Authors: Karen Whiddon
"Ah."
Lord Brighton breathed, his expression intent, his breath hot on her skin.
He ran the palm up his hand down her arm. "Are you his leman then?"
Megan had only the faintest idea what
leman
meant, but she knew it wasn't complimentary.
She had to fight to keep from recoiling at his touch.
"No."
She wished she had the nerve - and the strength - to push his huge body away from her.
"Really."
He drawled.
"Then why would he bother to come for you?
You are pretty, `tis true, but the world is full of pretty women.
You are not his sister, nor his cousin, as I know for a fact all of his family is dead."
"He has sworn to help me."
She blurted, then immediately regretted it as a look of glee flashed onto Lord Brighton's face.
Doggedly, she continued.
"He will come because of that, nothing more."
"I would speak to him about you."
He said, dropping his tone so low that she had to strain to hear it.
"If it is as you say, and you are nothing to him, then
I
may be able to help you."
"Help me?"
Had the canny old wizard told Lord Brighton about her situation?
How could he know, when she hadn't been able to discuss it?
"We are well guarded."
Lord Brighton's voice rang with certainty.
"He will not gain entrance unnoticed."
"Really," Megan couldn't resist a small taunt of her own,
"maybe he will gain entrance the same way I did."
His smug smile faded.
"Ah, yes.
We will have to discuss that later, you and I.
But for now, I think--"
A commotion at the entrance to the hall interrupted him.
Heart pounding, Megan could only watch as three of the burly guardsman dragged a non-resisting Kenric into the hall.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The instant he entered the crowded hall, Kenric spotted her.
Dressed like royalty and seated in a place of honor up on the dais next to a man who must be the Lord of this place.
Lord Brighton, according to the men who thought they held him.
Megan.
When their eyes connected, he felt a shock of awareness, along with an overwhelming sense of relief.
She was all right.
Now that he knew that, knew that he had not failed in his duty to her, he could deal with this oaf of a Lord and his foolish guards.
Relaxing his muscles, he felt their hands on him slacken. They thought he had given up, simply because they outnumbered him three to one.
If perhaps, one of them had heard stories of him and his legendary prowess in battle, they would think if merely an over-rated battle tale, one of those that increases with each telling.
They would not expect him to fight them.
Especially since they had taken his sword and one of them now wore Thunder strapped to his hip, like it was his right.
Rage filled him.
No one
messed with his sword.
Or, for that matter, his war horse, who even now remained hidden in the wood.
The room became utterly silent, all eyes upon them as he allowed himself to be dragged into the room.
He kept his face impassive, hoping Megan would know that he entered this way because he had no choice, not if he wished to gain entrance.
He let them take him to the very base of the dais, practically at Megan's feet.
She averted her gaze, causing his heart to sink.
Surely she knew he would save her, surely she realized that he was stronger and more powerful than ten of these loutish idiots.
"Welcome to my keep, Kenric of Blackstone.
I am Lord Brighton,” the florid faced man boomed.
“Lady Megan and I have been waiting for you."
The first thing he would do after he got free, Kenric decided instantly, would be to wipe the smug smirk off this
Lord's florid face.
He noticed the meaty hand stroking Megan's arm and saw red.
With a roar, Kenric shook off his guards.
One he dispatched with a swift blow to the neck.
The next, a kick to take his feet out from him, then a blow under the chin.
The third Kenric punched in the stomach then, when he was doubled over with pain, Kenric relieved him of his sword.
As if it recognized his touch, Thunder seemed to vibrate in his hand.
Satisfied, he roared.
Now he would show them what it meant to fight Kenric of Blackstone.
But first, he had to get to Megan.
It proved to be a simple thing.
A step, a pivot, then he had her arm and pulled her from the dais before Lord Brighton had time to react.
Two tables of men scrambled to their feet, going for their weapons.
"Hold."
A voice rang out.
Kenric blinked.
It was not the Lord of the keep who gave the order.
Yet every single man, including the Lord, froze in his tracks.
Slowly, he pivoted, seeking the source of the voice. An elderly man, hunched and bent nearly halfway, crossed the room in the ringing silence.
He wore the heavy robes of a priest, though not the collar, and his eyes were sharp and wise.
Yet his voice had been young, one of power and command.
A mage.
Kenric nearly groaned out loud.
It seemed he could not escape magic, no matter how hard he tried.
Keeping his eyes on the mage, Kenric motioned for Megan to stay close to his side.
She obeyed instantly, her luminous eyes glowing with pride.
He had the insane urge to gather her in his arms and kiss her senseless.
Instead, he shot the disgruntled Lord a look that promised retribution, and waited for the mage to approach.
"Long I have waited for this day."
The old man spoke, his voice surprisingly strong.
"It has been many years since the name Kenric of Blackstone was spoken by these lips."
"You know my name."
Casually, Kenric moved Megan to his side, ready to fight whatever threat this mage might tender.
Magic or metal, it was all the same to him.
The sooner the battle was fought and won, the sooner he and Megan could be on their way.
He could return her to her Roger and collect his reward.
Though the thought of another man's hands on her creamy skin soured his stomach.
The mage came closer, peering up at Kenric with a direct look that made him instantly wary.
"Years ago Rhiannon and I talked much of you.
The events you and your mate will put into place will greatly change this world."
More prophetic nonsense.
It figured this mage would know Rhiannon.
Kenric couldn't seem to escape his half-sister no matter where he went.
"Tell me what you want."
Deliberately, Kenric made his voice carry to every corner of the still silent hall.
"So that I may take my lady and be on my way."
Lord Brighton took a step towards them then, a great lumbering bear of a man.
Rage mottled his face.
"
Your
lady?"
He shook his head, pointing.
"She tells me she is nothing to you."
Behind him he felt Megan stiffen.
"Keep him away from me."
She whispered fiercely.
With an effort, Kenric tamped down his own fury.
"She belongs to another man.
I but return her to him so that they might marry."
His voice caught on the final word.
"Who is this faceless man?"
Lord Brighton's gaze raked the hall, coming finally to rest on Kenric.
"Tell me so that I might challenge him."
"Challenge him?"
The huge man nodded.
"I want her."
Next to him, Megan clutched at his arm.
"No."
Kenric tamped down the instinctive fury that rose in him at this man's words.
"She belongs to another."
He repeated.
"Who is he?"
Lord Brighton roared.
"I want his name."
Megan gasped.
"Roger."
She muttered, low enough that only Kenric could hear.
"Roger Spencer.
I don't believe this."
Kenric felt a blaze of hatred for her betrothed.
In a
way, he could understand Lord Brighton's words.
Where was her Roger, that he let another man defend her honor and made no effort to reclaim her?
Still, telling this Lord Brighton his name could do no harm. Indeed, it might help in the search for the elusive Lord.
"His name is Lord Roger Spencer."
Lord Brighton frowned, his anger fading.
"I have heard the name."
He conceded reluctantly.
"Isn't he an Earl?"
Megan opened her mouth to answer.
Edmyg forestalled her.
"I would speak with you two."
The elderly mage pointed across the crowded room to the ornate door that led to his chambers.
"Alone."
Megan's grip on his arm tightened.
Kenric imagined she must be terrified.
Then again, so far she had been exhibited more bravery than any other woman he knew.