luc’s relief, stirred slightly. He flicked an intent glance her way when her eyes fluttered open and she froze in understanding. Then, she lay back against the wall,
her face a mask of pain, and touched her fingertips to her head.

But she watched their exchange avidly.

Ruarke did not notice her awakening.

“You lie!” Ruarke’s eyes flashed. “ ’Twas in the chapel, I knew it well, but I knew not where.” He advanced upon Luc, gesticulating wildly. “ ’Twas bad fortune that Connor found us there, and poorer fortune that Father Padraig found
you
making off with the treasure. I know full well you hid it because you did not have it upon your person that night.”

“So, ’twas you who attacked me, not Father Padraig?”

Ruarke grinned. “Though you surprised me, I must admit. I had to insult Gavin to provide a tale for your blackening of my eye.”

“You killed the priest?”

“Father Padraig had outlived his usefulness.” Ruarke scowled.

“And you killed Ismay?”

“Of course! That fool woman would have told all she knew, to the detriment of my plans.” Ruarke’s eyes narrowed in assessment. “Yet still I could not fathom where you had hidden the Rose.”

“Such a prize must be kept safe,” Luc countered evenly.

Ruarke smiled. “Trust me, I shall treasure it for all my days.” He squared his shoulders and extended his hand. “And I saw you gather it when you left Tullymullagh. Give to me what you took from beside Eva’s grave. Give to me what is rightfully mine.”

Luc blinked.

Brianna’s box.

The box of letters her sire had given her, letters purportedly written by Brianna’s dame. If the Rose of Tullymullagh was indeed there, then that prize hung around Luc’s very neck.

Brianna must never have seen the contents, for he knew she would not have lied to him.

But Luc would not surrender anything Brianna held so precious. Whether it held letters from her mother or a gem from her father mattered little.

’Twas her legacy and hers alone.

In that moment, Luc knew that he would break an old pledge to see matters come right. Aye, to see Brianna safe and her prize protected was worth abandoning a vow made in haste. ’Twas true enough that villains terrorized with their blades, but equally true that an honorable man could only defend the course of right with his own.

As Luc would defend his lady’s claim to the box her father granted to her.

“I will not surrender it to you,” he declared grimly.

“Then, you do have it!” Ruarke’s eyes flashed victoriously.

“But still you cannot have it.” Luc fingered the short dagger he carried at his belt and eyed the knight with resolve. “Though I have only a small blade, you will not win your prize easily from me.”

Ruarke snorted laughter. “Another lie!” He reached into a saddlebag Luc only now noted resting on the floor. There was a flash as a blade was withdrawn and another as ’twas cast toward him. The sword buried its point in the wooden floor and quivered, the sunlight catching its wickedly sharp edge.

’Twas a good blade, if not a great one.

’Twould have to do.

“Take a blade and welcome to it,” Ruarke declared with a cold grin. “Your sire shared the tale of your pledge to never take the hilt of a sword in your hand again.” His lip curled. “Coward!”

Luc glanced to a watchful Brianna, then stepped forward
with purpose. He pulled the blade from the floor in one smooth move. Luc savored the weight of the weapon in his grip and deliberately met the startled gaze of his opponent.

“My sire oft misunderstands what is of import to me,” he confided coolly.

Ruarke’s eyes flashed, then he gripped his own blade. “I do not fear a rusty knight! Your skills will be as naught compared to mine!” Ruarke’s sword flashed dangerously as he lifted it high. “To the death, Luc Fitzgavin, to the death for the Rose of Tullymullagh.”

“To the death,” Luc agreed coldly and adjusted his stance. “But for the honor of the lady, not the gem.”

“Fool!” Ruarke lunged forward with sudden speed.

’Twas not a fair fight!

Brianna struggled to rise as the knights’ swords clashed heavily. Not only was she certain that Ruarke had not offered his better blade to his competitor—for Ruarke clearly had not a drop of chivalrous intent within his veins—but the former champion of Tullymullagh wore his mail.