The Warrior's Forbidden Virgin (3 page)

She met his gaze and saw the warrior’s intensity. His vow was not made lightly.

“Protect her,” Katherine pleaded. The thought of her sister coming to harm was unthinkable, regardless of what Honora had done. Ademar caressed her cheek, and she covered his fingers with her own.

“You have my vow.”

Katherine forced herself to return to her chamber, murmuring silent prayers for her sister. Ademar was right—she could do nothing yet. The best way to help Honora was to alert their father and ask for his intervention. Surely Nicholas would come to Honora’s assistance.

She dressed quickly and was about to leave, when she spied her sister’s chest. Although Honora had already taken her belongings, perhaps she’d left behind a weapon.

Reaching for the secret latch, Katherine removed the false bottom and revealed a chain-mail suit of armor. She was the only one who knew of her sister’s secret fighting talents.

And though she admitted her jealousy, she wasn’t entirely defenseless. She knew how to use a blade, though perhaps not with Honora’s skill.

After a thorough search, there was still no dagger or sword to be found. Katherine let out a curse, but likely Honora had her weapons with her. It was just as well; her sister needed some means of defending herself.

Her chamber door opened without warning, and Ademar stood there. His form seemed to fill up the doorway, and her heartbeat quickened at the sight of him.

“Your father is out hunting. I sent one of my men to fetch him.” He entered the chamber, and Katherine saw a length of rope in his hand.

“What is that for?”

After Ademar had haltingly finished explaining, Katherine stared at him. “You’ve gone mad.”

There was a stubborn glint in his eye that suggested he didn’t agree. “It will work.”

“It won’t. She’ll be hurt, and then she won’t be able to—”

Her throat grew tight, but Ademar prompted gently, “Won’t be able to do what?”

“Catch up to Ewan,” she finished. “He was leaving at dawn. I told her to go with him.”

Ademar hefted the rope over one shoulder. “Did you?” His voice was soft, holding a hint of curiosity.

“He loves her. The way he doesn’t love me.” The words were full of self-pity, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Ademar stared at her, and in his blue eyes, she saw a hunger. A shiver ripped through her as though he had physically touched her. “Then he’s a fool, isn’t he?”

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him, and as before, she found herself responding to him. Confusion warred with her purpose, and her fingers closed over the edge of the chest.

“Do you really think you can get her out?” she asked. “It’s a great risk.”

He nodded. “She’ll h-have time to catch up to Ewan on horseback.” Seeming to read the doubts on her face, he added, “Trust me. And John will… face the penalty when your father arrives.”

Katherine used both arms to lift the armor, straining under its weight. “Take this to my sister. She can use it to disguise herself and get out of the castle.”

Ademar accepted the chain mail, but caught her by the nape. His fingers slipped beneath her veil and into her hair. Leaning down, he kissed her lightly. “Wait for me here.”

The brief touch of his lips wasn’t enough. She wanted to taste more of him, to lose herself in his kiss and feel his hard body pressing against hers.

When Ademar left, her mind imagined all the things that could go wrong. And though it might not be wise, she waited a brief moment and then followed him.

Ademar tied the thick rope to one of the stone merlons, above the window where John was holding Honora prisoner. He lowered himself down, praying that the woven hemp would hold his weight. When he was above the battlements, he dropped the armor for Honora to retrieve. Though he doubted if she could manage the weight of the suit, it was her best hope of escaping the castle grounds undetected.

His muscles strained as he lowered himself over the side wall. Almost there…

A twinge of guilt pricked him, for he hadn’t told Katherine everything he’d learned. According to the seneschal, Nicholas of Ardennes had indeed granted John permission to escort Honora back to Ceredys.

By any means necessary.

The baron was furious with Honora for ruining Katherine’s marriage hopes, and this was his punishment to a headstrong daughter. Though Ademar couldn’t understand why Lord Ardennes would turn his back upon his daughter, he would do his best to free Honora. With any luck, no one would be hurt.

He reached the window and jerked in surprise when the shutters clattered open. Honora stared back at him. “What are you doing?” Her dark hair was cut short against her neck, and it stood out in wild disarray.

Ademar swung inside the chamber, holding onto the rope. He saw Honora’s guard lying unconscious on the floor, along with a length of linen wrapped around the man’s throat. “Your sister told me what…happened. She thought you might need help.”

“Why didn’t you alert my father?”

There was a desperation in Honora’s eyes, and Ademar struggled to find the right words. He didn’t want to admit the truth. Honora was distraught enough without him revealing that her own father had advocated such a punishment.

“This way was ah—that is to say, I found it would be…m-more interesting. Get you out without anyone kn-knowing about it.”

He glared down at the floor, wishing he could have explained himself without sounding quite so foolish.

“More interesting?”

“Less trouble. And, no—no one gets hurt.” His cheeks burned, and he hoped she would hurry up and take the rope. There wasn’t much time before John would return.

Honora looked uneasy. “How do you suggest I get down?”

“I’ll help you…to the battlements,” he said. “We need to move now.”

Though she reached for the rope, terror lined her face. “I’d rather fight the guards outside the door.”

As if in answer to her comment, the door started to open. Ademar slammed his weight against it, and ordered, “Go!”

She wasn’t moving fast enough, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep the guards from entering. He struggled to bar the door.

“Swing toward the battlements. You’ll find what you need to g-get out of the castle.”

He gritted his teeth, and finally managed to lower the bar amidst the pounding of the soldiers. “Ewan will b-be miles from here by now.”

Honora crawled through the window, balancing on the sill before she reached for the rope once more. Glancing back at him, she sent him a thankful smile. “You’re a true hero, Sir Ademar.”

He didn’t answer, for his motives weren’t at all innocent. He’d done this for Katherine, because he wanted her gratitude.

He made certain the rope was steady for Honora and watched her lower herself down. Only when she was dressed in the armor did he turn back.

Damn. The fallen guard had regained consciousness. Before he could stop him, the man lifted the bar and opened the door. Ademar had only a moment to unsheathe his sword before John’s men came pouring inside the chamber.

Katherine’s arms burned with the effort, but she managed to lower herself down the rope. When she neared John’s chamber, she heard the clanging of swords and the sounds of fighting.

Oh, saints. When she glanced inside the window, she saw Ademar surrounded by three men. John was not among them, and she prayed he would not find her sister.

Like a berserker, Ademar swung his sword at his enemies, blow for blow. Katherine slipped inside, keeping her back to the wall and her eyes upon the men. She needed a weapon of her own, some way to help him.

Her gaze fell upon the soldier closest to her. He spied her and reached out, likely planning to use her as a hostage. Katherine threw herself to the floor, rolling under his feet to trip him. When his sword slipped free of his palm, she reached for it.

Honora was not the only one who knew how to wield this weapon.

Katherine slashed upward, the blade cutting into the soldier’s flesh. His eyes widened as the blade ended his life.

Just as she stood up, Ademar roared a warning. As Katherine sidestepped, he dove forward with his sword, taking the full impact of the blade against his own weapon. The third soldier spun, slicing at Ademar’s head. Katherine tried to block the attack, but the blade tip sliced Ademar’s temple, and the knight sank to his knees. The soldier fled the chamber without looking back.

Blood poured from Ademar’s wound, and the sight of it made her dizzy.
Not now,
Katherine prayed. She loathed blood, and the idea of having to sew up his wound made her stomach pitch. “Are you all right?”

He grimaced, reaching his hand to his head. “I think so.”

The blood continued to stream downward. “It’s not…too bad.” He stumbled forward, easing onto a chair. “What in God’s name were you thinking, trying to use a sword against those men?”

“You needed my help. And I knew how to use the weapon.” Katherine took off her veil and pressed it to his head, trying not to look at the blood. She sent up another silent plea:
Let it stop bleeding on its own
.

His blue eyes pierced hers. “You could have been hurt.”

She flushed, uncomfortable with his harsh tone. “So could you.” Gripping her hands together, she realized she was shaking.

Ademar reached out to her, as if he needed to touch her. She expelled a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “Don’t ever risk yourself on my account.”

She wanted to protest that she wouldn’t have done this for anyone else. But at the sight of his blood, the room was starting to sway. Below, she saw the bodies of John’s men, and her stomach lurched.

“I want to leave this chamber,” she insisted. “Now.”

She didn’t wait for him to agree, but escaped into the hallway. The soft sounds of his footsteps followed her. When she reached her chamber, she grasped the wooden post of her bed, trying to force away the dizziness.

“I’d forgotten…how much head wounds bleed,” Ademar muttered. He cursed beneath his breath. “Could you help me with this?”

Katherine took a step backwards. Her knees were quaking at the thought of having to ply a needle to his flesh. She swallowed hard.

“You need a true healer, not me.” She gripped the bedpost so tightly, her knuckles turned white. “I’m not like Honora. She’s good at healing and—and—I—”

Her legs buckled, and she held fast to the bedpost. A rush of noise filled her ears, and the chamber swayed. Desperately, she tried to regain control of herself, but to no avail. The vision of Ademar’s blood overcame her, and she crumpled to the floor.

Katherine awoke with her head in his lap. She stared up at Ademar, who was still clutching her veil to his head.

Oh, saints. She was truly the most pathetic woman in all of England. How could she possibly have fainted, when Ademar needed her help?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, forcing herself to sit up. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“It’s all right.” His hand reached out to touch her hair. “The bleeding has mostly stopped.”

“It’s not all right.” She pressed her hand to his temple. “You’re hurt.”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Gingerly, she lifted aside the veil. His blond hair was matted with blood, the wound swollen and bruised. A small cut, the width of her finger, was bleeding, though it had slowed to a dull flow.

She should summon a healer, someone who knew how to care for the wound. But she felt responsible for what had happened. He’d been hurt while trying to protect her.

It humiliated her, that she’d fainted instead of helping him. He would think her a coward, a fact which bothered her deeply. She had to redeem herself, to somehow overcome her fears.

“I need to stitch this,” she said, getting up from the floor. Though she had never sewn a cut before, she would force herself to get through the task. Taking a deep breath, she retrieved her needle and a length of silk thread.

Ademar sat down upon the chair once more, quietly awaiting her attentions. His hands rested on his knees, which lay slightly apart. Katherine drew near, and he placed his hands on her waist, almost in an embrace.

She looked into his deep blue eyes, and saw understanding in them. “I’m afraid of hurting you,” she admitted. “I’ve never stitched a wound before.”

“It’s all right,” he said. He lowered his head to allow her to reach. His hands remained about her waist, and the light touch bolstered her courage.

You must do this. He needs you.

She bit her lip hard, determined not to faint again. She threaded the needle, then sponged off the blood and examined the cut. It would require three stitches, she guessed. But the act of piercing his flesh was unsettling.

His thumbs caressed her spine in silent encouragement. Katherine took a deep breath and steeled herself. When her needle pricked his skin, he didn’t move. Only the tension in his arms showed that she had done anything.

The slickness upon her fingers was starting to bother her, so she stitched as fast as she could, using his knife to cut the thread. She blotted the wound once more, and it remained closed.

Ademar stood up. “Thank you, my lady.”

It was done now. Relief poured over her, but her knees were still wobbly. Her uneasiness had little to do with the stitching. And everything to do with being so close to him.